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.dt The Motor Rangers’ Cloud Cruiser, by Marvin West - A Project Gutenberg eBook
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//[Illustration: In a flash Nat’s strong arm was about him.—Page 22.]
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THE
MOTOR RANGERS’
CLOUD CRUISER
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BY
MARVIN WEST
AUTHOR OF “THE MOTOR RANGERS’ LOST MINE,” “THE MOTOR RANGERS
THROUGH THE SIERRAS,” “THE MOTOR RANGERS
ON BLUE WATER,” ETC., ETC.
.sp 4
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
CHARLES L. WRENN
.sp 4
NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
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Copyright, 1912,
BY
HURST & COMPANY
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CONTENTS
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.ta r:7 l:46 r:5 w=65%
CHAPTER | | PAGE
I. | #The Magnetic Island:chap01# | 5
II. | #Nat to the Rescue:chap02# | 17
III. | #The Islands Vanish:chap03# | 27
IV. | #Professor Grigg and Mr. Tubbs:chap04# | 37
V. | #Trouble with a Hat:chap05# | 47
VI. | #“What Would You Say to a Voyage in the Air?”:chap06# | 55
VII. | #A Strange Sail Appears:chap07# | 63
VIII. | #Trapped by Two Rascals:chap08# | 71
IX. | #Some Strategy:chap09# | 80
X. | #“Ding-Dong” and a Gun:chap10# | 88
XI. | #Captain Lawless Tries Trickery:chap11# | 99
XII. | #“Good Work, Manuello!”:chap12# | 108
XIII. | #South American Justice:chap13# | 120
XIV. | #Off on Their Strange Voyage:chap14# | 130
XV. | #A Signal that Meant “Danger”:chap15# | 140
XVI. | #Indians?:chap16# | 148
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XVII. | #A Queer Sort of Gun:chap17# | 156
XVIII. | #What It Did:chap18# | 166
XIX. | #An Involuntary Passenger:chap19# | 177
XX. | #“All Our Lives Depend on It”:chap20# | 187
XXI. | #“Feathered Aeroplanes”:chap21# | 199
XXII. | #A Serious Accident:chap22# | 211
XXIII. | #Overboard!—1950 Feet Up!:chap23# | 223
XXIV. | #The City of a Vanished Race:chap24# | 231
XXV. | #A Strange Adventure:chap25# | 246
XXVI.|#Saved from the Sun Gods:chap26#|257
XXVII.|#“Did We Dream It All?”:chap27#|268
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THE MOTOR RANGERS’ | CLOUD CRUISER
.sp 2
.pm chap 01 I. "THE MAGNETIC ISLAND."
“What do you make of the weather, Nat?”
Joe Hartley turned to Nat Trevor as he spoke,
and scanned the face of the young leader of the
adventure-seeking Motor Rangers with some
anxiety.
But the stout and placid Joe’s unwonted look
of apprehension found no reflection on the firm
countenance of Nat Trevor, who stood as steadily
at the wheel of the Nomad as if that sixty-foot,
gasolene-driven craft was not, to use Joe’s
phrase of a few moments before, pitching and
tumbling “like a bucking broncho.”
// 007.png
.pn +1
“It does look pretty ugly for a fact, Joe,” rejoined
Nat, after he had scrutinized the horizon
on every side.
“And this is a part of the Pacific where we
were warned before we left the Marquesas that
we must look out for squalls,” returned Joe, still
looking worried.
“Oh, well, the Nomad has weathered many a
good hard blow, not to mention those waterspouts,”
commented Nat. “I guess she’ll last
through whatever is to come.”
At this moment a third boyish countenance
was suddenly protruded from a hatchway leading
to the Nomad’s engine-room.
“S-s-s-s-say, y-y-y-you chaps,” sputtered our
old acquaintance, William—otherwise and more
frequently Ding-Dong—Bell, “w-w-what’s in the
w-w-w-wind?”
“A bit of a storm, I guess, Ding-Dong,” returned
Nat, watching his steering carefully, so as
to send the Nomad sliding easily over the long,
oily swells, “but don’t you mind, old chap. She’ll
stand it, never fear. How are your engines
running?”
// 008.png
.pn +1
“L-l-l-like a d-d-d-dollar w-w-watch,” returned
Ding-dong, with a note of pride in his tones.
“Good. Now if only we were farther to seaward
of that island yonder, I’d feel easier,” commented
Nat.
“Say, Nat,” struck in Joe, as Ding-dong dived
below once more, “it seems to me we are a long
time passing that island.”
“I agree with you, Joe. That is what made
me ask Ding-dong about his engines. At the
pace they are turning up, we should have left it
behind us long ago, yet there it is, still on our
starboard bow.”
“And we are getting closer in to it all the time,
you’ll notice,” rejoined Joe.
“There must be some powerful currents hereabouts,”
said Nat, looking for the first time a
little bit troubled. “There’s something queer
about that island, anyhow. I can’t find it on the
chart. According to that, this part of the mid-south
Pacific is absolutely free from islands or
rocks.”
// 009.png
.pn +1
“Hullo,” cried Joe suddenly, “that’s odd! Look,
Nat, the island isn’t really one island at all. It’s
two of them.”
This paradoxical speech was really a correct
explanation of the case, as it now appeared. The
Nomad had, by this time, made some little progress
over the rising sea, and as the bit of land
“opened out,” it could be seen that there were,
as Joe had said, two islands, with a narrow
channel running in between them.
“Phew!” whistled Nat. “This complicates the
situation. To make matters worse——” He
stopped short.
“Well?” demanded Joe.
“Never mind,” replied Nat; and then in an
undertone he added to himself: “I may be
wrong, but I’ll bet the hole out of a doughnut
that we are being dragged round toward that
passage.”
// 010.png
.pn +1
That such was actually the case, he realized to
his dismay an instant later. Head the Nomad’s
bow round as he would, some invisible force
still dragged her in toward the two islands. It
soon became apparent, too, that the narrow channel
was, in reality, more in the nature of a cleft
between the two masses of land. Its walls were
steep and sheer and formed of grayish rock. It
could now be seen that the water in this abyss
was boiling and bubbling as if in a caldron.
Nat and Joe exchanged glances of dismay. It
was no longer possible to disguise the fact that
they were momentarily being sucked, as though
by invisible yet resistless forces, toward this ominous
looking chasm.
The three youths had set out for the California
coast, on which was their home, some days before,
from the Marquesas group of islands,
where they had had some surprising adventures.
What these were will be found set down in the
third volume of this series, “The Motor Rangers
on Blue Water.” It may be said here, briefly,
that their experiences in the South Seas had included
// 011.png
.pn +1
the routing of a rascally band, who
had made a headquarters on one of the Marquesas
Group, and the discovering of the rightful
owner of some valuable sapphires which had
come into their possession in a truly remarkable
way.
Of how they acquired these sapphires, and of
the adventures and perils through which they
passed before they gained full possession, details
will be found in the second volume of the
Motor Ranger Series, namely, “The Motor
Rangers Through the Sierras.” In that volume,
we followed our youthful and enterprising heroes
through the great Sierra range, and learned of
their clever flouting of the schemes of the same
band of rascals whom they re-encountered in the
South Seas. Among other feats, they located
and caused the destruction of the hitherto secret
fortress of Colonel Morello, a notorious outlaw.
This earned them his undying enmity, which he
was not slow to display. In this volume, too, it
was related how the lads found, in a miner’s
abandoned hut, the wonderful sapphires.
// 012.png
.pn +1
It now remains, only briefly, to sketch the
earlier experiences of the three lads, to give our
readers a grasp of their characters. In the first
volume of this series, then, which was called
“The Motor Rangers’ Lost Mine,” the three lads
set out for Lower California on a mission which
was to involve them in unlooked-for complications.
This errand grew out of Nat’s employment as
automobile expert by Mr. Montagu Pomery, the
“Lumber King,” as the papers called him, who
made his winter home at Santa Barbara. Nat,
who lived with his mother, was, at that time,
very poor, and much depended on his situation
with the millionaire, in charge of his several cars.
But Ed Dayton, who considered that Nat had
superseded him in the place, made trouble for
him. Aided by Donald Pomery, the lumber
king’s son, a weak, unprincipled youth, he hatched
up a plot, which, for a time, put Nat under a
cloud. But Mr. Pomery himself proved Nat’s
firm friend.
// 013.png
.pn +1
Owing to Mrs. Pomery’s interference, the millionaire
was compelled to discharge Nat, but he
almost immediately re-employed him on the confidential
mission of which we have spoken. This
was to visit Lower California and investigate
conditions on his timber claims there. Much
rare and valuable wood had been going astray,
and Mr. Pomery suspected his superintendent,
Diego Velasco. He lacked proof, however, and
Nat he selected as a bright, trustworthy lad, who
could carry out an investigation painstakingly.
Nat recalled that his dead father had been
interested, in his youth, in a rich mine in Lower
California, and the prospect of the trip, therefore,
had a double fascination for him. Mr.
Pomery provided an automobile, equipped in
elaborate fashion, for the long trip, much of which
was to be made through desert country. With
Mr. Pomery’s permission, Nat invited his two
chums, Joe Hartley, son of a well-to-do department
// 014.png
.pn +1
store keeper, and William Bell, the stammering
lad, to accompany him. The latter’s
mother and the former’s father at first demurred
considerably to the trip, but at last they gave
their consent. Nat, for his part, had some
trouble winning his mother over. But soon all
was arranged, and they set out. How they discovered
the Lost Mine, and Nat became rich, was
all told in that book, together with many other
adventures that befell them. The reader is now
in a position to understand our chief characters,
sturdy, intelligent Nat Trevor, with his curly
black hair and dancing blue eyes; stout, red-faced
Joe Hartley, always good-natured, though inclined
to be a bit nervous, and Ding-dong Bell,
the cheery, stuttering lad, whose eccentricities of
speech provided much amusement for his companions.
The day on which this story opens was the
seventh since their departure from the Marquesas
on their return voyage to the Pacific
Coast. They had left behind them their fellow
// 015.png
.pn +1
adventurers, some of whom wished to return by
steamer, while others were anxious to continue
their travels in the fascinating South Seas. So
far, smiling skies and sunny seas had been encountered.
But this particular day had dawned
with a smoky, red horizon, through which the
rising sun blazed like a red-hot copper ball.
It had been oppressively hot—torrid, in fact.
But although the air was motionless and heavy,
the sea was far from being calm. It heaved
with a swell that tossed the Nomad almost on
her beam-ends at times. That some peculiar kind
of tropical storm, or typhoon, was approaching,
Nat felt small doubt. A glance at the barometer
showed that that instrument had fallen with incredible
rapidity. A candle, held in the thick,
murky air, would have flamed straight skyward
without a flicker.
Dinner was eaten without a change being observable
in the weather conditions, and, on coming
on deck to relieve Joe at the wheel while he
went below to eat, Nat sighted the bit of land
// 016.png
.pn +1
toward which they were now being drawn like
a needle to a lodestone. In the meantime the
weather had been growing more and more extraordinary.
The copperish sky had deepened in
color till a panoply of angry purple overspread
the heaving sea. The sun glared weakly through
the cloud curtains as through a fog. But still
there had come no wind.
Hardly had the two lads on the bridge of the
Nomad realized that they were inexorably being
drawn toward the two islands, however, when
from far off to the southwest there came a low,
moaning sound. It seemed almost animal in
character; like the lowing of an angry bull, in
fact, was the comparison that occurred to Nat.
The sound increased in violence momentarily,
while the sky from purple changed to black, and
a blast like that from an open oven door fanned
their faces. Through this awe-inspiring twilight
the Nomad continued her inexplicable advance
toward the two islands.
// 017.png
.pn +1
“Here it comes!” shouted Joe suddenly, as,
from the same quarter as that from which the
wind had proceeded, there came a sudden, angry
roar.
“Hold tight for your life!” flung back Nat
over his shoulder, gripping his steering wheel
with every ounce of strength he possessed.
And thus began hours of stress and turmoil,
which the Motor Rangers were ever to remember
as one of the most soul-racking experiences
of their young lives.
// 018.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 02 II. "NAT TO THE RESCUE."
“Wow! This is the worst ever!”
Joe was clinging tightly to the bridge of the
Nomad.
Spray, flying like dust through the dense mid-afternoon
twilight, stung his face. The wind
whipped out his garments stiff, as if they had
been made of metal, and half choked the words
back down his throat.
Nat made no reply. He clung grimly to his
wheel, striving with might and main to head the
Nomad into the furious waves. Ding-dong Bell
had emerged on deck an instant before, but had
been promptly ordered below again.
“Keep your engines doused with oil; give them
plenty of gasolene, and stand by for signals,”
had been the young captain’s orders.
// 019.png
.pn +1
Below, beside his shining, laboring engines,
Ding-dong was valorously striving to carry those
orders out. But the strain on the motors was
as great as they had ever been called upon to
bear, even in the memorable encounter with the
waterspouts.
Besides heading into the storm, Nat was
“bucking” the strange current that set toward
the island chasm. But powerfully as the Nomad’s
propeller churned the driving seas, the unseen
tide was more powerful still.
“Nat, we’re bound to be drawn into that gorge
within a few minutes, unless——”
“Unless a miracle happens.”
Joe’s comment and Nat’s rejoinder were both
shouted above the storm. Their voices sounded
feeble as whispers amid the fury of the conflicting
elements.
Hardly a hundred yards now separated the
storm-battered Nomad from the towering walls
and boiling waters of the chasm. Inevitably,
unless the miracle of which Nat had spoken occurred,
// 020.png
.pn +1
they must, in a few moments, be laboring
in the midst of that ominous-looking place.
While the thought was still pulsating through
their minds, and their hearts beat high with
apprehension, the dreaded thing happened.
The Nomad was suddenly caught, as if by
hands bent on causing her dissolution, and hurtled
straight into the cleft between the islands. Nat,
hardly conscious of what he was about, directed
her course so that the craft was not instantaneously
dashed to bits against the side of the cliffs.
Joe, too alarmed to utter a word, simply clung
tight to the rail. Below, in the engine-room,
Ding-dong Bell was thrown from his feet and
smashed up against a steel stanchion.
The blow knocked him senseless. And so, with
her engineer unconscious, another member of
her crew almost useless from fright, and only
one guiding spirit on board her, the Nomad hastened
forward into what seemed certain annihilation.
// 021.png
.pn +1
Within the cleft it was black as night. The
angry seas that boiled and gnashed between the
steep walls, for an instant completely hid the
Nomad from view. But presently she gallantly
emerged, fighting like a live thing for her life.
The wind, compressed within those narrow
confines, blew with a force and fury almost incredible
except to those who have passed through
a South Pacific storm. It would have been impossible
to cry out and make one’s voice heard.
The most powerful shout would not have been
audible a foot away. The situation of the Motor
Rangers appeared to be almost desperate.
“Can she last out? Can she possibly stand this
terrific battering?”
Such were the thoughts that galloped through
Nat’s excited brain. He rang the electric signal
for “more power,” but no response came from
the engine-room, where Ding-dong lay senseless
beside his motors.
Then he turned about to look for Joe. Now
that his eyes had grown used to the darkness it
was possible to see—as one sees on a night when
// 022.png
.pn +1
the moon is obscured by heavy clouds. The
young captain’s heart leaped into his mouth as
his eyes pierced the obscurity.
Except for himself, the bridge was empty of
life.
Joe Hartley had vanished!
“Swept overboard!” shot through Nat’s brain.
At the same instant he caught a cry:
“Help! Help!”
It appeared to come from far astern.
“Joe!” shouted Nat into the darkness.
“Help!” came the cry again. It was closer
this time.
A coil of light but strong rope was looped
to the bridge in front of Nat. Without an instant’s
hesitation, he tied one end of it about his
waist. He had reached a desperate determination.
If he got a chance, he had made up his
mind to save Joe Hartley if it were humanly possible.
The other end of the coil he knew was
made fast to the bridge rail, so that a final testing
of the knot about his waist was all that was
// 023.png
.pn +1
necessary to put his daring scheme into execution.
But first Nat fixed the wheel by means of
the metal grips provided for that purpose.
Then, with every nerve a-quiver, every muscle
flexed, he waited for another summons. Suddenly
it came.
“Help, Nat! I——”
A smother of foam swept glimmering past the
Nomad. It was luminous with phosphorescence.
Amidst the greenish, ghastly glare, was plainly
perceptible a darker spot. It was a human head.
“Hold on, Joe! I’ll be with you!” shouted Nat,
and then, without hesitation, he mounted the
bridge rail at the port side and plunged into the
mass of spume.
Fortunately for those interested in the adventures
of the Motor Rangers, at that instant a
freak of the current spun Joe’s body about and
flung him, like a bit of driftwood, toward the
side of the Nomad. In a flash Nat’s strong arm
was about him. It was just in time, too, for Joe,
who had been swept from the bridge unseen when
the Nomad encountered the angry maze of cross
currents and tide rips, was almost exhausted.
// 024.png
.pn +1
In this condition he was not in full possession
of his ordinary presence of mind. He clung to
Nat desperately, with a grip that threatened to
pull both rescuer and rescued under water together.
Nat, battling with the sharp, angry waves, as
choppy and angular as giant fangs, had all he
could do without struggling with Joe. Again and
again he tried to break the other’s grip, but
without avail. The hold of a drowning man or
boy is the most tenacious known. It is almost
impossible to loosen it.
“Joe, you must let go of me!” gasped out Nat.
But Joe only clung in a more leech-like fashion.
What with the other lad’s dead weight
clinging to him, and the conditions against which
he was laboring, Nat, strong as he was, felt his
strength being rapidly sapped.
// 025.png
.pn +1
Luckily, so intense had been the heat, the lads
wore only light tropical trousers and sleeveless
undershirts. Had they been incumbered with
ordinary clothes, they could not have survived a
quarter of the time that Nat and Joe did.
Nat began hauling in on his line, but with Joe
gripping him so tightly, it was too much of a
task.
“Joe, I hate to do it,” he said at length, “but
I must, old fellow, I must!”
With these words, Nat did what he would have
done with anybody else when first he realized the
conditions. He struck Joe a blow on the head
that completely robbed him of his senses. The
lad’s vise-like grip relaxed. Under these circumstances,
Nat could handle him easily.
By strong, rapid, over-hand motions, he hauled
himself and his burden closer and closer to the
side of the Nomad. At last they reached it. And
now came the most difficult part of Nat’s enterprise.
He had to get back on board, and, more
than that, to get Joe there, too.
// 026.png
.pn +1
The Nomad was rolling and plunging till she
was almost rail under at every roll. A sudden
lurch of extra violence gave Nat his opportunity.
It brought the bridge rail within reach of his
free hand. He grasped it with a tenacious grip.
But the next instant he was almost flung back
into the sea again, as the little craft righted, and
the lad, with his unconscious burden, was carried
high above the boiling waters.
But Nat’s muscles had been trained to nickel
steel suppleness and strength. He managed to
hold on somehow, and the next roll to port of the
Nomad gave him an opportunity to get one foot
on the edge of the bridge. Thus he clung till the
next wild roll in the opposite direction was over.
Then exerting a reserve force he had never
before had occasion to bring into play, the young
captain drew up Joe’s limp form and bundled it
bodily within the bridge railings. This done,
he clambered over himself. But he felt queer
and dizzy. He could hardly keep his feet, even
though he hung on to the rail. His head spun
like a teetotum.
// 027.png
.pn +1
“I—why, what’s the matter with me? I—I
believe I’m going to——”
Nat did not conclude his sentence in words.
Instead, he enacted it by giving a crazy plunge
backward and collapsing in a heap, almost alongside
the unconscious Joe.
// 028.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 03 III. "THE ISLANDS VANISH."
Nat sat upright with a strange singing sound
in his ears. It was insufferably hot. He fairly
panted as he opened his eyes. The sweat ran off
him in rivulets. For an instant recollection
paused, and then rushed back in an overwhelming
flood.
“We were in that channel between those two
queer islands,” mused Nat; “and we—gracious,
where are the islands?”
He had staggered dizzily to his feet and was
looking about him. He knew he could not have
lain senseless very long, for his garments were
still wet, despite the intense heat. But the islands
were nowhere to be seen.
It was still partially dark, a murky twilight
replacing the former deeper blackness. But an
indefinable change had taken place, somehow, in
the atmosphere. Nat drew in his breath with
difficulty. It seemed to scorch his lungs.
// 029.png
.pn +1
He glanced over the side of the craft and then
drew back with an alarmed cry. The water all
about them was bubbling and eddying furiously.
A shower of spray from one of the miniature
waterspouts struck Nat in the face. It was this
that caused his exclamation and made him step
back hastily, just as if, in fact, he had been
struck a blow in the face.
The water was boiling hot!
Where it had spattered on the lad’s skin it
had instantly raised blisters.
“Well, we certainly have landed in a surprising
sort of fix this time,” muttered Nat to himself.
He bent over Joe. The lad had not yet regained
his senses. But he was breathing heavily,
and this stilled a dreaded fear, which, for a moment
had almost caused Nat’s heart to stop beating.
// 030.png
.pn +1
“This air is suffocating,” gasped Nat presently.
“It smells like it does when they are fumigating
a room.”
He ran his tongue around his dry mouth in
an effort to moisten it, for it felt parched and
cracked. The reek of sulphur in the air, too,
caused his throat to contract and his nose and
eyes to tingle unmercifully.
But this stench also told Nat something. It
furnished him with a partial explanation of the
extraordinary occurrences that, as it seemed,
were not yet over.
“This whole disturbance is volcanic,” reasoned
the boy. “That is the cause of this awful sulphur
smell. But that doesn’t account altogether
for the sudden disappearance of those islands.
I wonder——” But here he broke off his meditations.
Joe was plainly in need of immediate attention,
and Nat devoted his efforts to trying to
raise the recumbent lad. He wanted to get him
below to the cabin, where there was a well-stocked
medicine chest and a supply of reasonably
cool water.
// 031.png
.pn +1
But, weakened as he was, Nat couldn’t accomplish
the task.
“What’s the matter with me, anyhow?” he
asked himself half angrily. “This sulphur stuff
must have knocked all my senses out of my
head. Where’s Ding-dong, I wonder?”
He rang the engine-room call sharply. But
there was no response. No Ding-dong appeared.
“Maybe the signal is out of whack,” muttered
Nat, who had noticed some time before that the
engine had stopped running. “Guess I’ll go below
and see what’s the matter.”
It was the work of an instant to reach the
hatchway leading below, and dive into the engine
room. What met Nat’s eyes there made him
jump almost as violently as he had when the
boiling water struck him.
“Great Scott!” he exclaimed, as his gaze fell
on the unconscious engineer, “if this isn’t worse
and more of it. Poor Ding-dong is knocked out,
// 032.png
.pn +1
too; cut on the head. It doesn’t seem to be a
bad gash, but it has deprived him of his senses.
Well, if this isn’t a fine kettle of fish! In the
midst of a boiling sea with two unconscious
chaps on my hands!”
Ding-dong stirred and moved uneasily as Nat
examined his wound.
“Let me be!” he muttered peevishly; “lemme
be.”
“That’s just what I’m not going to do,” rejoined
Nat cheerfully.
On the wall of the engine room was a tap
leading from the drinking water tanks of the
craft. Nat saturated his handkerchief under
this faucet and bathed Ding-dong’s wound.
Then he applied the water plentifully to the
lad’s face, and, opening his shirt, doused him
with it.
Under this treatment, the unconscious lad sat
up and opened his eyes.
“Hullo, Nat!” he exclaimed, like one awakening
from a long sleep. “What’s up? What on
earth has happened? Where are we? What
makes it so hot?”
// 033.png
.pn +1
As usual, under strong excitement, Ding-dong
forgot to stutter, as Joe termed it.
“I can only answer two of your questions,”
replied Nat. “‘What’s up’ is that poor Joe is
lying senseless on the bridge. He was washed
overboard in that chasm. You’ve got to try to
help me get him to the cabin. ‘What on earth
has happened,’ is this: We have, apparently,
passed through the chasm, and the islands have
vanished in some mysterious fashion, although
we can’t be far from where they were. The sea
all about us is boiling hot, and I guess we are in
the very core of some strange volcanic disturbance
or other.”
“Cc-c-c-crickets!” sputtered Ding-dong, rising
dizzily but pluckily to his feet, “we do seem to
run into some mighty queer adventures, don’t
we? Come on. I’ll give you a hand with poor
old Joe. But, by the way, what have you been
doing all this time?”
// 034.png
.pn +1
“Oh, I-I-guess I went to sleep for a while,
too,” responded Nat, rather confusedly, and
without mentioning his heroic rescue of Joe from
the waters of the rift.
He was spared answering further questions,
for it required their united strength to carry
Joe to the cabin. Ordinarily, this would not have
been so, but the heat was so terrific that it had
sapped the strength of both boys till they had
but half of their accustomed energy and vim.
Joe was laid on a locker and restoratives applied.
Presently he was able to sit up, and then
out came the story of Nat’s rescue. The lad colored
brilliantly as Joe and Ding-dong both poured
out their praise unstintedly.
“But, say,” exclaimed Joe, rubbing his head
and looking suddenly bewildered, “I’ve got an
awful bump here. I guess I must have hit my
head before your brave——”
“I hit it for you to keep you quiet,” burst out
Nat; “and if you don’t shut up now, I’ll bust it
again.”
// 035.png
.pn +1
Going on deck, the three lads found that it had
grown lighter. But the water still boiled about
them furiously. Clouds of sulphurous steam
arose from it, making them cough and choke.
In the brighter light they had quite an extensive
view of their surroundings. But, of the
islands, not a trace appeared. They had vanished
as if they had been the fabric of a dream.
“By George! I have it!” cried Joe suddenly.
“Those islands were of volcanic origin. Didn’t
you notice how bare and bleak they were? I’ll
bet that in this disturbance, whatever it is, they
have subsided as suddenly as they arose.”
“Such cases are not uncommon,” rejoined Nat.
“Only last year, Captain Rose, of the missionary
schooner Galilee, of San Francisco, reported seeing
an island of some extent arise and then vanish
again before his very eyes.”
“W-w-w-well,” sputtered Ding-dong, with a
grin and a return to his old manner, “w-w-w-we
can r-r-r-report the same thing; but as t-t-this
isn’t a go-go-gospel schooner maybe nobody
w-w-w-will believe us.”
// 036.png
.pn +1
“My suggestion is, that we get the engines
going and get out of this without delay,” said
Nat.
“Here, too,” agreed Joe Hartley. “There’s
nothing to hang about here for.”
An examination of the engines showed that,
in falling, Ding-dong had shut off the gasolene
supply valve, and had thus stopped the motors.
This was soon remedied and the motors set going
again. As the Nomad cut her way through
the boiling sea where lately the twin islands had
stood, they all felt like raising a fervent prayer
of thanks to Providence for their wonderful deliverance.
“I’ve often heard of such things on the Pacific,
but I never expected to live through one,”
was Nat’s comment.
“Nor I,” was Joe’s rejoinder; “and I don’t
know that I should care to repeat the experience.
But hullo!” he broke off suddenly, “what’s that?
No, not over there; off this way!”
// 037.png
.pn +1
He pointed excitedly to a small black object,
which, in the now clear atmosphere, was visible
at the distance of about a mile to the southeast
of them.
“It’s a boat,” announced Nat, after a brief
scrutiny of the strange object.
// 038.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 04 IV. "PROFESSOR GRIGG AND MR. TUBBS."
“So it is. What on earth can it be doing out
here? Wait a jiffy, I’ll go below and get the
glasses.”
Joe, now fully recovered, dived into the after
cabin and soon reappeared with a pair of powerful
binoculars.
Nat focused them on the distant object, which,
by this time, was visible, even to the naked eye,
and reported it to be a small boat, painted white,
and looking like a ship’s dinghy, or small lifeboat.
Excitement ran high on board the Nomad
when Nat proclaimed that he was almost certain
he had seen an arm wave from the small craft.
“I couldn’t be quite sure, though,” he admitted.
“Here, Joe, you take a look.”
// 039.png
.pn +1
The chubby-faced Joe now bent the glasses on
the object of their scrutiny.
He gazed intently for a minute, and then uttered
a shout.
“By ginger, Nat, you’re right!” he exclaimed.
“There is someone on board. There must be
something the matter with them, though, for
they seem to be collapsed in a kind of bundle
on the thwarts.”
“We must make all speed to their aid,” said
Nat, signaling for more power. “Poor fellows,
if they have been adrift in all that flare-up, they
must be about dead.”
“I should say so,” agreed Joe.
As they neared the boat, Nat began blowing
long blasts on the electric whistle, to let the occupants
know that aid was at hand. In response,
a figure upreared itself in the drifting craft,
waved feebly once or twice, and then subsided
in a limp-looking heap.
// 040.png
.pn +1
“I reckon we’re only just about in time,” said
Nat grimly, coaxing another knot out of the
Nomad.
As they drew alongside the boat, they saw
that not one but two persons occupied it. The
one who had signaled them from a distance
proved to be a short, stocky little man, with a
crop of brilliant red hair and a pair of twinkling
blue eyes. The merry flash in those optics had
not been dulled, even by the terrible ordeal
through which, it was apparent, he and his companion
had passed.
“Hullo, shipmates! Glad to see you!” he chirruped,
grinning up at the boys on the bridge with
a look of intense good humor.
His white duck clothes were scorched, and his
rubicund hair, on close inspection, proved to be
singed, but nothing appeared capable of downing
his amiability.
His companion was of a different character
entirely. He was dressed in duck trousers and
black alpaca coat. White canvas shoes adorned
his extremely large feet. But it was his face
// 041.png
.pn +1
that attracted the boys’ attention. It was large,
round and learned looking, with a thin-lipped
mouth cutting the lower part of it like a gash.
Above this, a huge, bony nose protruded, across
which was perched a pair of big, horn-rimmed
spectacles. A crop of sparse gray locks crowned
his high forehead and was scattered sparingly
over his large, but well-shaped head, which was
bare.
“God bless my soul, George Washington Tubbs,
but I’ve lost my hat again!” he exclaimed to his
companion, as the Nomad drew alongside.
“We’d have lost more than that, I fancy, if it
hadn’t been for this here craft,” observed George
Washington Tubbs, with a wink at the boys.
“We’d have been a pair of buckwheat cakes, well
browned, professor, when they found us.”
“I wish I could find my hat,” muttered the
spectacled individual in a contemplative tone,
peering about under the seats.
// 042.png
.pn +1
“It was blown off when the island busted up,”
rejoined Mr. Tubbs. “But we’re keeping these
gentlemen waiting. I presume,” he went on, addressing
the boys, “that it is your intention to
rescue us?”
Nat could hardly keep from laughing. His
first impression was that they had encountered
a pair of harmless lunatics. But something in
the manner of both men precluded this idea
almost as soon as it was formed.
“Won’t you come aboard?” he said politely.
It seemed as inadequate a remark as Stanley’s
famous one to Livingston in the wilds of Africa;
but, for the life of him, Nat couldn’t have found
other words.
“Thanks; yes, we will,” responded Mr. Tubbs,
with decisive briskness. “Oh, by the way! Don’t
move! Don’t stir! Just as you are, till I tell
you!”
Nat’s suspicions of lunacy began to revive.
Mr. Tubbs bent swiftly, and picked up what
looked like a large camera from the bottom of
the boat. Only it was unlike any camera the
boys had ever seen. It was a varnished wooden
// 043.png
.pn +1
box, with a big handle at the side. Mr. Tubbs
gravely set it up on its tripod and began turning
the handle rapidly.
“Now, you can move about! Let’s get action
now!” he shouted, waving his free hand.
“This will be a dandy film!” he continued, addressing
the world at large. “Gallant rescue of
Professor Thaddeus Grigg and an obscure individual
named Tubbs, following the disappearance
of the volcanic isles.”
In good-natured acquiescence to Mr. Tubbs’
orders, the boys began bustling about. Ding-dong
Bell, who had come on deck when he got
the signal to stop his engines, was particularly
active.
“Now, then, professor,” admonished Mr.
Tubbs, “up with you.”
