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diff --git a/old/55534-0.txt b/old/55534-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d72907c..0000000 --- a/old/55534-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6033 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Aeroplane Express, by Ashton Lamar - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Aeroplane Express - or, The Boy Aeronaut's Grit - -Author: Ashton Lamar - -Illustrator: S. H. Riesenberg - -Release Date: September 13, 2017 [EBook #55534] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AEROPLANE EXPRESS *** - - - - -Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - The Aeroplane Boys Series - - - The Aeroplane Express - OR - The Boy Aeronaut’s Grit - - - - -The Aeroplane Boys Series - -By ASHTON LAMAR - - I. IN THE CLOUDS FOR UNCLE SAM - Or, Morey Marshall of the Signal Corps - - II. THE STOLEN AEROPLANE - Or, How Bud Wilson Made Good - - III. THE AEROPLANE EXPRESS - Or, The Boy Aeronaut’s Grit - - IV. THE BOY AERONAUTS’ CLUB - Or, Flying For Fun - -OTHER TITLES TO FOLLOW - -These stories are the newest and most up-to-date. All aeroplane details -are correct. Fully illustrated. Colored frontispiece. - -Cloth, 12mos. Price, 60c each - - -The Airship Boys Series - -By H. L. SAYLER - - I. THE AIRSHIP BOYS - Or, The Quest of the Aztec Treasure - - II. THE AIRSHIP BOYS ADRIFT - Or, Saved by an Aeroplane - - III. THE AIRSHIP BOYS DUE NORTH - Or, By Balloon to the Pole - - IV. THE AIRSHIP BOYS IN THE BARREN LANDS - Or, The Secret of the White Eskimos - -These thrilling stories deal with the wonderful new science of aerial -navigation. Every boy will be interested and instructed by reading -them. Illustrated. Cloth binding. Price, $1.00 each. - - -The above books are sold everywhere or will be sent postpaid on receipt -of price by the - - Publishers The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago - -_Complete catalog sent, postpaid, on request_ - - - - -[Illustration: TWO PISTOL SHOTS SOUNDED IN THE DESERT.] - - - - - The Aeroplane - Express - - OR - - The Boy Aeronaut’s Grit - - - BY - ASHTON LAMAR - - - [Illustration: _The_ - AEROPLANE - BOYS - SERIES] - - - Illustrated by S. H. Riesenberg - - - Chicago - The Reilly & Britton Co. - Publishers - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1910 - By - THE REILLY & BRITTON CO. - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - - - THE AEROPLANE EXPRESS - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAP. PAGE - I A CONDITIONAL BARGAIN 9 - II AN EXPERIMENTAL FLIGHT 21 - III LOOKING UP AN ANCESTOR 33 - IV AN IDEAL OUTFIT 44 - V THE CONTRACT AND THE CAR 57 - VI OFF FOR THE WEST 69 - VII ON THE EDGE OF THE DESERT 80 - VIII THE TRAIL AT LAST 92 - IX IN THE CANYON OF THE SAN JUAN 105 - X THE WHITE GOD OF THE SINK HOLE 118 - XI THE REAL WEST 136 - XII ASSEMBLING AN AEROPLANE IN THE DESERT 151 - XIII WHY MIKE HASSELL HIT THE TRAIL 164 - XIV THE END OF THE TRAIL 178 - XV ROY MAKES MR. COOK A PRESENT 193 - XVI THE AEROPLANE AS AN AMBULANCE 206 - XVII THE SECRET DECIPHERED 217 - XVIII THE LAST OF THE LOST INDIANS 230 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - Two pistol shots sounded in the desert _Frontispiece_ - - “The boy has a steady hand” 27 - - With a clatter of hoofs Nigger bounded forward 97 - - The remarkable hieroglyphics 133 - - The Last of the Lost Indians 237 - - - - - The Aeroplane Express - OR - The Boy Aeronaut’s Grit - - - - -CHAPTER I - -A CONDITIONAL BARGAIN - - -“Far as we go!” - -As the conductor of the trolley made this announcement, the car came -to a stop in a suburb of Newark, New Jersey. About two blocks beyond -the end of the line, and almost on the edge of the salt marshes, rose a -new and wide two-story brick building. Even from that distance could be -heard the hum of men and machines. - -“Much obliged,” answered the man. “That the place?” - -The conductor nodded. - -“Thanks,” said the passenger, who, although apparently a middle-aged -man, sprang lightly to the ground. “Have a cigar?” - -“If you don’t mind,” answered the conductor, “I’ll save it until this -evening. I don’t often get a smoke like this.” - -The man laughed, shoved his hand into the side pocket of his loose coat -and drew out two more high-priced cigars. - -“Never put off a good thing too long,” he added, “you may lose it. Grab -things while they’re in reach. Give one to your friend Bill up there.” - -As the man, still smiling, turned to go, the conductor called out: - -“Thanks, Colonel, I guess you’re a westerner. Folks ’round here haven’t -got sense enough to wear a hat like that.” - -“You’re a good guesser,” replied the man; “I’m from Utah. Good bye.” - -A few minutes later, the man was standing before a door in the long -building, labeled “Office.” Above the entrance was a small, new -sign: AMERICAN AEROPLANE COMPANY. It was a hot morning, and, as -the man stopped to wipe his perspiring face with a big, white silk -handkerchief, he swung a picturesque gray plainsman’s hat before him -like a fan. He was without a vest, and wore a narrow, dark belt. But, -beyond these, a negligee shirt and a brown flowing neck tie, there was -no sign of the westerner about him. His trousers, coat and shoes were -all fashionable and apparently of eastern make. - -As he stood before the door, he looked at his watch. Then he whistled -softly to himself. - -“Ten fifteen!” he exclaimed, under his breath. “An hour and a half from -the Waldorf. The same goin’ back--that’s a quarter to twelve. An’ I’ve -got to catch the limited at two.” - -He opened the door and stepped into a large room where two or three -girls and a couple of young men were busy at typewriters, file cases -and telephones. - -“The boss in?” asked the visitor of a young man who greeted him. - -“Do you mean the manager, Mr. Atkinson?” - -“Like as not! The man who sells airships.” - -“Have you a card?” - -“Some’eres, I guess. But just tell him there’s man out here wants to -talk flyin’-machine if he’s got time.” - -“Won’t you sit down?” persisted the clerk. “I’ll see if he’s busy.” - -“Just tell him I’m kind o’ busy, too.” - -While the clerk disappeared within a room opening out of the main -office, the active westerner made a hasty examination of the place. On -a table within the railed-off space in which he stood was a tray of -business cards. He picked one up and read it: - - AMERICAN AEROPLANE COMPANY - Factory: Newark, New Jersey - Offices: New York, London, Paris, Chicago - Mr. Robert T. Atkinson, President - Capital Stock $1,000,000 - Tested Aeroplanes Ready for Delivery - -“This Mr. Atkinson?” began the westerner when he had been ushered into -that gentleman’s private office. - -“I am,” responded the aeroplane company official. “Pretty hot?” - -“Hot enough,” smiled back the visitor; “but I don’t mind the heat when -I can find a little shade occasionally and a drink of water. Out my way -we’re a little shy on shade and water. I’m from Utah. And that ain’t -the worst--I’m from southern Utah.” - -President Atkinson motioned to a chair next the open window. - -“Never been there,” he replied in much the same tone he might have said -he had never visited the north pole. - -“Few people have,” added the westerner. “Don’t mind if I smoke, do you?” - -Before he could find one of his own cigars, the aeroplane manager had -thrust at him a box of perfectos. Mr. Atkinson at once saw in the -stranger a man of affairs, who had not come all the way out to the -aeroplane factory to gossip. He judged correctly. - -“I’ve got a card somewhere,” began the westerner briskly, as he closed -a pair of white, steel-trap-like teeth on the cigar, “but it don’t say -nothin’ but that my name’s Cook--R. C. Cook. I’m from Bluff, Utah.” - -“Glad to meet you, Mr. Cook,” politely remarked the easterner, -wondering at the same time what possible business Mr. Cook, of Bluff, -Utah, could have with the American Aeroplane Company. - -“I’m in New York on a quick trip, but I saw one of your circulars last -night. I cut this out. It’s yours, ain’t it?” - -Mr. Atkinson glanced at the clipping, smiled and nodded. - -The circular read: - - “The aeroplane is no longer a novelty or a wonder. The American - Aeroplane Company, organized with a paid-up capital stock - of $1,000,000, is now ready to deliver reliable and tested - aeroplanes, standardized in make-up and ready to fly. We - offer F. O. B. Newark, New Jersey, a complete car for $5,000. - It comprehends every development up to date. The frame is - of Oregon spruce and bamboo--the planes of rubberized silk - balloon cloth. The power plant is a four-cylinder, gasoline, - water-cooled motorcycle engine, 25 H. P., cylinders 3¾ by 4. - The control is extremely simple. The elevation is regulated by - a steering lever, the balancing planes are specially designed - devices controlled by the movement of the feet. The machine - starts from the ground without track or outside help, and it - can be taken apart in two hours.” - -“That’s the price, is it?” added Mr. Cook, taking a long puff at his -cigar. - -“Just reduced,” explained Mr. Atkinson. “Our first machines sold for -seven thousand dollars. But we mean to lead in this business. We have -purchased every patent that we believe is needed in making a high-class -aeroplane; and with our facilities we mean to popularize aeroplanes -until they become as common as automobiles.” - -“I want one of ’em,” said Mr. Cook. - -The manager nodded his head as if the customer had ordered a bicycle or -a buggy. - -“That is,” added Mr. Cook, “providin’--” - -He took another puff on his cigar, and then added: - -“I want one if I can find some one to run the thing.” - -Mr. Atkinson shrugged his shoulders. - -“That’s the only trouble that confronts us, Mr. Cook. We have as yet -developed no training-school for aviators, as we have schools for -chauffeurs.” - -“Well,” exclaimed Mr. Cook, laughing and shaking his head, “I think one -of them flyin’-machines’ll fit in my business all right, but you’ll -have to find me a man to work it. I’ve crossed Death’s desert, I’ve -gone down the big Canyon, I’ve chased and been chased by the Utes, and -I may do all of them things again. But there’s one thing I wouldn’t -do--I wouldn’t risk my neck in the best aeroplane ever made.” - -Mr. Atkinson smiled. - -“I’d like to sell you one of our machines, my friend; but I can’t -promise to find you a capable operator. Tell me,” he added, unable to -longer restrain his curiosity, “what use do you figure on making of the -machine?” - -“I ought to told you,” hastened the would-be purchaser in explanation. -“We got a company out in Utah--mostly New York people,” he added -parenthetically--“the Utah Mining and Development Company. I’m the -manager. Mr. F. E. Estebrook, of Hartford, is the president.” - -Mr. Cook immediately rose in Mr. Atkinson’s estimation. Mr. Estebrook -was one of the wealthy insurance men of Connecticut. No one stood -higher in the New York financial world. - -“I see,” observed Mr. Atkinson, now glad that he had extended to the -westerner his best box of cigars. - -“Well,” went on Mr. Cook, “we’ve got a big lot of work cut out down -there in the desert--petroleum mainly,” he explained, “but metal, too. -And just now it’s all prospecting. Maybe you don’t know southern Utah?” - -The aeroplane company manager smiled in the negative. - -“When they git done tellin’ you about the plains of Arizona, and New -Mexico, just add one hundred per cent and call it Utah,” went on Mr. -Cook. “It ain’t sand and bunch grass down there,” he added, with a grim -smile. “It’s alkali deserts, borax holes, rotten volcano craters and -river beds that ain’t seen water in a thousand years.” - -“Don’t the Colorado and Green rivers run through it?” asked Mr. -Atkinson, stepping to a large wall map. - -Mr. Cook grunted. - -“They do,” he explained, “right through it, and they might as well be -buried in steel tubes. What you goin’ to do with a river shootin’ along -at the bottom of a gash in the ground a half mile deep? Mr. Atkinson,” -continued the westerner. “I’ve known many a man to die o’ thirst on -the banks of them rivers with the sound o’ gurglin’ water in his ears. -As for gettin’ to that water, well you might reach it with a shot -gun--nothin’ else.” - -Mr. Atkinson turned, ready to hear Mr. Cook’s explanation: - -“I went to Utah five years ago--I’m a Pennsylvanian. My hair was black -then. It’s gray now. I got that in one week down in the San Juan river -canyon. Sailin’ an aeroplane down there ain’t a goin’ to be no county -fair job.” - -“I don’t quite understand,” exclaimed Mr. Atkinson. - -“It’s this,” explained Mr. Cook. “We’ve got from four to eight -prospectin’ parties out on them deserts all the time. For weeks and -months we don’t hear from them. Now and then, with the use of a few -hardened plainsmen, we get word to them and reports back. It would -be a big help to us if we could keep in touch with them. And, more -often, it would be a big help to them. They say an aeroplane can travel -forty-five miles an hour. Why can’t I use it to keep track of our -prospectors?” - -Mr. Atkinson sat up, perplexed and surprised. - -“It’s a novel idea,” he said, at last, “but I can’t see why it isn’t -just the thing. Looks to me as if it is--” then he stopped. Mr. -Atkinson’s business instinct had brought him a sudden idea. “Mr. Cook,” -he added, a moment later, “we talk a good deal about the practicability -of the aeroplane. This is the first real, business demand I have -yet had for an aeroplane. The idea is great. There is no doubt the -aeroplane can be utilized in just the way you outline. Within a radius -of two hundred and fifty miles it could make daily visits to the -remotest of your men, take orders to them, bring back reports, and--if -necessary--carry them food and water.” - -“Looked that way to me,” interrupted the westerner. - -“No question about it. I’m going to make you a proposition. Our -machines are selling at five thousand dollars. I’m so sure of the -advertising possibilities of your project, that I’m going to make you -a price of four thousand dollars. I can’t miss this chance to make a -real demonstration of the practicability of the aeroplane.” - -“The price ain’t botherin’ me,” commented the westerner. “How about -some one to work it? Some one who can stand Utah and borax and -alkali--maybe Indians. You can fix his wages.” - -Mr. Atkinson’s face lengthened. - -“That’s another matter,” he said after a pause. - -“Haven’t any one on tap?” - -The aeroplane company manager shook his head. Mr. Cook looked at his -watch. Then he grunted his disappointment. - -“Well,” he said, rising, “it was an idea. If you can’t help me, I guess -no one can. I’ve got to go--got to catch the two o’clock limited. Just -keep my card. My offer stands. I’ll make it five thousand dollars for a -machine if you send a man to do the trick. You can take four thousand -dollars if you like and give some one a bonus of the other thousand -to take the chance. I’ll pay him what you say and keep him long as he -wants to stay.” - -Mr. Atkinson was thinking hard. - -“I’m trying to think of some one with experience and grit,” he said. - -“If you do,” said the westerner, shaking hands with Mr. Atkinson, “nail -him, and send him to me. If he wants excitement, I’ll guarantee him the -time of his life.” - - - - -CHAPTER II - -AN EXPERIMENTAL FLIGHT - - -For some minutes, Mr. Atkinson sat in thought. At last he was -interrupted by a man who hurried in from the factory portion of the -building. The new arrival was in his shirt sleeves, a mechanic’s cap -was far back on his half-bald head, and his hands and face were marked -with the smear of machinery. - -“Good morning, George,” exclaimed the manager. - -“Morning,” responded the man tersely. “Thought you might like to come -out. We got that new model ready--the double propeller. Goin’ to try -the wheels on a new pitch.” - -“Certainly,” responded Mr. Atkinson, placing Mr. Cook’s card in a -pigeonhole. “Sold four machines this morning, Osborne,” he added. “Got -three orders by mail--two from Paris, one from Chicago. Sold another -machine to a man from Utah.” - -Mr. Atkinson was full of enthusiasm, but, apparently, the man in his -shirt sleeves cared little for this. - -“I’m sure we’ve got a better pitch,” the mechanic