“Without my hat?” moaned the professor; but
he nevertheless clambered over the side of the
Nomad, the boys helping him, while Mr. Tubbs
kept up a running fire of directions.
// 044.png
.pn +1
“Keep in the picture, please. Look around
now, professor. Fine! Good! Great!”
These last exclamations came like a series of
pistol shots, and seemingly proclaimed that the
speaker was well satisfied with the pictures he
had made. The professor being on board, Mr.
Tubbs followed him, the boys helping him up
with his machine, and with a box which, so he
informed them, contained extra films.
Professor Grigg, as the red-headed, moving-picture
man had called him, was too much exhausted
to remain on deck, but retired to the
cabin escorted by Ding-dong. As he went he
was still murmuring lamentations over his hat.
“It’s his weakness,” explained Mr. Tubbs, who
seemed to be in no wise the worse for his experience,
“he’s lost ten hats since we left ’Frisco
in the Tropic Bird.”
The name instantly recalled to Nat an item
he had read in the papers some months before,
concerning the setting forth on a mysterious expedition
of Professor Grigg of the Smithsonian
// 045.png
.pn +1
Institute and one George Washington Tubbs, a
moving-picture photographer of some fame. The
object of the expedition had been kept a secret,
and the newspapermen could elicit no information
concerning it. It had been rumored, however,
that its purpose was to record the volcanic phenomena
of the South Pacific.
“Is—is that the Professor Grigg?” asked Nat,
in rather an awestruck tone.
“It is,” responded Mr. Tubbs, “and this is the
Mr. Tubbs. I’ve taken moving pictures of the
Russo-Japanese war, of the coronation, of the
Delhi Durbar, of the fleet on battle practice, of—of
everything, in fact. I’ve been up in balloons,
down in submarines, sat on the cowcatchers of
locomotives, in the seats of racing automobiles,
hung by my eyebrows from the steel work of
new skyscrapers; but I’ll be jiggered if this isn’t
the first time I ever took a moving picture of an
island being swallowed up alive—oh, just like
you’d swallow an oyster.”
// 046.png
.pn +1
“Then the island was swallowed?” asked Joe,
with wide-open eyes.
“Swallowed? I should say so. And with a
dose of boiling water, too. But I got my pictures!
I got my pictures!” concluded Mr. Tubbs
triumphantly.
“But where’s your schooner? How did you
come to be drifting about in an open boat?” inquired
Nat.
“Ah, as Mr. Kipling says, ‘that’s another
story,’” said Mr. Tubbs. “I guess I’ll have to
leave that part of it to the professor. But—hullo,
here he comes now. I guess he’s feeling
better already. Possibly he’ll tell you the story
for himself.”
“I shall be very glad to,” said the professor,
who, after partaking of some stimulants from
the Nomad’s medicine chest, already felt, as he
said, “much revived.”
“You see in us, young men,” he continued, “the
sole members of the volcanic phenomena expedition
of the Smithsonian Institute and the British
// 047.png
.pn +1
Royal Geographical Society, who adhered to the
duty before them. Would you care to hear how
we came to be adrift as you found us?”
“Would we?” came in concert from the boys.
“Then I——” began the professor, and then
broke off and felt his bare head. “Can—can
any one lend me a hat?” he asked.
// 048.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 05 V. "TROUBLE WITH A HAT."
He was speedily furnished with a peaked
yachting cap belonging to Nat. It sat oddly,
almost comically, on his large head, but none of
the boys was inclined to laugh at the professor
just then. They were far too interested in hearing
what the eccentric man had to tell about
the voyage of the Tropic Bird.
“We sailed from San Francisco, as you no
doubt know from the papers,” said the professor,
“without the object of our mission being
divulged. There is no harm in telling it now.
“It had been ascertained that a certain phase
of the sun spots would be reached on this present
day. As you are perhaps aware, it has long
been a theory of scientific men that there was
some intimate relation between that phenomenon
and the volcanic disturbances and earthquakes
that occur in these seas from time to time.”
// 049.png
.pn +1
“I think that we learned something like that
in physics,” said Nat, nodding.
“In physic?” chuckled Joe, but was frowned
down.
The professor went on:
“It was my duty, assigned to me by the Smithsonian
Institute and the British Royal Geographical
Society, working in concert, to investigate
such a disturbance and make elaborate reports
thereon. At my suggestion, it was also
decided to engage a moving-picture operator to
take photos of the whole scene, which must prove
of inestimable benefit to scientific knowledge.
The Tropic Bird was chartered to convey the expedition,
and Mr. Tubbs was placed under contract
to take the pictorial record of the scene, if
we were fortunate enough to encounter one.
“We cruised about for some time, awaiting the
exact condition of the sun spots which would indicate
that a phenomenon of the kind I was in
// 050.png
.pn +1
search of was about to be demonstrated. Some
days ago my observations showed me that the desired
condition was at hand. As fortune would
have it, on that very day we sighted these islands—or
rather those islands, for they have completely
vanished as I predicted they would.
“We landed, and found the islands to be of
distinctly volcanic origin, and, seemingly, of recent
formation. At any rate, they are not
charted.”
Nat nodded.
“Of course there was no trace of habitation.
But a few creepers and shrubs of rapid growth
had taken root in the clefts of the lava-like rock,
of which the islands were composed. I saw at
once that it was here, if anywhere, that a seismic
disturbance would result, in all probability, providing
the conditions were favorable. That
night, on our return to the ship, the captain of it
waited on me.
// 051.png
.pn +1
“After much beating about the bush, he informed
me that his crew was aware of my belief
that the islands would be the center of a volcanic
disturbance, and that they refused to remain in
the vicinity. He denied being alarmed himself,
however. I succeeded in calming the crew’s
fears, and we remained at anchor off the islands
for some days. At last, signs of the storm
which broke to-day began to make themselves
manifest on my instruments. I realized that the
great moment was at hand.
“I warned Mr. Tubbs, here—a most valuable
assistant—to be ready at any moment. I was
confident that with the breaking of the storm
the islands would vanish. But nothing was said
to the crew. Quite early to-day Mr. Tubbs and
I embarked in that small boat and lay off the
islands. I was certain that the storm would be
magnetic in character, and would break with
great fury.”
“However did your boat live through it?” asked
Nat.
// 052.png
.pn +1
“She is fitted with air chambers, and specially
built to weather any storm,” was the reply. “But
to resume: The cowardly captain, when he saw
the storm coming up, sounded a signal for us to
return on board. When we did not, he hoisted
sail and made off, leaving us to our fate. The
storm broke, and there was a spectacle of appalling
magnificence. Mr. Tubbs behaved with
the greatest heroism throughout.”
Here Mr. Tubbs blushed as red as his own
hair, and waved a deprecatory hand.
“I guess it was watching you kept me from
feeling scared,” he declared, addressing the professor;
“but anyhow, I got my pictures.”
“We have some faint idea of what the storm
was,” put in Nat; “but can you explain something
to us?” and he described to the professor
the manner in which the Nomad had been drawn
toward the volcanic islands.
“Pure magnetism,” declared the scientist, “a
common feature of such storms.”
“But our craft is of wood,” declared Nat.
// 053.png
.pn +1
“Yes, but your engines, being metallic, of
course, overcame that resistance. You are fortunate,
indeed, not to have been drawn down
when the islands vanished. It was a terrific
sight.”
Nat explained that during that period they
were all unconscious and then went on to tell of
the experiences through which they had passed.
“Oh, why wasn’t I on board your craft?”
moaned Mr. Tubbs, as he concluded. “What a
picture that chasm would have made! It’s the
opportunity of a lifetime gone.”
The boys could hardly keep from smiling over
his enthusiasm; but Nat struck in with:
“It’s an opportunity I don’t want to encounter
again,” an opinion with which everybody but Mr.
Tubbs—even the professor—concurred.
“And now,” said the man of science suddenly,
“I don’t wish to alarm you, young men, but it is
possible that there may be some reflex action exerted
by this storm. In other words, there may
be a mild recurrence of it. In my opinion we had
better get as far away from this spot as possible.”
// 054.png
.pn +1
The others agreed with him. Ding-dong dived
below to his engines. Nat took his station on
the bridge.
“By the way, what about the boat?” asked Nat
suddenly, referring to the craft from which they
had rescued the scientist and his assistant.
“Unless you want it, we will let it drift,” said
the professor. “It is too large for you to hoist
conveniently, and it would impede your speed if
you towed it.”
And so it was arranged to leave the boat behind,
but Mr. Tubbs took a series of pictures of
it as the Nomad sped away. The professor also
waved the craft, in which they had weathered
so much, a farewell. But, when doing so, in
some manner the peak of his borrowed cap
slipped from between his fingers. The headpiece
went whirling overboard, and fell into the sea
with a splash.
“God bless my soul, I’ve lost my hat!” he exclaimed
for the second time that day, as the
catastrophe happened.
// 055.png
.pn +1
“He’ll use up every hat on board. You see if
he don’t,” confided Mr. Tubbs to Nat, while the
professor gazed fondly at the spot where the cap
had vanished.
// 056.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 06 VI. "“WHAT WOULD YOU SAY TO A VOYAGE IN THE AIR?”"
After breakfast the next morning, the professor
appeared on the bridge with Nat when the
latter took his daily observation, a practice which
was, of course, in addition to the regular “shooting
the sun,” which took place at noon. The man
of science had already made a deep impression on
the lad. He was eccentric to a degree; but in
common with many men of ability, this was a
characteristic that in no way appeared to affect
his scientific ability. The evening before he had
entertained all hands with fascinating tales of
his experiences in various parts of the world.
Already everybody felt the same respect for Professor
Grigg as was manifest in the manner of
the irrepressible Tubbs.
// 057.png
.pn +1
Nat operated his instruments and then noted
the result on a pad, to be entered later in the
log book. The professor peered over his shoulder
as he jotted down his figures.
“Pardon me,” he observed, “but you are a
hundredth part of a degree out of the way on
that last observation.”
For an instant Nat felt nettled. He colored up
and faced round on the scientist. But Professor
Grigg’s bland look disarmed him.
“Is that so, professor?” he asked. “How is
that?”
“Let me test your instruments,” was the reply.
“It is impossible to tell without that.”
Nat handed the various instruments over to
his learned companion. The professor scrutinized
them narrowly.
“I think,” he said finally, “that the magnetic
influences of yesterday’s storm have deflected all
of them.”
“Of course,” agreed Nat. “How stupid of me
not to have thought of that! Is it possible to
adjust them?”
// 058.png
.pn +1
“I will try to do so,” said Professor Grigg,
and, placing a sextant to his eye, he began twisting
and adjusting a small set screw.
Several times he lowered the instrument, and,
taking out a fountain pen and a loose-leaf notebook,
wrote down his readings. Nat watched
him with some fascination. There is always a
pleasure to a clever lad in watching a man doing
something which he is perfectly competent to
do. The professor, the instant he laid his hands
on the instruments, impressed Nat as possessing
the latter quality to a degree.
“Just as I thought,” said the professor finally,
“your instruments have been deflected. But we
will set them right at noon. A few simple adjustments,
that is all. But I find that you have
kept them in wonderful shape, considering your
rough and trying experiences.”
“We have always tried to,” said Nat. “We
knew how much depended on them.”
// 059.png
.pn +1
“And yet,” mused the professor, with his eyes
fixed intently on Nat, as the lad stood at the
wheel, “without the ability to understand them,
those instruments would be worthless. Conradini,
the Italian explorer, learned that.”
“At the expense of his life,” put in Nat. “The
lesson was lost.”
“Ah, you have heard of Conradini?” asked the
professor, in seeming surprise.
“I have read of him in that pamphlet on aerial
exploration issued by the Italian Royal Society,”
was the reply.
The professor readjusted his glasses. In his
astonishment, he almost lost his latest piece of
headgear—loaned him by Ding-dong. It was a
not too reputable-looking Scotch tam o’shanter.
“You have a knowledge that surprises me in
one so young,” he declared at last. “You take an
interest in exploration, then?”
“That was the object of the Motor Rangers,
when first we founded them,” declared Nat. “I
think,” he added, with a twinkle in his eye, “that
we’ve had our fair share of adventure.”
// 060.png
.pn +1
“From what you have told me of your enterprises,
I agree with you,” assented the professor
warmly. “But you have not told me yet of the
future.”
“How do you mean?” asked Nat.
“I mean, what plans have you ahead of you?
What do you intend to do next?”
The question came bluntly. Nat answered it
with equal frankness.
“I really don’t know,” he said. “As you are
aware, though, our course is now laid for Santa
Barbara.”
“So you said last night, when you kindly offered
us a passage home,” said the professor.
He paused for an instant, and Nat swung the
Nomad’s bow around a trifle more to the south.
“Have you no plans for further adventurous
cruises or auto trips?” pursued the man of
science.
Nat laughed.
“I guess we’ve had our fill of adventure for a
time,” he said; “that cleft between the volcanic
islands nearly proved our Waterloo.”
// 061.png
.pn +1
“Nonsense; such lads as you could not live
without adventure,” admonished the professor,
making a frantic grab at his hat, as a vagrant
wind gave it a puff that set it rakishly sidewise
above one ear. “Do you mean to say that you
feel like settling down to humdrum life now,
after all you have seen and endured?”
“I guess we all feel like taking a rest,” said
Nat. “We have had a fairly strenuous time of
it lately.”
“Granted. But it has put you into condition
to weather further times of stress and trial. Ever
since we had that talk last night about the Motor
Rangers, and what they have accomplished,
it has been in my mind to broach a proposition to
you.”
“To us?” temporized Nat. “I don’t see where
we could be of any use to Professor Thaddeus
Grigg, the most noted scientist of investigation
of this age.”
The professor raised a deprecatory hand.
// 062.png
.pn +1
“As if you had not been of the highest service
to me and to my companion already,” he exclaimed.
“Had it not been for you, we might
have—oh, well, let us not talk about it. That
coward of a captain——”
He broke off abruptly. Nat waited for him
to resume speaking.
“What I wanted to approach you about was
this,” resumed the professor, after a minute.
“From the moment I met you, you appeared to
me to be self-reliant, enterprising boys, who
mixed coolness and common sense with courage.
Such being the case, you are just the combination
I have been seeking for, to carry out a
project which awaits me on my return to America.
It is a scheme involving danger, excitement
and rich rewards.”
He paused impressively. In spite of himself,
Nat’s eyes began to dance, his pulse to beat a bit
faster. Adventure was as the breath of life to
the young leader of the Motor Rangers, and, to
tell the truth, he had faced the prospect of a life
of inactivity with mixed feelings.
// 063.png
.pn +1
“Well, sir?” was all he said, however.
The scientist continued, with apparent irrelevance.
“You three lads, from what you have told me,
have operated motor cars, motor boats, and endured
much in both forms of transportation?”
he asked.
Nat nodded.
“I guess we’ve had our share of the rough
along with the smooth,” he said briefly, but he
was listening closely.
“What would you say to trying a voyage in
the air?” was the question that the man of science
suddenly launched at him without the slightest
warning.
Nat glanced up from his steering amazed. The
scientist met the lad’s gaze firmly.
“Well?” he demanded.
“I—I—upon my word, I don’t know,” stammered
Nat.
For once in his life, the young leader of the
Motor Rangers was fairly taken aback.
// 064.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 07 VII. "A STRANGE SAIL APPEARS."
“I am perfectly serious,” resumed Professor
Grigg solemnly.
“The idea was such a new one that I admit it
staggered me a bit,” explained Nat hastily.
“Suppose you summon your friends, and I will
explain in more detail,” rejoined the professor.
Joe, who was polishing up the brass work and
putting things to rights generally on the storm-battered
craft, was nothing loath to obey Nat’s
summons to the bridge. Ding-dong Bell announced
that his engines were in good running
order and could be left to themselves for a time.
So it was not long before they all, including Mr.
Tubbs, were grouped in interested attitudes about
the man of science.
// 065.png
.pn +1
“As Mr. Tubbs knows,” said the professor,
“it was our original plan to resume our voyage on
the Tropic Bird, following our observations and
picture making at the volcanic islands. Our destination
was to be the coast of Chile. From
there we were to go in search of a lost Inca city,
which is described in documents recently discovered.”
“G-g-g-g-g-gee wer-w-w-w-whiz!” sputtered
Ding-dong.
“Hush!” admonished Nat, who could hardly
attend to his steering for interest. As for Joe
Hartley, his eyes fairly bulged in his head.
“A lost Inca city,” he murmured. “Sounds
good to me.”
“Is nothing known of the location of the
place?” inquired Nat.
“Not except in a general way,” was the reply.
“It is known to be situated on an island in the
midst of a lake high up on an Andean plateau in
Bolivia.”
“Like the one on Lake Titicaca in Peru,” said
Nat.
// 066.png
.pn +1
“Ah, you have read of that?” said the professor
approvingly. “Yes, from the documents
which came into the possession of the institute
as the gift of a traveler in Chile, it is probable
that the ruins which I am commissioned to search
for are very similar in character to those you
have mentioned.”
“How are they to be reached?” asked Joe.
The professor smiled.
“From what we have been able to learn,” he
said, “earthquakes have destroyed the roads formerly
used, and there is no way of reaching the
lake by land——”
“Then—then——” stammered Ding-dong
helplessly.
“One must fly to them,” said the professor as
calmly as if he were in a class-room. “Thanks to
modern science, I believe it may be possible at
last to obtain pictures and priceless relics of that
forgotten civilization.”
“But where are you going to get an airship?”
asked Nat, when he had recovered his breath.
// 067.png
.pn +1
As for Joe and Ding-dong, they regarded the
professor in silent amazement. Mr. George
Washington Tubbs merely grinned. Clearly,
the idea was no startling novelty to him.
“That has been arranged for,” rejoined the
professor. “A dirigible balloon of the most modern
type is already at Santa Rosa, a small town
on the Chilian coast. Before leaving the States,
I took some lessons in operating such a craft; but
really, that was hardly necessary, as Mr. Tubbs is
a fairly expert operator of dirigibles, and has a
knowledge of their construction and machinery.”
“Then all that you will have to do, when you
reach this town, is to get the dirigible ready and
then start the search for the lost city?” inquired
Nat eagerly.
“That is all. It should not take long, either.
The machine is packed in numbered sections.
For security it has been labeled ‘Merchandise,’
and is in charge of the American consular agent,
who alone knows what the boxes really contain.”
// 068.png
.pn +1
“Excuse me for saying so,” stuttered Joe; “but
it sounds like—like a wonderful fairy tale.”
“It is one,” said the professor smilingly, “a
fairy tale which, with the aid of you boys, I hope
to make true.”
“With our assistance?” echoed Nat in an astonished
tone.
“Yes. I really believe that it was Providence
that threw me in the path of you boys. You are
exactly the type of self-reliant, clever young
Americans that I need for assistants in the work.
Are you willing to charter the Nomad to me, land
me on the South American coast, instead of in
California, and give me your services, for a substantial
compensation?”
“I—I beg your pardon,” Nat managed to choke
out, “but the idea is so entirely new to us that I
think we shall have to hold a consultation first.”
“Take your time,” said the professor airily;
“take your time. It is characteristic of me to
arrive at quick decisions, as Mr. Tubbs knows,
and I don’t mind telling you that I shall be very
// 069.png
.pn +1
disappointed if you don’t see your way to accommodate
me. We are now almost on a straight
course for the coast of South America. If, on
the other hand, we landed in Santa Barbara, I
should have to take steamer from San Francisco
to South America, and I might arrive too late.”
“Why?” demanded Nat. “Is there any one
else in search of the lost city?”
“My colleagues fear so,” was the rejoinder.
“The documents passed through many hands before
they reached scientific ones, and the treasures
of the lost city, if they come up to all accounts,
are enough to tempt any one to search for
them for their intrinsic value alone.”
“Have you any idea who the men are who
may prove your rivals?” asked Nat.
“I have—yes. But I do not wish to discuss
that phase of the matter any more just now.
Suppose you and your friends hold your consultation
and then notify me of its result?”
“Very well,” agreed Nat.
// 070.png
.pn +1
Leaving the wheel in charge of the rubicund-headed
Mr. Tubbs, who was a capable steersman—indeed,
there didn’t seem to be much he
couldn’t do—the boys withdrew to Ding-dong’s
domain—to wit, the engine room.
They were below for about fifteen minutes.
When they reappeared, Nat’s face bore a radiant
expression. He walked straight up to the
scientist, who was gazing at the sea with an abstracted
look as he studied the various forms
of life that were visible in the clear water.
“Well?” he asked, facing around, clearly anxious
for “the verdict.”
“Well,” repeated Nat with a smile, which was
strangely at variance with his words, “I regret
to report that we cannot undertake the commission
you proposed——”
“What! You cannot? But I——”
“That is,” continued Nat, “for any compensation.
But we will agree to land you and your
companion at the port you desire, and further
than that, we will, from that time, place ourselves
under your orders in the hunt for the lost city.”
// 071.png
.pn +1
As Nat spoke these words, the dignified man
of science actually capered about, and snapped
his bony fingers in huge delight.
As for Mr. Tubbs, he gave a wild “Hurr-oo!”
of delight.
“Hurrah for the Grigg’s expedition!” he cried.
“Three cheers!” ordered Nat, and they were
given with a will. The echoes were still ringing
out, when Nat gave a sharp exclamation, and
pointed to the eastward.
“A strange sail!” he cried, as they all turned
eager eyes on the distant speck of canvas.
// 072.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 08 VIII. "TRAPPED BY TWO RASCALS."
“Why! why, that’s the Tropic Bird!” exclaimed
the scientist in astonishment, as they
drew nearer rapidly to the vessel Nat’s keen eyes
had espied.
“It is, indeed,” reiterated Mr. Tubbs, his red
hair seeming to bristle. “Oh, the cowardly pack
of rascals! I’d just like to run alongside and
give them a bit of my mind.”
“They deserve it, certainly,” admitted the professor;
“but I think we had better ignore them.”
But as they came close enough to the schooner
to perceive her clearly, they saw that she carried
her ensign reversed. This is a signal of distress
which there is no ignoring at sea, and is the universal
sign of imperative need on the part of the
craft displaying it.
// 073.png
.pn +1
“We must see what they want,” declared Nat,
setting his wheel over and changing the course
of the Motor Rangers’ vessel.
“Got any fresh water?” hailed a voice, as they
came alongside.
The man who uttered the appeal was a powerfully
built fellow, with a plentiful crop of black
whiskers, which gave him a ferocious expression.
“That’s Captain Ralph Lawless,” whispered the
professor to Nat.
At the same instant, the skipper of the Tropic
Bird appeared to recognize the professor.
“Why, surely that’s Professor Grigg?” he
cried out, apparently in great astonishment.
“Yes, it is, you cowardly rascal,” burst out the
professor, his anger overmastering his usually
placid disposition. “What do you mean by deserting
us in the manner you did? We might
have perished if it had not been for these brave
lads and their vessel.”
// 074.png
.pn +1
“Well, I’m sorry,” muttered the man, as the
Motor Rangers’ vessel drew in close alongside,
“but I couldn’t help myself.”
“Couldn’t help yourself?” echoed the scientist,
still angry. “How was that, pray?”
“Why, I felt my schooner being drawn in
toward the islands. If I hadn’t ‘cut stick’ when
I did, we’d all have been lost, and I don’t see how
that would have helped you.”
This answer mollified the professor somewhat.
“So now you are in distress?” he said.
“Yes. We have run short of water. Can’t
those kids let us have some?”
“You’ll have to ask ‘those kids,’ as you call
them,” said the professor, with some disgust.
“How much do you want?” asked Nat, who
felt less and less liking for the captain of the
Tropic Bird.
“Oh, a few gallons will do. I know an island
not more than a day’s sail from here, where I
can refill my tanks.”
At this point, another man—a short, stout fellow,
like the captain—came bustling up.
// 075.png
.pn +1
“Hullo, there, professor!” he hailed in an impudent
voice. “So you came out all right, after
all. Are you coming on board?”
“I am coming on board to get my things, Mr.
Durkee,” was the response, “but I am not going
to continue my voyage on the Tropic Bird.”
The captain looked rather dismayed at this.
“Oh, come now,” he said, “let bygones be bygones.
I should be in a fine fix if I sailed home
without you.”
“You ought to have thought of that when you
deserted us in that cowardly fashion during the
magnetic storm,” rejoined the professor.
The deck of the Nomad was almost on a level
with the top of the schooner’s bulwarks, so it was
easy for the professor to step from one craft to
the other. He now did so, disdaining the proffered
aid of Captain Lawless and his mate.
Mr. Tubbs joined him, and the two went immediately
into the after-cabin of the schooner,
where they had lived while on board.
// 076.png
.pn +1
While they were collecting their belongings,
Nat and Joe filled a twenty-gallon keg with drinking
water, and it was hoisted to the schooner’s
deck. It was really more than they could spare,
but Nat was a generous lad, and figured that, if
necessary, they could go on short allowance till
the South American coast was reached.
During the time that the boys were about this
work, Captain Lawless and his mate had been
holding a consultation in the lee of the deckhouse,
just aft of the foremast.
“It’s going to make lots of trouble for us if
we arrive in America without the professor or
that chap Tubbs,” said the mate. “Besides that,
too, we’ll have lost our chance of sharing in that
hunt for a lost city. There ought to be enough
loot in that to make us both rich.”
“That’s so,” agreed the captain. “If what
those papers of the professor’s say is right, that
place must be paved with gold, and when it rains
it must drop diamonds.”
// 077.png
.pn +1
“Pretty near,” grinned the mate, in appreciation
of his superior officer’s humor. “I wish I’d
had time to go over the papers more thoroughly
before that kid’s craft overhauled us. That was
a good guess of yours that they’d pick up the old
gent and that chap Tubbs, and the reversed ensign
was a good way to get ’em to come alongside.”
“Well, now that we’ve gone this far, we may
as well take the next step,” observed the captain.
“And what’s that?” asked the mate, with a
peculiar glint coming into his little rat-like eyes.
“Why, fix it so that it won’t be possible for
old Grigg to make trouble for us in the States.”
“How?”
“Simple enough. We can easily overpower
those kids, and as for the professor and Tubbs,
we’ll lock ’em in the cabin.”
“Say, cap, you are a schemer!” observed the
mate, in rather sarcastic admiration, “and then
I suppose we’ll sail for home and be arrested and
imprisoned as pirates?”
// 078.png
.pn +1
“Not at all,” was the reply. “We don’t need
to go home. South America’s good enough for
me. It’s Chile that the old cove is headed for,
ain’t it?”
“So his papers said.”
“All right, then. We’ll make the whole bunch
prisoners, land ’em on an island some place, and
then we’ll sail on to Chile ourselves, and have a
try at finding this old lost city. By the way, did
you make a tracing of that map you found in
the professor’s desk?”
“Did I? Well, I should say so. I’ve got it
in my pocketbook now. That’s likely to mean
dollars and cents to us later on.”
“That’s so. Now then, you go and tell the
crew what we are going to do. They won’t cut
up rough about it, especially if they think there
is money in it.”
“All right. I’m off. But see here, how are
you going to do it? Those kids look pretty
husky.”
“Bah! What can they do against eight of us?
If they get too obstreperous, a tap on the head
with a marlin-spike will soon quiet them.”
// 079.png
.pn +1
While the two worthies of the schooner were
cold-bloodedly discussing their plans to save
themselves from the consequences of their cowardly
act and at the same time enrich themselves,
Nat and Joe, blissfully ignorant of any such proceedings,
had hoisted the water keg on board.
This done, they started aft toward the cabin
to join the professor and Mr. Tubbs. They found
the two companions below, busily packing up
their possessions. But at the instant they entered,
the professor looked up from his desk,
where he was sorting papers, with a troubled
expression.
“What is the matter, professor?” inquired Nat
politely.
“Somebody has been tampering with my
papers!” he exclaimed. “I had them arranged in
a peculiar manner. And see, this lock has been
forced. Oh, that rascal of a captain! If we were
in a civilized port, I’d——”
The professor’s angry tirade was interrupted
in a startling manner. The door at the head of
the companionway stairs was slammed abruptly
to.
// 080.png
.pn +1
Warned by some intuition which he could not
have analyzed, Nat bounded to the stairway and
strove to reopen the door. But it resisted his
stoutest efforts.
“It’s locked!” he managed to gasp, as the truth
burst upon him.
“And we have been trapped by those two rascals!”
exclaimed the professor.
// 081.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 09 IX. "SOME STRATEGY."
The first effect of a sudden and utterly unexpected
disaster is, usually, to produce incredulity
in its victims. It was so in this case.
“Nonsense,” spoke the professor, more sharply
than was his wont, “I guess, after all, I am mistaken;
it must be an accident.”
“If so, it’s a remarkable one,” said Nat grimly.
“The bolt has been slid into a hasp on the outside.”
“Woof!” ejaculated Mr. Tubbs. “Then we are
in the position of the mouse that wandered into
a nice snug trap.”
“That’s the way it looks to me,” was Nat’s
rejoinder. “What do you make of it, Joe?”
The stout lad had, by this time, joined Nat on
the stairway. But their combined efforts failed
to budge the door.
// 082.png
.pn +1
“It’s locked sure enough,” replied Joe. “Hush!”
“What’s up?”
“I thought I heard a sound of whispering on
the outside.”
“So did I. That means there is some one out
there listening to see how we are taking it. Let’s
give the door a good pounding. Maybe we can
make them give some explanation.”
The idea was voted a good one. The two lads
shook and banged on the door with all the vigor
they possessed.
They were rewarded by hearing a gruff voice
growl out:
“Ain’t a bit of use your shaking that door. It’ll
hold till we get good and ready to open it.”
“That’s Captain Lawless,” declared the professor.
He raised his voice.
“What do you mean by this outrage?” he
loudly demanded.
// 083.png
.pn +1
“Now, perfusser, don’t get hot in the collar,”
was the rough advice hurled back at him. “I
knows what I’m doin’. You don’t think that I’m
goin’ to stand trial before a maritime court just
on your account, do you?”
“You precious rascal!” hailed Mr. Tubbs. “I’d
like to have my hands on you for about five minutes.”
No rejoinder came this time. Evidently the
skipper was not in a mood to bandy words. As a
matter of fact, he was half beginning to regret
his action in imprisoning the adventurers. To
use the vernacular, he was rather apprehensive
that he had “bitten off more than he could chew.”
“We’ve got to get out of this somehow.”
It was fifteen minutes later, after an interval
devoted to a discussion of their situation, that the
professor spoke.
“Agreed,” struck in Mr. Tubbs, “but how in
the name of the immortal Abe Lincoln are we going
to do it?”
“I’ve got an idea,” said Nat suddenly. “See
that old lounge in the corner there?”
They nodded and waited for his next words.
// 084.png
.pn +1
“It’s old and rickety, but it’s made of stout
timbers. What’s the matter with using that for
a battering ram?”
“Excellent!” exclaimed the professor, catching
his meaning. “But what are we going to do if
we get out of here?”
“That’s a logical inquiry,” said Mr. Tubbs.
“We haven’t got any weapons, and those rascals
may be well armed. I know that the captain and
the mate always carry revolvers. I’m not sure
about the others, though.”
“Humph!” murmured Nat. “I hadn’t thought
of that. Tell you what we can do, though. Let’s
make a search of the cabin. Maybe we can find
some pistols or other weapons in one of them.”
“A good idea,” agreed the professor; “we’ll
start by examining the captain’s boudoir.”
They had hardly commenced their search of
that worthy’s room, before a shout from Joe announced
that he had made a discovery. It was
nothing more nor less than a pistol in a case.
On the wall, too, apparently as an ornament, hung
an aged and rusty looking blunderbuss.
// 085.png
.pn +1
“Hurray!” cried Nat; “that’s something, anyhow.
Professor, you take the pistol and I’ll——”
“If it’s all the same to you,” interrupted the
man of science, “I had a good deal rather you
boys took the weapons. I am short-sighted, and
I know that my friend Tubbs is not over familiar
with firearms——”
“Except in a shooting gallery at Coney Island,”
put in Mr. Tubbs apologetically.
“Very well, sir,” said Nat. “Joe will take the
blunderbuss and I’ll carry the pistol. Wonder if
that old blunderbore is loaded, anyhow?”
“I’ve got an idea for testing it,” said Joe.
“What’s that?”
“Look here, why wouldn’t it be a good idea to
place the muzzle of this ferocious weapon to the
door at the point where we think the lock is located?
If it is loaded, it’s pretty sure to have
enough slugs in it to carry away the lock, and
the rest we’ll have to chance to luck.”
// 086.png
.pn +1
“That’s a good suggestion, too. At any rate,
it won’t do any harm to try it. We can’t be worse
off, unless that rascally captain makes us walk
the plank or something, and he wouldn’t dare to
do that, I guess.”
“Let’s see if there aren’t some more shooting-irons
lying round loose,” suggested Mr. Tubbs;
“seems to me that mate always had some in his
room.”
But a visit to the mate’s room resulted in the
discovery of nothing more formidable than a pair
of ancient cutlasses, hung crosswise on the wall.
The professor and Mr. Tubbs helped themselves
to these, the latter flourishing his in a truly
awe-inspiring manner.
“How do you like the weapon?” asked Nat,
who, despite the seriousness of their position,
could not forbear smiling at the moving-picture
man’s antics.
“Man alive!” rejoined Mr. Tubbs, “I only wish
that it was possible to get a moving picture of
ourselves going into action.”
// 087.png
.pn +1
“Now then, Joe,” said Nat, when they had
scoured the cabin unsuccessfully for any more
weapons, “it’s time for you to try your stunt.”
Joe ascended the stairs and carefully placed the
muzzle of the blunderbuss in position under the
spot where he was certain the lock was situated.
“All ready?” asked Nat in a strained whisper.
“All right here,” responded Joe, his finger
crooking on the rusty trigger.
“Then let her go!” came the command.
But before Joe could press the bit of steel which
he hoped would discharge the gun, there came a
startling interruption.
Bang!
Another gun had been fired outside. What
could it mean?
“That’s the Nomad’s gun. They are attacking
her and trying to make Ding-dong a prisoner!”
cried Nat.
Bo-o-o-o-o-m!
// 088.png
.pn +1
The rusty throat of the old blunderbuss roared,
and Joe was knocked clean off his feet by the accompanying
“kick.”
At the same instant the door was blown into
fragments, and a stentorian voice could be heard
roaring out:
“Howling tornadoes! What’s that? A volcano?”
“Reckon somebody was taking a siesta on that
door and old Mister Blunderbuss disturbed him,”
grinned Nat, as he caught Joe in his arms.
“Forward!” yelled Mr. Tubbs, brandishing his
cutlass in the manner made familiar by the heroes
of naval pictures of the olden time.
The others caught the infection.
“Forward!” cried Nat, and, shoulder to shoulder,
they plunged up the companionway, burst
through the shattered doorway, and rushed pell-mell
out upon the deck of the schooner.
// 089.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 10 X. "“DING-DONG” AND A GUN."
All this time Ding-dong Bell had been making
history in a fashion all his own. The lad had
been below, pottering about his beloved engines,
at the time that the others had gone aboard the
schooner, and consequently was quite unaware of
what had occurred till he emerged on deck and
found that the Motor Rangers’ craft was deserted.
“Guess they’ve gone aboard the schooner,”
thought the lad, and was preparing to follow,
when a sailor, stationed at the latter vessel’s
main shrouds, to which the Motor Rangers’ boat
was made fast, stopped him.
“Stay where you are, young feller,” he ordered
crisply.
// 090.png
.pn +1
It was at this moment that Ding-dong’s sharp
eyes noticed a little group, consisting of the captain,
the mate, and several of the sailors, standing
aft by the cabin companionway.
“I want to join my friends,” exclaimed Ding-dong,
forgetting to stutter in his righteous indignation
at the fellow’s tone and manner.
“Guess your friends ain’t receiving company,
except by permission of Captain Lawless,” was
the reply given, with an impudent grin.
As the man spoke, he made a motion as if to
grab Ding-dong, who was standing with one leg
on board the Nomad and the other on the schooner’s
bulwarks.
But Ding-dong was quite as quick in his actions
as were his two chums. Moreover, he was
a muscular lad, and his thews and sinews had
been toughened to a steel-like fineness by his
many adventures.
Consequently, as the sailor rushed at him, the
lad merely caught the man’s outstretched arm,
and, by a trick that he had learned from Nat,
gave it a sudden twist.
// 091.png
.pn +1
“Ouch!” grunted the fellow, and, without making
any more fuss, he writhed almost double and
fell in a heap. But as he did so, Captain Lawless
spied what was going forward. In the haste
with which the plans to capture the Motor Rangers
and their friends had been made, the fact
of Ding-dong Bell’s existence had been temporarily
forgotten by the rascally skipper and his
mate. This sudden appearance, then, of one of
the Motor Rangers, alive and intensely active,
was very disconcerting to them.
“Confound you, boy; where did you spring
from?” roared Lawless, as he dashed at Ding-dong
like an angry bull.
“Fer-fer-f-from under a go-go-gooseberry
bush,” sputtered Ding-dong, giving an agile backward
jump, which brought him upon the deck of
the Motor Rangers’ vessel.
At the same instant came a thunderous sound
from the cabin door beneath, which, as we know,
the imprisoned party were pounding and rapping.
// 092.png
.pn +1
The sound told Ding-dong the whole story as
plainly as if it had been put into words.
“What have you done with my friends?” he
demanded.
“Never you mind. Just throw up your hands
and come on board this schooner or it will be the
worse for you.”
“No, thank you,” parried Ding-dong, his speech
quite distinct in his indignation and excitement,
“I guess I know when I’m well off.”
“You brat, I don’t propose to be thwarted by
such a whipper-snapper as you. Come on board
at once, I say!”
“Not to-day, thank you. Call around to-morrow,”
scoffed Ding-dong.
As he spoke, the lad rapidly made his way forward
over the turtle back of the Nomad.
A sudden idea had come to him. On this turtle
back was situated the rapid-firing gun which was
a part of the craft’s equipment. Joe had been
polishing it that morning, the cover was off and
it looked ready for instant action.
// 093.png
.pn +1
With cat-like activity and swiftness, Ding-dong
made for the implement of destruction.
Reaching it, he took his stand on the small platform
on which it stood.
Before the astonished Captain Lawless could
scramble after the lad, Ding-dong had swung the
gun on its swivel, and the captain found himself
gazing straight into its formidable looking
muzzle.
Ding-dong had his hand on the firing lever,
and the rascally skipper went white as ashes as
for an instant he thought the lad was going to
discharge it.
“Don’t! Don’t shoot!” he begged abjectly.
“Then you get right back where you belong,”
ordered Ding-dong.
Just then he noticed that several of the crew
of the schooner were about to follow their captain
on board.
“You fellows, too,” ordered the boy in a sharp,
shrill voice, which nevertheless rang with determination.
// 094.png
.pn +1
“I’m ver-ver-very nervous,” he went on, “and
at any mum-mum-moment I’m likely to give this
lever a twist.”
“I’ll get even with you for this, my hearty,”
muttered the nonplussed Captain Lawless, but
nevertheless he scrambled back after his crew as
Ding-dong gave his crisp command.
“Now, then,” cried the boy in a determined
tone, “you let my friends out of that cabin, or
I’ll have to indulge in some target practice with
your schooner as the bull’s-eye.”
“Not much you won’t!” roared out Durkee, the
mate.
As he spoke, the fellow whipped out a pistol
and aimed it at Ding-dong.
The lad depressed the breech of the gun and
gave the lever a twist. Instantly a sputter of
bullets flew forth. They lodged in the schooner’s
spars and rigging, sending a shower of splinters
all about.
// 095.png
.pn +1
At the same instant, the roar of the blunderbuss
sounded from the cabin, and a fat sailor, who
had been sitting on the door, bounded into the
air. He was not hurt, but imagined that a mine
had exploded beneath him.
As the adventurers rushed out of the cabin,
they came face to face with a scene in which
Ding-dong Bell was the dominating factor. The
moral effect of the machine gun’s discharge had
been tremendous. Palefaced and demoralized,
Captain Lawless and his crew fled forward,
where they huddled in a mass like so many frightened
sheep.
“Say, professor!” hailed Lawless, “call that
young gad-fly off. He’s done a hundred dollars’
worth of harm to my ship already. Call him off,
do you hear?”
“It would serve you right if your schooner was
sunk,” retorted the professor. “What did you
mean by imprisoning us in that cabin?”
“It was just a joke,” pleaded Lawless, whose
face was pallid. He paid no attention to the
promptings of his mate, who was urging him, in
an undertone, to “stand up to the lubbers.”
// 096.png
.pn +1
“We’ll give in, professor,” he went on in a
shaky tone. “You’re welcome to take all your
baggage and go, without us making any more
trouble.
“How can we depend on you?” asked the professor.
“I’ll give you my word,” said the captain.
“A whole lot of dependence we could place on
that,” scoffed Mr. Tubbs.
“Tell you what,” spoke Nat; “let’s make him
lock all his sailors up in the forecastle. We can
guard them, and then, in case of treachery, we’ll
only have two to deal with.”
The professor delivered this ultimatum. Captain
Lawless readily agreed to comply with it.
The crew, sullen and muttering, was ordered below,
and the forecastle hatch battened down. Joe
was set to guard it, while the others helped in
the work of transporting the baggage on board
the Motor Rangers’ craft.
// 097.png
.pn +1
Of course Ding-dong Bell, who had really displayed
the qualities of a capable general, came in
for much warm congratulation. He took his
honors modestly.
“I dud-dud-didn’t know it was lur-lur-loaded,”
he protested, and, as a matter of fact, the lad
had been as much astonished as any one at the
tremendous fusillade that followed his manipulation
of the machine-gun’s firing lever.
At length all the baggage was on board. During
its transportation, Captain Lawless and his
mate had looked sullenly on, but offered no aid
or interference. They were beaten men, and
they knew it. Once the professor’s report of their
conduct was circulated, there was not a civilized
port into which they could take the schooner without
being arrested and brought to book for their
misdeeds.
But they watched the Motor Rangers board
their own craft and cast off the lines without
show of any emotion on their stolid countenances.
“You can release your crew now,” said Nat,
when Joe had clambered on board. As he spoke
he rang the bell for the “Go ahead.”
// 098.png
.pn +1
The Nomad began to forge through the water.
By the time Captain Lawless had reassembled his
crew, the schooner was not more than a speck
to those on the Nomad.
“Well, that was a queer adventure,” said Nat,
as they talked it over that evening. “What a
foolish man that skipper was to ruin his career
for the sake of spite!”
“Yes, he will be a marked man now,” spoke the
professor. “In these days of wireless telegraphy
and other improved means of communication,
there is not a spot in the Seven Seas where he
can hide his head without being overtaken by the
consequences of his folly and cowardice. I think
he was led into this thing by that mate of his,
Durkee. He is a very bad man.”
“Well, I guess they won’t bother us any more,”
struck in Joe; “in fact, my thoughts from now
on are centered on the lost city and that cloud
cruiser of yours, professor.”
The professor smiled at the youth’s enthusiasm.
Then Mr. Tubbs spoke.
// 099.png
.pn +1
“I reckon you folks have forgotten something,”
he said. “That chap Lawless has overhauled the
professor’s papers. Don’t you think it’s likely
he may try to locate the lost city, too? It’s a
stake worth playing for.”
“Wow!” exclaimed Joe. “If that’s the case,
look out for squalls.”
// 100.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 11 XI. "CAPTAIN LAWLESS TRIES TRICKERY."
“Do you intend to let them get away from us
like this?”
It was Mate Durkee, of the Tropic Bird, who
asked the question of Captain Lawless, as the
two stood leaning on the schooner’s rail, watching
the fast-diminishing form of the Motor Rangers’
capable craft.
The wind had fallen, and the schooner was
dipping and rolling on the swells, with her canvas
flapping idly. The crew, grouped in a mass
forward, were watching their superior officers
with some curiosity. Plainly they were anxious
to see how the situation was to be met.
“Well, what are we going to do about it?” demanded
Lawless.
// 101.png
.pn +1
“I’ve got a plan, but it involves a good deal
of risk,” was the reply. “Are you willing to take
a chance?”
“I’m willing to do almost anything to get even
on that outfit,” was the response, in a vicious
tone.
“Then listen to me. I happen to know that
we are not far from an island where I’m pretty
sure we can sell the schooner to the old chief for
a good price. When that is done, we can get a
canoe from him and have some of his men paddle
us out into the track of that line of Dutch steamers
that run from Manila to Callao. If we spin
a good enough yarn, we can get passage all
right.”
“Well, what then?” grunted Captain Lawless.
“Why, can’t you see? We’ll get from Callao
to that Chilean port for which that outfit is bound
in very little time. Once there, we can use our
own judgment as to how to proceed. But I must
admit, that I, for one, mean to get a chance at
the treasures of the lost city.”
// 102.png
.pn +1
“Suppose we did make that island you are talking
of,” said Captain Lawless, in tones that
showed that the mate’s plan had made a deep impression
on him, “how soon would that Dutch
steamer be going by?”
Mate Durkee made a rapid mental calculation.
“I used to run on the line, so I know their
schedule pretty well,” he said. “She should be
going by by to-morrow night, at latest.”
“Humph! But you don’t seem to have taken
the crew into consideration. What are we going
to do with them?”
“Oh, give them some sort of song and dance
and abandon them. They can live very well on
the island till some vessel takes them off.”
This cold-blooded proposal seemed to banish
Captain Lawless’ last lingering trace of hesitation.
“It’s a good plan,” he said, “but a daring one.
Suppose it ever leaks out how we sold the
schooner? There’ll be a clear case of barratry
against us.”
// 103.png
.pn +1
“So far as that is concerned,” urged Durkee,
“we can’t be much worse off than we are now,
can we? That professor means to make things
hot for us in the States. I saw that in his eye.
We must take refuge somewhere, and Chile looks
about as good to me as any place I can think of
right now.”
“I don’t know but what you’re right,” agreed
Lawless. “Let’s go below and look at the chart.
How long ought it to be before we reach this
island, if we get a good breeze?”
“Not more than eight hours. If the wind picks
up, we should make a landfall before midnight.”
Some two hours later a spanking breeze arose
out of the northwest. The schooner’s sails bellied
to it, and a spirit of joy was abroad among the
crew. Their officers had promised them a quick
run to a fine island, and then unlimited shore
leave. Little dreaming of the trap that was being
laid for them, the crew went about their tasks of
trimming sails with songs and glad shouts.
// 104.png
.pn +1
When twilight fell the schooner was bowling
along at a twelve-knot gait, bound for the island
of which Mate Durkee had spoken. It was
known to him as Brigantine Island, although the
charts called it Cook’s Land.
As the mate had foretold, it was not long after
midnight when a cry of “Land ho!” rang out
from the forward lookout. It was bright moonlight,
and in the silvery radiance those on board
the schooner had no difficulty in making out a
long, low elbow of land right ahead. Close at
hand they could hear the thunder of the surf as
it broke on the reef.
“Do you know the passage?” asked the skipper
of his mate.
“I could run it blindfold,” was the response.
“Close haul on those head-sheets!” he called out.
“Lively, now! Bring her about! That’s the way!
Here, I’ll take the wheel myself!” he cried the
next instant, springing to the helm.
Under his skillful guidance, for there was no
denying that the rascal was an able seaman, the
Tropic Bird was swung through the narrow passage-way
in the reef, and shot into the calm
waters of the lagoon beyond.
// 105.png
.pn +1
“Don’t seem to be much life ashore,” said Captain
Lawless, scanning the moonlit island.
“Fire a rocket, and you’ll see the dingoes come
running out of their holes,” laughed the mate.
A big signal rocket was procured from the
ship’s stores, and discharged.
As it burst in a cloud of blue flame, and the
“bang” which accompanied its bursting resounded
loudly, lights began to flash on shore, and they
could see scores of dark figures scuttling about
the white beach.
“What did I tell you?” said the mate, with a
grin. “We’ll get a great reception, all right.”
“They don’t happen to be cannibals, do they?”
inquired Captain Lawless timidly, his habitual
caution asserting itself.
The mate laughed.
“What a one you are to get scared, Lawless!”
he said. “Your name don’t fit you a bit. Cannibals,
is it? I should say not. Those chaps are
mission natives—some of them—and as smart a
bunch as you’d want to see.”
// 106.png
.pn +1
As there was no time to be lost, if they wished
to carry out their audacious plan, the captain ordered
a boat lowered and he and his mate went
ashore immediately. The chief was soon found.
In fact, he was down on the beach. He recognized
Durkee, who seemed to have some sort of a
hold over him, and negotiations for the sale of
the schooner were at once begun. Like most
dealings with savage folk, it required a lot of
diplomacy to accomplish the desired end. The
trading was carried on under a palm-thatched
roof, while natives with torches stood all about.
If the two white men had not been so engrossed
with their own affairs, they might have been inclined
to admire the savage picturesqueness of the
scene. But, as it was, they devoted their attention
strictly to business.
The chief, who rejoiced in the name of Billy
Bowlegs—an appellation of which he seemed
quite proud—proved an adroit old bargainer.
He spoke English well, and was to the full as
shrewd as any Caucasian trader.
// 107.png
.pn +1
But at last they managed to “make a deal,”
as the saying is. Billy Bowlegs was in need of
a good schooner, and had long coveted the
Tropic Bird, which was well known in those
waters before Captain Lawless acquired her.
The chief was willing to give three hundred dollars
in cash and two valuable pearls, worth fully
the same amount each, for the craft.
As this was the best they could do, the two rascally
white men agreed on this figure, and Billy
Bowlegs agreed to give them transportation in
a war canoe as far as the path of the Dutch
liners, which passed to seaward of the island by
fifty miles or so.
The crew, carousing and enjoying themselves
in their own rough fashion, knew nothing of the
departure of their captain and mate that morning,
nor did those two worthies wish that they should.
By the time the abandoned men awoke to the true
state of affairs, Lawless and Durkee were on
// 108.png
.pn +1
board the Dutch steamer Prinz Joachim of the
Imperial Peru and Manila Line, bound for
Callao. They were regarded with much interest
on board the craft as two luckless mariners—rough
but honest—who had lost their vessel
in the great magnetic storm.
And so, while the Motor Rangers were gleefully
heading for the land of the lost city, their
two malignant foes were likewise speeding
toward South America on a fast, well-equipped
vessel.
// 109.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 12 XII. "“GOOD WORK, MANUELLO!”"
“Any sign of land yet, Nat?”
The professor put the question, as he stood
beside the young leader of the Motor Rangers
on the bridge of the Nomad.
“I’ve noticed a sort of purplish mass, like a
low-lying reach of clouds, in the distance for
some time,” was the rejoinder. “Do you think
that it can be the coast of Chile?”
“I think it is highly probable; we should be
picking up the land by this time. I think—heaven
bless us!”
The professor clutched wildly at his head.
But he was too late. His latest “top-piece,” a
cap that had belonged to Ding-dong Bell, was
whirled from his head into the sea.
“It’s an extraordinary thing,” he said with a
kind of patient resignation. “But I don’t seem
able to keep a hat on my head at all.”
// 110.png
.pn +1
“So I’ve noticed,” rejoined Nat, with a sort of
dry humor, “and that’s the last spare one on
board. You’ve had six since we left the volcanic
islands, and there are no others left.”
“Well, I suppose I must go bareheaded, then,
till we reach land. It is most annoying, though,
really. I cannot account for it.”
Nat had a hard task to keep from laughing,
but he managed to maintain a straight face by
dint of heroic resolution. Moreover, as the
bridge was protected by awnings of red and
white striped material, he did not fear that the
man of science would suffer greatly from the
sun.
It speedily became evident that what Nat had
seen was indeed the coast of Chile. By late
afternoon they could make out the great mountain
masses which hang above the rather low lying
coast.
// 111.png
.pn +1
“Gives one a kind of a thrill to think that if all
goes well we’ll be flying over those before long,”
remarked Joe Hartley, as they all stood grouped
on the bridge, watching the distant land with interest.
“It certainly does,” agreed Nat.
It was three weeks since they had parted company
with the schooner, and the Nomad had been
somewhat delayed by bad weather. But, all
things considered, she had made a good run and
all on board were in high good humor as they
foresaw the end of the voyage.
By nightfall they were entering a landlocked
bay that forms the harbor of Santa Rosa. It
seemed to be a tiny place, as well as they could
judge. Above the huddle of houses there rose
the inevitable twin towers of the cathedral, however,
and through the glasses they could make
out, with a thrill, that Old Glory was flying over
one of the buildings, no doubt the American consulate.
“I tell you, that old flag never looks so good as
when you see it flying in a foreign port,” observed
Mr. Tubbs, a sentiment which they all
echoed.
// 112.png
.pn +1
As soon as they had anchored, their craft was
surrounded by a fleet of boats from the shore.
It was dark, and in the blackness the tiny lights
carried by the swarming craft made them resemble
a fleet of fire-flies, as Nat poetically remarked.
“I am going to take a boat ashore,” said Professor
Grigg, as soon as everything had been
made snug. “As we wish to start on the expedition
as soon as possible it is important that I
should see Mr. Stowe, the American consular
agent, without delay. I am anxious, too, to know
if the sections of the dirigible arrived in good
shape.”
“By the way, professor,” asked Nat, “what is
the airship’s name?”
“Why, bless my soul, I hadn’t thought of
that,” remarked the man of science, “she ought
to have one, too. What would you suggest?”
“I think Discoverer would be a good name,”
said Joe.
// 113.png
.pn +1
“Dd-d-d-dish coverer?” inquired Ding-dong
mildly.
In the scuffle that ensued, the lively young engineer
of the Nomad was almost toppled overboard.
When quiet was restored, the professor said
that he thought that Discoverer was a very good
name. And so it was decided upon.
“You may come ashore with me, if you like,”
said the professor to Nat.
“If I like,” echoed that lad; “of course I’d be
delighted to,” he added.
Accordingly, a few minutes later they set out
in one of the shore boats for the city, leaving behind
them two youths with rather long faces.
Ding-dong and Joe would have dearly loved to
share in the expedition, but their presence on
board was necessary, as the Nomad, after her
long, rough cruise, was badly in need of a “general
housecleaning.”
// 114.png
.pn +1
“I guess the consul will be astonished when he
learns of the manner in which I have traveled
here,” remarked the professor; “naturally he was
expecting me on the schooner.”
“Speaking of the schooner,” said Nat as the
native rowers propelled the long, narrow boat
swiftly through the water, “you don’t anticipate
any trouble from Lawless or Durkee?”
“No, I do not,” was the rejoinder; “in the first
place, the schooner could not arrive here for
many days, even if they had made up their minds
to follow us. By that time we shall be, I hope,
far advanced into the upper regions of Chile.”
As the professor spoke one of the boatmen
gave a shout. Nat looked up and saw that a
sailboat was bearing right down on them at tremendous
speed. The outlines of two men could
be seen, but it was too dark to distinguish their
features.
“Good gracious, if that man doesn’t tack he’ll
run us down!” cried the professor.
“He will indeed,” exclaimed Nat. “Hi there!
Look out where you’re coming!” he yelled, adding
his voice to the outcries of the boatmen.
// 115.png
.pn +1
But the occupants of the sailing craft paid no
attention. At a terrific speed the larger craft
bore straight down on the little boat.
The boatmen stood paralyzed with fear. They
did nothing. Suddenly one of them dropped on
his knees, and began imploring the protection of
the saints.
Nat sprang toward him, almost upsetting the
frail boat as he did so. With a quick movement
he seized one of the paddle-like oars, and by exerting
all his strength as he thrust it into the
water, he managed to send the boat spinning out
of harm’s way.
The next instant the sailing craft flashed by,
almost grazing the bow of the small craft.
“You’re a nice pair of irresponsible idiots,”
yelled the indignant Nat. “Do you know you
almost ran us down?”
A yell of derision came from the other boat,
and at the same instant something heavy whizzed
past Nat’s head, almost striking him. It fell in
to the water with a splash.
// 116.png
.pn +1
“They threw something at me, an iron weight,
or a rock, or something,” exclaimed Nat as the
sailboat, still going at the same rapid rate, vanished
in the darkness. “What do you make of
such conduct?”
“I don’t know what to think,” rejoined the professor.
“I was inclined to believe at first that
the sailors of that craft were merely careless.
But the throwing of that weight puts a different
complexion on the matter. It looks as if they
deliberately tried to wreck us.”
“It does,” agreed Nat; “the whole thing is very
mysterious. I’m sure I don’t know why any inhabitant
of Santa Rosa should wish us harm.”
But further discussion of the matter was cut
short by the necessity of arousing the boatmen,
who were still stupid from fright. This was
accomplished at last, and the boat was sent whizzing
through the water again.
They were landed at a tumble-down wharf,
and as the tide was out they got the full benefit
of the odors inseparable from a South American
// 117.png
.pn +1
town. Both, however, were too intent on
the work in hand to waste much thought on
this.
The professor, who spoke Spanish, as did Nat
after a fashion, inquired the way to the consulate,
and a ragged mestizo volunteered to escort
him thither. But to their disappointment, when
they reached the building, which served both as
a dwelling and an office, the consul’s assistant informed
them that he was not expected for an
hour or more. They were invited to wait, however.
Professor Grigg, who was tired, gladly accepted
the invitation, and sank into a comfortable
chair. But sitting still didn’t much appeal to
Nat.
“I guess I’ll stroll about the town a little and
meet you here later,” he said to the professor
after a few moments.
“Very well, my lad. But be careful,” was the
reply.
// 118.png
.pn +1
“Oh, I’ll be very cautious,” laughed Nat; “at
any rate, I can’t get run down by a boat ashore
here.”
“But there may be dangers, nevertheless,”
counseled the professor.
Nat again promised to be careful and hurried
out. He wished to mail some letters home, as
well as do a bit of sight seeing. He found the
post office without difficulty and, having mailed
his missives, was leaving it, when a native, in a
long serape, or cloak, glided up to him.
“The señor is from the boat which anchored
this evening?” he asked.
“Yes,” rejoined Nat. “Why?”
“Because if the señor wishes to see the town I
am very good guide. I can show him where
they sell veree fine ’Merican ice cream soda.”
“By ginger! You’re on,” cried Nat, who had
a weakness for ice cream sodas; “lead on, Macduff.
You don’t look very presentable, but I
guess that isn’t your fault.”
// 119.png
.pn +1
“Thees way, señor,” said the man, and he
walked off slightly in advance of Nat.
Suddenly he turned into a dark alley. Now,
although Nat had nothing to dread, yet he began
to be fearful that the fellow might mean to rob
him. So he stopped short for an instant. But
the next moment his suspicions were disarmed by
a look at the ragged, pitiable fellow. Nat would
have been a match for six of him.
“Where are you going?” he demanded, however,
as they plunged into the narrow thoroughfare,
which was ill-paved and black as a tunnel.
“A short cut, señor. A short cut to the Gran’
Plaza. We be there soon now.”
“Well, let’s hurry up and get out of this,
quick,” said Nat; “I don’t much like——”
Smash!
Something struck the young Motor Ranger on
the back of the head. He extended his arms
helplessly, and plunged dizzily forward, collapsing
in a heap on the pavement.
// 120.png
.pn +1
At the same instant two figures glided from a
doorway and joined a third, the one who had
struck Nat the blow that felled him.
“Good work, Manuello,” said the voice of Captain
Lawless. “Pick him up and help us carry
him in.”
// 121.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 13 XIII. "SOUTH AMERICAN JUSTICE."
Aided by the rascally guide, who had been
employed for the express purpose of decoying
Nat, the three men carried the lad’s limp form
into the doorway. Inside they ascended a steep
flight of stairs, and at length arrived in a room
on the upper story.
A lamp was smoking and flaring on a table,
which, besides one chair, appeared to be all the
furniture there was in the place.
“Fling him on the floor,” ordered Captain
Lawless brutally, and poor Nat was chucked into
a corner with as scant ceremony as if he had
been a sack of potatoes.
The appearance of both Lawless and his rascally
mate was materially changed since we last
saw them leaving their crew marooned on the
// 122.png
.pn +1
tropic island. Both had shaved off their beards,
and wore the South American style of dress, so
that it would not have been an easy matter to
recognize them.
The two rascals had arrived in Callao a week
before, and at Lima had exchanged their pearls
for substantial sums, so that they were well provided
with money. They made no long stay at
Lima, but hastened to Santa Rosa, where Durkee
fell in with two old acquaintances, to wit, the two
South Americans who were now leagued with
them.
As soon as the news of the approach of the
Motor Rangers’ craft spread along the water
front, Lawless and Durkee engaged a sailboat.
They wanted to look the craft over, and ascertain
the lay of the land, as it were. But, as we
know, darkness fell before the Nomad was anchored,
and they were chagrined to find no easy
way of getting close to the vessel. But they saw
the professor and Nat leave her for the shore,
and made the cowardly attempt to run them down
that we have related.
// 123.png
.pn +1
When this scheme failed, they hastened back
to the port, landing at a wharf not far distant
from the one at which Nat and his companion
had disembarked. Having found their satellites,
they deputed one of them to track Nat and lure
him into the alley where they lay in wait for him.
How easily and unsuspectingly the lad had
walked into the trap, we know.
“What are we going to do with this cub, now
that we have him?” asked Lawless, as Nat was
thrown into the corner.
“Better put him in Manuello’s pit downstairs,”
said Durkee. “He’ll come to in a minute or so
and may make us a lot of trouble.”
Lawless bent over Nat and examined him
carefully.
“You must have hit him a terrible crack, Manuello,”
he said to one of the South Americans,
who stood by, impassive and indifferent, while
this dialogue was carried on.
// 124.png
.pn +1
The man shrugged his shoulders.
“What would you?” he said. “You told me to
knock him senseless, and I did so.”
“You certainly did,” said Lawless, with a brutal
laugh.
“Well, if we are going to keep him in the pit
over night, we had better put him there now,”
remarked Durkee.
“All right. Bear a hand in packing him down
stairs again, then. Confound it, I wish we hadn’t
brought him up here. He’s a heavy youngster.”
“He is that,” agreed Durkee. “And he’s got
muscles like iron. He’d be an ugly customer in
a rough-and-tumble fight, all right.”
“No danger of such a thing as that occurring,”
said Lawless, as he lifted Nat’s feet, while Durkee
took his head.
Followed by the South Americans, one of
whom held the lamp, they descended the stairs,
and opening a trap-door in the passage, they
clambered down another flight leading into a
damp, earthy-smelling cellar. In the centre of
// 125.png
.pn +1
this cellar, the light revealed a deepish pit. Into
this pit Nat was lowered. All this time he had
given no sign of consciousness and was as limp as
a rag-doll.
“Now, get the dogs, Manuello,” ordered Lawless.
In obedience to his commands, the South
American approached a small door at the rear
of the cellar and opened it. He whistled softly,
and two ferocious, half famished looking blood-hounds
came leaping out. Their dripping fangs
were drawn back, exposing sharp, white teeth.
“Watch that boy carefully,” said Manuello in
Spanish to the brutes.
They seemed to comprehend him instantly.
They uttered a low growl and crouched close to
the edge of the pit. Their red-rimmed eyes were
fixed on the boyish form lying at the bottom.
The creatures were vicious to a degree; in fact,
Manuello used them in fighting, the scene of the
brutal sport being the pit in which Nat now lay.
// 126.png
.pn +1
“Humph!” said Captain Lawless, as he regarded
the two dogs, “those fellows are better
than human guards. If that boy ever escapes
from them, he’ll be——”
“Look out!” yelled Durkee suddenly.
An astonishing thing had happened. Nat’s
limp form had suddenly galvanized into aggressive,
fighting life.
He sprang erect like a flash, and in one bound
was out of the pit. Another instant, and his fist
was crashing into Lawless’s face. The man,
taken utterly off his guard, reeled backward, waving
his arms wildly.
He fell into the pit with a crash and lay still.