interrupted. “Anyway, -we’ll know in a few minutes.” - -Mr. Atkinson only smiled. He made no further attempt to impart his -gratification to his companion, and the two men passed out through the -business office into the big workroom. - -The man wearing the cap was George M. Osborne, skilled mechanic and -inventor. In the advertisements of the company, he was known as -the “engineer and mechanical director.” Mr. Osborne, the highest -paid mechanic in Newark--one of the leading manufacturing cities -in America--had only recently been secured by the newly organized -aeroplane company. It was his ingenuity and practical methods that had -already combined a dozen patents in an ideal flying-machine. - -“A one-propeller car will always be popular,” Osborne insisted, “but -two propellers are as essential for long distance work as two screws to -a steamer. If one gives out, you have the other.” - -As the two men made their way through the orderly but humming workroom, -Mr. Osborne fell back by Mr. Atkinson’s side, and said: - -“I’m trying a new operator, too, this morning.” - -“We ought to start a school for them,” answered the manager, thinking -of his talk with the western prospector. - -“And I’d like to have you give him a job,” added the engineer. - -“Certainly,” answered his companion. “Hire all of them you can find -that’ll do. Your new man ever had any experience?” - -“A little. But he isn’t a man. It’s my own boy, Royce.” - -“Roy, your son,” exclaimed Mr. Atkinson, as if surprised. “How old is -he?” - -“Just over seventeen. But I think he’ll do. He’s spent all his -Saturdays here since we started up, and now his school’s out, and he’s -determined to go to work.” - -“And you aren’t afraid to let him take a chance in the new machine?” -asked the manager. - -“I guess he understands it about as well as any of us.” - -“I’ve seen him around here a good deal.” - -“It has been his playground,” explained the boy’s father. “He’d rather -be alongside my bench than idling away his time. He knows the car and -engine all right.” - -Passing out of the shop, the men came into the experimenting ground--an -enclosed space of perhaps twenty acres. Beneath a shed at the far end -of the factory building a half dozen men were standing idly about the -delicate and graceful frame of an aeroplane--the “American Aeroplane -Model No. 2.” In their midst, stood a light-haired, gray-eyed boy of -compact, muscular build and a countenance a little too old, perhaps, -for his years. - -“Good morning, Roy,” exclaimed Mr. Atkinson. “Your father says you want -to turn aviator.” - -“Yes, sir,” answered the boy, doffing an absurd little school hat, “I’m -looking for the job.” - -“Aren’t you afraid?” asked the manager, smiling, however, as he asked -it. - -“I hadn’t thought of that,” answered the boy. “I’m only wondering if -the new pitch is right.” - -Mr. Atkinson seemed about to say something, but paused. Finally he -remarked: - -“All right. But don’t take chances. Make a low flight.” - -The attendants at once shouldered the car and carried it out into the -open. Roy pulled his little school cap well down on his head, and -climbed aboard. Mr. Osborne, who had disappeared for a moment, now -returned with a ball of twine. Quickly unrolling about fifty feet of -it, he tied an end of the cord to the aeroplane frame. At the other end -of the string, he tied his handkerchief. - -“Now, young man,” he said with parental sternness to Roy, “no more -excuses about not knowing how far above the ground you are. This is -a mechanical test, not a circus exhibition. Keep that handkerchief -dragging on the ground. D’ye hear?” - -“Yes, father,” laughed the boy, “only I don’t want that handkerchief -and the knot. It’s all right if I don’t happen to pass over a fence. A -little catch in a crack wouldn’t do a thing but upset me.” He untied -the handkerchief and handed it back. “I’ll watch the string--this time. -But never again.” And he laughed. - -“Don’t know but you’re right,” remarked Mr. Osborne. - -“Sure he is,” added Mr. Atkinson with a broad smile. “All ready, boys?” -he added, turning to the workmen. - -“All ready here,” came from the boy. - -“Go ahead,” exclaimed Mr. Osborne. - -Roy’s eager hands turned on his gasoline. As the two propellers darted -into action and the horizontal, spidery planes began to tremble as if -semi-buoyant already, the attendants sprang forward. - -“Keep away,” exclaimed the boy in the car. “Keep away. Give her a -chance.” - -The men stepped back again. - -“That’s right,” added Mr. Atkinson. “Give it a chance.” - -“She don’t need any help,” exclaimed Mr. Osborne, with professional -pride. “No startin’ track with this car.” - -Even while he spoke, the aeroplane gave a little preliminary bound and -then suddenly shot forward, the twine snapping behind it. Mr. Osborne, -in developing the flying-machine idea, had used two plane surfaces, but -instead of being superimposed, one was behind the other. And, instead -of being practically flat surfaces, his two planes were curved, the aft -one so markedly so as to resemble a bird’s wing. - -[Illustration: “THE BOY HAS A STEADY HAND”] - -The anxious spectators saw the big, horizontal nine-foot rudder or -guiding surface behind the rear plane straighten itself out and the -aeroplane settle on its course. Mr. Osborne made an attempt to run -forward as if to better observe the working of the propellers on their -new pitch. But the car was too fast for him. It was already curving on -its first turn and working perfectly. Three times the flying-machine -cut around the experiment yard, skimming the ground so closely at times -that the observers kept a sharp lookout to save their heads. - -“Looks all right, eh?” remarked the engineer, with no little pride. - -“The boy has a steady hand,” answered the manager, as if he had -forgotten that the flight was a test of the engine and not of the -amateur aviator. - -“Oh, the boy’s all right,” exclaimed Mr. Osborne. “I don’t know as I -like to have him do it, but, as far as ability is concerned, he knows -as much as a good many who have been at it longer.” - -He had already called out to Roy to come down, and the car, with power -shut off, was fluttering to the ground, some yards away. - -The two men advanced to the landed machine. - -Roy, his sober face showing just a little flush of pride in his first -real flight, was attempting to look unconcerned as Mr. Atkinson came up -to him and patted him on the back. - -“Very well done, my boy,” exclaimed the manager. “Didn’t frighten you, -did it?” - -“I was only worried about that string,” answered Roy. “It kept snappin’ -like the tail of a kite.” - -The workmen were already moving the car to the shed, and Mr. Osborne -was following them, when the manager called him back. - -“Osborne,” he said, laying a hand on Roy’s shoulder, “are you really -willing for your boy to turn professional aviator?” - -“Seems to have made a pretty good start already,” was the non-committal -answer. - -“That’ll be all right,” broke in Roy, with a smile. “He’ll be willing. -At least, he says it isn’t any more dangerous than runnin’ an -automobile. May I have a job, Mr. Atkinson?” - -The manager’s answer was to invite the boy and his father into his -private office. There, after a little more discussion of the matter -of Roy’s engagement, Mr. Atkinson drew out the Utah prospector’s -memorandum, and, with a good deal of formality, told the details of his -interview with Mr. Cook, and of the latter’s provisional purchase of an -aeroplane. - -“And now,” he concluded, “of course, the making of that sale or the -loss of it don’t mean a great deal. But I’d like to make it. You can -guess why?” he added, turning to Mr. Osborne. - -“Be a good ad, of course,” answered the engineer. - -“Yes, all of that,” exclaimed Mr. Osborne. “But I’ve got just enough -interest in Roy to want to have him take the job.” - -“I could see that comin’,” exclaimed Mr. Osborne, with a somewhat -rueful smile. “We’re much obliged--both of us--but--” and he shook his -head slowly in the negative. - -“He don’t mean it,” spoke up Roy with alacrity, as he arose and -hastened to Mr. Atkinson’s side. - -“We’ve only got to persuade mother; then he’ll consent. He’ll be proud -to have me go,” he added with a sudden smile. - -But Mr. Osborne was still shaking his head. - -“I’ll go,” went on the boy, with enthusiasm, “and father’ll tell -you so to-morrow. We’ll arrange it with mother this evening, won’t -we, Father?” he continued as he good naturedly laid his arm on Mr. -Osborne’s shoulders. - -“We will not,” spoke up the engineer with apparent determination. “If -you’ve got to break your neck, do it here, near home.” - -Roy only laughed. - -“Father’ll let you know how much obliged he is in the morning,” said -the boy. “I accept the offer now. Father can have the bonus, and I’ll -take the wages. Be sure and count on me, Mr. Atkinson. I’m jumpin’ at -the chance. You can telegraph right now--‘Machine and operator leave -tomorrow.’” - - - - -CHAPTER III - -LOOKING UP AN ANCESTOR - - -But Mr. Osborne was not as quick to give his consent as Roy predicted. -As the boy and his father rode home that evening, Mr. Osborne found -many reasons why he did not wish his son to go to Utah to “take a -chance of dying of thirst on some desert, or of being scalped by -Indians,” as he expressed it. He did not urge very strongly the risk to -Roy in skimming over mountains, plains and canyons in an aeroplane. Mr. -Osborne being the maker of the airship and having business faith in it, -he had to confine his arguments to other reasons. - -“The principal reason you’re afraid,” urged Roy, with a laugh, “is that -you’ve never been west of Pittsburg. You don’t know any more about Utah -than--than--” - -“Than you do,” interrupted his father. “Just you wait until you tell -your mother.” - -The Osbornes lived on the far side of Newark in an attractive suburban -house with a yard big enough to include a large flower garden. It was -early evening when Mr. Osborne and Roy reached home, and Mrs. Osborne -was busy cutting flowers. Roy, waving his straw hat, sprang across the -lawn to open up the question at once. - -“Mother,” he exclaimed impulsively, “I’ve got a chance to get a good -job operating the new aeroplane.” - -“So soon?” replied Mrs. Osborne, with a smile. “I supposed you’d have -to have a lot of experience before you could do that.” - -“Oh, I can do it--now--I know enough. I ain’t afraid of that. But the -job’s a long way from here. I’ve got to go to Utah.” - -“Utah!” exclaimed his mother, wrinkling her brows. “Why that’s away out -west. It’s further than Chicago, isn’t it?” - -“A thousand miles,” responded Roy on a guess, and with a smile. - -“Yes, certainly,” added Mrs. Osborne. “I know. Just beyond the Rocky -Mountains. Utah--Salt Lake City. It’s where the Mormons live.” - -“Right,” exclaimed Roy, laughing. “Do you care if I go?--I want to very -much.” - -“That’s where my Uncle Willard Banks went.” - -Roy, who had taken the basket of flowers from his mother’s arm, stopped -short. - -“I didn’t know that,” he began. “I didn’t know you had an uncle out -there. Is he alive?” - -His mother shook her head. - -“I don’t know,” she answered. “I don’t even remember him. He was my -father’s only brother, and when father came east from Illinois--before -he married--my Uncle Willard went west. He was a Mormon,” Mrs. Osborne -added. “Or, I think he was.” - -“And he went out to Utah to live with the Mormons?” asked Roy, with -increasing interest, forgetting for the moment, his real mission with -his mother. - -“I don’t remember just why he went,” explained his mother. “I don’t -believe I’ve thought of him for years. He sent father his picture. He -used to write to father, too. He must be dead now.” - -“Perhaps I can find him,” suggested Roy, coming back to the subject. - -Mrs. Osborne looked at him a few moments and then walked ahead to the -front porch where Mr. Osborne, at ease in a large swinging seat, was -apparently awaiting his wife and son. As Roy and his mother reached the -porch, Mrs. Osborne exclaimed: - -“What does your father say?” - -“He says I’ll starve to death or die of thirst or be scalped by the -Indians.” - -“Mercy me,” exclaimed Mrs. Osborne, sinking into a porch chair. “Are -there wild Indians out there yet? I thought the last of the Indians -were in the Wild West shows?” - -Roy and his father laughed. - -“See?” exclaimed Mr. Osborne. “Your mother don’t want you to go either.” - -Mrs. Osborne looked up in surprise. - -“I hadn’t said so,” she exclaimed, with a smile. “I want to hear all -about it, first.” - -Roy told her everything. She sat and listened with all a mother’s -interest. When he had finished, she turned to her husband. - -“What do you think, George?” - -Mr. Osborne shook his head negatively. - -“Why?” asked his wife. - -“It’s too risky--” began Mr. Osborne. - -“You mean the aeroplane?” interrupted Mrs. Osborne. - -“No,” replied her husband slowly. “Of course, there are safer things -than manipulating a flying machine, but I guess the kid could manage -that.” - -“What other risk do you mean?” persisted Roy’s mother. - -“Do you want him to go into the wildest country in America? Why, this -man Cook told Mr. Atkinson that there are canyons a mile deep, alkali -deserts that’d turn water into steam, only no water ever touches ’em, -and Indians that haven’t even seen a white man. Do you think that’s the -place to send a child?” - -Roy drew himself up. His mother patted his brown muscular hand as it -rested on the arm of her chair, and looked up at the boy and smiled. - -“Are you afraid?” she asked with a laugh. - -“It’s father,” answered Roy. “He’s the one that’s scared.” - -Mrs. Osborne’s face turned sober. - -“I suppose you’ll think it strange, George, but those things don’t -alarm me--as much as some other risks.” - -“They don’t?” exclaimed Mr. Osborne, slapping his knee. “Well, I can’t -imagine anything worse.” - -“I can,” said Mrs. Osborne in a low voice. Then she added: - -“When Dick took his examination for Annapolis, it seemed to me as if -he were going away never to come back. Now that he is a lieutenant in -the navy and in the West Indies, I know that between bursting guns -at target practice, exploding boilers, accidents in manoeuvres or the -yellow fever, he runs more risk every day than Roy is likely to find in -the west.” - -“I hadn’t just thought of it that way,” answered Mr. Osborne, a little -crestfallen. - -“And then Phil completed his course in electricity and went into Mr. -Edison’s shops. I’d rather have him lost in a desert than working among -those chemicals and electric generators.” - -Roy looked at his father with a half smile. - -“Then you are willing for me to go?” he exclaimed, putting his arm -affectionately around his mother’s shoulders. - -“That’s for your father to say, finally,” Mrs. Osborne answered after a -few moments’ silence. “But I shan’t interfere. This seems to be a time -when results that are worth while only come with great efforts or great -risks. If it is a good chance, my fears mustn’t keep you back.” - -That settled it. Before supper was over, Mr. Osborne gave in. It was -agreed that Roy was to accept the offer. - -The boy was off at once for the city to secure some guide book or -history relating to Utah. That night, despite the heat, long after -his parents had retired, the jubilant youngster sat propped up in bed, -drinking in facts and statistics relating to the land he was to visit. - -Like all boys, Roy had had his dream of wild Indians, of cowboy life, -of horses and the endless plains. But as he grew older, the intense -practicality of life in the busy city had, in great part, driven these -fancies from his mind. Now he discovered that the longing for the -mysteries of the far west had not gone out of his heart. - -From his father Roy had learned that he would probably go to the little -town of Dolores in southwestern Colorado, the nearest railroad point to -his destination in Utah. Dolores was in the mountains and, on a map he -had secured, Roy traced his route into the valleys and out across the -deserts toward Bluff, a hundred miles or more further west. - -It was all desert, to be sure, but the very barrenness of the map -thrilled the boy. The canyons, the isolated mountains, the desolate -plains, fascinated the eager lad. He was not courting danger--he was -too practical for that--but to be thrown into a region where he must -depend upon his own ingenuity was joy supreme for Roy. - -“I never even hoped for anything so great,” said the boy sleepily to -himself, “but, now that I have the chance, I’ll make the most of it. -I may have to come back to Newark in a few months and settle down to -common things, but I’ll make all I can of my opportunity. I’m not -aching to fight Indians, and I’m not anxious to get lost in the desert, -but I would like to get close enough to the wilderness to know what it -means. I’m tired of machinery and coal smoke and trolley gongs.” - -It is doubtful if Roy would have been so enthusiastic if he had known -the adventures he was to fall into so soon. He got close enough to both -Indians and the waterless wastes to understand just what they meant. - -“I wonder,” he mused as he dropped off to sleep, “if I’ll meet my -mother’s uncle--what’s his name?” - -And, hazily trying to think of his Utah relative, the Mormon Willard -Banks, Roy fell asleep. Strangely enough, in that sleep, among dreams -of bottomless canyons and white arid plains, whereon spectral Indians -danced like thistledown, another figure appeared always to the sleeping -lad--a featureless face with immense flowing whiskers and wearing an -enormous black hat. The constant figure beckoned Roy on in his dreams -like a ghost--the spirit of his great uncle, Willard Banks, long since -lost to his family in the far away land of Brigham Young. - -Roy’s brain was so full of all the wonders to come that, when he -awoke in the morning, he was dazed for a few moments. His dreams had -run together until he seemed almost feverish. While he was trying to -straighten them out, his mother stole into his room. - -“Mother,” exclaimed the boy, with a laugh, “do you reckon your Mormon -uncle is alive now?” - -“Banks is his name,” said his mother reprovingly, “Mr. Willard Banks. -Why?” - -“Well, I got him in my head. He’s got whiskers a yard long, and a hat -big as a tub. I dreamt about him all night.” - -“He was older than father by five or six years,” answered Mrs. Osborne, -thinking. “And if father were alive, he would be eighty-two years old. -No,” she added, shaking her head, “my Uncle Willard is probably dead.” - -Roy sprang out of bed and made ready for his morning plunge. His mother -was already ransacking his dresser for clothes needing repairs. - -“What do you mean by having your great uncle in your head?” she asked -suddenly. - -“I don’t know,” answered Roy catching up his bath robe. “Only, I’ve -been dreamin’ of him all night. I guess I read too much about Utah last -night. I had a regular nightmare. And all the time this big whiskered, -big hatted man went in and out through every other dream. I’d like to -know more about him.” - -Roy suddenly laughed outright. The “Genealogy of the Banks Family!” -Neither had thought of that. Even before Roy was dressed, Mrs. Osborne -had hurried downstairs, secured the almost forgotten volume of family -history, and together, sitting on the edge of the bed, mother and son -turned to the page devoted to their Mormon relative. This is what they -read: - - “Willard R. Banks, farmer and cattle dealer, Parowan, Iron - County, Utah. Born December 20, 1822, in Muskingum County, - Ohio. Removed to Nauvoo, Illinois, in 1848. Married Martha - Brower October 5, 1849. Became a disciple of Joseph Smith, - the Mormon prophet, and, in 1852, made a missionary trip to - Scotland and Wales. In 1853 was one of the regents of the - University of Deseret in Salt Lake City. Member of a committee - to prepare a separate language for Mormons in hope of creating - an independent literature. Assisted in constructing the Deseret - Alphabet of thirty-two characters. In 1862, an elder of the - Mormon Church and later banished by Brigham Young with others - on unknown charges. Lived for several years at Parowan, Utah. - Thought to be dead.” - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -AN IDEAL OUTFIT - - -“I never read that before,” Mrs. Osborne said apologetically. “Of -course, Uncle Willard is dead now. But he may have left children. You -must find where Parowan is, and, if you get the chance, go there.” - -Roy had opened the history again, and was copying his great uncle’s -name and address in a little red vest-pocket memorandum book, he always -carried. - -“I certainly will--if I find the time,” he repeated. “It’s a good -thing to know your relatives. But it’s likely I’ll be too busy to go -visiting. I’ll have the address anyway--‘Willard Banks, Parowan, Iron -County, Utah.’” - -Then Roy and his mother responded to Mr. Osborne’s impatient calls from -below to come to breakfast. - -“I supposed you’d gone,” exclaimed Roy, glancing at the clock and -noticing that it was after his father’s usual time of leaving for the -works. - -“I’m waiting for you,” his father replied. “I want you to go with -me and see Mr. Atkinson. You can close your own bargain with him. I -imagine he’ll want you to start in a few days, and I thought there -might be clothes to be bought,” he added, turning to his wife. - -“I suppose he ought to have a new suit,” began Mrs. Osborne. - -Roy laughed outright. - -“A new suit?” he roared. “Say, father, you don’t imagine I’ll need -Sunday clothes to go roughing it in?” - -“What you have are not decent to go away from home in,” interrupted his -mother. - -Roy held up his hands in amused protest. Then he turned seriously to -his father. - -“What do you think they’ll pay me?” - -Mr. Osborne thought a moment. Then he said: - -“Considering everything, the risk and the distance from home, I’m going -to suggest two hundred dollars a month.” - -Roy’s eyes flared open in astonishment. - -“Why I never made over a dollar a day in my life--when I worked,” the -boy exclaimed. - -“It isn’t because it’s you--it’s the job,” added his father. “It won’t -last long, you know. But what has that to do with your outfit?” - -“Well, if I work for six weeks, that’s three hundred dollars,” answered -Roy, “and I suppose my expenses out there won’t be much.” - -“The company will likely pay all your living expenses. But what are you -getting at?” persisted his father. - -“I’m getting at this,” replied Roy. “I’ll need a certain kind of -outfit. If I can get enough wages advanced to me to make it possible -I’ll buy the clothes and things I need in Chicago--not here. From my -Baden-Powell to my automatic.” - -“What are those?” interrupted his mother. - -“Well,” explained Roy, smiling, “Baden-Powell is the name of a hat. -I’ll get one with a leather band and a leather string to slip under -the hair. Automatics are what they use to-day. Colts have gone out of -style. You must have a ten-shot automatic revolver.” - -“Roy,” exclaimed Mrs. Osborne, “you don’t mean to tell me you are -actually going to carry a real revolver?” - -“And a knife,” added the lad solemnly. - -“Then you’ll stay right here at home.” - -It was now Mr. Osborne’s turn to laugh. - -“I thought you were so brave about the kid’s going away!” - -“But I don’t see any sense in him going around like a desperado.” - -“That’s part of the uniform out there,” broke in Roy. “But I’ll be -careful,” he added, smiling again. “Another thing I’m bothering about -now is, where will I get the money to buy my railroad ticket? And can I -borrow enough from some one to get the outfit I need?” - -“I suppose Mr. Cook’s company’ll pay your car fare. As for the -other--I’ll advance it. What do you think you’ll need?” asked his -father. - -“I suppose,” said Roy slowly, “it’ll take one hundred dollars outside -of my car fare.” - -Mr. Osborne whistled and Mrs. Osborne’s face assumed a doubtful look. - -“You know we aren’t rich, Roy,” his mother began. - -“Pshaw, mother,” Roy exclaimed, springing to his feet, “don’t you worry -about that. If you and father can spare the one hundred dollars, let -me have it. I ain’t goin’ out west just to work for wages. That’s the -greatest country in the world for a young man. Why, mother, I may -discover something--a gold mine, perhaps.” - -His father smiled. - -“Do you know what you need?” - -“I’ll have a list in an hour.” - -“All right. Make it out. Find what your things will cost and come to -the factory. We’ll have a talk with Mr. Atkinson.” - -His father had hardly gone before Roy was curled up on the porch -swinging seat with two or three books in his lap, his smiling mother by -his side. - -“The Camper’s Manual or How to Camp Out and What to Do,” had long been -Roy’s companion. The little dog-eared, paper bound volume had been -thumbed and read until Mrs. Osborne had more than once threatened to -destroy the book. - -“What’s the sense of it all, Roy?” she was accustomed to say. “Why are -you so interested in camp outfits, camp rations, tents and guns and -cooking and packing?” - -“Why?” Roy would answer with the teasing smile he always used in -arguing with his mother. “I don’t really know except that I am. Some -boys I reckon like one thing and some another. I just happen to like to -fuss around a camp and then move and set up a new one.” - -“But,” his mother would answer, “you were never out camping in your -life.” - -“That’s where you’re mistaken,” Roy would answer. “I’ve had many a fine -trip--up here.” And he would tap his head, with a laugh. “Some day I’ll -use it all, never fear.” - -This morning he had a chance to recall to his mother what he had said. - -“Now, you see, mother. It has come when I least expected it. The time -is right here when I’m going to take advantage of what I’ve been -learning out of the books. I know right now everything I want to take -out west with me. And, least of all, will I need Sunday clothes.” - -His mother sidled up close to the boy as he began to set down the items -of his outfit, and at the very first article, she entered a renewed -and vigorous protest. If ever a boy, who knew nothing of the woods or -the wilderness from actual experience, had longed for and dreamed of -the day when he might own and carry a modern firearm, that boy was Roy -Osborne. - -Had he been starting out on a yawling cruise down the New Jersey bays, -he would have been tempted to carry a revolver. Since he was going -into a land where such a weapon was an actual necessity, it was with -positive joy that he checked off first on his list one of the new -self-loading combination pistol and carbine weapons. - -The weapon Roy had selected, which fired ten shots and weighed -two and one-half pounds, he knew was already taking the place of -larger revolvers. He also knew that soldiers, cowboys, sheriffs and -frontiersmen generally were discarding the old Colts for it and, -although it cost twenty-seven dollars and fifty cents, and cartridges -were three cents apiece, this was the first item of his outfit the lad -set down. - -“The beauty of this revolver, mother,” explained Roy, “is that it comes -in a wooden holster. You can attach this holster to the stock of the -weapon and, presto, you have a carbine or rifle.” - -Mrs. Osborne shivered. - -“You aren’t going to shoot Indians with that, are you?” asked his -mother. “Or, maybe, drop it accidentally, and shoot yourself?” - -“Mother,” answered Roy soberly, “what if I started out over the desert -in the airship and something happened so that I’d have to come down, -and I landed plump in a covey of rattlesnakes--?” - -“Oh, my--” exclaimed Mrs. Osborne in alarm. - -“And say there were just ten of ’em all coiled up ready for business. -You see where my ten-shooter would come in, don’t you?” - -His mother looked relieved for a moment. Then, the thought just -occurring to her, she said: - -“But could you shoot them? You never practised shooting.” - -“Not actually,” answered the boy--again very soberly--“but you know -I’ve thought a good deal about it. That’s something. Besides, what if I -haven’t had anything to eat for two or three days, and suddenly I see a -deer? Bang! There goes my carbine and I’m saved again.” - -“Oh, I suppose you’ve got to have it,” answered his mother, in a sort -of reconciled tone. “But wouldn’t a little one do as well?” - -“That deer might be a quarter of a mile away!” - -His mother laughed and patted his hand. Then she grew sober again. - -“But promise me one thing, Roy. If you do have to shoot ten -rattlesnakes and a poor harmless deer, promise me you won’t kill any -Indians--they’re human beings. That would be murder. Promise me that!” - -Roy was forced to laugh. - -“I’ve got a notion, mother, that there is only one danger with that -revolver if I ever fall in with Indians.” - -“What’s that?” - -“That the Indians may steal it.” - -Before his mother could protest further, Roy hurried on with his list. -As for clothing, he set down: A Baden-Powell hat, $6; two gray flannel -army shirts, $11; one pair Khaki riding breeches, $3.25; three pairs -hand-knit woolen socks, $2.25; one pair hand-made, light hunting boots, -water proof with moccasin feet and flexible soles, $6; two suits light -woolen underwear, $4; two blue silk handkerchiefs, $1.50. - -Despite his mother’s protests at the inadequacy of this list, Roy -stuck to it as being ample, and even more than he would probably -carry at times. Then, of a miscellaneous nature, he added: A Rocky -Mountain combined cartridge and money belt (“I won’t have any money to -carry,” Roy explained with a laugh, “but the pocket will be handy for -dispatches, reports or orders”) to cost $2.25; a “carryall” bag, water -proof, with rawhide handles and a heavy lock, to carry all surplus -clothing, ammunition and other articles, $10; a medical and surgical -case, including a hypodermic syringe and injection for snake bite, -$5.00-- - -“I thought you were going to shoot all the snakes?” interrupted his -mother. - -“But one might crawl up on me while I was asleep,” explained Roy--again -very soberly. - -“You don’t mean to tell me you are going to sleep right down on the -ground where animals and reptiles can get at you?” exclaimed Mrs. -Osborne. - -“Oh, I might have to do that a few times,” explained Roy, trying hard -not to smile. - -“Well, I want you to go to a hotel whenever you can,” urged his mother. -“Or, if that is too expensive, to a decent boarding house. And another -thing, Roy, I want you to see that your sheets are aired every day.” - -“I promise,” answered the lad, lowering his head to hide his grin. “And -I’ll go even further--I’ll make up my own bed every day I’m out there.” - -“That’s right. Hotels always do it badly.” - -Roy diverted his mother’s attention to his next item--a South African -water bag that was guaranteed to furnish cool water in the hottest -weather. He had selected a two and one-half gallon vessel costing -$1.85. She was also much interested in an acetylene gas headlight -apparatus. This, on Roy’s list, really belonged in the things most -eagerly desired by him, next to the automatic revolver. The apparatus -consisted of a light with a lens attached to a band to be worn on the -head, thus leaving the hands free. The gas generator was small enough -to be carried in the pocket. The weight was only ten ounces, and the -cost $6.50. - -“And what’s that for?” asked his mother with interest. - -“Night flights,” answered Roy. - -“You don’t have to work at night, do you?” exclaimed his mother. - -“There isn’t any aviators’ union yet, mother,” answered Roy, good -naturedly. “It’s just possible I might find it necessary.” - -“Well, I wouldn’t,” retorted Mrs. Osborne. “That’s just the trouble -with your father. He never knows when to quit work. I--” - -But Roy again interrupted his mother’s criticism by showing her a -picture of a compact, aluminum mess kit, weighing only two pounds and -five ounces. It contained a three-pint canteen, a frying pan with a -folding handle, a felt-lined cover for keeping things hot, a knife, -fork and a spoon, and cost $4.50. - -Then followed small articles: A soft rubber drinking cup, 20 cents; a -safety pocket ax with steel lined guard, $1.60; an electric search or -flash light, with extra batteries, $3.00; a waterproof handy compass to -be pinned to the shirt, $1.15; a hundred-mile pedometer adjustable to -any step, $1.00; and a five-inch hunting knife, with bone chopper back, -$2.00. - -“What does it all come to?” asked his mother, when Roy signified that -the list was complete. - -He announced the total--$106.55. - -“Gracious me, Roy, that’s a lot of money.” - -“To you and me, mother,” said the boy, with a laugh. “But I’m going -into business now. It takes money to do things right.” - -“But your father has to furnish it. Then there’s your car fare; I’m -afraid we can’t afford it.” - -Roy sprang up and patted his mother on the cheek. - -“Mother,” he exclaimed, with a reassuring laugh, “I’m going to be worth -so much more than that to the Utah Mining and Development Company that -this little hundred or so dollars’ll be only a drop in the bucket. -I’ll get it all back for father with good interest. And if you’ll -promise to quit worryin’ about what I’m goin’ to do or the expenses of -it, I’ll--I’ll--” - -“You’ll what?” added Mrs. Osborne, smiling. - -“Why, I’ll--I’ll take you out to Chicago this winter to see Uncle Tom. -And I’ll pay all your expenses.” - -The next moment the enthusiastic boy was clattering down the steps on -his way to the factory. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE CONTRACT AND THE CAR - - -On his way across the city to the aeroplane factory, Roy stopped at -the railroad offices and found that the fare to Dolores in Colorado -was fifty-seven dollars, with ten dollars additional for sleeping-car -accommodations. Reaching the company shops, he made his way at once to -the assembling room, where he found his father directing a squad of men -who were setting up an airship. Roy, stepping to his father’s side, -whispered: - -“Outfit, one hundred and six dollars and fifty-five cents; carfare and -Pullman, sixty-seven dollars; total, one hundred and seventy-three -dollars and fifty-five cents. Better make it two hundred dollars.” - -Mr. Osborne’s only reply was to jerk his thumb in the direction of the -general offices. - -“Mr. Atkinson wants to see you,” the skilled machinist remarked, and -turned again to his work. But, as Roy disappeared in the direction of -the president’s office, Mr. Osborne seemed to change his mind. With -some instructions to the experts working under him, he also made his -way toward the offices. - -“Father says you want to see me,” began Roy, after his, “Good morning.” - -“Didn’t _you_ want to see _me_?” retorted Mr. Atkinson. - -“I certainly did, if father hadn’t told you,” replied Roy. - -“I have,” said a voice behind the boy, and Mr. Osborne came forward, -wiping his grimy face, which had a troubled look. “I told Mr. Atkinson -just what you and your mother have decided.” - -“Pshaw, George,” interrupted Mr. Atkinson, indicating a couple of -chairs into which the engineer and Roy seated themselves. “I guess you -are willing, aren’t you?” Then he turned to Roy. “Your father said it -was all settled and I was glad of it. I think it’s a fine chance for -you, Roy.” - -“I’m going,” said Roy. “Father said so, didn’t he?” - -“I did,” broke in Mr. Osborne. “But look here, Atkinson, where’s the -‘fine chance’ you’re talking about? I reckon these folks ain’t givin’ -money away. It ain’t likely they’ll want to pay more than two hundred -dollars a month. And what if Roy goes all the way out there and works -five or six weeks? That might be three hundred dollars. He’s just told -me it’s goin’ to cost him nearly two hundred dollars to get ready. -Ain’t that a pretty small margin for a youngster to risk his life on?” - -“Osborne,” Mr. Atkinson exclaimed at last, “you’re the best mechanical -man I ever knew. But you were not cut out for high finance. Perhaps I -oughtn’t say it, but you should be worth a hundred thousand dollars -to-day. And you’re not, are you?” - -Mr. Osborne laughed. - -“You know I’m not,” he added, a little ruefully. - -“Well,” added Mr. Atkinson, with a kind of earnestness, “if you ever -expect to get beyond that cap and that oil and grease begin to take a -chance.” - -“I don’t understand,” answered the engineer. - -“I’ll bet Roy does,” added the aeroplane company president, turning to -the boy again. Then with a snap in his tone, he added: “What do you -think about it, Roy?” - -“What do I think?” replied Roy as he brought all his wits to work -to understand the situation. “Well, I think this: the Utah company -wants some one to come out there as a part of its business. It’s a big -company, and it must have plenty of money. It certainly don’t want me -to come for less than I’m worth to the company. I think I can go and be -worth a good deal. If I am, I’ll expect to be paid handsomely.” - -Mr. Atkinson turned to Mr. Osborne. - -“Hear that?” he exclaimed. “That’s the way to talk. The boy can turn -the trick. Do you still object?” - -“Well, I still think it’s a big risk for little pay.” - -“Who’s said anything about pay?” retorted the president. “You’re like -a good many hard working men, George. You assume a fact, and then work -backwards from it. Let’s see what the boy has to say. Roy, do you think -it’s too much risk for too little pay?” - -“No,” exclaimed the boy, “because I guess the company’ll do what’s -right.” - -“And what’s that?” continued Mr. Atkinson, looking at Mr. Osborne with -a smile. - -“Since you’ve asked,” answered Roy, “I should say it ought to buy my -outfit, about one hundred dollars; advance my carfare and expenses--say -two hundred dollars altogether--and pay me about one hundred dollars a -week while I’m at work, with a guarantee of at least two months’ work.” - -Mr. Atkinson slapped his hand on Roy’s knee. - -“Reasonable enough,” he exclaimed. “Too reasonable. I had in mind not -less than five hundred dollars a month. How about it, George?” he -added, with a laugh. - -Mr. Osborne was wiping his perspiring face. - -“You high financiers are too much for me,” he said with an attempt at a -smile. “I see Roy wasn’t cut out to be a mechanic. I haven’t anything -more to say.” - -“But I have,” said Mr. Atkinson, quickly. “Mr. Cook, of the Utah -company, offered our regular list price of five thousand dollars for -one of the No. 1 machines. I discounted it one thousand dollars. He’s -so dead set on getting some one to come out there that he’s offered -that one thousand dollars as a bonus to whomever will come. That means -Roy. And, from what I see of him, I know he won’t take it. That means -you.” - -Mr. Osborne, visibly affected, shook his head. - -“There you go,” broke in Mr. Atkinson. Then he whirled toward the boy. -“Your father seems to think this is charity, Roy,” he added. “He don’t -understand that corporations like this or the Utah company have no -funds set aside for charity. Will you take it?” - -Roy looked at him soberly a moment. - -“Mr. Atkinson,” he said at last, “Mr. Cook offered that one thousand -dollars because he was mighty anxious to get some one to do something -that was well worth the money, in his judgment. You just put it aside -till I come back. Then I’ll know whether his judgment was right. If I -think I’ve earned it, I’ll take it.” - -Mr. Atkinson’s eyes snapped. - -“I don’t know but you’re right,” he said, after a moment’s thought. -“What do you say, Osborne?” - -“I guess there isn’t much chance but that he’ll earn it all right,” he -said. “He can go. Keep the money for him.” - -Without further comment he left the office. - -For a few moments the president of the aeroplane company sat in -silence. Then he turned to his desk and wrote out an order. As he sat -with it in his hand, he said: - -“My boy, I understand what it means to your father. I’d never forgive -myself if anything happened to you. But I had to take chances--so -does any man who wants to go ahead of the crowd. You can take care of -yourself. So go ahead.” - -“When ought I to start?” asked Roy. - -“The car will leave by express to-morrow. It will be sent to Dolores, -Colorado. If you start about two days after the machine leaves, you’ll -have time to stop a day in Chicago and then reach Dolores about the -time the aeroplane does. After that, it’s up to you.” - -“I’ll have charge of the car, then, from Dolores. I’m to deliver it?” - -“Yes, and in doing that, you’ll act as our agent. You’ll have to hire -teams to transport the equipment.” - -Roy’s lips puckered. Mr. Atkinson smiled. - -“I’ve thought of that,” he explained. “Here’s an order the cashier will -honor. You’d better draw the money at once. I’ll charge your outfit and -personal expenses to the Utah company. The cost of delivering the car -is our expense. And,” said Mr. Atkinson, as he took the boy’s hand, -“no man works well with poor tools. Get what you need--don’t stint -yourself.” - -“I’ve got a good deal to thank you for, Mr. Atkinson--” began Roy. - -“Thank me?” exclaimed the president. “I’m going to do all the thanking. -I’m trusting you with the first aeroplane ever sent out from this -factory to be used for a commercial purpose. Just make good for us and -the American Aeroplane Company will put the gratitude where it belongs.” - -His young head awhirl with the quick developments of the short -interview, Roy walked over to the cashier’s window and laid Mr. -Atkinson’s order on the marble counter. Instantly the busy cashier -shoved through the grating a package of bank notes. The figures on -the band startled the lad, but they did not disconcert him. With a -businesslike tone, Roy asked the cashier if he might see the order -again. One glance was enough--there it was: “Advance on account to -bearer, Mr. Roy Osborne, $500.” - -He turned and entered the big assembling room again. Half way across -the noisy shop he stopped. He had just realized what had happened. -Twenty-four hours before, an idle schoolboy, he had been lounging about -this same place wondering if he could secure employment for a few -dollars a week. To-day he had five hundred dollars in advance expense -money in his pocket, a two months’ job at four hundred dollars a -month, and a possible bonus of one thousand dollars on deposit. - -This he understood. The moment he had time to think over these things, -he said to himself: - -“I didn’t do this--it’s no ability or virtue of mine; and you can’t -charge it to luck. What did it?” - -As he asked himself this question, he looked down the shop and saw his -father--the man who was doing things, who was working out hard problems -with his head and hands. Then he knew. The reward hadn’t come to the -father. Even now he was working as he had for years. The reward for all -those years had come to the son. - -“It’s father,” said the lad thoughtfully to himself. “It all comes from -what he’s done.” Then he thought of Mr. Atkinson’s words to his parent: -“You’re the best mechanical man I ever knew, but you were not cut out -for high finance.” - -A little lump rose in the boy’s throat. He struck a bench with his -fist. “He’s right,” muttered Roy stoutly. “Mr. Atkinson told the truth. -But father has brought up three boys who, maybe, will do things that -money can’t. And it’s the man over there in overalls who’ll get the -credit--if I have my way.” - -Almost at the same time his father saw him and motioned him forward. - -“Get off your coat,” he ordered. “This is the car that’s going. I want -you to know every piece of it.” - -Roy hesitated a moment. - -“I’ll be back in a minute,” he began. “I’ll have to put this -somewhere--” He opened his coat and gave his father a secret look at -the five-hundred-dollar package of bills. - -Instead of astonishment, the busy mechanic only grunted. - -“Hang your coat right there,” he remarked shortly. “We ain’t sneak -thieves. Now, you’d better get down to a real job and make sure you’ve -got the hang of everything. Turn in and help put your car together.” - -When Roy and his father left the works that evening, an American -Aeroplane Company Model No. 1 had been assembled, adjusted, tested and -taken apart again. The next morning it would be crated and dispatched -on its long journey to the west labeled: “R. C. Cook, Manager Utah -Mining and Development Company, Bluff, Utah, via Dolores, Colorado.” - -If there was anything in the construction of that aeroplane that could -have been improved, it was not known to the airship skill of that day -or to George W. Osborne. A fore and aft or lateral biplane, utilizing -the highly successful flexible sustaining surfaces of the Montgomery -glider, the whole width of the air craft was 32 feet. The front and -rear planes were supported on the unique and distinguishing feature of -the draft--a three-section frame extending fore and aft. - -In the forward section, each section measuring 4 feet 7 inches in width -and 7 feet in height--the single engine was located. On a cross shaft, -fixed to the forward frame of the section, the two propellers revolved, -operated by chain gears, one of which had the Wright reverse twist. In -this section, but to the rear were the cooling coils and the gasoline -tank. From the front of this section extended a vertical steering -rudder patterned after the Wright machine. - -To the rear section was attached a horizontal steering plane copied -directly after the Montgomery rudder, a semi-circular plane 9 feet 10 -inches high at its greatest diameter. In the middle section were seats -for two passengers and the operator’s station. From the saddle of the -latter, flexing wires connected both the planes with stirrups through -the operation of which the equilibrium of the car was maintained. -Levers and wires controlling the rear and forward rudders also ended -here. From the section division timbers, uprights carried wires, -bracing the big lateral planes in all directions. Short landing skids -were modeled after the Wright air craft. - -The motive power was a 25-horsepower watercooled Curtiss with four -cylinders and weighed 180 pounds. The propellers measured 8 1/3 feet. - -“What do you think about her?” asked Roy, as he and his father boarded -the car homeward bound. - -“It’s the best I can do,” was the answer. To Roy that was enough. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -OFF FOR THE WEST - - -The next morning Roy went to the factory with his father and saw -every piece of the aeroplane crated. As the parts would have to be -transported over nearly one hundred miles of desert, the machine was -taken entirely apart. Even the rubberized silk plane surfaces were -unlashed from the ribs. The section frames and plane strips and ribs -were numbered and made into compact bundles. On a blue-print drawing -of the Model No. 1 machine, Roy made careful notes relating to each -dismounted piece. - -“One thing is certain,” said his father, when the packing was -completed, “you’ll save money on your freight bills but you’re piling -up trouble at the other end.” - -“That’s where I earn my pay,” answered his son, laughing. “I reckon -there ain’t any great supply of spruce and bamboo out there in Bluff to -duplicate smashed parts.” - -In his red memorandum book Roy also set down the number and contents -of each parcel and box in order that he might check up the shipment -at the end of its journey. After luncheon in the shop, Mr. Osborne, -with the approval of Mr. Atkinson, made an extra crate of various sized -pieces of spruce timber, several yards of silk plane cloth with gum -for pasting in making patches, wire, screws, bolts, reserve engine -batteries and last and most important, a small box of such tools as -would be most useful. - -When the wagon of the company backed up to the shipping room to -transfer the formidable looking boxes, crates and bundles to the -express office, Roy was a lively assistant in the loading. The engine, -covered with waterproof canvas and braced in a steel-hooped box, was -the last package to be lifted into the van. Roy patted the box and -exclaimed, as he wiped his perspiring face: - -“Good bye, old boy, till I see you again. Meet you at Dolores.” - -The wagon rolled away, and Roy crossed the assembling room to the -corner where the painter did his work. Having been put on the market -as a commercial product, no detail was omitted that would add to the -salability of the company’s machines. In addition to the lacquering of -bolts and metal work, each bit of timber was coated with an aluminum -varnish. - -This was done for a double purpose. It not only gave the machine an -attractive and finished appearance, but the nature of the varnish -provided a safeguard against accidents. After the aluminum varnish was -dry and set, any split or