Before Durkee could recover from his amazement,
he, too, had joined him. There remained
only the two Spanish-Americans for Nat to face.
But they had had more time to prepare themselves.
Both brandished wicked-looking knives
as the boy came at them.
Moreover, the dogs had now awakened to the
situation. With frantic yaps and snarls, they
sprang at Nat.
// 127.png
.pn +1
The lamp which had lighted their progress to
these lower regions stood on the ground. Nat
saw in it a weapon of necessity. Snatching it up,
he swung it round his head and then sent it crashing
at the brutes as they leaped for his throat.
As the crash of splintering glass resounded, the
place was plunged in darkness, but the howls of
the two savage brutes showed that the burning
oil had singed their skins.
Without waiting an instant, Nat plunged off
through the darkness, in the direction in which
he judged the door lay. As he dashed forward,
he collided with a body, no doubt one of the South
Americans. Down went the fellow before Nat’s
onrush, just as if he had opposed him on the
football field.
But in the meantime, Durkee had recovered his
wits and scrambled out of the dog-pit. His
rough voice came bawling through the darkness
with appalling ferocity.
Fear of this ruffian lent Nat winged feet. He
found the door, darted through it and then down
// 128.png
.pn +1
the passage and out into the dark street. At
the far end of it he could see lights gleaming.
He made for these at top speed and found himself
in a well-lighted plaza opposite the cathedral.
He knew that the ruffians would not dare to
pursue him there, and, spying an alguzil, or native
policeman, he made his way to him. In
Spanish Nat explained the outrage that had been
perpetrated on him, and demanded that the police
investigate instantly.
To his astonishment, the man merely shrugged
his shoulders, and twisted his little black moustache.
He said that nothing could be done that
night.
“To-morrow, perhaps, but not to-night,
señor,” he replied, and turned away to strut off
on his beat once more.
“Gee whiz!” muttered Nat, as he watched this
competent conserver of law and order, “what
wouldn’t I give for a good American cop with a
big nightstick, right now. However, it’s no
// 129.png
.pn +1
good trying to wake that chap up, and those rascals
must have decamped by this time, anyhow.
Wonder if they meant to rob me, or what?
Funny thing that two of the voices sounded so
familiar. If it hadn’t been for the impossibility
of their being here, I could almost have sworn
that they were the voices of Lawless and Durkee.”
As it was past the hour at which he had promised
to return to the consulate, Nat set off at a
brisk pace. Once he had to ask his way. The
man he inquired of, a woe-begone looking personage
in a long cloak and a cone-shaped hat, replied
with great volubility.
“I will guide the señor there,” he declared.
“I guess not,” rejoined Nat, with such vigor
that the fellow fell back a pace, “I’ve had all I
want of guides in this place.”
As Nat walked along, he felt the back of his
neck, where he had been struck, for it was becoming
quite painful.
// 130.png
.pn +1
“Good thing the force of that blow was mostly
wasted on my shoulder,” he said to himself, “or
I might have been knocked unconscious in good
earnest. As it was, it was a lucky thing I
shammed insensibility, or I might have got another
tap.”
// 131.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 14 XIV. "OFF ON THEIR STRANGE VOYAGE."
“Well, boys, everything appears to be all
right.”
It was morning in the large compound, or garden,
adjoining the consul’s house, and our adventurers
were grouped about an odd collection
of articles that had formed the contents of several
big packing cases.
“By the way,” put in Mr. Stowe, who had been
an interested spectator of the unpacking of the
cases, “I have news for you, Master Trevor.”
“What is it?” inquired Nat, whose shoulders
still felt a bit stiff and sore, but was otherwise in
fine fettle.
“The police say that they will arrest that man
who struck you—to-morrow.”
// 132.png
.pn +1
“I thought so,” said Nat, with a laugh, as he
caught a twinkle in the consul’s eyes; “I guess it
will be one of those to-morrows that never
come.”
“I’m afraid so,” said the consul. “There is
little law in this country, and it’s a case of every
one looking out for himself.”
After some more talk, in which all freely expressed
their indignation against the rascals who
had decoyed Nat, work on the erection of the
dirigible was begun. It proceeded rapidly. By
afternoon the lower framework of the craft was
in position and bolted firmly in place. This
part of the craft merits a somewhat detailed description.
It was of an aluminum alloy, of great
strength and lightness.
Amidships of the structure, which was shaped
not unlike a long sleigh, was a canvas-enclosed
cabin. The front part of this was fitted with
round windows for the helmsman to see out of,
and contained the wheel by which the great rudder
was controlled. The various levers and handles
for the management of the engine were also
manipulated, like the rudder, from this “pilot-house,”
as it may be called.
// 133.png
.pn +1
Just aft of the pilot-house the canvas-enclosed
framework did duty as a dining, living and sleeping
room, being fitted with swinging bunks,
which, when not in use, folded up against the
ceiling. A collapsible table and other furniture
of the same character were also to be found in
this chamber, as well as a denatured alcohol
stove for cooking, and a complete outfit of plates,
knives, forks, etc.
Behind the pilot-house came the heavy frames
and stringers, destined to support the engine.
This was a six-cylinder motor of one hundred
horse power, which drove a big suction propeller
attached to the front of the framework. Thus
the dirigible was drawn, and not pushed, through
the air. The propeller was ten feet from tip to
tip, and formed of laminated wood covered with
canvas stretched tightly upon the timber.
// 134.png
.pn +1
A sort of gangway, or path, extended from
bow to stern of this framework, enabling the
aerial navigators to walk to any part of the
structure at will.
The entire frame was secured to the vast gas
bag by numbered ropes, with steel cores to insure
their stoutness. Relief valve-cords and gas controls
all ran to the pilot-house, under which structure
a steel tank, capable of holding two hundred
gallons of gasolene, was suspended. A reserve
supply of fuel was also carried, as well as lubricating
oil, and what Joe Hartley called “a machine
shop full of tools.”
There were other features of the craft, which
will be described as occasion arises; but when
we say that the Discoverer was, roughly, a hundred
and fifty feet from stem to stern, one of
the largest airships of her type, constructed in
America, had a capacity of 150,000 cubic feet of
gas and could lift 6,000 pounds, we have covered
the main features of her construction. It may
be added that the motor was of the four-cycle
type, and, despite its high horse power, weighed
but a trifle over 250 pounds. Aluminum alloy
had been used freely in its construction.
// 135.png
.pn +1
By nightfall the engine was in place and firmly
bolted to its foundation plates. A test showed it
to be working perfectly. The cabin provision
lockers were then stored with canned goods of
all descriptions, and staples, such as flour, beans,
bacon, corned beef and preserved butter. Tea
was also carried, but no coffee. One feature of
the cabin was the “armory.” This was a chest
containing rifles and shotguns of the latest automatic
type. It was an important feature of the
Discoverer’s equipment, inasmuch as the adventurers
expected to “live on the country” to a
great extent, for Bolivia abounds in game.
All that remained to do then, was to inflate
the great gas bag. The adjustment of this to
the frame proved tedious work. But at last it
was done, and the folds all carefully straightened
out, in itself an arduous job. The whole party
was pretty well tired out by this time, and work
was discontinued for the day.
// 136.png
.pn +1
“In the morning,” said the professor, “we will
inflate the bag, and then there will be nothing
more to detain us.”
The boys gave a cheer. It seemed almost too
good to be true—the idea that before many hours
had passed they would be flying high above old
Mother Earth in a cloud cruiser, that for completeness
and effectiveness surpassed their wildest
dreams.
Between four and five o’clock the next morning
the lads were astir. After early coffee and
some fruit and rolls, the task of inflating the
great bag was begun. Huge wooden tanks full
of iron filings and metal scrap had already been
erected. Acid was now added to the filings and
the tops clamped on. Then the inflation pipes,
purifier and nozzles were adjusted.
A cheer broke from the boys as they saw the
huge bag begin to swell like a live thing as the
gas poured into it. By noon the professor announced
the inflation as being sufficient. At
that time, the great yellow bag was as tight as a
// 137.png
.pn +1
drum almost, and the heat of the sun served to
swell it still further. While the bag had been
filling, the under frame of the dirigible had
been weighted down by bags of sand. Otherwise
it would have risen of its own volition.
The last things loaded on the framework were
several cylinders of hydrogen gas at tremendous
pressure. This was the reserve supply of the
adventurers, and the tanks contained enough
almost to refill the bag in case of necessity. A
hasty lunch was consumed at the consul’s table,
and Nat gave final instructions to the man who
had been employed to take care of the Nomad
during their absence.
This done, there was nothing else to wait for,
and at one-thirty sharp, the professor gave a final
look over things. Then he turned to Ding-dong
Bell.
“You can take your place at the motor,” he
said. “Mr. Tubbs, you will attend to the handling
of the craft as we rise.”
// 138.png
.pn +1
The versatile Mr. Tubbs, whose moving picture
apparatus was in readiness, paused to take
a few pictures, and then mounted to his place
in the pilot-house.
Nat and his chums bade good-bye to the consul,
and then took their places. It was Nat and Joe’s
task to attend to the throwing off of ballast as
they arose.
“Good-bye and good fortune to you,” said the
consul, as the great airship quivered and strained,
as if anxious to be up.
The bags had been thrown off so rapidly that
now the weight of only a few held her down.
The professor took his place beside Mr. Tubbs.
The consul’s wife waved a dainty handkerchief.
The departure had been kept a secret, but the
sight of the great yellow bag’s outlines rising
above the compound walls had attracted a crowd
outside. A cheer arose as the Discoverer’s electric
siren sounded a prolonged blast.
It was the signal for throwing off the remaining
bags. Nat and Joe worked with a will. Suddenly
the craft bounded upward, almost throwing
them off. Hastily they cast off the final
sacks, while Ding-dong, his face pale with excitement,
stood by his engines.
// 139.png
.pn +1
Clang-clang! came from the gong at his elbow.
The lad’s hand shoved over the starting lever
that gave the engines their first impulse by
means of compressed air. Then he manipulated
the sparking and gas controls.
The mighty propeller began to beat the air as
the Discoverer soared buoyantly, and yet in
stately fashion, high above the houses and tree-tops.
“Hurray! We’re off!” cried Nat, clambering
along the runway as nimbly as a sailor.
Faster and faster the propeller revolved. The
wind was blowing lightly out of the west, aiding
the Discoverer on her flight toward the
mountains.
Suddenly Ding-dong felt something fan the
air past his ear. It was a bullet. At the same
instant a report came from below. Somebody
was shooting at the craft of the clouds. The
// 140.png
.pn +1
others rushed out excitedly. They were just in
time to see two figures struggling in the hands
of several native policemen.
“It’s that rascal Lawless and his mate Durkee!”
cried Nat. “Now I know why those voices
seemed so familiar. It was those two ruffians
who captured me the other night.”
“But how in the world did they get here?”
asked Joe.
It was many days before that mystery was
solved for the Motor Rangers, but in the meantime
they at least had the satisfaction of seeing
that the cowardly endeavor to injure the airship
had resulted in their arrest.
But they gave little time to thinking of Lawless
and his fellow ruffian. The land of mystery,
of the lost city, of the unknown, lay before
them.
With a fair wind and with perfectly working
engines, the Discoverer drove forward at forty
miles an hour, carrying the Motor Rangers on
the strangest cruise of their eventful lives.
// 141.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 15 XV. "A SIGNAL THAT MEANT “DANGER.”"
Spinning along at a height the barograph
showed to be 1,500 feet, was an exhilarating experience.
The slight feeling of apprehension
which the Motor Rangers had felt when they set
out on their novel cruise, soon wore off, and was
replaced by a buoyant sensation.
“Well, Master Nat, what do you think of it?”
inquired the professor, emerging from the cabin
and coming “aft” to where Nat was standing
by the smoothly running motor.
“It’s glorious,” replied Nat enthusiastically. “I
had no idea, though, that it was possible to get
used to it so soon.”
“Well, a craft of this kind is vastly different
from an aeroplane,” commented the man of
science. “It is my belief that the aerial trans-Atlantic
liner of the future will be a dirigible.”
// 142.png
.pn +1
“I wouldn’t mind undertaking the trip in the
Discoverer,” declared Nat, with glowing eyes and
cheeks.
“What speed are we making?” inquired Joe
Hartley.
“About forty miles an hour,” said the professor;
“but you can tell the exact speed by stepping
into the pilot-house and examining the instruments.”
The lads followed his advice, and found that
the speed recorder registered a shade more than
the professor had assumed. Mr. Tubbs had the
wheel, and was gazing straight ahead, like a
steamboat pilot.
The pilot-house of the Discoverer, in fact, was
not unlike that of a steamer, although much
smaller, of course. The registers and indicators,
too, that were fastened to the walls, or rather
the framework of the Discoverer’s “hull,” were
totally unlike any that the lads had seen before.
// 143.png
.pn +1
Joe Hartley, who had been appointed chief
cook and bottle washer, soon left, to begin his
preparations for lunch. But Nat lingered on,
fascinated. Joe’s meal proved an excellent one,
and the fact that they were so high above the
earth did not affect the boys’ appetites in the
least. In fact, Ding-dong Bell observed that he
had never felt so hungry in all his life before.
After the meal was concluded, the motors of
the craft were slowed down a bit, so as to economize
on gasolene as much as possible. The fact
that the westerly wind had increased made it
possible to slow the engine down and still make
good progress.
“I wonder what they think of us down below
there?” said Joe, as he stood by Nat’s side, leaning
over the forward deck-rail and watching the
dwarfed figures of the inhabitants of a village
above which they were passing, scurrying to and
fro like ants.
“I guess they must think we are some sort of
demoniacal bird,” grinned Nat. “Hark!”
Faintly, very faintly, borne to their ears, came
the sound of church bells ringing furiously.
// 144.png
.pn +1
“They must be going to hold services in our
honor,” hazarded Joe.
“More likely they are going to pray that we
don’t harm them,” responded Nat. “According
to the professor, the people of this country are a
very ignorant lot.”
By afternoon the Discoverer was flying above
rugged country. The foothills of the great Andean
range had been reached, and they were in
Bolivia. It gave the boys a thrill to think that
they were actually at last in the hoped-for vicinity
of the lost city of the mysterious old Incas.
.tb
As the sun grew lower, the great altitude to
which they had attained struck them with a sharp
sense of chilliness.
“This part of the world ought to be called
Chile,” observed Joe, as he and the professor and
Nat stood on the forward deck just below the
pilot-house.
// 145.png
.pn +1
“If you will come into the cabin and see what
I have in that big chest, we can possibly get over
that difficulty,” said the professor, with a smile.
The lads accompanied him within and found
that the chest referred to contained a variety of
warm clothing.
“I knew that the late afternoons and nights on
the Andean heights were bitterly cold,” said the
professor, as the boys selected some garments, not
forgetting a coat-sweater for Ding-dong. “I
therefore took the precaution to be prepared to
meet them.”
It was not long after this that the professor
addressed a few words to Mr. Tubbs, and the
Discoverer began to drop. Then came a sudden
signal to Ding-dong to slow up his engines. This
being done, the lateral planes of the dirigible,
which have not yet been mentioned, were inclined
at an angle that brought her to earth with
an easy, gliding motion.
“Are you going to land for the night?” asked
Nat, who had watched the maneuvers with interest.
// 146.png
.pn +1
“Such is my intention,” said the professor. “It
is too late in the day to get any observations now,
and I don’t fancy traveling at night in this region.
We might blunder miles off our course.”
The boys agreed that this was so, and then
gave their full attention to what was going forward.
Immediately beneath them was a charming,
park-like savannah, set in the midst of dense
forests of gigantic trees, from whose branches
hung great twisted creepers, looking not unlike
big snakes.
It formed an ideal landing spot for the big
dirigible, which, in a few moments after the descending
planes had been set, grazed the ground
and then settled. Instantly the professor shouted
an order for the anchoring process to begin.
The boys had been drilled in this before the
voyage was started, and fell to work with a will
on their task. By running the propeller slowly,
with the descending planes set at a sharp angle,
the Discoverer’s body was naturally held against
the ground.
// 147.png
.pn +1
Nat and Joe leaped off on opposite sides, both
armed with sledges. With these heavy hammers
they drove sharp, barbed steel stakes into the
ground till they were almost as firm as rocks.
Each stake had a ring at its top through which
ropes were rapidly looped. The ends were then
led back on board and secured. This was done
so that in case of a sudden attack the great aircraft
could be released by those on board. Of
course, in such an event, the stakes would have to
be left behind, but as an extra supply was carried,
this would not be such a serious matter.
Ten minutes after she nestled to the ground,
the Discoverer was secured as snugly as a vessel
at her wharf. The engine was shut off and the
various necessary adjustments of the controls and
apparatus of the pilot-house made. This done,
the entire party stepped “ashore” for the first time
in many hours.
“We will sleep on board, but cook our supper
here,” decided the professor.
// 148.png
.pn +1
This plan just suited the boys, and they scattered
in all directions to obtain firewood for the
encampment. While they were doing this, Mr.
Tubbs set about the task of getting the needed
utensils from on board the cloud cruiser. He
had been busily engaged on it for some time when
the professor looked up from some calculations
he was making on the back of an old envelope.
“It appears to me those boys are a long time
gone,” he said. “I hope they are all right.”
“Oh, they are all right,” spoke the moving-picture
artist easily. “They took the rifles with
them, and agreed that in case of any danger or
difficulty befalling them, they would fire three
times.”
“In that case——” began the professor.
But he halted with an abrupt exclamation of
consternation. Mr. Tubbs’s face likewise took
on a perturbed look at the interruption.
>From the forest, to their right, three shots,
fired in rapid succession, had resounded.
// 149.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 16 XVI. "INDIANS?"
“What can be the matter?” was the exclamation
that burst from the professor’s lips.
“Something serious,” declared Mr. Tubbs.
“Take a rifle and we’ll find out.”
Hastily selecting a weapon each, the two
friends plunged into the forest in the direction
from whence the shots had come.
“It’s ahead there, somewhere!” panted the professor,
as the sound of a mighty threshing and
struggling amidst the undergrowth came to their
ears.
Neither the professor nor Mr. Tubbs was in
the least faint-hearted, but they crept through the
forest with some caution. If the boys had been
attacked by enemies, they reasoned the best thing
to do would be to give their foes no opportunity
of observing the approach of re-enforcements.
// 150.png
//[Illustration: They came on a scene that, for an instant, almost deprived
//them of their breath.]
.pb
.pm illust 02 i148.jpg 500 "They came on a scene that, for an instant, almost deprived them of their breath."
.pb
// 151.png
// 152.png
.pn +1
But, as the noise grew louder, they hesitated
no longer, but pressed right on. Suddenly, on
emerging into an open space where the growth
had been flattened out in every direction, they
came on a scene that, for an instant, almost deprived
them of their breath.
In the midst of the open space, Nat and Joe
were bending over the form of Ding-dong, who
was stretched on the ground, seemingly unconscious.
Not far off, an immense snake, which
must have been fully fifteen feet long, was lashing
wildly about in its death agonies.
“Oh, professor!” cried Nat, as he saw the newcomers,
“we’re so glad you have come. Ding-dong
was attacked by that serpent and badly
crushed. It was only by firing at the creature
that we managed to save his life.”
“Is he badly hurt?” choked out Joe anxiously.
The professor, who had been bending over the
unconscious lad, shook his head.
// 153.png
.pn +1
“Merely shock, and possibly a sudden weakening
of the heart,” he said. Taking a small vial
from a pocket medicine-case, the professor forced
some of its contents between Ding-dong’s lips.
In a few moments the boy was able to sit up and
take notice of things about him.
By this time the convulsive dying movements of
the snake had ceased, and it lay still.
“Ugh! What a monster!” shuddered Ding-dong.
“I can feel his terrible folds around me
yet.”
As usual, when under the stress of emotion,
Ding-dong’s hesitating manner of speech had left
him, and he enunciated quite plainly.
“How did it happen?” asked the professor.
“I was looking for wood,” explained Ding-dong,
“and thought I had found a f-f-f-fi-fine
c-c-chunk of timber. But w-w-when I pu-pu-put
my hand on it, the ber-ber-blessed thing turned
out to be a snake. I yelled at the top of my voice,
and started to run, but before I had gone far I
tripped and fell. The n-n-n-n-next instant the
snake had me.”
// 154.png
.pn +1
“Joe and I were a short distance off,” chimed
in Nat, taking up the story, “and heard Ding-dong’s
yell. We hurried to him, and you can imagine
how horrified we were to see him struggling
with that serpent. Joe raised his rifle, but then
lowered it again. He was scared to shoot at the
snake for fear of hitting Ding-dong. But at last
we saw a chance. I fired once and Joe twice.”
“And all three bullets penetrated the brute in
and about the head,” struck in Mr. Tubbs, who
had been examining the snake.
“So they did,” declared the professor, as he
and the boys joined the ruddy-headed one; “good
shooting, boys. This snake is of the boa variety.
They are common all along this coast, but usually
they are thickest near rivers. As a rule, they
will not attack human beings, although cases
have been recorded of their doing so. I imagine
that it was Master Bell’s having grabbed him
that angered his snakeship. Shall we take the
skin for a souvenir?”
// 155.png
.pn +1
“N-n-n-no, thank you,” stuttered Ding-dong,
“it will be no trouble to re-re-remember that f-f-f-fellow
without having to l-l-l-look at his skin.”
“I agree with you,” said Mr. Tubbs. “I guess
we’ll leave him here for a while. It won’t be
long before some animal or other makes away
with it.”
Leaving the repulsive looking carcass on the
ground, they set out to return to the Discoverer.
“Well, all is well that ends well,” said the professor,
as they tramped along; “at first I had a
dreadful fear that you lads had been attacked by
Indians.”
“Indians!” exclaimed Nat. “Are there Indians
in this part of Bolivia?”
“Oh, yes; several tribes,” was the rejoinder.
“Are they savage?” inquired Joe.
“I am sorry to say that they are. In other
parts some of the natives have been converted to
Christianity, but the natives of this section are
fierce and warlike. I hope we shall manage to
steer clear of them.”
“What is the tribe called?” asked Nat.
// 156.png
.pn +1
“They are known as the Caripunas,” was the
rejoinder. “The early Jesuits had much trouble
with them, and they have ever since remained in
a more or less wild and hostile state. They are
very much averse to having any one enter their
country, and that was one of the minor reasons
why this trip was made by means of the dirigible.”
“Their country!” echoed Joe. “I should think
the Bolivian government would send a regiment
up here and subdue the rascals.”
“Several such expeditions have been despatched,”
was the response, “but the fate of all
has been the same. Several months after their
departure the remainder of the force has come
straggling home, more dead than alive, to tell a
tale of death and defeat.”
“But how can Indians cope with civilized
troops?” Nat wanted to know.
“For one thing, they are inured to the hardships
of the forest,” rejoined the professor; “for
another, these Bolivian Indians wage war with
// 157.png
.pn +1
poisoned arrows shot from long blow guns. A
man usually dies in a few minutes after such an
arrow has struck him, unless medical attention is
at hand. Armed with these weapons, the Indians
creep up on their foes and noiselessly decimate
an entire force. It is in this way that the Indians
have managed to reserve this part of the country
for themselves and keep the hated white man out
of it.”
The boys looked rather grave as they continued
their tramp back to the Discoverer.
“Looks to me as if we were in for a more exciting
time than we bargained for,” observed Nat
to Joe.
“I guess you are right,” rejoined Joe. “A battle
with Indians who employ such deadly weapons
does not appeal to me.”
“Oh, I guess we’ll get through without
trouble,” exclaimed Nat. “At any rate, if we are
attacked, we can climb aboard the good old Discoverer
and soon be out of range.”
// 158.png
.pn +1
“That’s so,” agreed Joe, and the lads dismissed
the matter from their minds; but whether Nat’s
surmise was correct or not, we shall see in due
time.
// 159.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 17 XVII. "A QUEER SORT OF GUN."
With the wood gathered by the young Motor
Rangers, Mr. Tubbs soon had a roaring fire going.
By sundown it was so cold that they were
glad to huddle close to the cheerful blaze, which
was for purposes of warmth only, the cooking being
done on the denatured alcohol stove belonging
to the galley of the Discoverer.
It was an odd meal, but one the boys enjoyed
thoroughly. Mr. Tubbs was as good a hand at
cooking as he was at anything else, and as a
supply of fresh meat had been brought along,
they had a capital meal, helped out with choice
canned vegetables and even, to celebrate their
first night in the land of their search, a generous
portion each of plum pudding. It was canned, of
course, but quite palatable, or so the boys appeared
to find it.
// 160.png
.pn +1
After supper the professor gave the lads an
interesting sketch of the country they were in,
and finished up with an account of the old Incas,
one of whose lost cities they had come to find.
Among other things of interest he told them
concerning the lost race, was that they are believed
to have been sun worshippers. At any
rate, in one of the ruined cities which has been
located in Peru, circular temples with the walls
embellished with pictures of the sun have been
found. Other facts concerning the vanished civilization
of the Incas must ever remain a mystery,
said the man of science.
For instance, at the remains discovered in
Peru, a huge rock, shaped like a gigantic dome,
was found. Traces of gold were discernible on
its surface, and it is believed that at one time
the whole great, monolithic mass was completely
plated with this costly metal.
“Other strange features of these ruins,” went
on the professor, “are dungeon-like chambers
which are believed to have been used in cereomonies
of initiation, and great baths fed by subterranean
rivers, which are still flowing as they
did in the days of the Incas.”
// 161.png
.pn +1
“Do you think we shall find such things?”
asked Nat, his eyes aglow at the prospect.
“You mean, do I think we shall find the lost
city?” corrected the professor, with a smile.
“Well, Master Nat, I don’t doubt that if we find
the city we shall also find such things. It is
rumored that the lost city we are in search of
is in even better preservation than the famous
ruins of Peru itself.”
“I wish you would tell us some more about
that sacred dome with all the gold on it,” said
Joe.
“I’ll tell you all I know,” said the professor.
“It is believed then, that the sacred dome was the
place where Manco Capac, an Inca deity, descended
to the earth. To this day the natives
approach the spot with the utmost awe and reverence.
// 162.png
.pn +1
“According to their ideas, no bird would
alight up, or animal approach it. All but
priests were forbidden to come even within sight
of the rock, although it is hard to know how
this could be prevented, as it is of immense size.
At ordinary times its gold plating was covered
by a veil of the finest and most costly materials,
and this was never removed, except on great
religious festivals.”
“It must have been a fine sight to see that
great golden rock glittering in the sun,” said
Nat thoughtfully.
“It must, indeed,” agreed the professor.
“There was also a Temple of the Moon, and a
vast Temple of the Sun, as well as other buildings
whose purposes are veiled in mystery, and
must ever be. One thing is certain, though,
human life must have been as cheap as water,
for it is estimated that many thousands of slaves’
lives were sacrificed in building the city of which
only ruins now remain.”
“It reminds one of Egypt,” said Nat.
// 163.png
.pn +1
“So travelers have observed,” rejoined the professor;
“after all, the history of civilization repeats
itself.”
“Has much treasure been discovered there?”
inquired the practical Joe.
“Quite a good deal, yes,” was the reply; “but
the Spaniards took an immense quantity of it,
and to-day there is little left. However, from
time to time a valuable find is made, I am informed.”
“And the city we are in search of—do the
same conditions exist there?” inquired Nat.
“Very probably. According to tradition, the
fierce and warlike Indians kept the Spaniards
away from the spot,” was the reply.
“I hope so,” spoke Joe, in whose mind visions
of vast treasures and strange, massive buildings
were already rising. As for the others, perhaps
they, too, even the professor, were also weaving
castles in cloudland. At any rate, they were
silent for a time, brooding over the great mystery
to whose heart they hoped to penetrate ere
long.
// 164.png
.pn +1
But the period of silence was not of lengthy
duration. Mr. Tubbs, who possessed a good
tenor voice, volunteered to sing a song.
“Is there anything he can’t do?” thought Nat.
The song he chose was “Old Kentucky Home.”
When he came to the chorus the boys’ voices
blended with his in the plaintive cadences of the
music. It was a strange sound to be ringing out
in that primeval place, where perchance the foot
of civilized man had never trod before.
But the singing was due to terminate abruptly.
Nat, who had been gazing outside the circle of
firelight, caused the breaking off of the concert.
He sprang to his feet and seized up a rifle, calling
on the others to do the same.
“What is it, my boy?” asked the professor,
“a wild beast?”
“No—that is, I don’t think so,” rejoined the
boy, whose face was rather pale. “I’m almost
certain that what I saw was the figure of a man
crouching over yonder and watching us.”
Exclamations of consternation filled the air.
// 165.png
.pn +1
“Indians!” gasped Ding-dong Bell.
“It may have been nothing but a jaguar or a
prowling puma,” said the professor. “Are you
sure your eyes didn’t deceive you?” he inquired
of Nat.
“As I said, there’s a bare chance I might have
been mistaken,” rejoined the lad, “but I don’t
think so. However, the instant that I looked,
the figure vanished.”
“It’s very strange,” mused the professor, “and
yet it may have been an Indian, little as I like to
think of such a contingency. However, we will
keep a sharp watch to-night, and be prepared to
‘slip our moorings’ at an instant’s notice.”
All agreed that this would be an excellent plan,
and forthwith the knots on the mooring ropes
were retied, so that one tug from those on board
the Discoverer would release the craft and allow
her to shoot upwards. Preparations for what all
felt was not likely to prove a restful night, were
then begun.
// 166.png
.pn +1
The first watch was assigned to Mr. Tubbs and
Joe, and would last till midnight. The next one
would be assumed by Nat and the professor.
Ding-dong Bell, who was still nervous and rather
pale from his experience of the afternoon, was
to be allowed to slumber all through the night.
He protested loudly against this, demanding
to take his share with the rest; but was obliged
to be content with the promise that if any trouble
occurred he would be routed out to assume charge
of the engine. In spite of their apprehensions,
Nat and the professor slept as soundly as Ding-dong.
In fact, it did not seem to Nat that he
had been asleep more than a few minutes when
Mr. Tubbs aroused him to take his watch.
“All quiet,” was the rubicund-headed one’s response
to the professor’s inquiry.
Hardly were the words out of his mouth before
the silence of the night was broken by an almost
unearthly yell.
“What’s that?” cried Nat, considerably startled.
// 167.png
.pn +1
“Nothing but a screaming monkey,” said Mr.
Tubbs. “I’ve heard them in Brazil often.”
“But they don’t cry out at night unless they
are disturbed,” said the professor decidedly.
“You think some one is in the woods?” asked
Nat.
“I don’t know about a human being. But the
fact that you are almost certain that you saw
a man prowling about last night, makes it look
suspicious.”
“It may be only a panther,” said Mr. Tubbs.
“Possibly. Let us hope that is the case, but
in the meantime prepare for trouble; then, if it
comes, we can meet it. Master Joe, rouse out
Master Bell. Nat, I wish you’d bring me that
peculiar-looking gun you were asking me about
yesterday when you saw me place it on board.”
The gun referred to was a queer-looking
weapon, with a mouth shaped like an old-fashioned
blunderbuss. It had an immense barrel,
and altogether was a very odd-looking weapon.
Nat knew where it stood in the gun-rack and
soon fetched it. The professor examined the
lock and appeared to find everything satisfactory.
// 168.png
.pn +1
“What kind of a gun is that?” asked Nat, full
of interest.
“I don’t want to say much about it till I see
how it works,” said the professor. “It is the
invention of a friend of mine. If we are attacked
it will be a fine opportunity to test it.”
Nat would like to have asked more questions,
but at that instant a chorus of cries and shrieks
arose from the woods on every side. The cries
were uttered by roosting birds and monkeys,
which had been disturbed by some cause. What
that cause was, the professor soon guessed.
“It’s the Caripunas,” he whispered; “almost
beyond a doubt. Master Bell, stand by your engines.
Tubbs, take up your position at the wheel
and be ready to manipulate the searchlight. Master
Nat and Master Joe will stand ready to slip
the tie-ropes when the word is given.”
// 169.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 18 XVIII. "WHAT IT DID."
The moments that followed were filled with a
tenser excitement than any of the lads had ever
known before. After the first frightened flurry
of the alarmed creatures of the forest, a deep
silence prevailed. It lasted for possibly fifteen
minutes, and then the professor decided not to
test their nerves to the breaking point.
“Turn on the searchlight!” came the breathed
command.
A sharp click followed, as the light, which was
supplied by current from the storage battery, was
switched on.
A dazzling white pencil of light swept all about
the Discoverer. Its brilliancy pierced the night
like a saber, and illumined the solemn trees and
the open savannah all about.
// 170.png
.pn +1
At almost precisely the same instant, a chorus
of ferocious yells and cries broke out, and from
all sides there rushed on the aerial adventurers
a horde of short-statured Indians. The searchlight
showed them to be wild-looking men, clothed
in a single garment, their heads covered with
straight black hair. Through their lower lips
most of them had thrust a triangular bit of white
stone with a sharp point. This added to their
fantastic appearance.
Nat noted that one of them, larger in stature
than the rest, seemed to be the leader. He also
saw, with an unpleasant thrill, that they carried
long blow pipes. It was through these pipes, the
professor had said, that the poisoned arrows were
discharged.
Rope in hand, ready to slip at the word of
command, Nat stood his ground. On the opposite
side of the framework Joe was likewise waiting.
Neither boy budged an inch, and Ding-dong
stood steady as a rock at his engines.
// 171.png
.pn +1
So suddenly had it all happened, in fact, that
neither boy could regard it for an instant as more
than a dream.
Suddenly something struck the metal framework
by Nat’s head with a sharp ping!
It was an arrow, and so close had it come to
the lad that he had caught its whistling sound as
it sped past his ear.
“Phew! This is warm work, with a vengeance,”
he muttered.
He saw the Indians give a sudden concerted
onrush, yelling like maniacs.
“Keep the searchlight in their eyes. It dazzles
them!” called the professor.
Then came another command.
“Let go your ropes!”
Nat and Joe instantly dropped their ropes and
seized up rifles.
“Don’t fire!” cried the professor sharply. “We
don’t want to injure them if we can help it.”
The great dirigible swayed for an instant and
then began to rise.
“Turn on your power!” shouted the professor.
// 172.png
.pn +1
The bell for “full speed ahead” rang sharply
out. At the same instant the propeller began to
whir.
As it did so, several Indians, who, in their onrush
on the dirigible, had clambered upon it, were
thrown off in all directions. They rolled over
and over, like so many footballs. This made the
others pause an instant, and in that instant the
dirigible rose from the ground.
But the chill night air had condensed the gas,
and she rose slowly. Before more than five feet
had been gained in her upward rise, the Indians
recovered from their amazement and charged
like a pack of furies.
“Flat on your faces!” shouted the professor, as
a shower of arrows pinged and pattered in the
framework of the craft.
They obeyed the command, and then Nat saw
the queer gun brought into use. The professor
raised it to his shoulder and pulled the trigger.
// 173.png
.pn +1
Instantly a stream of colored balls, like those
that issue from a Roman candle, poured from the
bell-like muzzle. But almost simultaneously with
their discharge, they burst with sharp reports,
and the whole air became impregnated with a
black, all-obscuring smoke as thick as a London
fog.
The dense clouds spread on every side, completely
obscuring the dirigible from the view of
the Indians below. Higher and higher she rose,
while below her the dense smoke veiled everything
like a curtain. Nat caught a whiff of the vapor,
and it made him cough and choke.
“I’ll bet those Indians aren’t enjoying it,” he
thought to himself. “So that was what that queer
gun was.”
In a few moments they were high above the
tree-tops, and the professor ordered the lights
turned on. A switch was pushed over by Mr.
Tubbs in the pilot-house, and the Discoverer
blazed out with incandescents like an illuminated
battleship. For a few seconds nothing much was
done but to exchange congratulations. No one
was hurt, and not an arrow had pierced the gas
// 174.png
.pn +1
bag. This was accounted for by the fact that the
Indians, not understanding how vulnerable that
part of the craft was, had confined their volleys
to the occupants of the lower structure.
“A most fortunate escape,” declared the professor,
but suddenly he clapped his hand to his
head.
“My hat!” he cried wildly, “I’ve lost another
hat.”
“Here it is!” cried Joe, picking up the article
of headgear.
He held it up, transfixed by an arrow. The
missile had penetrated it and whisked it from
the professor’s head without touching him.
“I wouldn’t have lost that for worlds,” said the
professor, thanking Joe, and removing the arrow
very gingerly.
“One scratch from that arrow would result in
death,” he said, in explanation of his extreme
care.
// 175.png
.pn +1
He held it out for the boys’ inspection. It had
a stone head, discolored by some whitish matter
at the tip. The shank of it was about two feet
long, with some sort of cloth wrapped around the
end to make it fit the blowpipe tightly.
“What kind of poison do they use?” asked Joe.
“An infusion of the St. Ignatius plant, from
the beans of which strychnine, our deadliest narcotic,
is obtained,” was the response.
“We’d better make a thorough search for any
other arrows,” suggested Nat.
“I think so,” agreed the professor; “they are
not the sort of things to have lying about.”
A search of the Discoverer’s lower structure
resulted in the finding of a dozen or more of the
deadly missiles. These were all thrown off into
the air at once.
“And now,” said the professor, planting his
hat firmly on his head, “I suppose you are anxious
to know something about that queer gun I
used.”
A chorus of assent greeted this remark.
// 176.png
.pn +1
“Well, it’s a weapon called the Fog-maker,
and was invented by a friend of mine especially
for use in aerial warfare, or for protecting a
small vessel from hostile aeroplanes,” said the
professor. “As you saw, it works perfectly,
throwing out a thick cloud of dark, acrid smoke,
which is heavier than the atmosphere. While it
has no permanent bad results, yet it renders those
who breathe it insensible for a time.”
“It is indeed an effective weapon,” declared
Nat; “can we see one of the projectiles?”
The professor took up the gun and slid open a
small space in the stock. Then, pressing a metal
button, he caused two round black objects, about
the size of small oranges, to roll out into his hand.
“The magazine holds ten of these,” he said.
“They are made of glass and filled with chemicals.”
“What kind of chemicals?” asked Joe.
“Ah! That is the secret of the inventor,” was
the reply, “nobody but he himself knows what
they contain; but that they are effective, you
must admit. He told me that the old ‘stink-pots’
that Chinese pirates used to use gave him the
// 177.png
.pn +1
idea. If ever there is a war in the air, I think
that the nation equipped with this invention will
have a powerful implement of havoc.”
“I should think so,” said Nat; “one whiff of
it was quite enough for me.”
All this time, by the professor’s directions, the
dirigible had been swung in wide circles at an altitude
of about fifteen hundred feet. So interested
had they all been in the professor’s description
of the novel aeroplane gun, and in the other matters
that had occupied their attention, that the big
air cruiser had not yet been “tidied up.”
This was the next task to demand their attention.
Joe set to work to hoist up and coil the
rope which had been cast loose when the hasty
ascent was made. But he hadn’t given it more
than a couple of tugs before he uttered a shout
that brought the others, except Mr. Tubbs, who
was at the helm, running along the substructure
to his side.
“What’s up now?” demanded Nat.
// 178.png
.pn +1
“Why, either this rope has caught in something
below, or there’s something heavy attached to it,”
was the astonishing response.
“Impossible for it to have caught,” declared the
professor, “we are now fifteen hundred feet or
more above the surface of the earth, and the
rope is not more than a hundred feet long, at
the most.”
“Well, feel it yourself,” responded Joe.
Nat gave the rope a tug. As Joe had said,
there was clearly something heavy attached to
the end of it. But what could it be?
“We’ll soon see,” said the professor. “Master
Joe, attach another length of rope to it, and then
have Master Bell switch power on the electric
winch.”
This was done, and the powerful winch began
to revolve, winding the rope on its barrel. As
the rope began to grow shorter, the boys peered
over the edge of the substructure in an effort to
make out what could be at the end of it. The
glow of light spread by the illuminated craft
soon showed them.
// 179.png
.pn +1
“It’s a man!” shouted Nat in a thunderstruck
voice, as the figure of a human being, clinging
desperately to the rope, was brought into view.
// 180.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 19 XIX. "AN INVOLUNTARY PASSENGER."
“A man!” exclaimed the amazed professor.
“Why, how in the world did he come here?”
“I don’t know,” said Nat; “but there he is.”
“He must have caught the rope when the Discoverer
shot upward,” suggested Joe. “Maybe
he thought he could stop us.”
“He’s all wer-wer-wound up in the rope,” announced
Ding-dong, who had been peering over
the side during this dialogue. “His eyes are
closed, and he seems half-dead from fright.”
“Let us drag him on board at once,” said the
professor.
The boys lay flat, while the winch was started
up until the man’s head was on a level with the
under part of the substructure. Then three pairs
of strong young arms reached down and dragged
their involuntary passenger over the side.
// 181.png
.pn +1
“He’s an Indian!” cried Joe, as the man being
dragged into safety from his precarious position
proved to be a squat, black-haired little brown
man, clad in a garment of rough fibre, and with
one of the peculiar ornaments Nat had already
noticed, thrust through his under lip.
All this time the Indian had kept his eyes
tight closed, and had not uttered a word. Now,
however, he opened his eyes, and threw himself
down flat on his face on the Discoverer’s deck.
There he groveled in an attitude of the most complete
humility.
“He thinks we are sky gods, or demons of some
sort,” declared the professor, reading the man’s
consternation aright.
“I don’t much blame him,” said Nat, with a
smile, “that ride through the air at the end of the
rope must have been the most terrifying experience
of his young life.”
“Young life,” scoffed Joe, “he must be sixty at
least.”
// 182.png
.pn +1
“Well, that is young sometimes,” said the professor,
who owned to that age himself, although
he was as active as most men half his age.
Suddenly the Indian began to speak, but without
raising his head. He poured out a flood of
words. For an instant, they thought he was
speaking his native dialect, but all at once the
professor understood.
“He’s talking Spanish,” he said, “and imploring
us to spare his life. Just as I thought, he
thinks we are beings from another world.”
“Well, if I were in his fix I’d be inclined to
think so myself,” said Joe.
But the professor began putting rapid questions,
at the same time raising the man’s head
and showing him by signs that they meant no
harm to him. Little by little the Indian seemed
to recover his courage. But he was sorely
shaken by his adventure, and explained that
when the ropes began to drag over the ground
he had seized them to stop the dirigible, and had
become entangled in them.
// 183.png
.pn +1
“Why did your tribe attack us?” asked the professor.
“We thought you were human beings,” was
the response. “But now we know otherwise.”
He would have cast himself on his face again,
but the professor raised him and spoke encouragingly
to him.
“Maybe if you’d give him something to eat
he’d feel better,” suggested Joe, practically.
“That might be a good idea, and it will show
him that we mean him no harm,” said the professor.
The Indian, who said his name was Matco,
was taken to the cabin, the sight of which, with
its comfortable furnishings and strange scientific
instruments, filled him with fresh terror. But
little by little he regained his self-possession to
a degree, and ate what he was given with zest.
The crew of the Discoverer joined him at the
meal, of which they stood in need, Joe relieving
Mr. Tubbs at the helm. The stout lad had taken
a few lessons in steering before from Mr. Tubbs,
// 184.png
.pn +1
and found that it was not as difficult as he had
supposed it would be. But then, Joe had had
plenty of experience at the wheels of both automobiles
and boats.
But after all, the selection of a green hand
at the wheel proved somewhat disastrous. The
sun arose while they were still talking to the
Indian, and Mr. Tubbs was hearing details of
the strange manner in which the man had
boarded the airship.
In that rarefied air the rays of the luminary
of day soon warm the air, and, as a consequence,
the gas within the Discoverer’s bag began to
expand very rapidly. Those in the cabin, of
course, did not notice that the craft was rising
rapidly, and Joe did not give a glance at the
barograph, it not occurring to him to do so.
All at once he gazed over the front of the
pilot-house and looked down below. What he
saw almost made him utter a cry. The Discoverer
was at a tremendous height, and appeared
to be rising more and more rapidly.
// 185.png
.pn +1
Joe, in a sudden panic, twitched a lever, and
the next instant the craft shot skyward at breathtaking
speed. The boy had set the wrong lever
and had adjusted the planes to a rising angle.
Before the professor, who had felt the craft
rear upward, could reach the pilot-house, the
dirigible had shot up five hundred feet or more.
Behind the professor came the others, except
Matco, who was sent into a fresh paroxysm of
fright by the strange and sudden upward leap
of the airship.
“Good heavens!” cried the professor, as he
jerked over the descending lever, “we have risen
to a height of more than eight thousand feet.”
As he spoke they suddenly noticed that the air
had grown bitterly chill.
“Just like Joe to make a break like that,” said
Nat, with a good-natured laugh that took the
sting out of his speech; “we’d better get down to
earth once more as quickly as possible. It’s too
cold to be comfortable up here.”
// 186.png
.pn +1
“We’ll soon drop now,” said Mr. Tubbs confidently.
But as the minutes passed and it grew colder,
his face became grave.
“We’re rising,” cried the professor, glancing
at the barograph.
“That’s right,” cried Nat. “What can be the
matter?”
“Have you got the descending planes set at
their sharpest angle?” demanded the professor.
“Yes,” was the response, “but they seem to
have no effect on her at all.”
The professor thought a moment.
“We shall have to pull the escape valve and
let out some gas,” he said. “The rising sun has
warmed the air till the expansion of gas has made
the bag too buoyant for the planes to have any
effect on it.”
“Won’t that waste the gas?” asked Joe.
// 187.png
.pn +1
“Yes, but we will have to do it. Mr. Tubbs,
pull the escape valve, please,” said the professor,
whose nose was red and whose teeth were beginning
to chatter.
“It’s snowing!” cried Nat suddenly.
The air was filled with flying flakes, and the
Discoverer seemed to be soaring through a wonderful
white void. But it was no time for admiring
such effects.
Reaching above his head, Mr. Tubbs gave the
cord that worked the escape valve situated on
the top of the big bag, a sharp tug.
Then he gave it another and another, with no
results.
“It’s stuck fast!” he said, the words coming
out shrilly from his blue, frozen lips.
A look of dismay spread over the professor’s
face.
“Nonsense,” he said. “It can’t be.”
“But it is, I tell you.”
“Let me try it.”
The professor gave a hard tug, but still the
cord did not budge.
// 188.png
.pn +1
“Give me a hand here,” he said to Nat, and
together they tugged.
Suddenly, and without the least warning, the
cord broke off short in their hands, and they
fell sprawling on the floor. To his astonishment,
when Nat tried to rise, he found the task difficult.
Breathing seemed to be a labor, and his
limbs felt like lead. The professor had actually
to be helped to his feet, and then staggered, with
one hand over his heart, to the helmsman’s settee,
on which he sank, breathing with a queer,
whistling sound.
“What on earth has happened?” demanded
Joe, who like the others, felt strangely oppressed
and heavy. His head ached as if it would burst.
“The—the cord must have frozen to the sides
of the bag,” gasped out the professor. “The
change to this awful altitude turned the night
moisture accumulated on the gas bag’s sides to
ice. I fear we are doomed, unless——”
He paused, panting and gasping.
// 189.png
.pn +1
“Unless what?” demanded Nat, forcing the
words out.
“Unless we can get that valve open.”
“And if we can’t?”
“Then we must drift higher and higher till
we perish of cold, or the bag explodes and we
are precipitated to the earth.”
// 190.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 20 XX. "“ALL OUR LIVES DEPEND ON IT.”"
Nat staggered toward the door of the pilot-house.
Mr. Tubbs, at the wheel, the least affected
of the adventurers, turned his head.
“What are you doing to do?” he demanded.
“Get that valve open,” was the brief reply.
“Boy, you are crazy!”
“Maybe, but I’m going to make a try for it,
anyhow. All our lives depend upon it.”
“By hooky, if it’s to be done, you’ll do it, and if
not, why then, I guess we’ll have to meet death
as bravely as we can,” was Mr. Tubbs’ muttered
remark, as Nat plunged out of the door.
In the cabin Ding-dong, breathing hard, lay
on a narrow bunk. Matco was stretched on the
floor, apparently unconscious. Nat gazed at
them half stupidly.
// 191.png
.pn +1
“Pretty far gone,” was the thought that came
into his dazed mind. Then he plunged on again,
reeling as he went, his mind concentrated with
bitter intensity on the task that lay before him.
Gaining the deck, he found the cold almost too
much for him, and he turned back for an instant
and donned warmer clothing from the professor’s
chest.
Then he doggedly proceeded with his self-imposed
task. He noticed that the engine had
stopped. The bitter cold had condensed the moisture
within it and frozen the lubricating oil.
But Nat wasted no time on these observations.
What he had to do must be done quickly if at
all.
Gazing upward at the huge bulging curve of
the under side of the gas bag, he saw the broken
ends of the valve cord fluttering from the bag.
They were far above his reach, even if the securing
of them would have done him any good.
It was only for an instant that he paused.
Then, summoning up every ounce of resolution
in his determined mind, he seized hold of the
starboard rigging and began clambering up and
outward.
// 192.png
//[Illustration: Nat climbed by sheer force of will power.]
.pb
.pm illust 03 i188.jpg 428 "Nat climbed by sheer force of will power."
.pb
// 193.png
// 194.png
.pn +1
He did not dare to look down into the awful
void beneath him—vast and empty as eternity
itself. Keeping his eyes steadily fixed on the
bulging bag, Nat climbed by sheer force of will
power till he was up to the network that encased
the bag.
Right here began the most difficult and terrifying
part of his task. Hanging desperately above
the immensity beneath him, he had to make his
way to the upper part of the bag. He did not
dare to think of what he was doing. The very
notion of it made him feel sick and dizzy. The
lad just climbed, fixing his mind on the thought
of reaching and opening the valve.
Somehow—to this day Nat couldn’t tell you
how—he clambered round under the bulge of the
bag and began the easier task of making his way
up the tightly rounded sides to the top of the
great cylindrical gas container. As the professor
had surmised, ice had formed on the outside
// 195.png
.pn +1
of the bag, and made Nat’s endeavor ten times
more hazardous and difficult. This ice had
clogged the valve ropes, and Nat saw that the
only thing to do was, as he had made up his
mind, to climb on till he reached the top of the
bag.
The possibilities of a slip were awful, and Nat
no more dared think about them than he had
about the chances of his slipping when he was
hanging between earth and sky under the lower
part of the bag. He resolutely dismissed them
from his mind.
But the physical difficulties of the lad’s self-imposed
task were almost overwhelming. There
was a sharp pain in his chest, and his limbs felt
as if they had leaden weights attached to them.
Suddenly a warm stream of something Nat knew
to be blood, gushed from his nose; but still he
worked his way upward, climbing amidst the
network meshes like a sailor on ratlines.
// 196.png
.pn +1
Once or twice he was compelled to pause from
sheer exhaustion, and, clinging on with might
and main, to spread himself flat on the surface
of the gas bag to rest.
If Nat had not been a clean-lived lad all his
life, and had not been a hater of smoking and bad
company, he would never have been able to endure
this ordeal; but somehow, his young vitality
won out, and at last he could reach out a hand
and touch the valve.
Bracing himself against the rigging, he tugged
with all his might. But the condensed moisture
had formed ice on the valve, and it stuck.
Nat felt a childish rage take possession of him.
Raising his fists, he beat and tore at the valve,
while tears of physical weakness and exhaustion
streamed down his cheeks.
“I will get you open! I will! I will!” he
cried again and again.
But even his frame gave way at last, and suddenly
his eyes grew dim and he felt as if a
sword had been plunged through and through
him.
// 197.png
.pn +1
As everything grew black, Nat, with a last effort
of consciousness, clutched at something to
save himself from being plunged backward into
space.
He caught it, or thought he did, and then his
senses went out from him with a vivid flash and
a terrible roaring in his ears like the sound of a
hundred waterfalls.
.tb
Half an hour later, or at ten o’clock, Joe Hartley
opened his eyes. At first he hardly knew
what had befallen him; but in a few seconds his
recollection came back with a rush. He remembered
that the Discoverer had seemed doomed, recalled
Nat’s plunge through the door and how
he had tried to follow his chum, but had fallen,
overcome by exhaustion, at the door.
But now all the chill was out of the air, bright
sunlight streamed through the pilot-house ports,
and the professor and Mr. Tubbs, both of whom
had collapsed on the floor, were sitting up looking
about them rather bewilderedly. The professor
was the first to speak.
// 198.png
.pn +1
“A miracle has happened,” he declared. “The
Discoverer is out of danger.”
“The barograph shows twenty-five hundred
feet,” announced Joe, who had been studying that
instrument.
“Where are the others?” asked Mr. Tubbs, rising
rather weakly to his feet.
As if in answer to his question, Ding-dong
Bell appeared in the doorway between the pilot-house
and the main cabin.
“Where’s Nat?” he demanded.
“Isn’t he out there with you?” asked Joe, with
a quick leap of his heart.
“No. The only person out there is Matco.
He’s so scared that he’s under the ber-ber-bunk.”
“Where is the lad?” demanded the professor
earnestly, with a note of anxiety in his voice.
Mr. Tubbs, who had been struggling with his
dim memory of events preceding his collapse,
spoke:
// 199.png
.pn +1
“I recall it now,” he said. “Nat said he was
going to get that valve open”—he paused—“somehow.”
“And you let him go?” demanded the professor.
“I—I didn’t mean to,” stammered the repentant
Mr. Tubbs, “but I was so nearly on the verge
of caving in, that I couldn’t carry out my resolve.”
“Search the craft thoroughly,” ordered the
professor, lines of anxiety showing in his face,
“there was only one way to open that valve.”
They looked their questions.
“And that was by climbing around the gas
bag and opening it by hand.”
“Good gracious!” exclaimed Joe. “And Nat
dared do such a thing!”
“He must have, and succeeded, too,” said the
professor in a curiously tense voice, “the opening
of that valve was the only thing that would
result in our having dropped to a supportable
region of the air.”
// 200.png
.pn +1
“But we are dropping no longer.”
The exclamation came from Mr. Tubbs.
“No. The automatic cut-off arrangement
would have closed the valve when we had reached
a warmer belt of atmosphere,” explained the professor,
“but don’t let us lose time talking here.
Scatter through the Discoverer and make a thorough
search. He may have dropped unconscious
somewhere.”
The anxiety with which the search was conducted
may be imagined. The Discoverer was
allowed to drift lazily along while they sought
some trace of the missing lad, but the search resulted
in nothing.
“There is only one conclusion to be reached,”
said the professor in a solemn voice, “poor Nat
paid the penalty of his bravery with his life.
He——”
The man of science broke off, unable to command
his voice, and at the same instant came a
cry from above them—a hail from out of the air,
it seemed:
// 201.png
.pn +1
“Hello, people!”
“Good heavens! It’s Nat!” fairly shouted the
professor, as Nat, whose feet were alone visible
round the bulge of the gas bag, clambered nimbly
down and dropped from the rigging, beside them.
In his excess of joy, the professor flung his
arms around Nat’s neck, much to the lad’s embarrassment,
while the rest fairly fought for a
chance to grasp his hand. In intervals of joy
making, Nat told his story, part of which we are
familiar with.
It seemed that when he swooned on the swaying
balloon top he instinctively clutched at the first
thing his hand encountered, which was one of the
valve ropes. The valve, already loosened by his
pounding on it, yielded to the sudden pressure
upon it and jerked open. At least, this was the
only explanation Nat could furnish of the fortunate
occurrence.
When he came to himself he said he saw that
the Discoverer was at a reasonable height, and
manipulating the cords he again closed the valve.
// 202.png
.pn +1
He was too weak to attempt the descent at once,
but lay outstretched on the top of the gas bag, regaining
his strength. All this time he suffered
with a dreadful fear that his friends below might
have succumbed to the awful rigors of the upper
air. With an apprehensive heart he at last began
the climb down and he concluded:
“You may imagine how delighted I was to hear
your voices, even if the professor was preaching
my funeral sermon.”
The boys broke out into wild yells of enthusiasm.
“Three cheers for Nat Trevor, the bravest boy
on earth!” shouted Joe Hartley.
The shouts rang out oddly in the thin atmosphere
of mid-air, but they relieved the boys’ feelings.
As they died out, Matco appeared at the
door of the cabin, and gazed at the scene a moment.
Then seeing that Nat was the idol of the
moment the Indian ran nimbly along the swaying
deck and throwing himself on his knees, placed
Nat’s foot on his head.
// 203.png
.pn +1
It was the last straw.
“Say, fellows!” cried Nat with a red face,
“that’s about all of this hero business. Let’s have
some breakfast and get the engine going.”
And so, what might have been a tragedy, ended
in one of the merriest meals ever enjoyed by aerial
travelers.
By noon the Discoverer, none the worse for her
involuntary flight into the icy realms of space,
was able to resume her voyage over the desolate
peaks and abysses of unknown depths, above
which the adventurers were now soaring.
// 204.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 21 XXI. "“FEATHERED AEROPLANES.”"
The professor’s observations that day showed
that they were within two hundred miles of
where the fabled city ought to lie, always supposing
that it really had an existence. But you
may be sure that not one of the Motor Rangers
doubted that fact.
The course was altered, and the Discoverer’s
bow turned toward some ragged-looking peaks
that cut the sky line to the northwest. The
country over which they were now passing was,
as has been said, desolate in the extreme. It
appeared to have been devastated by earthquakes
or forest fires, and the vegetation was
scanty, while the surface of the ground was
split, and scarred and hillocked like a crumpled
bit of parchment. But toward afternoon the
// 205.png
.pn +1
character of the scenery changed. The mountains
grew in gloomy grandeur and were
clothed with dense tropical growth. Between
the great masses and lofty elevations lay dark
and unfathomable chasms, at whose depth only
a guess could be made. It was wild and dismal
scenery, and, viewed even from above, oppressed
the travelers with its sense of lonely vastness.
The Discoverer was not making as good time
as usual, owing to a stiff headwind. Then, too,
the engine had not developed its full power since
its freezing up in the upper aerial regions. But
the professor announced himself as well satisfied
with their progress. Matco gradually got
over his first fear of the air travelers and talked
to the professor in his rough Spanish, which
Nat could hardly understand, so besprinkled
was it with mispronunciations and Indian
words.
// 206.png
.pn +1
The old Indian was much interested in trying
to find out what the white men,—for he no
longer thought them gods,—were doing in that
part of the country. But the professor deemed
it wisest not to tell him. Ultimately they would
have to set him free, and if he knew too much of
their expedition he might make trouble for them
with the other Indians.
It was the middle of the afternoon, and Nat
was seated in the cabin reading a book on the
Incas, when a hail from the pilot house brought
him to his feet. Joe, who was at the wheel, was
calling him.
“Nat! Nat! Come out here—quick!”
Nat lost no time in obeying. As he joined
Joe the latter excitedly pointed ahead of the
Discoverer’s bow.
“Look at those birds, Nat; they are the
largest I have ever seen. I wonder what they
can be?”
The birds referred to were flying and wheeling
in great circles above a ravine some distance
off, but far off as they were, it was easy to
see that they were of immense size.
// 207.png
.pn +1
“They are bigger than the biggest turkey
buzzard I ever saw in California,” said Nat,
gazing at them. “Let’s have a look through the
field glasses.”
He took the instruments out of their box near
the helmsman’s wheel and applied them to his
eyes.
“Why, they look like small aeroplanes!” he
exclaimed in astonishment. “Their wing spread
must be ten or twelve feet, judging from here.”
“How many of them are there, anyhow?” demanded
Joe.
“Easily fifty, I should say. Maybe more. It
would be impossible to count them accurately.”
“They are right on our course,” said Joe,
glancing at the compass, “so that we shall soon
have a close view of them.”
“I’ll go and rouse the professor. He’s taking
a nap; but I know he’d like to see such a sight.”
And Nat hastened off on his errand.
// 208.png
.pn +1
By the time he returned with the professor,
the Discoverer was much closer to the giant
birds. The man of science scrutinized them
through the glasses.
“Condors,” he announced. “This is most interesting.
These birds are the largest birds of
prey in existence. Humboldt, the famous traveler,
said that Indians told him that they had
been found measuring eighteen feet from wing
tip to wing tip.”
“Well, I should say they are aeroplanes,” exclaimed
Nat. “Do they ever attack men?”
“Cases of it are not unknown,” said the professor,
“and almost every Andean village has a
story about a condor flying off with a baby. As
a matter of fact, though, I guess they confine
their attentions mostly to young sheep or calves
light enough for them to carry.”
As they drew closer to the soaring mass of
birds, they could see that if they were interested
in the birds, the birds were quite as much interested
in them. One or two began making long,
wheeling arcs that brought them closer to the
Discoverer.
// 209.png
.pn +1
“I guess they are wondering what sort of a
bird we are, anyhow,” laughed Nat.
Indeed, it seemed so. Almost imperceptibly
the birds gathered about the Discoverer, wheeling
and screaming all about the craft. It could
now be seen that they had sharp, large, hooked
beaks, and a ruffle of dark flesh at the bottom of
a flabby neck. Their wings were of a dull gray
color, with black tip feathers, and were of a
sweep and size undreamed of hitherto by the
boys.
“They look like the harpies we used to read
about in school,” said Joe.
“They do, indeed,” said the professor. “One
could readily imagine such creatures tearing unfortunate
human beings to pieces.”
“They don’t seem afraid of us, anyhow,” said
Nat suddenly, as one of the great condors swept
by quite close to the Discoverer and uttered a
wild scream that sounded like a cry of defiance.
“No, they don’t. I—— Bless my soul, they
are attacking us!” cried the professor as two or
three of the birds flew at the gas bag with beak
and claw.
// 210.png
//[Illustration: “Now, boys,” spoke the professor, “we must use our best
//marksmanship on these creatures.”]
.pb
.pm illust 04 i204.jpg 464 "“Now, boys,” spoke the professor, “we must use our best marksmanship on these creatures.”"
.pb
// 211.png
// 212.png
.pn +1
“Get out the rifles, quick!” cried Nat. “They’ll
tear the bag open if they keep that up.”
“They will, indeed!” said the professor apprehensively.
“Shoo!”
But he might as well have said “Shoo!” to a
tiger as to the giant birds of prey that now surrounded
the Discoverer on every side. Angry
screams and the rushing noise of huge wings
filled the air.
Nat returned with the rifles, and with Ding-dong
Bell, who had already, from his post at the
engines, observed the great birds.
“Now, boys,” spoke the professor, “we must
use our best marksmanship on these creatures.
They are a real menace to the ship.”
Nat took up his position at one side of the pilot
house, Ding-dong Bell at the other, while the
professor aimed from the centre window.
// 213.png
.pn +1
At the word “fire!” from the professor, all
three rifles began to pump lead into the wheeling,
circling, screaming flight of condors.
Several stopped abruptly in their soaring circles
and fell to the earth, stricken to death. But
others, that were only wounded, fought with
more fury than ever. The attack by the adventurers
appeared to enrage them. They flew furiously
at the Discoverer, and one or two even
dashed themselves at the pilot house.
But after ten minutes or more of steady firing
their numbers diminished. The ones that were
left began to sheer off, and finally took flight
away from the invaders of their realm. The
noise of the firing brought Mr. Tubbs and Matco
out of the cabin, and both watched with interest
the effects of the fusillade.
When it was over, and the Discoverer had left
the last of the great birds behind, old Matco
spoke excitedly in Spanish to the professor.
“What does he say?” asked Nat, when the old
man had finished what appeared to be a tirade
against something or somebody.
// 214.png
.pn +1
“He says,” rejoined the professor, “that what
we have done is very good. That when he was
a youngster he was carried off by one of these
birds. His mother, who rushed out to save him,
was attacked by the condor’s mate and so seriously
maimed and torn that she died.”
“But how did he escape?”
“His father shot the bird that was carrying
him off, with one of the poison arrow tubes,” rejoined
the professor, “both the bird and the infant
fell to the earth, and Matco says that is the
reason his leg is so twisted and that he walks
with a limp.”