new defect in the wood at once produced a -break in the aluminum coat. Instead of concealing damage to the wood, -the varnish at once called attention to it. - -But Roy was not investigating varnish or lacquer. When he left, a -little strip of plane-silk was drying in a corner of the paint shop. -On this in brilliant crimson letters nearly a foot high, was the word -“_Parowan_.” - -“I don’t know that I can use it,” Roy chuckled to himself, “but if Mr. -Cook and his company don’t object and haven’t any other name for the -air-line express, it’s going to be the ‘Parowan.’” - -Roy could not get away from the thought of his great uncle, Willard -Banks, and the mountain town where his mother’s family history said the -old Mormon had lived. - -“Those long whiskers and that big black hat seem to belong to the -desert where I’m goin’. They bob up whenever I think of Utah. That’s -why my machine is the ‘Parowan,’” he said. - -Roy was exceedingly anxious to learn more about Utah--more about the -Indians and some additional details concerning the nature of the -country. He told his father he meant to spend the remainder of the -afternoon in the Newark Public Library. On his way to the street car, -he passed the open window of President Atkinson’s office. - -That gentleman chanced to look up at the moment and as Roy lifted his -hat, Mr. Atkinson called to him to come in. - -“I have something that may interest you,” the president explained. -“May interest me, too, if it’s right,” he added. He had in his hand -a newspaper clipping. “Looks as if the boys of America were getting -on to a good thing right away,” he added. Mr. Atkinson handed Roy the -clipping. It had been taken from a Pensacola, Florida, paper, and read: - - THE BOY AERONAUTS’ CLUB - - Six Pensacola Lads To Buy an - Aeroplane - - Result of Recent Salvage Case - - It became known yesterday that the six juvenile members of the - Anclote Boat Club, who were recently awarded ten thousand - dollars salvage in the Honduras mahogany schooner wreck, have - determined to put a part of their treasure trove into an - up-to-date aeroplane. Thomas Allen and Robert Balfour, nineteen - and eighteen years old, and president and secretary of the - club, respectively, have been delegated to go to New York to - select the airship. - - It also became known at the same time that there is a decided - objection to this on the part of the parents of more than one - boy. But the youngsters seem determined, and there is a strong - probability that parental objection will be defied. - - Tom Allen, president of the club, said yesterday: ‘You bet we - are going to do it. Every one of the six members of the club - risked his life to earn that money and why shouldn’t we spend - it as we like? We are going to use five thousand dollars to buy - an aeroplane, one thousand dollars to fix up our club house - over on Anclote Island, and divide the rest. The court awarded - us the money, and we’re going to beat the men of Pensacola by - bringing an aeroplane down here before they wake up.’ - -Then followed nearly a column story that set Roy’s nerves tingling. -It reviewed the history and adventures of the Anclote Boat Club. This -juvenile organization of boys, ranging in age from sixteen to nineteen -years, had for a couple of winters maintained a sort of winter quarters -on Anclote Island about five miles off the west Florida coast and north -of Tampa. - -In the previous February the club members had, in a bad sou’wester, -been instrumental in saving a three-mast schooner loaded with -mahogany and driven out of her course on a voyage from Honduras to -Mobile. This had been done with the help of the “_Escambia_,” an old -lifeboat rebuilt and converted into a power boat by the addition of a -ten-horsepower motor. - -The details of the salvage trial in the U. S. Court were also given -briefly, and then followed various anecdotes about the club, which -had, apparently, afforded a number of adventurous tales to the local -newspapers. When Roy finished the long story his face was aglow with -more than perspiration. - -“Looks as if the American Aeroplane Company hadn’t got into business -any too soon, don’t it?” exclaimed Mr. Atkinson, good-humoredly. - -Roy handed the president the clipping with a sigh. - -“Isn’t it great?” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “Reads like a story -out of a book. Camping on an island in the Gulf of Mexico; fishing, -swimming, boating and oranges and things. I suppose the club’ll fly all -over the Everglades now--when it gets its airship.” - -“Well,” laughed Mr. Atkinson, “I don’t see that the club has much -advantage over you.” - -“Yes, I know,” replied Roy, a little ruefully. “I wouldn’t exactly -trade with those boys, but then, you know, I’m goin’ to be all alone. I -won’t have any other boy with me.” - -“I suppose that does make a difference,” added the man of business. - -“All the difference in the world,” exclaimed Roy, “if you’re lookin’ -for fun.” Then his voice changed; he threw off his disappointed look -and added cheerfully: “But business is business. I’m satisfied. Only--” -and he smiled, “if I wasn’t just starting for Utah, I’ll bet I could go -down there and sell those boys an aeroplane.” - -“I haven’t any doubt of it,” answered Mr. Atkinson. - -It was a curious coincidence that, hardly had this account of Roy -Osborne’s remarkable adventures been written, than a story came on its -heels that found in Roy an enthusiastic reader. This was the narrative -of the adventures of the members of the Anclote Boat Club, entitled, -“The Boy Aeronauts’ Club, or Flying for Fun.” - -Roy hurried to the library. Singularly enough, in addition to U. S. -Survey reports on the Grand Canyon of Colorado and the mighty Green -River chasm and an ethnological report on the Navajo and Ute Indians, -Roy--rather guiltily--asked the librarian for a map showing the west -coast of Florida. - -For a time he diligently applied himself to the volumes concerning -the region he was about to visit. But, when it came time to close the -library for the day, any one looking over Roy’s shoulder would have -seen him tracing out Anclote Island, the waters of Pensacola Bay and -the wild, swampy stretches of the mysterious Everglades of Florida. - -“Anyway,” he said to himself, “even if this isn’t for me I’ve learned a -little geography. Good luck to the southern kids. It’s me for Utah and -the desert.” - -Roy was determined to get his western outfit in Chicago. So there was -little to do in the few days before his departure except to visit the -library and read up on the history of the west. - -Among other things, he learned that the great Navajo reservation, on -the edge of which he would undoubtedly operate, was yet a mountain and -mesa wilderness sealed against even the boldest white men. Many who had -ventured to penetrate into the Indians’ jealously guarded domain had -never returned. - -He learned, too, with a little shock to him, to tell the truth, that -the adjoining Ute land (along which he would have to travel in going -to Bluff) was the home of the desperadoes of the last of the red men. -“Renegade Utes” the books called them--outcasts, not even fit to mingle -with other Indians. Among them, he read, were to be found specimens of -all savage villains, Indians who made no pretense of work or self help, -cattle and horse thieves and even murderers who were watched by the -government as recognized criminals. - -But, above all others in gripping interest, was the vague story of -the hidden Indians, savages buried in the uncharted wastes of the -southwestern Utah mountains, who had as yet evaded the white man. -As Eskimos are known to dwell on the ice fields of the far northern -British America who have never seen human beings other than of their -own race, so, it was reported, a like remnant of Indians concealed -themselves between the deep canyon of the Colorado and the terrible -Death Desert to the west. - -The next day was Saturday. When Mr. Osborne came home at noon, he was -the bearer of a parting gift from Mr. Atkinson, who seemed to have -taken a strong liking to Roy. The present was a thin, open-faced gold -watch and a plain leather fob. - -“I noticed you didn’t have a watch,” Mr. Atkinson said, in a note, “and -since you are going to run an aeroplane express you must have a good -timepiece.” - -On Sunday, Mr. Osborne’s second son, Phil, came over from Orange, where -he was employed in the Edison laboratories. A part of the day was given -up to a good-natured argument between Roy and his mother as to whether -the latter should take a trunk or a suit case. Mrs. Osborne had enough -articles laid out to have carried Roy on a cruise around the world. -But, after repeated explanations, she surrendered. The suit case won. -And in that were only a few toilet necessities, for Roy realized that -in the west he would need only what he meant to buy in Chicago. - -A little after ten o’clock Monday morning, Roy was off. At half-past -seven Tuesday morning the eager young traveler--never before so far -from home--found himself in the dingy, smoky Union Station in Chicago. -In the station dining-room he first ate a good breakfast. An hour later -he called a cab and drove to the downtown offices of the railroad over -which he planned to travel to Pueblo. - -Having secured transportation and sleeping car accommodation, he -re-entered his cab, and directed the driver to one place of which he -had dreamed for days--a well-known sporting goods and “outfitting” shop -on Wabash Avenue. Here he dismissed his cab. When Roy left this store -at noon he was the happiest lad in all that great city. - -With his shopping done, he did what sight-seeing he could until five -o’clock, at which hour he was again at the store. His precious supplies -had been compactly placed in a strong box and labeled, “Mr. Royce -Osborne, Bluff, Utah, via Pueblo and Dolores.” Loading the box into -another cab, Roy saw his baggage deposited at the Dearborn Street -Station, got a check for it, tipped the baggageman a quarter and was at -last ready for his real journey. - -The only change he had made in his list of things needed was to -substitute a shoulder water canteen for his ½-gallon affair. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -ON THE EDGE OF THE DESERT - - -At one o’clock Saturday afternoon, when the straining locomotive at -last pulled its weaving, narrow-gauge train into the far western -mountain town of Dolores, Colorado, one passenger did not require the -services of a porter to assist him to alight. Travel-worn but jubilant, -Roy Osborne sprang to the station platform. - -“Dolores at last!” - -He meant to say it to himself, but the words burst from him. - -“Air ye sorry ye come?” exclaimed a voice near by. - -Perhaps a half hundred persons were grouped about the station. Leather -belts and plainsmen’s hats distinguished nearly all. Leaning against -the platform rail were three Indians. Roy looked for the speaker. He -proved to be a man just past middle age, wearing tan shoes, a rusty -blue suit much in need of cleaning and pressing, a dust-covered, soft -black hat, a soiled white shirt with a celluloid collar showing a -glassy looking shirt stud and a thin black string necktie. His face, -widened with a smile, was gaunt, red and newly shaven. - -Roy glanced at him and smiled. - -“I’ve got to get acquainted in Dolores,” he said with boyish -familiarity, “and if you don’t mind, I’ll begin with you. My name’s -Osborne, Roy Osborne, of Newark, New Jersey.” - -“Do-_lores_, not _Dol_-ores,” replied the stranger with a still wider -smile. “But that’s neither hyar nor thar, as the feller says alludin’ -to the muskeeter. Glad to meet ye, Mr. Osborne. My name is Weston, A. -B. Weston--some o’ the time Colonel Weston. Permit me,” and before Roy -could stop him, Mr. Weston had taken charge of the suit case. - -“You don’t run a hotel, do you?” asked Roy, amused at his new friend’s -assurance. - -The man took no offense, but pointed across the open ground beyond the -station to a block of frame buildings. - -“My office is just over thar--real estate is my line. Don’t git -skeered. As a member o’ the Dolores Commercial Club, ye air welcome to -step over and git yer bearin’s.” - -“I don’t know that I have time--” began Roy, thinking of all he wanted -to do at once--“although it’s very good of you.” - -But in the meantime they were advancing toward Mr. Weston’s office. Roy -looked again, and was able to make out the sign: Real Estate--A. B. -Weston. Dealer in Ranches, Mines and Farms. - -“Ye ain’t a drummer?” exclaimed Mr. Weston. - -Roy shook his head. - -“I didn’t think ye was. Out fer yer health?” - -Again the boy responded in the negative. - -“Assumin’ ye didn’t drop off here fur fun, I give it up,” went on -the genial agent. “I’ll bet a ten-spot ye need information. Don’t be -skeered. I got apple land fur sale all right, but I ain’t agoin’ to -chloroform ye. Come in and git started right.” - -Unable longer to resist the breezy impulsiveness of the stranger, Roy -climbed the stairs and found himself in a dusty little office scented -with tobacco and littered with papers. Before he sat down and while Mr. -Weston threw off his coat and filled a smoke begrimed cob pipe, Roy saw -a large map of the county in which Dolores was situated hanging on the -wall. - -He walked to it at once and, for a few moments gazed at the road -leading southwest down the mountain to Cortez. Then he saw the same -road or trail continue south toward the Ute Indian reservation. At the -northern edge of the reservation, a branch turned west and running off -the map was apparently lost in the sands of Utah. - -“Got some folks out hyar, mebbe?” volunteered the affable agent. - -Before Roy could speak, his eye fell on an opened envelope lying on the -disordered table. It wasn’t the address that met his gaze--on the upper -left hand corner were the words: “Return in ten days to the Utah Mining -and Development Company, Bluff, Utah.” - -It was almost like a letter of introduction to the agent. Picking up -the envelope, Roy exclaimed: - -“Do you know Mr. Cook, the manager of this company?” - -“Done business with him fur five years or more.” - -“I’ve got business with the company. I’m going to Bluff.” - -Colonel Weston let his tilted chair drop to the floor. - -“Ye don’t say,” he exclaimed. “Mr. Cook was in hyar last week a -pesterin’ me agin to go over thar.” - -“You?” Roy asked. “Are you goin’?” - -“I been a tryin’ to hold out agin it. I sorter reckoned I was through -with Injuns an’ alkali, but--” looking around the room with a sorry -grin, “I ain’t makin’ no fortune here.” - -“I don’t understand. Does Mr. Cook want you to join him in business?” - -“Hardly,” the stranger answered. “But nacherly, ye don’t know me. They -call me ‘colonel’ here in town. I used to be ‘Sink Hole’ Weston--‘Sink’ -Weston fur short.” - -Roy dropped into a chair in open perplexity. The agent lit his pipe -again. - -“It’s only a job headin’ a gang o’ prospectors,” he volunteered -immediately. “Don’t stand to reason I keer much fur it, but--well, -mebbe I am worth more at that than selling somepin’ I don’t own.” - -“You are an old timer out here, then?” suggested Roy, as he began to -understand. - -“Went ‘to Texas’ in ’ninety from Louisiany,” answered ‘Colonel’ -Weston. “Rustled cattle till ’ninety-five. Guided railroad gangs in -the mountains round hyar till nineteen hundred; United States Deputy -Marshal fur a spell, and then I was sheriff o’ this county a term. Five -years ago, I civilized--put on this white shirt,” he added, with a -grin, “an’ been bluffin’ ever since at business.” - -“Were you what they call a plainsman?” asked Roy. - -“I see what you mean,” exclaimed the man. “Well, they never did feel -comfortable. These togs air a part o’ ‘Colonel’ A. B. Weston. ‘Sink’ -Weston’s outfit is over home--I git into it sometimes when I want to -feel free and easy like.” - -“Are you familiar with the Indians?” asked Roy, already much interested -in his new found friend. - -“Familiar?” repeated the agent. “If you mean hev I seen much uv ’em, -I kin say I’ve seen enough uv ’em so’s I kin cut out their society -without cryin’.” - -“Well, I’m sure, Mr. Weston, that it was good of you to pick me out -and bring me here. I haven’t