The boys found this very interesting. It explained,
too, something that they had noticed before,
and that was that old Matco walked with
a decided limp.
“Tell us something more about the condor, professor,”
suggested Nat.
// 215.png
.pn +1
“As I think I said,” rejoined the professor, “it
is one of the vulture family, and is found from
the Isthmus of Panama clear down to the Straits
of Magellan. They usually live in the mountains,
but sometimes they come down to the seashore
to pick the flesh of dead whales. In fact,
they have a preference for dead or decaying
flesh.”
“Just like turkey buzzards,” said Joe.
“They are a first cousin of that bird,” said the
professor. “A friend of mine, who had been a
great traveler in South America, told me once
that the Indians will catch them for two dollars
each, and that sometimes they do quite a lively
trade.”
“I shouldn’t much care to have one for a pet,”
spoke Joe; “but how do they manage to get hold
of such immense birds?”
“By a very simple and ingenious method. They
build a pen around the carcass of the first dead
steer they can find on some cattle estancia, and
then await the arrival of the condors to feast on
the flesh.
// 216.png
.pn +1
“The condor, when he is gorged, cannot rise
without taking a run——”
“Just like an aeroplane in that, too,” commented
Nat.
“That is true,” said the professor. “Well, as
I was saying, the bird cannot rise without this
preliminary run, and, of course, the picket fence
interferes with this. That is the condor catcher’s
opportunity. He throws a lasso around the
bird he has selected and lets the condor fight till
he is exhausted. Then he throws another and
another till Mr. Condor is tired out. That done,
the bird is placed in a rough cage and conveyed
to the customer.”
“That’s a lo-lo-lot of work for t-t-t-two d-d-d-dollars,”
stuttered Ding-dong Bell.
“Any kind of work would be hard for you,”
grinned Joe, which almost precipitated a fight.
Nat checked it.
“Don’t roll overboard on this craft,” he said,
“even if there aren’t any sharks about.”
// 217.png
.pn +1
“Humph! I don’t know that they are much
worse than those condors,” was Joe’s comment.
As for Mr. Tubbs he heaved a sigh.
“If only I’d got a moving picture of that fight
with the condors,” he said regretfully.
// 218.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 22 XXII. "A SERIOUS ACCIDENT."
Shortly after the battle with the condors, the
professor announced that, inasmuch as they were
passing above a favorable landing place, he intended
to make a landing. The spot selected
was an open space beside a fairly large river,
the glint of which could be plainly seen like a
glittering ribbon beneath them.
Preparations for a landing were at once begun,
and the Discoverer commenced nestling
down toward the earth. The professor announced
that the first task of the evening would
be to replenish the supply of gas in the bag from
the hydrogen tanks.
The anchorage was made without a hitch, and
the Discoverer moored as securely as before; but
in view of their experience of the night before,
// 219.png
.pn +1
the travelers decided to have everything ready to
“slip and run” in case the unpleasant experience
was repeated.
As soon as the dirigible was secured, the task
of adding to her depleted gas supply was begun.
Two of the cylinders were dragged from their
resting place and deposited on the ground, while
the filling tube was made ready.
The Discoverer was anchored almost on the
banks of the stream, a rapid one, with a rocky
bottom and steep banks. While the others were
working about the Discoverer, Ding-dong Bell
set himself to examining the gas cylinders.
They were about ten feet long and very slender
in proportion to their length. They were heavy,
too, as the tremendous pressure within them
made it necessary to construct them of the thickest
and strongest steel,—the very finest grade obtainable,
in fact.
// 220.png
.pn +1
Ding-dong, with his natural curiosity, started
lifting one, and found that to raise one end was
all he could manage, and that only by dint of puffing
and blowing.
Joe Hartley, looking around from his work on
the filling tube at which he was assisting Nat and
the professor, noticed what his chum was up to.
“Say, put that down! You’re not strong
enough to lift it,” he jeered. “Those things
aren’t for kids to monkey with.”
“They’re not, eh?” puffed Ding-dong valiantly,
“I’ll soon show you.”
With a supreme effort he managed to raise the
cylinder and move it a short distance.
“Here, stop that!” shouted the professor as he
espied what the boy was doing. “Don’t you
know those things are dangerous unless handled
carefully? They’ll go off like a bomb under a
sudden shock.”
“That one must have got a sudden shock when
it saw Ding-dong,” scoffed Joe. “Most people
do.”
// 221.png
.pn +1
It was too much for Ding-dong. He set
down the cylinder and made a jump toward his
tormentor. In doing so, his foot struck the cylinder
which, as it happened, was only just balanced
on the steepish slope leading down to the
precipitous river bank.
The gas container began rolling downward.
The professor gave a shout.
“Stop it! Stop it! Don’t let it fall over the
river bank or——”
Before he could complete the sentence, Ding-dong
was valiantly off after the rolling cylinder.
He grasped it, but its weight and the velocity
it had attained, caused it to evade him, and while
he fell sprawling in an effort to regain his balance,
the cylinder bounded on toward the brink
of the steep river bank.
“Down on your faces! Down on your faces!
Everybody!” fairly roared the professor.
They all obeyed blindly, not sensing the utility
of the order, but realizing its urgency in the
tones of the professor’s voice.
The cylinder gave a leap as it struck a stone,
and then bounded over the edge of the river bank.
// 222.png
.pn +1
Bo-oo-oo-oo-m!
An explosion that shook the ground followed
almost instantly. From the bed of the river a
geyser of mud and water and rocks spouted up,
showering everything for a radius of several
yards. The explosion the professor had dreaded
had taken place; but, by a miracle, no one was
hurt. No doubt the fact that the detonation took
place below the river bank accounted for this
fact.
But the lecture that Ding-dong received! And
he admitted that he deserved it.
“If you ever catch me mo-mo-monkeying with
that h-h-high-diddle-diddle g-g-g-gas again you
can ber-ber-ber-blow me up with it,” he declared.
“That ‘high-diddle-diddle gas,’ as you call it, is
much too precious for that,” said the professor
with a laugh he could not restrain, “but I shall
adopt other measures.”
The boys had a good opportunity then to see
the destructive force stored in one of those innocent-looking
cylinders. Peering over the river
// 223.png
.pn +1
bank they could see that a great hole had been
blown in its bed, and rocks riven and split in
every direction.
“It’s as explosive as dynamite,” exclaimed Nat.
“It is, indeed,” said the professor. “The condition
of that river bed gives mute evidence of
that.”
“Just think what would happen if a spark
should ever enter that gas bag of ours,” said Nat,
with a slight shudder.
“We wouldn’t be able to think,” said Joe succinctly.
“Come, let us get back to work,” suggested the
professor, “roll that gas cylinder closer to the
filler tube and we will make the connections.”
Gingerly enough, as you may imagine, the lads
rolled the cylinder toward the end of the filler
tube, which now lay extended on the ground.
The end of the tube was fitted with a union,
which, in turn, was screwed on to the nozzle of
the gas cylinder. Then the professor turned on
the vapor, of whose power they had just had such
a striking example.
// 224.png
.pn +1
With a hiss and a roar the gas poured through
the filler tube into the bag, and several small
wrinkles, which had developed in its upper surface,
began to fill out. Two cylinders were emptied
before the professor and Mr. Tubbs announced
that the bag was full enough.
The evening passed off quietly. As before, the
evening meal was eaten on the ground, and the
adventurers utilized the cabin of the Discoverer
for sleeping quarters. Old Matco, the Indian,
shared the meal, but refused to sleep within the
cabin. Instead, he rolled himself up outside, on
the substructure, like an animal of some sort. He
had the true aborigine’s dislike of sleeping under
a roof. It savored to him of a trap possibly.
The old fellow, now that he had become used
to aerial navigation, did not seem to object to it
in the slightest. He rather appeared to like it, in
fact, and took a childish delight in watching the
various operations that went on on board. It appeared
that he had no intention of detaching himself
// 225.png
.pn +1
from the party as yet, and indeed, seemed to
have the liveliest gratitude to them for rescuing
him from his unpleasant position at the end of
the swinging rope.
The professor was of the opinion that Mateo
might prove useful to them, so no move was
made to urge him to return to his tribe. Indeed,
they were now in the country of another tribe of
Indians altogether,—so Matco informed them,—a
tribe as warlike and resentful of the intrusion
of white men as his own. This was not encouraging
news, but the adventurers resolved to make
the best of it, and guard against surprises by
keeping a good watch.
Nothing occurred during the first part of the
night, and when Ding-dong and Joe came on
duty at midnight the professor and Nat had nothing
to report.
“Don’t forget that time you shot at the mule,”
warned Nat, addressing himself to Ding-dong.
// 226.png
.pn +1
“Oh, no danger of my doing that again,” Ding-dong
assured him; “b-b-b-b-besides, they d-d-don’t
have mules in this p-p-part of the country.”
“That’s good logic, at all events,” laughed the
professor, who had heard the story of how Ding-dong
shot at a mule in mistake for an Indian the
night the Motor Rangers camped in the petrified
forest in the Sierras.
Ding-dong and Joe marched up and down for
some time, without anything occurring to mar the
quiet of the night. But on what was, perhaps,
the stuttering lad’s twentieth parade around the
dirigible, he heard a queer, inexplicable sort of
noise coming from the river.
“Indians,” was his first thought. But then:
“That sounds like somebody snoring, and Indians
who were coming to attack us wouldn’t
announce their presence like that,” thought Ding-dong.
The snoring noise continued. Joe was on the
other side of the dirigible, while Ding-dong was
on the river end of it.
// 227.png
.pn +1
“It’s a good chance to distinguish myself,”
thought the lad, “after the mess I made of that
gas cylinder this afternoon. I’ll just creep down
there and see what on earth that racket is.”
He began tiptoeing softly toward the river
bank, while the grunting, snoring sound still continued.
“I do believe it’s some one asleep down there,”
exclaimed the lad to himself. “Maybe I’ll make
a prisoner and get even on Joe for laughing at
me.”
His mind full of these visions of glory, Ding-dong
at last reached the river bank. Behind him
he could hear Joe softly calling, but he made no
answer.
“I’m going to investigate this thing alone,” he
said to himself.
Lying flat on his stomach Ding-dong peered
cautiously over the bank. He could see the gleam
of the water about ten feet below him and—what
was that? Two dark figures, that appeared to
have bulk of considerable size, moving about in
the water? One was larger than the other, and
// 228.png
.pn +1
it didn’t take the boy long to make out that whatever
the mysterious objects were, they were not
human beings.
“Wonder if they’re panthers?” thought the
boy with a sudden chill. But then he recollected
that panthers are not in the habit of prowling
about in the river bottom.
“And I never heard of a panther grunting,”
considered Ding-dong, “I guess I’ll just——”
But what Ding-dong had “just” made up his
mind to do was never revealed. The bank at the
point where he had been leaning over, was cut
out beneath by the action of the river, and in
scrutinizing the dark objects he had leaned rather
far over.
Suddenly the bank caved in, and amidst a
shower of gravel, rocks and small bushes, Ding-dong
went rolling down into the river.
Splash!
He landed in a deep pool, which, luckily for
him, was of sufficient depth for him to avoid injuring
himself. Still clutching his rifle he rose
to the surface, puffing and blowing, and scrambled
out.
// 229.png
.pn +1
“Well, here’s a fix,” thought Ding-dong, “just
like my luck. I’m always getting in bad.”
All this time he had quite forgotten about the
two dark, moving objects, to whom he owed his
present predicament. But their existence was
rudely recalled to him as, out of the darkness,
something rushed at him, snorting loudly and angrily,
and advancing like an express locomotive.
// 230.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 23 XXIII. "OVERBOARD!—1950 FEET UP!"
The adventure might have had a serious termination
for the lad if Joe, who had heard the collapse
of the bank and the subsequent roar of the
avalanche, of which the luckless Ding-dong was
the centre, had not rushed to the river bank.
Ding-dong, far too much astonished to raise his
rifle, was standing stupidly gazing at the animal
that was rushing toward him when Joe fired.
The creature gave a leap into the air, a queer
kind of squeal, “like a stuck pig,” Ding-dong
said afterward, and fell dead.
The shot aroused every one on the Discoverer,
and they came crowding down to the river, to
find Joe and Ding-dong examining, by their electric
pocket lights, the carcass of a large animal
with a peculiarly shaped snout. Explanations ensued,
and the professor announced that it was
a tapir, a species of water animal common in
South America.
// 231.png
.pn +1
Matco assured them that the meat of the creature
was very good eating, and much esteemed
by his people, and he was permitted to cut some
steaks from Joe’s prize.
“If I hadn’t ter-ter-tumbled into that pool,
though, he’d have been mer-mer-mine,” declared
Ding-dong positively.
“I guess you’d have been his,” laughed Joe,
“that is, if you didn’t move any quicker than you
were when I saw you.”
“You watch me. I’ll do something great yet,”
declared Ding-dong, with a positiveness that deprived
him of his stammer.
“It must have been great the way you went
over that bank,” laughed Joe unfeelingly.
The professor made Ding-Dong put on dry
clothes, and then the interrupted rest of the travelers
was resumed. The remainder of the night
passed without incident, and a breakfast that took
// 232.png
.pn +1
place soon after dawn was eaten amidst much
rallying of Ding-dong on his adventure of the
night before.
“I’d like to have seen any of the re-re-rest of
you ber-ber-brave enough to have gone near that
snor-snor-snoring,” sputtered the lad, valiantly
helping himself to some more tapir steak, which
was found to be as good as the old Indian had
declared was the case.
At eight o’clock the Discoverer was ready to
resume her flight. She took the air without any
accident, and under her replenished supply of
gas rose with tremendous buoyancy. In fact, the
descending plane had to be adjusted to keep her
from shooting up too rapidly. No one on board
had any desire to repeat that flight to the chilly
regions of the upper air. As Ding-dong put it,
“N-n-n-no more on my per-per-plate, thank you.”
“Do you think we shall sight the city to-day?”
inquired Nat, as he and the professor stood on
deck, just below, and in front of, the pilot house.
// 233.png
.pn +1
“Impossible to say, my lad,” was the rejoinder.
“As I told you, the directions to reach it are
vague in the extreme. We may have to cruise
about for several days before we satisfy ourselves
of its existence or non-existence.”
Nat looked disappointed. The boys, at a consultation
among themselves, had about decided
that that day ought to find them at their long-sought
goal. Their expectation had been keyed
up to such a height that delay was exasperating.
At noon the professor took his observations,
and declared that, if the city existed in that part
of the country, they ought to be within striking
distance of it.
Excitement ran at fever heat. The boys could
hardly leave the deck to eat a hasty meal. The
field glasses were in constant demand. The professor
announced that he would donate a handsome
rifle to the first lad to spy a sign of the
mystery of which they were in search.
If the boys had been eager before, this offer
doubled their alertness. Ding-dong even climbed
into the rigging till he was sternly ordered down
by the professor.
// 234.png
.pn +1
“I thought if I got higher that I c-c-c-c-could
see it s-s-s-sooner,” he explained.
“As we are now at a height of two thousand
feet,” observed the professor, “I don’t think that
a foot or two more of elevation would give you a
very much extended view.”
It was about one-thirty when Mr. Tubbs, who
was at the wheel, called the professor’s attention
to something odd on the horizon. “It’s glittering,”
he said, “and may be a ledge of quartz or
something.”
“Can you still see it?” asked the professor.
“No,” was the rejoinder. “It just flashed up
for an instant,—like a mirror in the sunlight,—and
then vanished.”
“Keep a sharp lookout for its reappearance,”
said the professor, with a hint of suppressed excitement
in his voice.
“Shall I steer in the direction in which I last
saw it?” asked the navigator of the Discoverer.
// 235.png
.pn +1
“Yes. If the old documents are correct we
are so near to the location of the lost city now
that any clue is worth following.”
“Then you think that the glitter may have
come from the city?” asked Nat.
“I cannot say,” rejoined the professor. “It
may have been that, or it may have been the sunlight
flashing, for an instant, on a hidden lake.”
“But wouldn’t a lake up here come pretty near
to proving the existence of the city we are in
search of?” asked Nat.
“How do you draw such a conclusion?” inquired
the professor, with scientific exactitude.
“I thought you said the old documents said
that the lost city was on an island in a lake.”
“Ah, yes; but there may be many lakes of the
kind described in these regions,” was the reply.
“Any more unusual signs yet, Mr. Tubbs?” he
asked presently.
“No,” was the rejoinder; but the moving picture
man’s keen eyes scanned the distance like
those of a hawk.
// 236.png
.pn +1
It was an hour later that Nat, who had the
glasses, set them down with an excited face.
“I can see a lake!” he cried. “At least, I’m
almost certain it is one.”
“Where?”
The professor’s voice had caught the infection
of the boy’s excitement.
“Off there—in the same direction that Mr.
Tubbs saw a glitter. I only caught a glimpse of
it, but it looked as if there was the glint of water
in among those queer, sharp-pointed peaks off
there.”
“Speed up the engine if you can, Master Bell,”
said the professor, with an expression in his
voice that the boys had never heard there before.
“We must investigate this at once and lose no
time,” he went on. “The old documents say that
the lost city is on an island in a lake set in the
midst of mountains, over which there is no way
of climbing but by the lost and secret roads of
the Incas.”
// 237.png
.pn +1
“I guess you get the rifle, Nat,” said Joe, without
a trace of envy in his voice, though.
“I w-w-w-wish I’d s-s-seen it f-f-first,” sputtered
Ding-dong, who was leaning far out over
the rail.
“You’d have shot a tapir with the rifle, I suppose,”
scoffed Joe.
“No; I’d have shot a-a——”
“Good heavens!” cried the professor, as both
Nat and Joe sprang forward.
The abrupt conclusion of the stuttering boy’s
speech had been caused by the fact that, as he
made it, he half turned, and losing his balance
plunged over the rail.
The Discoverer was then nineteen hundred
and fifty feet above the surface of the earth!
// 238.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 24 XXIV. "THE CITY OF A VANISHED RACE."
But even in that instant of deadly peril, Ding-dong
did not lose his presence of mind, or, perhaps,
instinct of self-preservation would be a
better phrase.
As he felt himself lose his balance, he clung
to the network of the rail, and hung there head
downward between the sky and the earth for one
instant. But that brief molecule of time was
enough for Joe and Nat to secure his feet, as
they flashed over the rail, and drag him back on
board.
“Go to the cabin, sir,” ordered the professor,
who was white and shaky, as, indeed, were the
others.
There was no gainsaying his words, but Ding-dong,
as usual, had to say something. He was
the most unperturbed person on board, in fact.
// 239.png
.pn +1
“I d-d-d-d-didn’t do it on p-p-purpose, you
know,” he remarked, as he walked off.
“Good heavens!” exclaimed the professor, leaning
against the rail, “what trouble is that boy going
to get into next?”
The stuttering lad’s narrow escape had so unnerved
them all that there was no answer.
“Well?” said the professor at length, as if
seeking a reply to his question.
“Don’t ask me, sir,” gasped out Nat. “I
haven’t got my breath back yet.”
It was, perhaps, half an hour later when the
entire craft was electrified by a cry from Joe.
“Nat was right! It is a lake!”
No need to ask to what he referred. The professor
ordered the Discoverer sent higher, so as
to give them a larger horizon, or, rather, a bird’s-eye
view.
As the craft rose upward in obedience to her
planes, they saw beneath them, but still at some
little distance, what Nat has since declared was
the most wonderful sight he has ever seen or
hopes to see.
// 240.png
.pn +1
Rimmed by bare, gaunt mountains, inhospitable
and bleak, lay a small lake, set like a turquoise
in dull gold. In the midst of this lake was an
island, and on this island, even at that height,
they could perceive, were buildings rising in terraced
formation. At the extreme summit of the
island, which rose to a peak, was something that
flashed and glowed in the sunlight almost blindingly.
“It’s the golden dome of the lost city!” gasped
Nat.
“Say, Nat,” said Joe in rather a shaky voice,
laying one hand on Nat’s arm.
“What is it, Joe?” asked Nat, without taking
his eyes off the wonderful sight before him.
“Nothing; only—only I feel a bit scared,” was
Joe’s quavering confession.
“You may well feel awe-stricken,” said the
professor, whose eyes were gleaming, “ours are
the first eyes to behold that island since the mysterious
catastrophe that wiped out the race that
inhabited it, occurred.”
// 241.png
.pn +1
There came a sudden voice at their elbows.
“L-l-l-looks like C-C-C-C-Coney I-I-Island.”
It was the incorrigible Ding-dong, who had
taken advantage of the excitement to slip out of
his place of involuntary confinement.
But, in the general interest in all that was occurring,
no attention was paid to him. In the
midst of the eager talk, and still more eager scrutiny
of the island, old Matco, who had come out
upon the deck and had stood silently gazing at
the lost city, uttered a sharp cry.
Then, raising his hands above his head and
fixing his eyes upon the sun, he began muttering
what seemed to be a prayer.
This done, he turned to the professor and
poured out a rapid flood of eager, emphatic
words in his corrupt Spanish. So fast did he
speak that the professor had difficulty in following
him. But by paying close attention he managed
to make out the old man’s meaning.
// 242.png
.pn +1
“What does he say?” asked Mr. Tubbs, as the
old Indian ceased his torrent of words, and
leaned back, looking quite exhausted.
“Why, it’s like fiction,” said the professor.
“The old man says that we are fulfilling a tradition
of his race which says that one day winged
men from the sky would discover the city.”
“Well, that’s a good omen,” said Nat.
“W-w-w-whatever that may be,” sputtered
Ding-dong. “Guess you mean n-n-no men.”
But the professor paid no attention to the irrepressible
youth. Instead, he assumed rather a
grave look.
“Why, I’m not quite so sure that it is a good
augury,” he said slowly. “The old man says that
the prophecy or tradition goes on to say that the
wrath of the long-dead Incas shall be visited on
the violators of their hidden city, and that a terrible
end will overtake the sky men who invade
it.”
// 243.png
.pn +1
As the professor talked the old Indian fixed
his eyes on him as if he realized what he was
saying. As the man of science concluded, he
nodded solemnly, as if indorsing all that had been
told.
“Oh, well,” said Nat, “we are not going to
turn back for the sake of an old Indian ghost
story.”
“Of course not,” said the professor; “but I
thought if any of you are superstitiously inclined,
I would warn you.”
“I guess it would take more than talk like that
to turn us back now,” said Joe. “I’d face a
legion of spooks to investigate that place.”
The others agreed with him. Indeed, as the
Discoverer grew nearer, the marvels of the lost
city grew more and more awe-inspiring.
What had appeared in the distance to be a
mere huddle of terraced buildings, were now seen
to be stately palaces, some of them with trees still
growing amidst them. The buildings rose in
this form till they reached their climax at the
great gold-plated dome that capped the summit
of the wonderful isle.
// 244.png
.pn +1
The walls, so far as could be seen, were white,
but profusely ornamented with barbaric magnificence.
Not a little of the mystic effect of the island
was gained from the precipitous and rugged
cliffs of the mountains that walled the lake.
“However do you suppose a lake came to be
in such a situation?” wondered Nat, addressing
the professor.
“In my opinion,” said the scientist, “that lake
is what was once the crater of a volcano, more
enormous than any yet known.”
“And what we thought were separate mountains
were once only part of the summit of that
volcano?” asked Nat wonderingly.
“I think we would be correct in assuming so.
In many parts of the world the craters of extinct
volcanoes are found to be filled with water, just
as this one is.”
“The water must be of immense depth,” said
Joe.
“In some cases it has been impossible to touch
// 245.png
.pn +1
bottom, even with the longest lines and the most
perfect sounding apparatus,” was the astonishing
reply.
“But how does an island come to be in the
middle of such a deep lake?” was what Mr.
Tubbs wanted to know.
“What we call an island is probably the summit
of another peak of the crater,” said the professor,
“or it may have been formed, like those
volcanic islands of which we have such a keen
recollection, by the action of earth’s internal
fires.”
The dirigible dropped lower. It was now almost
directly above the lost city. It could be seen
that surrounding the golden dome was a vast,
semi-circular platform or courtyard of stone,
with other stones set up perpendicularly around
it.
“It is precisely like the arrangement of the
Temple of the Sun in Peru,” said the professor.
“It will make a good place to land,” spoke the
practical Joe.
// 246.png
.pn +1
“Doesn’t it seem almost like a sacrilege to
bring a modern dirigible to earth in the very
courtyard where the rites of ancient religion
were practiced?” spoke Nat, who was an imaginative
lad.
“Not at all,” said the professor, “and as for
that ancient religion, if we had lived in the days
when it flourished, I fancy we wouldn’t have
liked it much. Like most ancient religions, it
was a creed of bloodshed and violence. Human
sacrifices may have been indulged in on those
very stones we see beneath us.”
The boys agreed that this put quite another
light on the matter, and the descent was made
without further comment. The dirigible came
to rest in the lost city of the Bolivian Andes at
three o’clock in the afternoon. Mr. Tubbs was
left to guard the Discoverer with old Matco, who
refused to move one step through the silent, long-deserted
streets. But the boys and the professor
set out on a tour of exploration.
// 247.png
.pn +1
The streets, they found, were like those of
mountainous cities in Europe, and consisted
mostly of steps. It was one of the most uncanny
feelings that any of them had ever experienced,
this walking through a city of the dead. For, although
the ancient places were mostly in ruins,
from earthquakes the professor judged, the city
yet seemed lifelike enough for some of the vanished
race to turn a corner at any instant.
For some reason, the boys kept very close to
each other and to the professor, showing no disposition
to wander. They found that, as they approached
the lake, the buildings grew poorer in
character and were not carved or decorated like
those closer to the temple. The remains of a
splendid wharf remained, however, which set
the boys to wondering what had become of the
boats that must have once plied between the city
and the shore.
This, in turn, suggested ruminations upon the
means employed by the vanished race of reaching
the lake, for to climb over the mountains was
obviously impossible. The professor opined
// 248.png
.pn +1
that, at some time, a tunnel must have existed.
This set the boys crazy to try to find it, but the
man of science declared that, in all probability,
the tunnel, if it had ever existed, had been ruined
by earthquakes long since.
They stood by the lake side for a time looking
into its dark blue depths, and then began a return
up the street, climbing the steps cut in the
rock.
“Where’s all the treasure we were going to
find?” asked Joe, as they climbed the steep causeway
worn by the feet of a race long since passed
out of existence.
“I don’t imagine we are likely to find much that
is valuable,” said the professor. “My belief now
is, that when the Spaniards came the inhabitants
of this city concealed everything valuable in it
in some place known only to themselves.”
“Maybe the lake bottom,” suggested Joe.
“That is not improbable. At any rate, I think
we shall have to content ourselves with the glory
of having discovered this wonderful place. It is
far more perfect than the ruins of Peru are described
as being.”
// 249.png
.pn +1
“What about taking that gold plating off the
sacred dome?” said the practical-minded Joe.
“Not with my consent,” said the professor. “I
would wish this city to be the Mecca of antiquarians
from all over the world.”
“I agree with you,” said Nat. “It would be
vandalism of the worst sort to strip that rock.”
“Oh, I was only joking,” said Joe, with a rather
red face.
“Here’s a peculiar-looking building,” went on
Joe, a few moments later, as they passed a tower-like
structure, higher than the other buildings,
and without windows.
“Let us survey it,” said the professor. “See,
here is a door. It has fallen in, it is true, but I
imagine we can squeeze through.”
By dint of getting on their hands and knees
they managed to crawl under the richly carved
and broken portal, Nat pausing to notice that the
carvings seemed to be of various astronomical
bodies.
// 250.png
.pn +1
Within the tower they found themselves standing
at the bottom of a tall, narrow, perpendicular
shaft. It was, in fact, like looking up a circular
chimney. At the top was something which at
first sight seemed to be a big glass lens; but the
professor pronounced it to be pure crystal.
“This is the most amazing find yet!” he exclaimed
with enthusiasm. “I believe that this
tower formed a sort of rude telescope, through
which different observations were carried on.”
He clasped his hands in scientific fervor. Indeed,
they had seen enough that afternoon to turn
the brain of the least imaginative man of science!
Nat informed the professor of the carvings he
had noticed.
“That settles the matter,” said the professor
enthusiastically. “Good heavens, what a find! It
has long been a controversy between various
scientific men as to whether or no the ancient
races understood astronomy in the true sense.
The finding of this rude telescope will go far toward—— Gracious!
what was that?”
// 251.png
.pn +1
“What?” cried Nat, considerably startled.
“Why, a hand reached out and grasped my hat
and——”
Before the professor could conclude his sentence
the boys saw a small brown paw project
from a ledge above him and whisk his unlucky
hat from his head.
“It’s a monkey!” cried Nat.
“A lot of them!” exclaimed Joe.
“T-t-t-there they go,” cried Ding-dong, as a
dozen or more apes of the prehensile tailed type
rushed off amidst the ruins, chattering and
squealing and tearing and clawing at the professor’s
unlucky headgear.
“Just to think,” sighed the man of science with
resignation, “that I came all this way, and we
have made all these discoveries, and yet my ill-fortune
with hats pursues me still.”
“I’d give several dozen hats to have seen what
we’ve seen,” Nat reminded him.
// 252.png
.pn +1
“That is so! that is so!” Professor Grigg
agreed; “but——”
“Look out!” cried Joe, behind him, suddenly.
The professor leaped back just as an ugly flat
head, with a pair of malicious leaden eyes, protruded
itself at his elbow from between the crevices.
It was the head of an immense snake.
Without more ado the explorers made haste
to get out of the astronomical tower.
“Exploring is certainly strenuous work,” commented
Joe as they gained the open air.
“Yes; I don’t wish to do any more without a
rifle,” agreed Nat.
// 253.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 25 XXV. "A STRANGE ADVENTURE."
Early the next day the explorers, boys and
adults, resumed their investigation of the Lost
City. The professor estimated that it would take
some time before they had completed their work
and collected relics, records and films of the various
features of absorbing scientific interest to
be found there.
Joe and Nat struck out in one direction, while
the Professor, Ding-dong and Mr. Tubbs assumed
another line of investigation. The path
taken by the two boys led them down one of the
crumbling streets to the lake front of the Lost
City. On the way they entered several of the
houses and collected some small relics and Joe,
who had some talent that way, busied himself
in making rough sketches of the buildings they
examined.
// 254.png
.pn +1
At last, thoroughly tired out, the two lads sat
themselves down on a raised pile of carefully
fitted stones in the courtyard of a splendid white
building with a pyramid-like cupola. They had
brought some sandwiches and a flask of water
with them and made a light meal while they
rested.
“Seems like a sort of sacrilege to be eating
corned beef sandwiches in what may have been
a temple,” said Nat as he ate.
Joe laughed.
“From what we know of the folks that used
to live here they used to make corned beef out
of anyone they didn’t like, so don’t worry about
that end of it, old fellow.”
“That’s so,” agreed Nat. “I wonder, for instance,
if this business we’re sitting on at this
moment isn’t an old altar of some kind. Looks
as if it might have been.”
// 255.png
.pn +1
“It does that,” agreed Joe, “and see here, Nat,
here’s a metal ring right here in this slab of
stone. I wonder if they used to tie their poor
victims to it?”
He indicated a big ring of dull, greenish metal
which they had not noticed before. It was countersunk
in one of the slabs of stone that formed
the top of the altar.
Nat examined it.
“I guess more likely it was used to raise this
stone,” he said. “Maybe the altar is hollow inside
and contains relics of some sort.”
“Cracky! I’d like to raise it,” declared Joe;
but, although he tugged and pulled till his ruddy
face was redder than usual, Joe could make no
impression on the stone.
“Let me try,” suggested Nat.
With what idea, he could not exactly say, the
boy gave the ring a gentle twisting motion instead
of tugging at it. Then an astonishing thing
happened. The entire top of the altar tipped
downward and the boys were shot, scrambling
and struggling, into the interior of the altar, if
such it had been. Before they knew just what
// 256.png
.pn +1
had occurred they found themselves in total darkness,
for, having tipped them off, the stone had
swung into place again.
A thrill of fear crept icily through Nat’s veins
as he realized that they were prisoners. But he
put all the heart he could into his reply when Joe
in a frightened voice gasped out:
“What on earth happened, Nat?”
“Why, just this,” was the reply. “That altar
top was counterbalanced. Our weight was on
one end of it. In some way, when I twisted
that ring, a spring or catch must have been
loosened and—and—we’re in the interior of the
altar.”
“Can we get out again, do you think?”
“That’s just what we’ve got to find out, and
quickly, too, Joe,” was the response. “Got any
matches?”
“Yes; luckily I brought some. I’ve got a
pocket lantern here, too, with a candle in it. Shall
I light up?”
“Yes, do so as soon as you can,” rejoined Nat.
// 257.png
.pn +1
The next minute the interior of the altar was
illumined by a yellow light. But so perfectly
had the swinging top of the altar been fitted that
not a crevice appeared and as for any lever or
handle by which it might have been opened, none
was revealed by the light.
But it was some minutes before the boys found
out this fact. When they did, however, it came
with a sense of stunning bitterness. If they could
not find a means of egress from the altar, they
were, in all human probability, doomed to die
in that gloomy prison.
Although they both realized their situation,
neither lad voiced his fears. There still remained
one end of the altar to be examined, and Nat
lost no time in proceeding to investigate the
hitherto neglected portion of their prison. But
its masonry appeared to be as solidly constructed
as was the case in every other part of the altar.
Nat, almost in despair, was turning away when
Joe, who had been at his side, gave a sudden cry.
// 258.png
.pn +1
“Nat! Nat! There’s a stone loose here. I can
move it with my foot. When I press down on
it—Great-jumping-horned-toads!”
Joe’s exclamation was caused by the fact that
as he pressed down on the loose stone a small
door opened out before them in the end of the
altar. It was impossible to say, however, whither
it led, as beyond lay total darkness.
“What do you say, shall we try it?” asked Joe
in a rather tremulous voice, for the darkness
looked singularly mysterious and forbidding.
“We’ve got to try it,” said Nat gloomily. “It’s
our only alternative, unless we want to stay here
and starve to death.”
Joe had to agree that this was a true statement
of the facts of the case, and not without
quickened pulses the two lads made the plunge
into the darkness beyond the door. The portal
was square and so low that they had to bend to
get through it. The rays of Joe’s candle-lantern
showed the two youths that they were in a low-roofed
passage, or tunnel, just wide enough for
them to proceed in single file.
// 259.png
.pn +1
“You go first,” said Joe in a rather quivery
tone, which showed better than anything else
that the adventure was having its effect upon
him, the usually unperturbed.
“All right, give me the lantern.”
“I wonder where this passage can lead to?”
“Haven’t the least idea. I think we are going
south, but I’m not sure.”
“I’m all twisted up, too. I wish we’d left that
old ring alone.”
“Maybe I don’t, too. If we ever get out of
this place, I’ll leave all such devices severely to
themselves in future.”
“Have you any idea of the purpose of this
passage?”
“Not I. Maybe it was used as a means of
escape. In that case——”
“In that case we will get out to daylight again,”
Joe concluded.
“On the other hand, it may have been designed
as a means of executing their criminals or enemies.
I’ve heard of such things.”
// 260.png
.pn +1
Joe fairly shuddered.
“Oh, talk of something pleasant,” he said, with
a groan.
No more was said for a time. The circumstances
didn’t make the boys feel much inclined
for conversation.
All at once they emerged into a vaulted chamber,
seemingly cut out of the living rock. At
the top of its arched roof was set a huge crystal,
very like the one they had seen in the “telescope
tower,” only much larger. Through this lens
light was streaming into the place, the walls of
which were painted and carved with all manner
of strange-looking inscriptions and designs. Nat
was so intent on gazing at these that he did not
look as carefully where he was going as he had
in his progress down the passage.
Suddenly his feet slipped from under him and
he found himself falling downward. Joe uttered
a cry as he saw his comrade vanish. He leaped
forward, checking himself just in time to avoid
sharing Nat’s plight. He found himself on the
// 261.png
.pn +1
brink of a sort of well about ten feet deep. At
the bottom of this was Nat. Joe uttered a cry
of relief as Nat hailed him and assured him that,
by a miracle, he was not hurt.
“But how are you going to get out of there?”
demanded Joe the next instant.
How, indeed? The question certainly was a
poser. The walls of the well were as smooth as
glass almost and Joe noticed a peculiar feature.
>From its “curb” radiated long lines extending
over the floor of the rocky chamber. These lines
were cut in the rock and reminded Joe of lines he
had seen cut on a sun dial.
But he gave little thought to this at the moment.
His mind was centered on finding a means
to get Nat out of his predicament. But, though
he thought and thought, no solution of the problem
occurred to him.
Joe was still wrapped in thought at the edge
of the well when he felt a sudden blast of fearful
heat on his back. He looked hastily round.
His first thought was that some hidden fire must
suddenly have burst into life behind him.
// 262.png
.pn +1
But, no, what he had felt had been the rays
of the sun pouring through the crystal at the
top of the cavern and striking down with tremendously
magnified force upon him.
“Phew! That felt like an oven!” exclaimed
Joe, moving away.
It was a moment later that he observed something
that filled him with a vague sense of alarm,
which swiftly crystallized into a sharp, livid
pang of fear.
The sun was now striking down into the well.
Like a thunderbolt the purpose of the pit and
the reason of the crystal lens burst upon Joe.
The ancient dwellers of the Lost City had been
Sun Worshippers. This chamber was a sacrificial
one and the priests of the vanished race
had offered up their victims’ lives by literally
dedicating them to the Sun gods. As this alarming
truth broke upon Joe a faint cry came from
Nat, down in the pit.
// 263.png
.pn +1
“Joe, for gracious sake, do something to get
me out of here! The sun is striking down into
the pit. It is fearfully hot. If you don’t get me
out soon I’ll be baked alive.”
Poor Joe cast his eyes about him despairingly.
The sun was streaming through the lens at an
angle now. What would happen when its direct
rays poured down into the narrow well he could
not bear to think.
// 264.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 26 XXVI. "SAVED FROM THE SUN GODS."
Suddenly a thought struck him. Perhaps by
joining his belt and Nat’s together and then leaning
over the edge of the pit he could haul his
unfortunate chum up to safety. It was worth
trying, anyway.
Going to the edge of the pit and leaning over,
Joe communicated his idea to Nat. By this time
the sun was streaming dazzlingly into the pit
and only by crouching in one corner could Nat
escape its ardent rays. Acting on Joe’s instructions,
Nat took off his belt and threw it upward.
After one or two trials Joe managed to catch it.
Then, taking off his own, he joined the two together.
Then he extended himself at the edge
of the well, and, reaching out his arm to the utmost,
lowered the two joined belts down to Nat.
They were about a foot too short for Nat to reach
them even with the utmost endeavor of which
Joe was capable!
// 265.png
.pn +1
Things began to look black, indeed. Momentarily
the sun was nearing the zenith, and the
place into which Nat had fallen was so designed
that when the luminary reached its highest point
in the skies the excavation would be filled with
its rays, magnified many times by the crystal lens.
The lens, in fact, was nothing more nor less than
an immense burning-glass designed to shrivel up
the victims of the ancient priesthood. How little
those who invented such a cruelly ingenious device
could have imagined that a boy of the twentieth
century would ever be in danger of losing
his life by it! Yet such was the case and neither
Nat nor Joe could conceal the fact from themselves
an instant longer.
“Can’t you think of anything? Don’t you think
you could climb up just a foot or two?” asked
Joe, despairingly.
“The walls are smooth as glass. I don’t believe
a fly could get a hold on them,” was the rejoinder.
“Joe, the heat is getting awful!” gasped
out poor Nat in conclusion.
// 266.png
.pn +1
“Gracious! What am I to do?” cried Joe to
himself. He rose to his feet and gazed about
him. Suddenly a thought struck him. If the
priests, as seemed only too probable, really roasted
people to death in that well, they must have had
some means of getting the bodies out. How
did they do it? It must have been by a chain
or rope, or something of the sort, was the thought
that struck Joe after a minute’s reflection. In
that case the chain, or whatever they used for
the purpose of extricating their victims, must be
somewhere in the chamber.
“I’ll find it, if it’s anywhere within reach,” determined
Joe.
Then he hailed Nat in as cheerful a voice as
he could muster. He told him what he was
going to do and begged him to keep up his courage.
Nat replied bravely that he could hold out
a while longer; but the weakness of his voice
made it painfully evident that if help was to be
furnished him it would have to come quickly or
be too late.
// 267.png
.pn +1
Joe noticed, now that his sight was quickened
by the need of hasty action, that off at one side
of the chamber was a recess cut in the rocks.
He hastened over to it and found that within it
was an ancient chest of some sort of sweet-smelling
wood. This was so dry-rotted with the ages
that a vigorous kick of the lad’s foot smashed
the moldering lock off and Joe hastily threw the
lid open.
He could not refrain from uttering a cry of
joy as his eyes noted its contents, some spears,
axes, of stone or flint—whose former purpose
seemed only too evident—and, best of all, a coil
of chain, forged of the same peculiar greenish
metal as the ring had been.
“Hurray!” shouted Joe as he dragged out the
chain, “this is what we wanted. Now I’ll have
Nat out in no time.”
// 268.png
.pn +1
Hastening back to the lip of the well with the
chain, he dangled its end, which terminated in
a hook, over the edge. As he did so he gasped
at the hot fumes which arose from the cylindrical
pit. Joe was only just in time. Nat had barely
strength enough to fasten the chain under his
armpits and begin scrambling up as Joe hauled
with all his might.
But if the hole had not been small enough in
circumference for Nat to brace his legs against
one side of it and help work himself up in this
way, Joe would never have got him out. As it
was, the task almost exhausted the strength of
both boys, and when it was completed they lay
gasping at the edge of the well for some moments,
utterly unable to command their limbs.
Joe was the first to recover. The sun had
now reached the zenith, and through the mammoth
burning-glass was pouring hotly into the
well. A sudden idea struck Joe. He tore a bit
of paper off an old envelope he happened to have
in his pocket and let it flutter into the pit.
// 269.png
.pn +1
As it dropped waveringly the paper turned
brown, then black, and as it struck the bottom
of the sun-heated pit it dissolved altogether into
shrivelled cinder.
Joe turned away from the pit with a shudder.
The thought of the fearfully narrow escape Nat
had had almost unnerved him. But for Nat’s
sake he did not let the other lad see how shaken
he was. Shortly after Nat, though still weak,
was sufficiently recovered to get shakily to his
feet. Then the two lads set about to find a way
out of the sacrificial cave. First, however, they
armed themselves with a stone-axe apiece.
The arched entrance of another passage than
the one by which they came opened off on one
side of the cavern, and as they peered into it they
could feel a sharp puff of delightfully cool air.
“That means that this passage leads out into
the open,” cried Nat gleefully. “Come on, Joe,
we’ll soon be out of this mess.”
Joe, rejoicing as much as Nat, followed the
young leader of the Motor Rangers. As they
advanced the air blew upon them cleaner and
sweeter every instant. Both lads inhaled it in
// 270.png
.pn +1
great lungfuls. It seemed as if they could never
get enough of it after that oven-like chamber of
the sun.
“I wonder what part of the city we’ll come out
in,” said Nat presently.
“Near the camp, I hope. How astonished the
others will be when we tell them of what has
happened to us! I’ll bet they’ve had a tame time
compared to ours.”
“I hope so for their sakes,” said Nat with a
laugh, “but I guess we are out of the woods
now.”
But were they? It seemed to the two young
Motor Rangers, a moment later, that they were
not by any means “out of the woods,” as Nat
had phrased it.
Instead, they soon found themselves at the
mouth of the passage; but as far from finding
their friends as ever. For the tunnel emerged
in the face of a precipitous cliff, below which glittered
the waters of the lake. It was a cruel disappointment.
// 271.png
.pn +1
While they still stood there, almost crushed
by the sense that after all they were still prisoners—and
apparently hopeless ones—a startling thing
happened.
In the passage behind them distant voices
sounded!
Human voices they were beyond a doubt. They
were borne to the ears of our two young friends
with the booming sound produced by the tunnel,
which formed, as it were, a giant speaking-tube.
The boys exchanged alarmed glances. Who
could these denizens of the subterranean world
of the island be? Survivors of the cruel race
of whose practices they had just had a terrible
revelation? Robbers, or worse, who had made
the Lost City their rendezvous? Or was it, after
all, a trick of the imagination?
Determined to test this last idea, Nat slipped
a short distance into the tunnel and listened intently.
// 272.png
.pn +1
A few seconds satisfied him that their imaginations
had played them no pranks. Voices, far
off, but apparently coming nearer, could be distinctly
heard. Nat turned faint and sick for an
instant, and a glance at Joe’s face showed him
that his companion, too, was badly shaken. Nat
did not blame him. The knowledge that mysterious
beings of some sort were within the tunnel
and coming toward them—perhaps on their
track—gave him a most uncomfortable thrill.
He glanced down from the ledge on which they
stood. The cliff face was smooth, although some
metal rings showed that a ladder must once have
existed by which the lake might be reached.
Above the mouth of the tunnel the precipice was
sheer also.
They were fairly trapped. As they realized
this each lad instinctively grasped his stone-axe
tighter. Nat crouched behind a boulder and Joe
squeezed in close beside him.
“Who do you think they are?” he quivered,
“survivors of the Lost Race, or—or——”
// 273.png
.pn +1
“I don’t know,” rejoined Nat, with what composure
he could summon, “but this I do know,
that they are not likely to be friendly if they
find us.”
“Then there is a chance——”
“Yes, a chance that they may not come as far
as this, or may not see us. They may be crossing
some intersecting passage from a higher level.”
But a few minutes later the voices grew
louder. The perspiration broke out on Joe’s forehead.
He gripped his axe more tightly, but the
sense of the mystery surrounding the beings who
were approaching made him catch his breath in
agitation. He felt as if he were in some nightmare.
“Mind! Don’t make a hostile move unless
they attack us first,” warned Nat in an impressive
whisper.
The next instant a high-pitched voice came
booming down the tunnel.
“S-s-s-s-say this bub-bub-beats the Sub-ub-ub-ubway!”
“Jumping hop-toads! That’s Ding-dong Bell!”
cried Joe, dashing down his hammer.
// 274.png
.pn +1
“And the professor!” cried Nat as another
familiar voice came toward them.
“And Mr. Tubbs! What on earth!”
With wild whoops of joy the two boys who
an instant before had been expecting to face, they
knew not what, peril, rushed to meet their friends.
They were in such a hurry that they narrowly
escaped being shot, the other party being as much
alarmed at their approach as they had been at
the advance of the professor and his companions.
Matters were soon explained. The professor
and his comrades had found the mouth of a tunnel
in an old temple. Entering this, it had
brought them underground. Some distance above
the lake end of the tunnel which the boys had
traversed, the passage by which the professor
had travelled joined it. The hurry of Nat and
Joe to reach the fresh air explained why they
had not noticed the branch passage. Had they
done so and followed it they would have come
out not far from camp.
// 275.png
.pn +1
.pm chap 27 XVII. "“DID WE DREAM IT ALL?”"
The search of the ruins was prosecuted with
vigor for several days more before they stumbled
upon anything in the way of “te-ter-treasure,” as
Ding-dong Bell called it. But during that time
the boys’ eyes had been so satiated with wonders
of ancient architecture and carvings, that they
had almost forgotten about the more material
part of their quest.
One afternoon Nat and Joe had set forth to
explore a temple which, hitherto, had not been entered.
The professor would have accompanied
them, but he was busy working up his field notes
into his journal, and compiling in systematic
form descriptions of the wonders of the island.
Mr. Tubbs and Ding-dong had gone off making
photographs, of which a goodly number had been
taken, not forgetting several motion pictures,
showing the explorers at work.
// 276.png
.pn +1
“Suppose we take a look over that queer, oblong
building,” said Joe, as they set out, indicating
a smaller building than the others, not so
very far removed from the grand circle of structures
fronting on the circular Sun Temple, which
formed the “hub” of the island.
“Very well,” said Nat; “but I don’t suppose it
contains anything but a replica of what we’ve
seen already.”
“Well, inasmuch as the professor has made up
his mind not to leave the island till everything
has been explored and recorded, we might as well
see what we can see in there,” went on Joe.
So the two lads set forth on their tour of exploration.
The door of the temple they had
elected to investigate was in fairly good preservation,
the lintel post not having cracked, as was
the case with most of the other buildings. The
usual condition was an evidence of the severity
of the earthquakes that must, from time to time,
have shaken the island.
// 277.png
.pn +1
Passing through the entrance they found themselves
in pitchy darkness. But, as they had long
since found electric flashlights needful articles in
searching the ruins, they soon had drawn out a
couple of these and illuminated the gloom.
“This is a queer sort of place,” remarked Nat,
looking about him as they flashed the lights hither
and thither, “I wonder if the same peculiar feature
about it has struck you as it has me.”
“What is that?” asked Joe.
“Why, in every other one of these old temples
and ruins we have seen, there was every provision
for the admittance of light; in fact, the old
Incas were sun worshippers.”
“I see what you mean now,” cried Joe eagerly.
“This place hasn’t a window in it.”
“No; that’s odd, isn’t it? I wonder if, by any
chance, this can be the Temple of the Moon that
the professor was anxious to discover.”
// 278.png
.pn +1
“By George! I shouldn’t wonder if you’ve hit
on the explanation, Nat.”
“Do you think so?”
“I do.”
“Well, let’s carry on our investigations.”
“By all means. We may be on the verge of a
great discovery of some sort.”
“I hope we don’t discover any more snakes.”
“Same here. Those beasts get on my nerves.”
“We’ve seen enough of them in the last few
days to make you get accustomed to them.”
“That is true; but just the same, the more I
see of them the less I like them. These ruins all
seem to be alive with them.”
“I guess they are common in every part of this
country.”
“Ugh! I can never think of that one that almost
got poor Ding-dong without a shudder.”
“Well, let’s push on. This place seems to have
a sort of dome for a roof.”
// 279.png
.pn +1
As he spoke, Nat flashed his light up till its
beam of radiance showed a finely modeled but
low dome above them. As the light fell on the
concave structure, the lad gave a cry.
“Look, Joe! Look!”
“What? Where?”
“Up there, right above us!”
“Why, it’s a huge silver moon embossed on the
dome!”
“That’s what it is. There is almost as much
silver there as there is gold on the sacred dome.
Those old fellows were not sparing with precious
metals.”
“I should say not. But what’s that over there,
Nat? Surely it’s a door.”
“Looks like one, anyhow. Let’s try it and
see.”
The two lads crossed the stone floor, upon
which the dust of the ages lay thick and rose in
choking clouds, and reached the portal which Joe
had pointed out. The great ring affixed to one
side of it was of some peculiar sort of metal, not
unlike bronze, and was untarnished.
// 280.png
.pn +1
Not without a faster beating of his heart, Nat
turned the ring. It moved easily, and as it did
so the door swung outward. It was of stone, and
massive as the living rock itself.
Within they made out a flight of stairs that
led steeply upward into the darkness.
“Are you game to try them?” asked Nat.
“Am I? I wouldn’t go out of here without
seeing where they lead.”
“Well, go easy. They might give way. Heaven
only knows how old they are.”
But the stairs proved solid. They wound upward
steeply, worming their way around a central
pillar covered with carvings. At last the
boys emerged on a kind of platform at the top,
which was roofed in by an irregularly shaped
covering. Right in front of them were two
round holes placed at some distance apart, and
at their elbows were some curious-looking bits of
apparatus. One of these looked like a gigantic
bellows, and another was not unlike a megaphone
in form.
// 281.png
.pn +1
“Well, where on earth are we now?” gasped
Joe.
“I don’t know, but light is coming in through
these holes. Let’s look out and see.”
The boys each took one of the circular windows
and peered out. To their astonishment
they looked into a vast cavernous chamber,
lighted from the summit which admitted sunshine,
the roof of which was supported by pillars.
It was so vast that it took the breath away almost,
to gaze into its great distances and heights.
The floor of this place was marked with a circle,
about which were inscribed signs at regular
intervals.
“Must have been their equivalent for the signs
of the zodiac,” breathed Nat, awestruck at the
enormous spaces before him.
“Then this was a temple,” said Joe looking
down from his window at the great floor, which
was fully twenty feet below where the boys stood
peering.
// 282.png
.pn +1
“It must have been,” gasped out Nat, “and—and—Joe,
we are in the very holy of holies of this
island.”
“What do you mean?”
“Can’t you see? Look below you. We are
peering out of the eyes of a huge idol made out
of the rock. That stuff at the head of the stairs
must have been the apparatus the priests used to
make the idol speak and utter terrifying noises.”
There was no question but that Nat was right.
Both boys could now make out beneath them, the
rounded outlines of a huge squatting figure. In
the head of this monstrous figure—its eyes, in
fact—were the two circular holes through which
they were looking.
“Gracious, what a sight it must have been
when that temple was full of people of the vanished
race, adoring this great idol,” murmured
Nat, in awestruck tones.
“And what a job the priests must have had
fooling them through that megaphone and that
big bellows,” said Joe, the practical.
// 283.png
.pn +1
“That wouldn’t have detracted from the grandeur
of the scene. It must have all been very real
to them. Why, this place must be as vast as the
hugest cathedral.”
“It gives me the shivers,” said Joe. “Hark,
how your voice goes echoing off there among the
pillars.”
“I wish there was some way of climbing down
through these eyes. I’d like to explore that temple.
I wonder where the entrance is.”
“Must be on the other side of the island. In
the meantime, let’s look at the head of the stairs
there, and see if we can discover anything else.”
The boys flashed their lights about among the
pile of mouldering relics and machinery of the
ancient priests. Suddenly Nat gave a shout of
triumph.
“What do you make of this?”
“This” was a huge chest, the lid of which,
bound and embossed with dully glittering metal,
was open. It was full of various articles, some
of which gleamed and flashed with gems. Nat
plunged in his hand and drew out a golden
// 284.png
.pn +1
breastplate. Joe followed this discovery by
drawing forth a cup of what seemed to be pure
turquoise. Various head-dresses of precious
metal, more cups and vessels of gold, all jewel
studded, followed.
“Well, we’ve found it,” breathed Nat; “we’ve
found it, Joe, old boy.”
“Yes, and now we have, let’s take what we can
of this stuff and get out of here,” said Joe. “We’ll
come back with more lights and company. It’s
getting kind of creepy and lonesome in the dark
here.”
The boys loaded themselves with all they could
carry, including the turquoise cup, and stumbled
down the stairway. It did not take them long to
retrace their steps and dump down their prizes
in front of the astonished professor. He declared
that the value of the turquoise cup alone
was inestimable, while the jewels in some of the
breastplates and vessels were worth more than
he dared to name.
// 285.png
.pn +1
“I should say that what you have here would
fetch two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in
the value of the jewels alone,” he said. “As to
what they are worth as relics of a vanished race,
I am not prepared to say.”
Half an hour later, while they still sat awed
and silent about the pile of wonderful relics,
Ding-dong Bell appeared lugging an armful of
photographic plates.
“We got some dandy pictures,” he began,
“we—— Wer-wer-well, I’ll be jer-jer-jer-jig-gered!”
For the first time in his life Ding-dong Bell
was fairly taken aback and bereft of all speech.
He could only stand and blink in owl-like fashion
at the marvelous display laid out before him.
.tb
“Nat! Nat! wake up!”
The voice sounded in the ear of the leader of
the Motor Rangers, and was accompanied by a
violent shaking of his shoulder.
“What is it, Joe? Here, quit shaking my bed,
I——”
// 286.png
.pn +1
“I’m not shaking your bed, Nat. It’s the whole
island that’s shaking! Quick, help me arouse the
others!”
Nat was awake in a flash. As he hastily drew
on some clothes a strange moaning noise filled
the air. It was followed by a rushing sound overhead.
“It’s an earthquake!” exclaimed the professor,
as soon as he was awakened.
As he spoke the whole structure of the Discoverer
was shaken as if by a giant hand beneath
her.
At the same instant the voice of old Matco was
heard calling out as if in prayer.
“Get her loose, for heaven’s sake!” cried Mr.
Tubbs, “or we’ll be destroyed!”
“It is the vengeance! The vengeance!” cried
old Matco in Spanish, bursting into the cabin.
“Switch on the lights,” ordered the professor.
Joe sprang into the pilot house and threw the
switch. A blaze of light illumined the aircraft.
It showed a strange scene in her cabin. Half-dressed,
and wholly bewildered, the adventurers
// 287.png
.pn +1
were being thrown about like so many ninepins.
The substructure of the Discoverer shook like an
ague-stricken human being, as the earth beneath
her rocked and rumbled.
Nat and Joe, the most self-possessed of any on
board, sprang out upon the decks. The ropes had
been tied, it not having been anticipated that they
would want to leave in a hurry.
“Cut them!” shouted Nat above the hubbub
about them.
The sky was being ripped and seared by livid
lightning, while the flashes of light showed the
lake to be a mass of white foam. The air was
filled with a strange, roaring sound.
It was the voice of the earthquake. Nat had
heard it once before in California.
As the boys’ knives fell on the ropes, the Discoverer
shot upward. Up and up into the lightning-riven
sky she arose, while beneath them the
earth shook and rocked and rumbled.
// 288.png
.pn +1
“Great Scott!” cried a voice,—it was Nat’s,—“if
ever we get struck by a flash of that lightning,—good-bye!”
The words sounded flippant, but the danger was
real. The boy recalled reading of the fatal disaster
to the great Zeppelin dirigible in a thunder-storm.
But still they could not seek a refuge on
the earth, at any rate not on the island. The air
was the only place for them to seek safety.
The noise all about was nothing less than terrific.
Voices could not be heard unless raised to
a shout. The rigging of the dirigible creaked
and groaned as the great bag swayed, and added
to the distracting turmoil.
Paralyzed by the very suddenness and utter
unexpectedness of it all, the adventurers for a
time merely clung to the rails of their swaying,
madly careening craft. How that night passed,
none on board was exactly able to tell in after
days.
They got the engine going, and held the big
cloud cruiser as close to the earth as they dared,
using the descending planes to steady her under
// 289.png
.pn +1
the wild swaying of the great gas bag. A furious
wind accompanied the earthquake, and when
the lightning died away it seemed as if there was
to be fresh and even more deadly peril, from the
possibility of the great gas container being
ripped bodily from the substructure.
But the rigging held tightly, and dawn found
the disturbance almost at an end. It was a
shaken, white-faced crew that regarded one another
in the gray light. The night had been one
to try the nerves of a man of iron, and the Motor
Rangers were only youths.
However, the storm died out almost as swiftly
as it had come, and breakfast and hot coffee
heartened them wonderfully. Even old Matco
plucked up his spirits, although, during the night,
he was certain that they were bound to perish in
the anger of the old gods of his country.
After the morning meal they began to look
about them. They found that, during the night,
they had been blown far to the southward of the
site of the lost city, but they could still make out
the ragged peaks that marked its locality.
// 290.png
.pn +1
The professor called a meeting, and it was
unanimously decided to wing back and find out
how the island of the dead had fared. They
reached the spot by noon, and sailed over the
peaks and gazed down into the place where the
island should have been.
But no island was there!
It had vanished as completely as if it had been
a dream. Only the waters of the lake rippled as
placidly as of yore, hiding forever under their
azure surface the city that had been and now
was not.
Silent and stunned the adventurers turned the
Discoverer’s prow toward the westward once
more.
“If it wasn’t for those relics in the cabin,” said
Nat pensively, “I should think that we’d dreamed
it all.”
// 291.png
.pn +1
As he spoke he looked back toward the far
horizon. Already the ragged peaks were fading
on the sky and soon would be out of sight.
“After all,” said the professor at length, “perhaps
it is better so than if that noble city of a
vanished race had become the resort of gossiping
tourists.”
And in after days they agreed with him; but
with Nat and Joe it was long a bitter thought
that they had left in the Temple of the Moon
some of the most marvelous remains of an ancient
civilization ever discovered.
.tb
The untimely ending of the existence of the
wonderful island put an end also to the Motor
Rangers’ aerial adventures, for the professor decided
to abandon all attempts at relocating it and
employing divers, as had been his first intention.
The voyage north was made on the staunch old
Nomad, and Mr. Tubbs and the professor accompanied
the boys. Old Matco received a substantial
reward, and decided to spend his last days
in the shelter of Bolivian cities rather than to
take once more to the life of the forest.
// 292.png
.pn +1
As for Captain Lawless and his rascally mate,
they were last heard of roaming about Bolivia,
still seeking for the lost city, of whose destruction
they were not aware. They had engineered
an expedition with their remaining money for
this purpose, but not, of course, till after their
release from prison for firing at the airship. But
as this was only a brief incarceration, it did not
delay their plans much. The present chronicler
is not in a position to state their ultimate fate.
It may be of interest to state here, that the
crew they had so basely deserted, managed to
regain their schooner from the rascally old island
chief and sail her home, where they collected salvage
from the owners.
The Motor Rangers enjoyed a long rest at
home and then visited New York to aid in classifying
and arranging the pictures and relics of the
lost city. The cloud cruiser was sold to a syndicate,
which long used her as a passenger craft
// 293.png
.pn +1
at fairs and exhibitions, and it is safe to say that
not one of her passengers ever dreamed of what
the airship that carried him had passed through.
Their exciting adventures above the earth will
ever remain to the trio of boys among their most
thrilling recollections, says Nat; but in a recent
letter to a friend he hints that tiring of inactivity
he and his two chums have already started out in
search of fresh incident and adventure.
>From what Nat says the tale of their experiences
should form a suitable sequel to the other
volumes of this series, and it will be called: The
Motor Rangers’ Wireless Station.
.sp 2
.ce
THE END.
// 294.png
.pb
.pn +1
.pm adillust ads2.jpg 40
Reasons why you should obtain a Catalogue of our Publications
.sp 2
A postal to us will place it in your hands
.sp 2
1. You will possess a comprehensive
and classified list of all the best
standard books published, at prices
less than offered by others.
2. You will find listed in our catalogue
books on every topic: Poetry,
Fiction, Romance, Travel, Adventure,
Humor, Science, History, Religion,
Biography, Drama, etc., besides
Dictionaries and Manuals,
Bibles, Recitation and Hand Books,
Sets, Octavos, Presentation Books
and Juvenile and Nursery Literature
in immense variety.
3. You will be able to purchase
books at prices within your reach;
as low as 10 cents for paper covered
books, to $5.00 for books bound in
cloth or leather, adaptable for gift
and presentation purposes, to suit
the tastes of the most critical.
4. You will save considerable
money by taking advantage of our
Special Discounts, which we offer
to those whose purchases are large
enough to warrant us in making a
reduction.
.nf c
HURST & CO., Publishers,
395, 397, 399 Broadway, New York.
.nf-
.pb
// 295.png
.pn +1
.nf c
MOTOR RANGERS SERIES
HIGH SPEED MOTOR STORIES
By MARVIN WEST.
Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid
.nf-
.sp 2
THE MOTOR RANGERS’
LOST MINE.
.pm adillust motorboys2.jpg 200
This is an absorbing story of the
continuous adventures of a motor
car in the hands of Nat Trevor and
his friends. It does seemingly impossible
“stunts,” and yet everything
happens “in the nick of time.”
.sp 1
THE MOTOR RANGERS
THROUGH THE SIERRAS.
Enemies in ambush, the peril of
fire, and the guarding of treasure
make exciting times for the Motor
Rangers—yet there is a strong flavor of fun and freedom,
with a typical Western mountaineer for spice.
.sp 1
THE MOTOR RANGERS ON BLUE WATER; or,
The Secret of the Derelict.
The strange adventures of the sturdy craft “Nomad” and
the stranger experiences of the Rangers themselves with
Morello’s schooner and a mysterious derelict form the basis
of this well-spun yarn of the sea.
.sp 1
THE MOTOR RANGERS’ CLOUD CRUISER.
>From the “Nomad” to the “Discoverer,” from the sea to
the sky, the scene changes in which the Motor Rangers figure.
They have experiences “that never were on land or sea,”
in heat and cold and storm, over mountain peak and lost
city, with savages and reptiles; their ship of the air is attacked
by huge birds of the air; they survive explosion and
earthquake; they even live to tell the tale!
.sp 1
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.ce
HURST & COMPANY—Publishers—NEW YORK
// 296.png
.pb
.pn +1
.nf c
BOY INVENTORS SERIES
Stories of Skill and Ingenuity
By RICHARD BONNER
Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid
.nf-
.sp 2
THE BOY INVENTORS’
WIRELESS TELEGRAPH.
.pm adillust boyinventors2.jpg 200
Blest with natural curiosity,—sometimes
called the instinct of investigation,—favored
with golden
opportunity, and gifted with creative
ability, the Boy Inventors
meet emergencies and contrive
mechanical wonders that interest
and convince the reader because
they always “work” when put to
the test.
.sp 1
THE BOY INVENTORS’ VANISHING GUN.
A thought, a belief, an experiment; discouragement,
hope, effort and final success—this is the history of many
an invention; a history in which excitement, competition,
danger, despair and persistence figure. This merely suggests
the circumstances which draw the daring Boy Inventors
into strange experiences and startling adventures,
and which demonstrate the practical use of their vanishing
gun.
.sp 1
THE BOY INVENTORS’ DIVING TORPEDO BOAT.
As in the previous stories of the Boy Inventors, new
and interesting triumphs of mechanism are produced
which become immediately valuable, and the stage for
their proving and testing is again the water. On the
surface and below it, the boys have jolly, contagious fun,
and the story of their serious, purposeful inventions
challenge the reader’s deepest attention.
.ce
Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price.
.ce
HURST & COMPANY—Publishers—NEW YORK
// 297.png
.pb
.pn +1
.nf c
BORDER BOYS SERIES
Mexican and Canadian Frontier Series
By FREMONT B. DEERING.
Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid
.nf-
.sp 2
THE BORDER BOYS
ON THE TRAIL.
.pm adillust borderboys2.jpg 200
What it meant to make an enemy
of Black Ramon De Barios—that is
the problem that Jack Merrill and
his friends, including Coyote Pete,
face in this exciting tale.
.sp 1
THE BORDER BOYS
ACROSS THE FRONTIER.
Read of the Haunted Mesa and its
mysteries, of the Subterranean River
and its strange uses, of the value of
gasolene and steam “in running the gauntlet,” and you will
feel that not even the ancient splendors of the Old World
can furnish a better setting for romantic action than the
Border of the New.
.sp 1
THE BORDER BOYS WITH THE MEXICAN
RANGERS.
As every day is making history—faster, it is said, than
ever before—so books that keep pace with the changes
are full of rapid action and accurate facts. This book
deals with lively times on the Mexican border.
.sp 1
THE BORDER BOYS WITH THE TEXAS
RANGERS.
The Border Boys have already had much excitement
and adventure in their lives, but all this has served to
prepare them for the experiences related in this volume.
They are stronger, braver and more resourceful than ever,
and the exigencies of their life in connection with the
Texas Rangers demand all their trained ability.
.ce
Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price.
.ce
HURST & COMPANY—Publishers—NEW YORK
// 298.png
.pb
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.nf c
FRANK ARMSTRONG SERIES
Twentieth Century Athletic Stories
By MATHEW M. COLTON.
Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 60c. per vol., postpaid
.nf-
.sp 2
FRANK ARMSTRONG’S
VACATION.
.pm adillust armstrong2.jpg 200
How Frank’s summer experience
with his boy friends make
him into a sturdy young athlete
through swimming, boating, and
baseball contests, and a tramp
through the Everglades, is the
subject of this splendid story.
.sp
FRANK ARMSTRONG
AT QUEENS.
We find among the jolly boys
at Queen’s School, Frank, the student-athlete, Jimmy, the
baseball enthusiast, and Lewis, the unconsciously-funny
youth who furnishes comedy for every page that bears
his name. Fall and winter sports between intensely rival
school teams are expertly described.
.sp
FRANK ARMSTRONG’S SECOND TERM.
The gymnasium, the track and the field make the background
for the stirring events of this volume, in which
David, Jimmy, Lewis, the “Wee One” and the “Codfish”
figure, while Frank “saves the day.”
.sp
FRANK ARMSTRONG, DROP KICKER.
With the same persistent determination that won him
success in swimming, running and baseball playing, Frank
Armstrong acquired the art of “drop kicking,” and the
Queen’s football team profits thereby.
.sp 2
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.ce
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// 299.png
.pb
.pn +1
.nf c
OAKDALE ACADEMY SERIES
Stories of Modern School Sports
By MORGAN SCOTT.
Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 60c. per vol., postpaid
.nf-
BEN STONE AT OAKDALE.
.pm adillust oakdale2.jpg 200
Under peculiarly trying circumstances
Ben Stone wins his way at
Oakdale Academy, and at the
same time enlists our sympathy,
interest and respect. Through the
enmity of Bern Hayden, the loyalty
of Roger Eliot and the clever work
of the “Sleuth,” Ben is falsely accused,
championed and vindicated.
.sp
BOYS OF OAKDALE
ACADEMY.
“One thing I will claim, and that
is that all Grants fight open and
square and there never was a sneak among them.” It was
Rodney Grant, of Texas, who made the claim to his friend,
Ben Stone, and this story shows how he proved the truth
of this statement in the face of apparent evidence to the
contrary.
.sp
RIVAL PITCHERS OF OAKDALE.
Baseball is the main theme of this interesting narrative,
and that means not only clear and clever descriptions of
thrilling games, but an intimate acquaintance with the
members of the teams who played them. The Oakdale
Boys were ambitious and loyal, and some were even disgruntled
and jealous, but earnest, persistent work won out.
.sp
OAKDALE BOYS IN CAMP.
The typical vacation is the one that means much freedom,
little restriction, and immediate contact with “all outdoors.”
These conditions prevailed in the summer camp of
the Oakdale Boys and made it a scene of lively interest.
.sp
THE GREAT OAKDALE MYSTERY.
The “Sleuth” scents a mystery! He “follows his nose.”
The plot thickens! He makes deductions. There are
surprises for the reader—and for the “Sleuth,” as well.
.sp
NEW BOYS AT OAKDALE.
A new element creeps into Oakdale with another year’s
registration of students. The old and the new standards
of conduct in and out of school meet, battle, and cause
sweeping changes in the lives of several of the boys.
.sp 2
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.ce
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// 300.png
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.nf c
DREADNOUGHT BOYS SERIES
Tales of the New Navy
By CAPT. WILBUR LAWTON
Author of “BOY AVIATORS SERIES.”
Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid
.nf-
.sp
THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS
ON BATTLE PRACTICE.
.pm adillust dreadnought2.jpg 200
Especially interesting and timely
is this book which introduces the
reader with its heroes, Ned and Herc,
to the great ships of modern warfare
and to the intimate life and surprising
adventures of Uncle Sam’s sailors.
.sp
THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS
ABOARD A DESTROYER.
In this story real dangers threaten
and the boys’ patriotism is tested in
a peculiar international tangle. The scene is laid on the
South American coast.
.sp
THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS ON A SUBMARINE.
To the inventive genius—trade-school boy or mechanic—this
story has special charm, perhaps, but to every reader its
mystery and clever action are fascinating.
.sp
THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS ON AERO SERVICE.
Among the volunteers accepted for Aero Service are Ned
and Herc. Their perilous adventures are not confined to the
air, however, although they make daring and notable flights
in the name of the Government; nor are they always able
to fly beyond the reach of their old “enemies,” who are also
airmen.
.sp 2
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.ce
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// 301.png
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.nf c
BUNGALOW BOYS SERIES
LIVE STORIES OF OUTDOOR LIFE
By DEXTER J. FORRESTER.
Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid
.nf-
.sp 2
THE BUNGALOW BOYS.
.pm adillust bungalow2.jpg 200
How the Bungalow Boys received
their title and how they retained the
right to it in spite of much opposition
makes a lively narrative for lively boys.
.sp
THE BUNGALOW BOYS MAROONED
IN THE TROPICS.
A real treasure hunt of the most
thrilling kind, with a sunken Spanish
galleon as its object, makes a
subject of intense interest at any
time, but add to that a band of desperate men, a dark plot
and a devil fish, and you have the combination that brings
strange adventures into the lives of the Bungalow Boys.
.sp
THE BUNGALOW BOYS IN THE GREAT NORTH
WEST.
The clever assistance of a young detective saves the boys
from the clutches of Chinese smugglers, of whose nefarious
trade they know too much. How the Professor’s invention relieves
a critical situation is also an exciting incident of this book.
.sp
THE BUNGALOW BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES.
The Bungalow Boys start out for a quiet cruise on the
Great Lakes and a visit to an island. A storm and a band
of wreckers interfere with the serenity of their trip, and a
submarine adds zest and adventure to it.
.sp 2
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.ce
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// 302.png
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.nf c
MOTOR MAIDS SERIES
Wholesome Stories of Adventure
By KATHERINE STOKES.
Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid
.nf-
.sp 2
THE MOTOR MAIDS’
SCHOOL DAYS.
.pm adillust motormaids2.jpg 200
Billie Campbell was just the type
of a straightforward, athletic girl
to be successful as a practical
Motor Maid. She took her car, as
she did her class-mates, to her
heart, and many a grand good time
did they have all together. The
road over which she ran her
red machine had many an unexpected
turning,—now it led her
into peculiar danger; now into contact
with strange travelers; and again into experiences
by fire and water. But, best of all, “The Comet” never
failed its brave girl owner.
.sp 2
THE MOTOR MAIDS BY PALM AND PINE.
Wherever the Motor Maids went there were lively times,
for these were companionable girls who looked upon the
world as a vastly interesting place full of unique adventures—and
so, of course, they found them.
.sp
THE MOTOR MAIDS ACROSS THE CONTINENT.
It is always interesting to travel, and it is wonderfully
entertaining to see old scenes through fresh eyes. It is
that privilege, therefore, that makes it worth while to join
the Motor Maids in their first ’cross-country run.
.sp
THE MOTOR MAIDS BY ROSE, SHAMROCK AND
HEATHER.
South and West had the Motor Maids motored, nor
could their education by travel have been more wisely
begun. But now a speaking acquaintance with their own
country enriched their anticipation of an introduction to
the British Isles. How they made their polite American
bow and how they were received on the other side is a
tale of interest and inspiration.
.sp 2
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.ce
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// 303.png
.pb
.pn +1
.nf c
MOLLY BROWN SERIES
College Life Stories for Girls
By NELL SPEED.
Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 60c. per vol., postpaid
.nf-
.sp 2
MOLLY BROWN’S
FRESHMAN DAYS.
.pm adillust mollybrown2.jpg 200
Would you like to admit to your
circle of friends the most charming
of college girls—the typical college
girl for whom we are always looking
but not always finding; the type
that contains so many delightful
characteristics, yet without unpleasant
perfection in any; the
natural, unaffected, sweet-tempered
girl, loved because she is lovable?
Then seek an introduction to Molly
Brown. You will find the baggage-master, the cook, the
Professor of English Literature, and the College President
in the same company.
.sp
MOLLY BROWN’S SOPHOMORE DAYS.
What is more delightful than a re-union of college girls
after the summer vacation? Certainly nothing that precedes
it in their experience—at least, if all class-mates
are as happy together as the Wellington girls of this
story. Among Molly’s interesting friends of the second
year is a young Japanese girl, who ingratiates her “humbly”
self into everybody’s affections speedily and permanently.
.sp
MOLLY BROWN’S JUNIOR DAYS.
Financial stumbling blocks are not the only things that
hinder the ease and increase the strength of college girls.
Their troubles and their triumphs are their own, often
peculiar to their environment. How Wellington students
meet the experiences outside the class-rooms is worth the
doing, the telling and the reading.
.sp
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.ce
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// 304.png
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.pn +1
.nf c
GIRL AVIATORS SERIES
Clean Aviation Stories
By MARGARET BURNHAM.
Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid
.nf-
.sp 2
THE GIRL AVIATORS AND
THE PHANTOM AIRSHIP.
.pm adillust girlaviators2.jpg 200
Roy Prescott was fortunate in
having a sister so clever and devoted
to him and his interests that
they could share work and play
with mutual pleasure and to mutual
advantage. This proved especially
true in relation to the manufacture
and manipulation of their aeroplane,
and Peggy won well deserved
fame for her skill and good
sense as an aviator. There were
many stumbling-blocks in their terrestrial path, but they
soared above them all to ultimate success.
.sp
.if h
.sp 4
.if-
THE GIRL AVIATORS ON GOLDEN WINGS.
That there is a peculiar fascination about aviation that
wins and holds girl enthusiasts as well as boys is proved
by this tale. On golden wings the girl aviators rose for
many an exciting flight, and met strange and unexpected
experiences.
.sp
THE GIRL AVIATORS’ SKY CRUISE.
To most girls a coaching or yachting trip is an adventure.
How much more perilous an adventure a “sky
cruise” might be is suggested by the title and proved by
the story itself.
.sp
THE GIRL AVIATORS’ MOTOR BUTTERFLY.
The delicacy of flight suggested by the word “butterfly,”
the mechanical power implied by “motor,” the ability to
control assured in the title “aviator,” all combined with
the personality and enthusiasm of girls themselves, make
this story one for any girl or other reader “to go crazy
over.”
.sp 2
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.ce
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// 305.png
.pb
.pn +1
// 306.png
.pn +1
.nf c
BUNGALOW BOYS SERIES
LIVE STORIES OF OUTDOOR LIFE
By DEXTER J. FORRESTER.
Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid
.nf-
.sp 2
THE BUNGALOW BOYS.
.pm adillust bungalow2.jpg 200
How the Bungalow Boys received
their title and how they retained the
right to it in spite of much opposition
makes a lively narrative for lively boys.
.sp
THE BUNGALOW BOYS MAROONED
IN THE TROPICS.
A real treasure hunt of the most
thrilling kind, with a sunken Spanish
galleon as its object, makes a
subject of intense interest at any
time, but add to that a band of desperate men, a dark plot
and a devil fish, and you have the combination that brings
strange adventures into the lives of the Bungalow Boys.
.sp
THE BUNGALOW BOYS IN THE GREAT NORTH
WEST.
The clever assistance of a young detective saves the boys
from the clutches of Chinese smugglers, of whose nefarious
trade they know too much. How the Professor’s invention relieves
a critical situation is also an exciting incident of this book.
.sp
THE BUNGALOW BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES.
The Bungalow Boys start out for a quiet cruise on the
Great Lakes and a visit to an island. A storm and a band
of wreckers interfere, with the serenity of their trip, and a
submarine adds zest and adventure to it.
.sp
.ce
Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price.
.ce
HURST & COMPANY - Publishers - NEW YORK
// 307.png
.pb
.pn +1
.nf c
BORDER BOYS SERIES
Mexican and Canadian Frontier Series
By FREMONT B. DEERING.
Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid
.nf-
.sp 2
THE BORDER BOYS
ON THE TRAIL.
.pm adillust borderboys2.jpg 200
What it meant to make an enemy
of Black Ramon De Barios—that is
the problem that Jack Merrill and
his friends, including Coyote Pete,
face in this exciting tale.
.sp
THE BORDER BOYS
ACROSS THE FRONTIER.
Read of the Haunted Mesa and its
mysteries, of the Subterranean River
and its strange uses, of the value of
gasolene and steam “in running the gauntlet,” and you will
feel that not even the ancient splendors of the Old World
can furnish a better setting for romantic action than the
Border of the New.
.sp
THE BORDER BOYS WITH THE MEXICAN
RANGERS.
As every day is making history—faster, it is said, than
ever before—so books that keep pace with the changes
are full of rapid action and accurate facts. This book
deals with lively times on the Mexican border.
.sp
THE BORDER BOYS WITH THE TEXAS
RANGERS.
The Border Boys have already had much excitement
and adventure in their lives, but all this has served to
prepare them for the experiences related in this volume.
They are stronger, braver and more resourceful than ever,
and the exigencies of their life in connection with the
Texas Rangers demand all their trained ability.
.sp
.ce
Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price.
.ce
HURST & COMPANY—Publishers—NEW YORK
// 308.png
.pb
.pn +1
.nf c
BOY INVENTORS SERIES
Stories of Skill and Ingenuity
By RICHARD BONNER
Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid
.nf-
.sp 2
THE BOY INVENTORS’
WIRELESS TELEGRAPH.
.pm adillust boyinventors2.jpg 200
Blest with natural curiosity,—sometimes
called the instinct of investigation,—favored
with golden
opportunity, and gifted with creative
ability, the Boy Inventors
meet emergencies and contrive
mechanical wonders that interest
and convince the reader because
they always “work” when put to
the test.
.sp
THE BOY INVENTORS’ VANISHING GUN.
A thought, a belief, an experiment; discouragement,
hope, effort and final success—this is the history of many
an invention; a history in which excitement, competition,
danger, despair and persistence figure. This merely suggests
the circumstances which draw the daring Boy Inventors
into strange experiences and startling adventures,
and which demonstrate the practical use of their vanishing
gun.
.sp
THE BOY INVENTORS’ DIVING TORPEDO BOAT.
As in the previous stories of the Boy Inventors, new
and interesting triumphs of mechanism are produced
which become immediately valuable, and the stage for
their proving and testing is again the water. On the
surface and below it, the boys have jolly, contagious fun,
and the story of their serious, purposeful inventions
challenge the reader’s deepest attention.
.sp
.ce
Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price.
.ce
HURST & COMPANY—Publishers—NEW YORK
// 309.png
.pb
.pn +1
.nf c
The Famous Alger Books
By Horatio Alger, Jr. \ \ \ \ The Boy’s Writer
.nf-
.hr 50%
.sp
A series of books known to all boys; books that are good and
wholesome, with enough “ginger” in them to suit the tastes
of the younger generation. The Alger books are not filled
with “blood and thunder” stories of a doubtful character, but are
healthy and elevating, and parents should see to it that their children
become acquainted with the writings of this celebrated writer
of boys’ books. We publish the titles named below:
.sp 2
.nf b
Adrift in New York.
A Cousin’s Conspiracy.
Andy Gordon.
Andy Grant’s Pluck.
Bob Burton.
Bound to Rise.
Brave and Bold.
Cash Boy.
Chester Rand.
Do and Dare.
Driven from Home.
Erie Train Boy.
Facing the World.
Five Hundred Dollars.
Frank’s Campaign.
Grit.
Hector’s Inheritance.
Helping Himself.
Herbert Carter’s Legacy.
In a New World.
Jack’s Ward.
Jed, the Poor House Boy.
Joe’s Luck.
Julius, the Street Boy.
Luke Walton.
Making His Way.
Mark Mason.
Only an Irish Boy.
Paul, the Peddler.
Phil, the Fiddler.
Ralph Raymond’s Heir.
Risen from the Ranks.
Sam’s Chance.
Shifting for Himself.
Sink or Swim.
Slow and Sure.
Store Boy.
Strive and Succeed.
Strong and Steady.
Struggling Upward.
Tin Box.
Tom, the Bootblack.
Tony, the Tramp.
Try and Trust.
Wait and Hope.
Walter Sherwood’s Probation.
Young Acrobat.
Young Adventurer.
Young Outlaw.
Young Salesman.
.nf-
Any of these books will be mailed upon receipt of 35c.,
or three copies for $1.00. Do not fail to procure
one or more of these famous volumes.
.ce
A Complete Catalogue of Books Will Be Sent Upon Request.
.ce
HURST & CO., Publishers, NEW YORK.
// 310.png
.pb
.pn +1
.ce
HENTY SERIES
An entirely new edition of these famous Books for Boys,
by G. A. Henty. This author has reached the hearts
of the younger generation by cleverly amalgamating
historical events into interesting stories. Every
book illustrated. 42 titles. Price, 35c.
.hr 50%
.sp 2
.in 8
Among Malay Pirates. A Story of
Adventure and Peril.
Bonnie Prince Charlie. A Tale of
Fontenoy and Culloden.
Boy Knight, The. A Tale of the
Crusades.
Bravest of the Brave, The. With
Peterborough in Spain.
By England’s Aid; or, The Freeing
of the Netherlands (1585-1604).
By Pike and Dyke. A Tale of the
Rise of the Dutch Republic.
By Right of Conquest; or With Cortez
in Mexico.
By Sheer Pluck. A Tale of the
Ashanti War.
Captain Bayley’s Heir. A Tale of
the Gold Fields of California.
Cat of Bubastes, The. A Story of
Ancient Egypt.
Cornet of Horse, The. A Tale of
Marlborough’s Wars.
Dragon and the Raven; or, The Days
of King Alfred.
Facing Death. A Tale of the Coal
Mines.
Final Reckoning, A. A Tale of Bush
Life in Australia.
For Name and Fame; or, Through
Afghan Passes.
For the Temple. A Tale of the Fall
of Jerusalem.
Friends, Though Divided. A Tale
of the Civil War in England.
Golden Canon, The.
In Freedom’s Cause. A Story of
Wallace and Bruce.
In the Reign of Terror. Adventures
of a Westminster Boy.
In Times of Peril. A Tale of India.
Jack Archer. A Tale of the Crimea.
Lion of St. Mark, The. A Story of
Venice in the Fourteenth Century.
Lion of the North, The. A Tale of
Gustavus Adolphus and Wars of
Religion.
Lost Heir, The.
Maori and Settler. A Story of the
New Zealand War.
One of the 28th. A Tale of Waterloo.
Orange and Green. A Tale of the
Boyne and Limerick.
Out on the Pampas. A Tale of South
America.
St. George for England. A Tale of
Cressy and Poitiers.
Sturdy and Strong; or, How George
Andrews Made His Way.
Through the Fray. A Story of the
Luddite Riots.
True to the Old Flag. A Tale of the
American War of Independence.
Under Drake’s Flag. A Tale of the
Spanish Main.
With Clive in India; or, The Beginnings
of an Empire.
With Lee in Virginia. A Story of
the American Civil War.
With Wolfe in Canada; or, The Winning
of a Continent.
Young Buglers, The. A Tale of the
Peninsular War.
Young Carthaginian, The. A Story
of the Times of Hannibal.
Young Colonists, The. A Story of
Life and War in South Africa.
Young Franc-Tireurs, The. A Tale
of the Franco-Prussian War.
Young Midshipman, The. A Tale of
the Siege of Alexandria.
.in
.sp 2
.hr 50%
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ANY OF THESE BOOKS WILL BE MAILED UPON
RECEIPT OF 35c., OR THREE COPIES FOR $1.00
Be sure you have one of our complete catalogues; sent anywhere
when requested
HURST & CO. Publishers NEW YORK
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Mirthful Books Worth Reading!
Peck’s Books
of Humor
.nf-
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No author has achieved
a greater national reputation
for books of genuine
humor and mirth than George W. Peck,
author of “Peck’s Bad Boy and His Pa.”
We are fortunate to be able to offer,
within everyone’s reach, three of his latest
books. The titles are
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Peck’s Uncle Ike,\ \ \ \ \ Peck’s Sunbeams,
Peck’s Red-Headed Boy.
.sp
.ce 2
CLOTH Binding, 60c., Postpaid.
PAPER Binding, 30c., Postpaid.
By failing to procure any one of these
books you lose an opportunity to “laugh
and grow fat.” When you get one you
will order the others.
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Send for our Illustrated Catalogue of Books.
.ce
HURST & CO., Publishers, 395-399 Broadway, New York.
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Log Cabin to White
House Series
.nf-
A famous series of books,
formerly sold at $2.00 per
copy, are now popularized
by reducing the price less
than half. The lives of these
famous Americans are worthy
of a place in any library. A
new book by Edward S. Ellis—“From
Ranch to White House”—is a life of
Theodore Roosevelt, while the author of the
others, William M. Thayer, is a celebrated
biographer.
.sp 2
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.sp 6
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.in 8
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FROM RANCH TO WHITE HOUSE; Life of Theodore Roosevelt.
FROM BOYHOOD TO MANHOOD; Life of Benjamin Franklin.
FROM FARM HOUSE TO WHITE HOUSE; Life of George Washington.
FROM LOG CABIN TO WHITE HOUSE; Life of James A. Garfield.
FROM PIONEER HOME TO WHITE HOUSE; Life of Abraham Lincoln.
FROM TANNERY TO WHITE HOUSE; Life of Ulysses S. Grant.
SUCCESS AND ITS ACHIEVERS.
TACT, PUSH AND PRINCIPLE.
.nf-
.in
These titles, though by different authors, also
belong to this series of books:
.sp
.in 8
.nf l
FROM COTTAGE TO CASTLE; The Story of Gutenberg, Inventor of Printing.
By Mrs. E. C. Pearson.
CAPITAL FOR WORKING BOYS. By Mrs. Julia E. M’Conaughy.
.nf-
.in
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Price, postpaid, for any of the above ten books, 75c.
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A complete catalogue sent for the asking.
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HURST & CO. Publishers, NEW YORK
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C. A. Stephens Books
.pm adillust stephens2.jpg 200
An author whose
writings are famous
and whose stories are
brim-full of adventure.
Boys delight in reading
them.
We publish six of
his best.
.sp 2
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.sp 12
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CAMPING OUT
FOX HUNTING
LEFT ON LABRADOR
LYNX HUNTING
OFF TO THE GEYSERS
ON THE AMAZON
.nf-
Sent anywhere, postage paid, upon
receipt of Fifty Cents.
.sp
Our complete list sent you upon
receipt of a postal.
.ce
HURST & CO., Publishers, NEW YORK
// 314.png
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BOOKS BY
Charles Carleton Coffin
.nf-
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Author of
“Boys of ’76”
“Boys of ’61”
.nf-
Charles Carleton Coffin’s
specialty is books pertaining
to the War.
His celebrated writings
with reference to the
Great Rebellion have
been read by thousands. We have popularized
him by publishing his best works at
reduced prices.
.sp 2
.if h
.sp 4
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Following the Flag. Charles Carleton Coffin
My Days and Nights on the Battlefield. Charles Carleton Coffin
Winning His Way. Charles Carleton Coffin
Six Nights in a Block House. Henry C. Watson
.nf-
.sp
.ce
Be sure to get one of each. Price, postpaid, Fifty Cents.
.ce
Obtain our latest complete catalogue.
.ce
HURST & CO., Publishers, NEW YORK
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.pm adillust bio2.jpg 200
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BIOGRAPHICAL
LIBRARY
Of the Lives of Great Men
.nf-
A limited line comprising
subjects pertaining to the
careers of men who have
helped to mould the world’s
history. A library is incomplete
without the entire set.
.sp 2
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.sp 6
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.ll -4
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Benjamin Franklin, Life of—American Statesman and
\ \ \ \ Discoverer of Electricity.
Christopher Columbus, Life of—Discoverer of America.
Daniel Boone, Life of—Famous Kentucky Explorer and Scout.
Daniel Webster, Life of—American Statesman and Diplomat.
Distinguished American Orators—Who Have Helped
\ \ \ \ to Mould American Events.
Eminent Americans—Makers of United States History.
John Gutenberg, Life of—Inventor of Printing,
Napoleon and His Marshals—Celebrated French General and Commander.
Orators of the American Revolution—Whose
\ \ \ \ Speeches Ring With Patriotism.
Paul Jones, Life of—American Naval Hero.
Patrick Henry, Life of—Distinguished American Orator and Patriot.
Philip H. Sheridan, Life of—“Little Phil”;
\ \ \ \ Famous Union General During the Civil War.
Washington and His Generals—First President
\ \ \ \ of the United States, Revolutionary Army General and Statesman.
.nf-
.ll
.in
.sp 2
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Any book mailed, postage paid, upon receipt of 50c.
.ce
Send for Our Complete Book Catalogue.
.ce
HURST & CO. Publishers, NEW YORK
// 316.png
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.pm adillust ellis2.jpg 200
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Books by
Edward S. Ellis
.nf-
One of the most popular writers
of boys’ stories in America to-day.
This author has the happy faculty of
pleasing the boys with writings which
are noted for their animation and excitement.
A select list is named
below:
.sp 2
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.sp 8
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Famous American Naval Commanders
Golden Rock
The Jungle Fugitives
Land of Mystery
Old Ironsides; Hero of Tripoli and 1812
.nf-
.sp
.nf c
Any book sent postage paid, upon
receipt of Fifty Cents.
A POSTAL BRINGS OUR COMPLETE
CATALOGUE TO YOU
HURST & CO., Publishers, NEW YORK
.nf-
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Oliver Optic
Books
.nf-
Few boys are alive to-day
who have not read some of
the writings of this famous
author, whose books are
scattered broadcast and
eagerly sought for. Oliver
Optic has the faculty of writing books full of
dash and energy, such as healthy boys want
and need.
.sp 2
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.sp 2
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ALL ABOARD; or, Life on the Lake.
BOAT CLUB; or, The Bunkers of Rippleton.
BRAVE OLD SALT; or, Life on the Quarter Deck.
DO SOMETHINGS; a Story for Little Folks.
FIGHTING JOE; or, The Fortunes of a Staff Officer.
IN SCHOOL AND OUT; or, The Conquest of Richard Grant.
LITTLE BY LITTLE; or, The Cruise of the Flyaway.
LITTLE MERCHANT; a Story for Little Folks.
NOW OR NEVER; or, The Adventures of Bobby Bright.
POOR AND PROUD; or, The Fortunes of Katie Redburn.
PROUD AND LAZY; a Story for Little Folks.
RICH AND HUMBLE; or, The Mission of Bertha Grant.
SAILOR BOY; or, Jack Somers in the Navy.
SOLDIER BOY; or, Tom Somers in the Army.
TRY AGAIN; or, The Trials and Triumphs of Harry West.
WATCH AND WAIT; or, The Young Fugitives.
WORK AND WIN; or, Noddy Newman on a Cruise.
THE YANKEE MIDDY; or, The Adventures of a Naval Officer.
YOUNG LIEUTENANT; or, The Adventures of an Army Officer.
.nf-
.ce
Any of these books will be mailed, postpaid, upon receipt of 50c.
.ce
Get our complete catalogue—sent anywhere.
.ce
HURST & CO., Publishers, NEW YORK
.pb
.nf l
Transcriber's Notes
Inconsistencies in capitalization of the name "Ding-Dong"
vs "Ding-dong" have been left as is.
Several pages of ads are duplicated in the original text; they
have been left as is.
page 72 - moved apostrophe in "Ranger's"
...changing the course of the Motor Rangers' vessel.
page 82 - changed period to comma at end of quote
I’ve got an idea." said...
page 83 - capitalized sentence
...said Mr. Tubbs. "we haven’t got any weapons, and those rascals...
page 110 - added comma at end of speech
...when you see it flying in a foreign port" observed...
page 120 - added period to chapter title to be consistent
the other chapter titles
XIII. "SOUTH AMERICAN JUSTICE"
page 163 - changed "inqury" to "inquiry"
...to the professor’s inqury.
page 171 - changed "head-gear" to "headgear" to be consistent
with other usage in this book
page 249 - added "in" after "candle"
...pocket lantern here, too, with a candle it. Shall...
page 256 - changed "It" to "If"
It you don’t get me...
page 275 - changed "awe-struck" to "awestruck" to be consistent
with other usage in this book
...Nat, in awe-struck tones...
page 281 - changed "Zepplein" to "Zeppelin"
page 284 - changed "Macto" to "Matco"
...the boys. Old Macto received a substantial...
no page number - "Molly Brown Series" advertisement
changed "sophmore" to "sophomore"
no page number - "Girl Aviators Series" advertisement
changed "terrestial" to "terrestrial"
...many stumbling-blocks in their terrestial path, but they...
no page number - "Girl Aviators Series" advertisement
changed "abiltity" to "ability"
...the mechanical power implied by “motor,” the abiltity to...
no page number - "The Famous Alger Books"
changed comma to period
...Sam’s Chance,...
no page number - "The Dreadnought Boys"
changed "Areo" to "Aero"
Among the volunteers accepted for Areo Service are Ned...
.nf-