any doubt but what you can give me good -advice. I’ve got to go to Bluff, and I’ve got a wagon load of stuff to -take with me. I don’t know anything about the country, or how to get -there. I’m goin’ to ask you to tell me.” - -“Say,” said the real estate agent suddenly. “If your business is none -o’ mine, keep it to yourself; but I got a reason fur askin’ ye what it -is.” - -“No secret,” answered Roy. “You’ve heard of aeroplanes?” - -“Flyin’ machines?” - -Roy nodded his head. - -“I’ve got an aeroplane over at the express office, or should have, and -about two hundred gallons of gasoline. I’m under contract to deliver -the aeroplane and gasoline to Mr. Cook, in Bluff. After that, I’m going -to work for the company communicating with its prospectin’ parties. I -want to know the best way to get there.” - -“They ain’t no best way--fur a team.” - -“But I must find a way.” - -Colonel Weston had grown strangely sober, and seemed lost in thought. - -“I see the route leads along the Ute reservation,” continued Roy. “Is -it safe to go that way?” - -“It’s as safe goin’ as comin’. Either way ’tain’t what ye might call no -Lovers’ Lane fur peace and quiet.” - -“Do you know a good guide?” continued Roy, a little surprised. He had -rather imagined that Indian apprehension existed mainly in the east. - -“Yes,” said Colonel Weston suddenly. He was about to say more when -his sober face took on a smile. Stepping to a desk, he searched in -the mess of odds and ends until he found a reasonably clean sheet of -paper. On this he printed something and then stepped into the hall and -attached the sheet to the outside of the door. - -This done, he picked up Roy’s suit case and exclaimed: - -“Ye ain’t had no dinner, hev ye?” - -The lad remembered that he had not, and that he was suddenly ravenously -hungry. - -“I got a wife,” added Colonel Weston; “’tain’t fur. We’ll go home an’ -git some chuck.” - -As they stepped into the hall, Roy looked at the sign on the door. It -read: - -“Back when I git here. Address Sink Weston, Bluff, Utah.” - -Roy whirled about in sudden amazement. - -“I’m tired o’ town,” the agent exclaimed, “an’ sick o’ things I don’t -know nothin’ about--an’ these,” he added with a laugh, pointing to his -tan shoes and town clothes. “I’ll take ye to Bluff myself.” - -This was Roy’s introduction to the new life he was just entering. Over -his protest, Colonel Weston, now “Sink” Weston once more, at least -temporarily, insisted that the boy should go to his home for dinner. - -Mr. Weston’s explanation to his wife that business called him to Bluff -was received with no great joy, Roy could see, but Mrs. Weston was -probably used to her husband’s lapses into his old life. - -“I don’t know how I’m goin’ to thank you folks for takin’ me in this -way and helpin’ me,” said Roy, as he sat down to fresh biscuits, fried -ham, potatoes, warmed-over baked beans, and a pot of fresh coffee. - -“Don’t take on about that,” answered Mr. Weston. “All we ask is ye -don’t offer to pay nuthin’.” - -That night Roy wrote a letter to his mother. Ten days later, from -Mrs. Osborne came to Mrs. Weston a fashionable shopping bag of tanned -sealskin. For years to come it will be the pride of Mrs. Weston’s heart. - -It had already been agreed that the start for Bluff was to be made at -five o’clock the next morning. Mr. Weston, despite his long face in -recounting his town experience, in reality owned a freight teaming -business. He maintained a sort of livery stable and sent a freight -wagon each day to Cortez, twelve miles down the mountain. - -While Roy went to the express office at the railway station, his new -friend and host began making arrangements for a wagon and horses. When -the boy reached the depot and made modest inquiry for his freight, the -agent looked at him open mouthed. - -“Is all that plunder yourn?” he began. - -“Do you want me to identify myself?” asked Roy with a laugh. “Colonel -Weston knows me.” - -“I reckon it’s all right who ye air, but why in the name uv all that’s -good and holy, didn’t ye send it by freight?” - -“It’s all here, is it?” Roy asked anxiously. - -“All here? I should say not.” - -The boy’s heart sank. - -“It’s nigh all over town. That gasoline is over thar by the water -tank--an’ by _express, too_,” the agent repeated, looking at Roy as if -he were a Rockefeller. “An’ the big boxes is over in the freight house. -Some o’ the bundles is in the baggage room.” - -“Well,” said Roy laughing and greatly relieved, “I had this left out of -the express money,” and he handed the agent a two-dollar bill. - -“Say, kid,” the agent said, a little embarrassed, “where do you want -that stuff took?” - -When the boy explained that, at present, he only meant to check it up, -the mollified official offered his assistance with alacrity. Within an -hour Roy was joined by Colonel Weston, who had a look at the freight he -was to transport. - -“Fine,” he exclaimed, “all but the gasoline. But we’ll make it on one -wagon. Old Dan Doolin is goin’ to drive fur us.” - -About five o’clock the big, canvas-covered freight wagon was drawn over -to the depot that the crates, boxes and gasoline cans might be loaded -that night. The teamster, Colonel Weston, Roy and the depot agent were -not long in doing this. - -Roy looked at the big, crowded wagon and wrinkled his brows: - -“Goin’ to be a kind of close fit for us, isn’t it?” he remarked to Mr. -Weston. - -“How’s that?” asked the ex-sheriff. - -“All three of us on that wobbly seat for nearly a hundred miles.” - -Colonel Weston exploded with laughter. - -“You don’t reckon I’m goin’ to ride on the wagon?” - -Roy looked at him, mystified. Then suddenly he understood. - -“Of course,” he answered, “you’ll ride horseback.” - -“Naturally,” remarked his companion. “And I’m goin’ to give you a cow -pony thet’s about as slick a piece o’ horse flesh as they is in these -parts.” - -Roy stopped. That was a dream of his life. - -“Colonel Weston,” he almost shouted, “you’re a brick.” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE TRAIL AT LAST - - -“E yawp!” - -Roy awoke, rose on his elbow to get his bearings, and then remembering -that he was in Mrs. Weston’s “spare” bed, turned out and rushed to the -window. “Sink Hole” Weston was entering the house. - -It was nearly five o’clock and time to be off. The newly awakened boy -lost no time. All his preparations had been made the night before. -After writing letters he had laid out his new togs and packed his -“shore” clothes, as he called them, in the suit-case. As he donned -his gray flannel, his khaki, his new hat, and his boots, his heart -fluttered like that of the youngster with his first long trousers. - -Then he paused, in doubt. Hearing Mr. Weston in the adjoining room, he -peeked cautiously through a narrow crack in the door. His heart leaped -again. The one-time real estate agent and now plainsman once more had -made no half way change. Dangling at his right leg was a holster and -revolver. Roy, almost catching his breath for joy, made the finishing -touch to his own get-up. Buckling on his belt, already carefully -stuffed with ammunition, the boy felt the caress of the new automatic -against his hip and leg and his happiness was nearly complete. - -But not quite. At a post in front of the little white house stood two -cow ponies, saddled, with ropes at the pommels and blankets cinched -behind. One of these, Roy knew, from its size, must be his mount. He -started for the door and then hesitated. Everything on him felt so new -that he almost had stage fright. - -“Waugh!” rang out from the next room. “Chuck’s ready.” - -“Waugh!” yelled Roy with assumed boldness and throwing open the door, -he dashed into the room, whirled about in imitation of a ballet dancer -and then, clumsily drawing his new revolver, struck an attitude of -aiming through the window. - -“Well, by the great horn spoon,” shouted Weston. - -“Land o’ mercy,” added Mrs. Weston, who had just entered with a venison -steak--hot and covered with fried potatoes. - -“You shore air the Wild West picter,” laughed the man. - -“He’s jist right,” broke in Mrs. Weston. “That’s all right, Mr. -Osborne. Don’t you stand fur no jokin’.” - -“Why?” exclaimed Roy, in an alarmed voice. “Aren’t these things all -right?” - -“All right?” answered Mr. Weston, “shore they’s all right; but did you’ -ever see a city man go into a country town but what the yaps had to -make fun o’ his clothes?” - -“Don’t you all wear these?” asked Roy, anxiously. - -“They would if they could,” answered Mrs. Weston, depositing the meat -platter and turning to survey the boy. “An’ yo’ ain’t got a thing -on yo’ that ‘Sink’ wouldn’t be tickled to own. Look at him--it’s -reediclus.” - -Roy looked. Mr. Weston still wore the same soiled white shirt, or one -like it. A black silk handkerchief encircled his neck. It was knotted -in front, while Roy’s was fastened behind as he had seen in the -pictures. Mr. Weston wore no coat, and his white shirt-sleeves were -held up by blue elastic bands. Never had Roy seen such things in cowboy -pictures. But the man’s blue clothes had been exchanged for a dark vest -and a pair of close fitting black trousers. The vest was unbuttoned, -and one side of it sagged with the weight of a silver watch chain. The -trousers disappeared into a pair of worn, unpolished boots. But here -the shattering of the young tenderfoot’s ideals paused. Those boots! -They were wrinkled and crinkled in true cattleman style; the heels -tapered like a woman’s French slipper and jangling about the insteps -were two as ornate spurs as any artist ever drew. - -And, best of all, there was the “gun.” The belt was not as new as Roy’s -and the revolver was not an automatic-carbine, but it was there. - -“That sartin must a cost ye quite a bit,” was Mr. Weston’s comment. -“An’ don’t yo’ mind ef some one tries to guy yo’. Yer all O. K. Ye -don’t need nuthin’ but to git the new off. An’ I’ll guarantee to do -that afore we git to Bluff.” - -“Where can I get a pair of spurs?” asked the boy. - -“Oh, ye kin git ’em anywhar--best place over to the drug store. But -Nigger don’t need no spurs--leastways on a little jant like this.” - -By twenty minutes after five o’clock breakfast was over, and Roy had -started for the barn, a few blocks away, with his suit case, Mr. Weston -offering to bring Nigger. At five thirty old Dan’s wagon drew out of -the barn. Incidentally, Mrs. Weston found a five-dollar bill under -Roy’s place after her husband left. - -Roy was glad enough to find few men on the street when it came time to -mount Nigger. - -“Don’t be afeerd,” exclaimed Mr. Weston. “Nigger ain’t no trained -bucker fur no Wild West show. She’s a cow pony. All ye got to do is not -to argey with her. She knows more about sartin things ’an you do, an’ -when yo’ an’ she don’t agree, yo’ let her hev her way. Whatever she -does, they’s a reason fur. Don’t be afeerd.” - -Roy had ridden horseback a few times in the country, but as he dropped -into Nigger’s saddle he felt as if he were sinking into an arm chair. -Mr. Weston sat astride his pony watching the boy. Seeing him at last -mounted and stirruped, there was a quick yell. “E yawp!” shouted the -elder man, and with a flip of the reins, his pony whirled as if on a -pivot and was off down the main street of Dolores. With a clatter of -hoofs, Nigger bounded forward. - -Roy gasped, caught his saddle pommel with one hand and his hat with -the other. Then, remembering instructions, he grasped his reins, -straightened out his legs and threw back his shoulders. Ahead rose a -cloud of dust. It was Doolin’s four horses just crossing the railroad -tracks to take the valley road. They were off at last. - -[Illustration: WITH A CLATTER OF HOOFS NIGGER BOUNDED FORWARD] - -As the two ponies scampered by the freight wagon and reached the -southern limits of the town, Weston flipped his reins once more and the -two animals slackened into a trot. Beyond the railroad switch yards and -a fringe of adobe houses, the street passed over the brow of a rise and -dropped at once into a road winding down the mountain side. - -With a motion of his hand the ex-sheriff called Roy’s attention to the -view. Westward the sloping ground fell gradually into a valley. Beyond -a fringe of pinon timber on the lower slopes, the country ’marked with -farms and ranches like a checkerboard, spread out to make Montezuma -Valley--the last bit of fertility in the southwest. Far beyond these -spots of green rose what seemed to be a yellow barrier. - -“What’s the wall?” asked Roy, trying to copy Mr. Weston’s easy loll in -the saddle. - -“Wall,” laughed the old plainsman, “we’ll climb that wall to-morrer. -That’s Utah and sand and alkali.” - -“The desert?” exclaimed Roy. - -“The same,” answered his companion, “an’ a good deal o’ that.” - -“What’s the blue wall, then?” added the boy, pointing toward the south. - -“Wal, sir, ef it want fur that, ye’d see yaller thar, too. That’s -the Mesa Grande, twenty-five miles from hyar. Mesa is Spanish fur a -tableland o’ rock. That’s whar the ole Aztecs built thar homes. Take -the Mesa away an’ ye’ll see New Mexico from hear.” - -“And that?” continued Roy, pointing to the southwest where a gray, -pink-tipped spire rose cloudward. - -“Ute Mountain,” answered the westerner, as he urged his pony forward -again. “And frum it ye’ll likely see thieving Utes and murderin’ -Navajos a-plenty.” - -While old Doolin’s brakes were creaking against the wheels of the big -wagon, Mr. Weston and Roy gave their animals rein, and were off for the -village on the plain below, twelve miles away. - -“Kid,” exclaimed his companion, after a time, “we might as well agree -on this. Ain’t no one we’re goin’ to meet ’at’ll call me ‘Mister’ nur -‘Colonel.’ And ain’t no reason why yo’ should. Over thar,” and he -pointed to the Utah alkali--“it’ll be ‘Sink’ Weston. Make her ‘Sink’ -an’ let it go at that. Don’t be skeered I’m goin’ to think less o’ you -fur it.” - -“All right, I will, if you’ll tell me why they call you ‘Sink.’” - -Weston turned sideways in his saddle. - -“That’s a considerable yarn, son.” - -“Tell it,” exclaimed Roy, enthusiastically. “I’ve been waitin’ for -years to hear a real story that ain’t been in a book.” - -“Ye kin be sure this ain’t been in no book. As fur bein’ real--see -that?” - -He loosened the shirt-sleeve of the left arm and revealed a long white -furrow on the back of his arm just below the elbow. - -“Thar’s whare the boss o’ the Sink Hole, the white High Mucky-Muck o’ -the Lost Injuns plugged me. It’s real all right.” - -“The Lost Indians?” Roy exclaimed. “You mean the Indians no white man -has ever seen?” - -“Sink” Weston shook his head with a half smile. - -“I seen ’em. An’ _he_ seen ’em.” - -“He? Who?” persisted Roy. - -“Who?” repeated “Sink,” with a strange laugh that startled the boy. -“Tell me? I been aching fur more’n ten years to learn that. To say -nothin’ o’ the hole in the bowels o’ the airth where he took me and -plugged me and kep’ me fur--well, I never knowed jist how long--” - -“Mr. Weston, or ‘Sink,’” broke in Roy, “you’re getting me all mixed up. -I don’t seem to follow you.” - -“O’ course not. But I’ll make it straight jist as soon as I git a -chanst. Then ye kin understand. Till then, call me ‘Sink.’ When I git -around to the yarn, ye’ll say mebbe as how it’s a good enough name fur -me, ‘Sink Hole’ Weston!” - -“We’ll be in camp to-night. It’ll make a campfire tale,” suggested Roy. - -The leader of Roy’s cavalcade nodded his head and for some time rode -silently ahead, as if in thought. The pace brought them to Cortez about -nine o’clock. Here they had agreed to wait for the wagon to overtake -them. - -From Cortez you might strike on a bee line to the southwest and -never strike another white man’s village until you entered southern -California. Its bank, stores, cement buildings and telephones were the -last signposts of civilization on the edge of the desert. - -Roy was to pay Weston a dollar a mile for transporting the aeroplane -to Bluff. That meant a cost of about ninety dollars. Weston, for this, -furnished the wagon, the six horses, the services of both Dan Doolin -and himself, and the feed for all animals. Roy was to provision the -party. Food supplies were to be laid in at Cortez. - -When the boy asked about a tent, Weston laughed. He explained that -tents were a superfluity. The weather was ideal. - -“It’s your saddle fur a piller, and blanket fur a mattress. As fur a -coverin’ above ye--ye jist want to try the sky. It beats houses er -tents.” - -Roy was eager enough to try it. The freight wagon carried frying pans, -tin dishes and a coffee pot in the tail box. The food bought was -simple--salt pork, bacon, flour, baking powder, crackers, coffee, and a -variety of canned goods in the way of beans, meats, and fruits. These -articles purchased, packed and paid for, Weston left the lad for a time. - -Roy was glad enough to do a little sight-seeing. He visited all the -stores and at last found himself in a half drug and half general store -in one corner of which was a stock of unique Indian relics. In a few -moments the boy was on familiar terms with the proprietor--an old -doctor. And in the next half hour he had selected a real Navajo blanket -for his mother and an equally interesting turquoise set, silver ring -for his father, although he knew that the latter parent would never -wear it. - -As the doctor curio-dealer was preparing the purchases for shipment by -express to Newark, he said: - -“Aren’t you the young man who came in this morning with Sink Weston?” - -Roy answered that he was. - -“Going back to-day?” continued the doctor. - -“Going on,” he replied. “We’re goin’ to Bluff with a wagon of freight.” - -“To Bluff?” exclaimed the storekeeper in apparent surprise. “With Sink -Weston?” - -“Yes,” retorted Roy, a little indignant. “Why not? Any reason why I -shouldn’t travel with Mr. Weston?” - -“No,” faltered the storekeeper. “No real reason, I guess. But--” - -“But what?” added Roy sharply. - -The curio-dealer puckered his lips. Then, significantly, he touched his -head with his finger. - -“He’s honest enough. But, hereabouts, we all kind o’ consider him a -little off--cracked in the upper story.” - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -IN THE CANYON OF THE SAN JUAN - - -Long before night came, Sink Weston’s one-wagon train had crossed -McElmo Creek and was well down toward the Mesa Verde. The evening -campfire was almost within the shadow of the old Aztec cliff home. The -Cortez curio-dealer’s suggestion that Weston was a “little off” had -bothered Roy a great deal; but his early apprehension had worn off -somewhat as he failed to detect any outward signs of “crackedness” in -the old guide. - -Naturally Roy associated Weston’s vague references to the “Lost -Indians” and the “old man of the sink hole” with what the storekeeper -had said. And, as he thought the matter over, he finally concluded: -“We are all a little daffy in some line. I suppose I’m crazy over -aeroplanes. If Sink has a soft spot or peculiarity, why should I bother -about it?” - -However, concluding that the “sink hole” story, whatever it was, might -be Weston’s hallucination, the lad decided to say no more about it. - -In the gray-blue shadows of the Mesa Verde, Weston and Roy picketed -their ponies and made camp. Long before Doolin came up with the wagon, -they had collected wood and made a fire. The stars were showing when -the wagon arrived. Then followed Roy’s first camp experience. - -After all, the way Doolin and Mr. Weston did it, it was very simple. -Water for this first stop was carried in a barrel. The horses were -watered, given oats and picketed. A pot of coffee was made; two cans -of baked beans were heated; a can of peaches was opened; the crackers -were passed--there was not even condensed milk for the coffee--and the -evening meal was over. - -Immediately, with no dishes to wash, old Doolin extracted a rifle from -somewhere in the wagon and, charging his pipe, strolled away in the -dark “to stretch his legs,” as he put it. The sky was black-blue; the -stars were like white hot carbons; no insects disturbed the breezeless -soft surroundings, and the red-yellow glow of the dying cook fire sent -a straight line of thin smoke upward. - -“Goin’ huntin’?” asked Roy, indicating old Doolin. - -“Doolin never sets by the fire,” explained Mr. Weston. “He may not be -back till midnight. Jist onrestless. But he ain’t lookin’ fur no game. -That gun’s like a cane to him. He may be up on the Mesa Verde afore he -gits sleepy.” - -Roy was tired, after his first day in the saddle. He was lying on a -blanket, his eyes on the little fire, and wondering if he would like -to be going with the “onrestless” Doolin. Weston was sitting with his -back against a wagon wheel, his knees crooked before him, with one hand -lazily grasping his bubbling pipe. - -“So ye want to know why they call me ‘Sink?’” he said suddenly, as if -the two had just been discussing the subject. - -Roy cast his eyes again in the direction Doolin had taken. Their -companion had disappeared. Somewhere, at that moment, a shivery -half-bark and half-wail sounded. - -“Coyote,” said Mr. Weston without moving. - -The cook fire was but little more than a dying blaze. Just a little -wave of apprehension crept over the boy. Was he alone with an -irresponsible man? Was his companion about to recall an imaginary -experience, an hallucination that might work him into a frenzy? Roy was -almost sorry that the teamster had left. He was not afraid, but-- - -“Yes,” he answered stoutly, “I’d like to hear it.” - -For a few moments, the guide, marshal and sheriff, said nothing. Then -he recharged his pipe, threw a couple of bits of mesquite upon the fire -and resumed his position. - -“When I’m done,” he said at last, “ye’ll say I’m bughouse. They all do. -Anyway, ye’ll know why I’m Sink Hole Weston.” - -Roy breathed a sigh of relief. Mr. Weston’s tone was calm enough. - -“In ninety-eight, I brung a party of railroad prospectors to Durango,” -Mr. Weston began. “That winter, I herded sheep and fit Utes. In the -spring, I was sick o’ Injuns and I made up my mind to do a little -minin’. Jist then, a couple o’ fellers named Labarge an’ Moffett showed -up in camp. They wuz nice men an’ it wuz bad fur ’em an’ others what -happened to ’em, but it came nigh bein’ as bad fur me. These men come -all the way from Washin’ton to make a map o’ the San Juan river. They -had money an’ a outfit an’ a boat that come in pieces. The wages they -offered me to go with ’em settled the minin’ idee. - -“In May, when the arroyos wuz bank full and better, we toted the pieces -o’ that boat up in the San Juan mountains beyant Pagasa Peak. Two weeks -later, down about Alcatrez--or whar Alcatrez is now--we found timber -and them fellers figured out they wanted a raft big enough to carry -us an’ the boat. We made it. But it must a bin a bum raft. At the -first bad rapids we struck, whar the river cuts through the Carriso -mountains, the raft went to pieces and we all went down. Labarge he -never did come up.” - -“Drowned?” exclaimed Roy. - -“An’ smashed,” explained Weston, tamping his pipe. “We saved the boat, -an’ me and Moffett went on. The river was now sartin deep in the -canyon. Mebbe Moffett knowed whar we was, but I didn’t. He put it down -in his book. Then it got so bad thar was not no stoppin’ any more an’ -we jist shot ahead. I don’t know whar we wuz, as I said, but it wuz -about four days arter Labarge was lost ’at Moffett figgered out he was -due to climb out o’ the canyon. It was like a mine shaft fur deep and -dark, but he had some projeck about gettin’ his bearin’s. So we tried -it. He lugged them instruments o’ his an’, I’ll say this fur him, he -mighty near done it when somepin’ happened. He dropped six hundred feet -like a rock.” - -Roy shuddered and pulled his blanket nearer the fire. Mr. Weston -snapped a piece of mesquite. - -“When I got down to the water agin, they was not even his little books -and measurin’ traps. Ever’thing but the boat was gone in the foam o’ -the San Juan. I never knowed whar Moffett was killed. But it was about -ten o’clock in the mornin’ I calkerlated--I didn’t have no watch. - -“Before I started I et a good meal fur I knowed, the way that river -was a boilin’ and roarin’ below me, I was not agoin’ to make no more -stops till somepin happened. An’ I didn’t. It happened arter dark. When -I couldn’t see no more, an’ it was plum dark down thar long afore the -sun went down up on the plains five or six hundred feet above, I shoved -off. I didn’t make no bluff at steerin’. - -“I jist waited. Mebbe I was not goin’ a few? I shore was sorry I hadn’t -stuck to my minin’ idee. I was sorry fur a good many things when the -dark come on. I got tired o’ thinkin’ an’ waitin’ at last an’ I says -to myself, says I, ‘let her come now an’ git over with it.’ I was -accommodated. - -“When I come to I was alive, but I didn’t believe it fur a long time. I -peeled off the blood an’ by feelin’ round concluded I was on the rocks. -But I was so nigh the water that the foam an’ spray was a blanket fur -me all night. That’s whar I laid till it come light agin. O’ course the -boat was gone, my chuck was gone an’ them walls o’ stone stood up afore -and behind me--straight? They seemed like the inside o’ a ball.” - -“How did you get out?” asked Roy. “And where were you?” - -“I ain’t agoin’ to answer neither,” replied Mr. Weston, crawling over -to the fire and using a coal to light his recharged pipe. - -“Why ain’t I?” he added without a smile. “’Cause I don’t know. Don’t -know no more today ’an I did then. Somehow I did git out. But it was -not that day ’cause I slep’ on the rocks agin. I kin tell you this, -though: when I fell down on the sand up thar some’ere on the top o’ -that gash in the airth, my clo’es was in rags an’ two finger nails on -each hand was missin’. I reckon I clumb some.” - -“This was not the sink hole, was it?” interrupted the boy. - -The plainsman took several long puffs at his pipe. - -“What happened on the river was only what ye might expec’. What -happened arter ain’t no man got no right to look fur. In a way, it was -even excitin’. Or I don’t know as ye could say that. It was unusual, -though.” - -Roy’s apprehensions returned to him. - -“I’ll try not to string it out,” resumed Weston. “But, remember, I -ain’t askin’ ye to believe it.” The fire flared up and Roy saw that the -man’s face was both sober and thoughtful. “Nobody believes it. Some of -’em’ll tell you I’m nutty. I’m used to it. I jist want to explain why -I’m Sink Hole Weston.” - -“Tell it all,” pleaded Roy, suddenly. - -“I don’t know what day it wuz I found myself up thar in the sand. An’, -as ye kin guess, I don’t know whar it wuz. Don’t know yit,” he added -as if this were one of the regrettable details of his adventure. “But -one thing I kin make affedavit to,” he said, with a drawl,--“my gun wuz -gone, the soles wuz tore off my boots, an’ my hat wuz with the gun, I -reckon, I didn’t have a scrap o’ food an’ as fur water, they was a -plenty about six hundred feet below me an’ none, I reckoned, within a -hundred miles ur more in front o’ me. I set down an’ tried to round up. -I knowed I wuz so fur frum whar I started, that I was not agoin’ to try -to git back by follerin’ that cursed river, though t’aint a bad river -at that, take it all in all. - -“It was comin’ night an’ the sun was facin’ me. By that my right hand -was pintin’ north. Ef I went south, it stood to reason I must be -some’ere nigh Navajo land. That settled goin’ south. Ef I went west, -about the only thing I knowed of ’at I could find afore I come to the -Nevada Mountains wuz the Ralston desert. An’ I had plenty o’ that whar -I wuz. Goin’ east, I had my chice o’ dead craters, the Colorado and -Green Rivers, which was like the San Juan only wuss, an’ more deserts.” - -“You were certainly up against it,” sighed the boy. “You went north, I -suppose.” - -“Sometimes north an’ sometimes northwest,” continued Weston. “Depended -on the goin’. I was not at jist the top o’ condition, as ye kin guess. -But I cut off the tops o’ my boots, patched up a pair o’ soles an’, it -bein’ evenin’ then, took a snooze. Sometime in the night I woke up an’ -started. It was not much uv a start I didn’t have no preparations to -make. Layin’ a trail by the north star I set out kind o’ northwest. - -“It begun to git rough right away. That’s the way all along them -rivers--the river hole, then a fringe o’ sand an’ then higher ground. -Long afore sun up, I was makin’ up some purty stiff hills. When day -come, I wuz in ’em. You’d a thought they wuz some life an’ timber thar. -Ef they was, I didn’t see neither. As near as I could figger, it was -like as ef they’d took all the rock out o’ the San Juan an’ piled it -up on a kind o’ table land. They seemed to be big, high ridges o’ rock -stretchin’ all over the country with here an’ thar a heap uv it high -enough to make a peak. - -“That day an’ the next, I knowed I was giner’ly goin’ northwest. At the -end o’ the second day, I didn’t keer much whether I ever woke up agin. -Only I didn’t exactly go to sleep. My head was wrong, an’ I knowed it. -Onct I found myself diggin’ in the sand. I got up sneerin’ at myself. -I knowed well enough they was not no water up thar. Then you know what -I found myself adoin’? I caught myself atryin’ to spell out my name by -layin’ little pieces o’ rock on the sand. That was the limit. - -“I cut out restin’ an’ got up an’ says, ‘When I stop agin, it’ll be -whar I’m goin’ to stay.’ My boots was not no good any more--leastways I -didn’t somehow keer to try to tie ’em on no more. Then I rickollected -’bout starvin’ people chawin’ thar shoe leather. I tried it. Don’t you -believe it’s wuth while. Anyway, I was not hungry. A little water would -ahelped but, mostly, I reckon I jist longed to git out o’ that rock. -That’s what bothered me. Curious like, it got to seem as if I could -git whar I couldn’t see them walls ever’thing’d be all right. You’re -agettin’ batty when you git that way. - -“I kin remember the moon come out. But that made me mad. It looked so -much like the sun. It was ashinin’ all over the rocks I had come to -kind o’ despise. But thar was one place ’at wuz dark and I throwed away -my boots an’ run in thar like as if somepin was a chasin’ me. An’ I -kept agoin’ till, I reckon, I jist keeled over. I was not plannin’ to -wake up no more, but I did. An’ thar was them rocks. - -“I didn’t feel much like gittin’ up. But, fin’ly I turned over so’s I -wouldn’t see them bits o’ granite er whatever they air. An’, lo and -behold, they was not no rock at all whar my eyes fell. After awhile, I -figgered out that this was a good thing. And then I knowed what I wuz -tryin’ to do--I wuz tryin’ to convince myself ’at I ought to go over -whar the rocks stopped. - -“I couldn’t walk, so I crawled. Some o’ my thinkin’ apparatus seemed -gone, but I got away all right--I was out o’ the rocks. Then I -rickollected. I says, ‘They ought to be water here whar they ain’t no -rocks. Whar’s the water?’ They was not no answer to that, an’ they was -not no water. I wuz the maddest man ye ever see. ‘Whar’s the water?’ I -yelled. Not actu’ly, ye know, ’cause my tongue was not movin’ seein’ as -how it had my jaws pried open. - -“Now comes a cur’ous thing,” continued Mr. Weston. “You’d athought I -was all in, me acrawlin’ on my hands an’ knees the night before. But -this goin’ without no water has funny angles. I was mad and demandin’ -the water that should ’abeen waitin’ fur me. An’ on them raw feet o’ -mine I started to find it. I couldn’t talk, an’ I couldn’t think, to -speak of, but I could see. An’ afore I quit I saw smoke. - -“Somehow, that didn’t int’rest me; didn’t even surprise me. But it was -right whar I thought water was, an’, somehow, I kept goin’. This is -one place they say I’m nutty. I’ve forgot a good deal about gittin’ out -o’ the rocks, but I’ll make affedavit I went toward that smoke all day. -How do I figger that? It was black all around me when I quit goin’. - -“When I knowed anything agin, I knowed I was with Injuns. Couldn’t -fool me on Injun smell. An’ when an old Injun woman poured water on my -tongue, I jist shet my eyes an’ went to sleep agin.” - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE WHITE GOD OF THE SINK HOLE - - -For the last few moments, Roy had leaned forward as if afraid he might -miss some word of his companion’s strange tale. - -“Indians had saved you!” he exclaimed huskily. - -“A white man,” remarked Mr. Weston. “The High Mucky-Muck o’ the Sink -Hole--the high priest o’ the Lost Injuns--him that they say loosened -some o’ my screws.” - -“Go on,” interrupted the boy impulsively, now wholly indifferent as -to the result of possibly drawing out the plainsman’s hallucination. -Weston arose, went over to the water barrel and put his mouth to the -spigot. - -“You don’t never see me wastin’ any o’ that sence the day I got out o’ -the rocks,” he explained, “an’ I got a purty high regard fur it ever -sence.” - -He moved the fire coals together with his foot and added a couple new -mesquite roots to the embers. As the coals flared into a flame, he -took from his hip pocket a worn and greasy pocketbook. The flap was -reinforced with a string. Slowly untying this, Weston opened the book -and extracted a little pocket or envelope made of what appeared to -be thin, black oilcloth. The boy was on his knees close by the fire. -Weston squatted on his heels, opened the oilcloth packet and took out a -piece of yellowish paper, about twice the size of an envelope, folded -once in the middle. - -“What’s that?” exclaimed Roy, moving closer. - -Weston opened the old sheet, almost ready to come apart in the center. -The quick-eyed boy could make out only what seemed to be three words in -either hieroglyphics or some language unknown to him, dim with age, and -a single line resembling an arrow. - -“What’s that?” repeated Weston. “Ef ye’ll tell me that, I’ll know what -I been tryin’ to find out fur a good many years. It’s what makes folks -say I’m wrong in my upper story.” - -As the boy reached forward to take the mysterious sheet in his hands, -Weston withdrew it, put it back into its case, dropped it into the -pocketbook, and, with the latter in his hands, took a new position -cross-legged before the fire. - -“In a minute,” he went on. “But let me finish my yarn. I’ll show it to -you then. Them as hev seen this ain’t so sure I’m off. Them as ain’t, -don’t know. What it means, I reckon they ain’t no one kin tell. I tuk -it offen the high Mucky-Muck white man when them Lost Injuns killed -him.” - -There was already a little chill in the night air. The whole world -seemed asleep. Roy wet his lips and looked behind him. He was wondering -if old Doolin were near. And yet, neither Weston’s eyes nor voice -seemed to be those of a man not in his normal senses. - -“I’ll give what happened to you brief,” the westerner went on, slapping -the pocketbook on his knee. “As fur as I kin make out, them hills an’ -rocks was purty much my imagination. Leastways, I never seen ’em agin, -and couldn’t find ’em though I looked offen enough. After gettin’ -that drink from the squaw I must a mended fast. When I come to agin, -I knowed I was in a cave, but a cave that wa’n’t made by no man. An’ -settin’ by me was a Injun fur yer life. I seen about ever’ kind uv -Injun in the west, but I ain’t seen none like him before nur sence. -An’ he was one uv about thirteen, half squaws an’--I was agoin’ to say -bucks--but they wa’n’t bucks. They wuz old men--every one of ’em who -wa’n’t an ole woman. No papooses an’ no young people. - -“That cave was jist a kind o’ room. They wuz other rooms an’ -galleries--plenty of ’em. The Injun by me, an ole man, was on guard. -So I sung purty small seein’ I was a pris’ner. He had Injun hair all -right, but gittin’ bald. This is where the wise ones all laugh when I -tell about that gang. ‘A bald Injun?’ they say. No matter--squaws and -men alike they was all more or less bald. - -“As fur looks, they didn’t look like no one ’at I ever see, exceptin’ -the picters o’ Eskimos an’ Chinks. They had sort o’ slant eyes. But -their skins was the unusuallest part uv ’em. They ever’ one looked kind -o’ cold-gray-brown like a Injun whose been dead a day or two.” - -Roy looked again toward the star-crowned black wall of the Mesa Verde, -as if hoping that the absent Doolin might be coming campward. - -“Where was this?” he asked, nervously. - -“Ain’t no doubt in my mind,” went on Mr. Weston, “but that gang was the -last o’ them Lost Injuns. And afore now they’re all gone, I reckon. -Where wuz it? Well, sir, that tribe didn’t have no range--they lived in -a Sink Hole. That’s the answer. That’s why I reckon they ain’t but two -white men ever seen ’em an’ never will.” - -“I don’t understand,” interrupted the boy. “What is a Sink Hole?” - -“A Sink Hole is whar onct was a volcano er whar the water frum the -mountains bores a hole in the desert. Somewhar out thar in Utah,” -continued the speaker, “somewhar between the Colorado River an’ the -western mountains is the Sink Hole o’ the Lost Injuns. A quarter uv a -mile away they ain’t no sign uv it exceptin’, as I seen it first, smoke -o’ sulphur driftin’ out. It’s sides ain’t fur climbin’--they air nigh -straight except whar the dry river bed falls into the pit. When the wet -season’s on ye can’t get in er out. In the dry months they’s steps cut -in the arroyo bed. - -“When the floods begin to eat a hole in the sand whar that pit is, they -dug out holes in the rocks. Then the water et furdder down and made -more holes. An’ that’s the way it went on, I reckon, makin’ drifts like -a silver mine. Then these Eskimo-Chink Injuns come along, fur the water -that wuz at the bottom o’ the sink mebbe, and scooped the caves bigger -and jined them till it was a home under the desert.” - -Roy’s eyes bulged with amazement. - -“And they found you and took you down there?” - -“The white boss did. I calkerlate that sulphur smoke leakin’ out o’ the -lower tunnels wuz what did the business. And sence them Injuns don’t -stir ’round much, I reckon I must a stumbled into that dry arroyo. Like -as not, I was on the aidge o’ the sink when the white man seen me. -Anyway, they took me in.” - -“And the white man?” asked Roy. “What about him?” - -“You’d a thought he’d a give me the glad hand now, wouldn’t you?” -continued the westerner. “He did--_not_. I didn’t even know about him -till night was comin’ on agin. Ye could tell it was night an’ day down -thar because near’ all them rooms er caves had a winder looking out on -the sink. Towards night, after I was feelin’ a good sight better, and -was figgerin’ on jist what sort uv a deal I’d put over on the Injuns, -all my plans wuz knocked galley west. - -“Ye kin imagine. It was jist shadderin’ into dark when a figger come -into the room like he was a emperor or somepin. He was the imposinest -being I ever see. I knowed he was white by his hair and beard which was -spread out over his chest like one o’ them Bible prophets what are -offerin’ up lambs fur sacerfice. On his feet they wuz sandals. An’, -instid o’ white men’s clothes, he was dressed mainly in a white blanket -with a belt o’ silver buckles ’at I reckon’d weigh five pounds. - -“‘Thank God,’ I mumbles kind o’ thick like an’ tryin’ to set up. He -only bowed like I wuz a salutin’ him an’ never cracked a smile. ‘I’m -much obleeged,’ I went on, tryin’ to be sociable, ‘fur the water.’ -Instid o’ sayin’ he was glad or somepin pleasant, the old geezer, in a -voice like a preacher, begun to talk Injun to the old baldy by me. An’ -sich Injun! Then he left, old baldy makin’ a low bow as his white boss -walked away, like as if he was leadin’ a army. Thet night, they brought -me some kind o’ meal mixed with water an’ more water, an’ another ole -grandpa come an’ set by the door o’ my room till day. - -“They w’a’n’t no use tryin’ to do anything in the dark. So I snoozed. -When I woke up, it looked as if somepin was doin’. Five er six uv them -Injuns was crowded in the door o’ my cell er room or cave. - -“‘Come in,’ I says, feelin’ a mighty sight stronger an’ pearter. But -they didn’t. They ducked like yearlin’s. All but one. He wuz on guard. -I was gittin’ purty cur’ous by this time. So, seein’ no one but a -single baldy on watch, I got up, pushed him to one side and walked out -into a kind o’ corridor. It was not till then that I knowed anything -about the lay o’ the land. This hall was like a gal’ry in the side o’ -the sink hole. On the outside they wuz openin’s, nacherl like, jis like -holes in the rock. Out o’ these ye could look down whar it was black -and smelly with sulphur. Up above, ye could see the sky. On the inside -o’ the gal’ery, they wuz the caves, an’, I discovered later, some other -gal’ries runnin’ back to I don’t know whar or what. Like enough, store -rooms. - -“Ye kin bet, they wuz a commotion. Sich gibberish as wuz set up would -a made ye tired. I didn’t keer much fur the old Injuns, but ole -bearded-boy was right on the job. They w’a’n’t no place to go, an’ I -hadn’t no gun, so when ole White Blanket come up and laid hold o’ me, -I knowed it wuz all over. He had a grip wuss’n Dan Doolin fifteen year -ago. He carried me back to my coop an’ dropped me on the floor like a -piller. - -“But I seen one thing. When he nailed me, I wuz in what ye might call -the holy o’ holies. It was a big room about the middle o’ the main -gal’ry. I never seen it but that one time, my boy, but that was enough. -Mebbe I’m ‘off,’ ‘cracked,’ ‘nutty,’ an’ ‘bughouse’--ye don’t have to -believe it--but ef I didn’t see more gold and silver dishes in that -room ’an ye could carry away in a wagon, I ain’t a settin’ here.” - -Treasure--gold and silver lost in a cave! Roy’s heart thumped. Did he -hear right?--was he dreaming or reading some old tale of fiction? - -“You saw it?” was all he could say. - -“’Bout that long,” answered Weston, snapping his fingers. “But it don’t -take no camera long to take a picter. What I seen I seen. They was a -altar an’ a lamp burnin’ on it. An’ that wuz no Injun racket. Wa’n’t no -corn an’ grain an’ painted sticks an’ eagle feathers an’ false faces. -What I see was a white man’s work.” - -“But the gold and silver?” exclaimed Roy, forgetting hallucinations, -Dan Doolin and all else. - -“That tribe must a been a real tribe onct,” went on Mr. Weston. “That’s -the only way I kin explain it. In that room wuz, I reckon, all the -dishes ’at they ever made. They wa’n’t on the altar only. They was -ever’whar. Can’t fool me on gold and silver. I seen ’em. Them on -the altar had turquoises over ’em like dirt. I don’t know whether I -figgered right, but, layin’ thar that night, I couldn’t see it but one -way. Ole White Blanket wuz a fake. He wa’n’t thar to teach no religion -nur to save no souls. He was gittin’ that plunder all together fur no -good purpose--no better’n mine ef I’d a got the chanct.” - -“Well,” urged Roy. “What then?” - -“I couldn’t figure it but one way, as I say. They wa’n’t nothin’ fur -me to do but to git away, locate the sink hole an’ git back with help -to chastise the old geezer an’ mebbe git the stuff he was atryin’ to -steal. I saved a little chuck each meal fur a couple o’ days, an’ -then tried it. O’ course I had to tap the old baldy guard on the head -jist heavy enough to keep him still a while. I selected the time jist -about daybreak, an’ I thought I was goin’ to hev no more trouble. I -was out o’ the gal’ery an’ on the arroyo steps when I got this,” said -Mr. Weston tapping the long scar on his arm. “That was frum old high -Mucky-Muck hisself. I didn’t allow he had no gun. - -“That meant I was two weeks laid up. But the Injuns give me a square -deal. They tended me like brothers, even the old one I had to be -vi’lent with. Then, one day jist when I was feelin’ it wuz about time -to try it agin, who should come in but the boss hisself. You wouldn’t -believe what that ole duffer done--hot as it wuz out there in them -deserts. An’ I guess he wa’n’t no thief after all er he might a saved -hisself all his trouble by just knockin’ me on the head an’ bein’ done -with it. He had a hood, made out uv a piece o’ blanket, and some hide -strings. With him wuz four old men ready fur travelin’, as I could see. -An’ so wuz the white man. Instid o’ his blanket an’ sandals, he had on -a white man’s boots, a long black coat and a big hat. - -“Without askin’ my leave an’ no special talk among ’em, they tied my -arms behind me an’ dropped that black hood over my head.” Weston paused -awhile, in which interval he lit anew his long neglected pipe. - -“I reckon,” he began again, at last, “ye’ll imagine they took me out on -the desert an’ turned me loose. They jist traveled with me two days. -An’ the last days we wuz in the mountains. I could see what was comin’, -though in all that travelin’ they wa’n’t one word spoke to me. - -“That’s whar ole High Mucky-Muck made his mistake. He might as well -a’ talked all he wanted. He was wuss off’n I was. But he didn’t know -it. That night, like the fust night, they tied my feet, although two -o’ the Injun ‘has-beens’ stood guard. We didn’t have no campfire, an’ -only meal an’ water fur chuck. I slept all right till it got cold--we -wuz well up in the mountains somewhar--an’ then I woke up. My feet an’ -hands wuz free and them that brung me two days’ travel wuz gone. - -“I understood like it wuz all wrote down. It was jist to be shore I -couldn’t never find my way back to them as didn’t relish my company. -An’ I cussed. Then I figgered it out. I was lucky to be alive, an’ I -turned over an’ went to sleep agin. When it was day, I found they’d -left me a bag o’ meal an’ a bottle o’ water.” - -Roy’s tense feelings relaxed with the explosive inquiry: - -“And that’s how you escaped? But the paper--the funny writing?” - -Weston shrugged his shoulders. - -“I could tell east and west and I knowed the way I had ought to go, but -did ye ever know a man to do what he’d ought to--always? That white -man wore boots. I couldn’t no more keep from trailin’ him an’ I could -fergit that plunder. It wa’n’t easy, in that high ground, but I kep’ -goin’ an’ I knowed I was doin’ a good job. About sun down, I come to -the end o’ the trail, as we say out hyar.” - -“You lost it?” - -“One of ’em, I never lost,” said Mr. Weston slowly. “Jist when the sun -was makin’ shadders on the mountain side, I seen somepin afore me I -wisht I’d never seen. On a pile o’ rocks, sort o’ square like, was the -big white man stark an’ stiff dead.” - -“Dead?” almost shouted the awed boy. - -“With a hole in the back o’ his head like this,” added Mr. Weston -solemnly, holding out his closed fist. - -Roy shuddered. - -“The Indians killed him?” he almost whispered. - -“Shore,” answered Weston. “And they wasn’t but one answer to that. It -took me days to figger it out, but thar was only one reason. How that -white man come among ’em o’ course no one’ll ever know. But bein’ thar, -he wuz the biggest thing ’at ever happened. They’d never seen a white -man afore. He might’a been a kind a holy thing to ’em. Mebbe even a -god. An’ when I came along they seen they wuz other white men on earth. -Ef he’d been a god he wa’n’t the only one. So they went back to their -old feathers an’ painted sticks an’ Injun totems. But they sacerficed -the new god first.” - -“And the paper?” asked the boy, after a long silence. - -“’Ceptin’ his gun and boots,” said Mr. Weston, “it wuz the only thing -on him I took. What it means, I guess the White God o’ the Lost Injuns -knowed. But I don’t. If it’s Injun, ain’t no Injun I ever met could -read it.” - -“And you?” said Roy. “What then?” - -“I piled stones on the dead man an’ slept thar that night. The next day -I tried to pick up the trail o’ the Injuns. But they air the kind that -don’t leave no trails. Then I lit out northwest. My meal lasted, but -the water didn’t. In six days, I struck a trail an’ the next day wuz -picked up by a ore wagon comin’ off Awapa Plateau--out o’ my head.” - -When the guide had finished his story, he again opened his worn -pocketbook. - -“Mebbe you’d like a look at the paper,” he added. “An’ remember. Ye -don’t have to lie. Ye don’t have to say ye believe a word o’ what I -been tellin’ ye. But that scrap o’ paper and this,” pointing to his -arm again, “air all I got to prove that A. B. Weston, which is me, has -actu’ly seen the Lost Injuns o’ Utah, their goods and chattels o’ solid -gold and silver an’ the White God o’ the Sink Hole. Anyway, that’s why -I’m ‘Sink Hole’ Weston.” - -Weston spread out the paper and handed it to Roy. As he did so, he -punched up the fire and the boy leaned forward. For a moment, the boy’s -eyes were fixed on the three hieroglyphic words. Then, at the bottom of -the sheet, Roy detected two other words in faded ink. - -“It’s a name,” exclaimed the lad suddenly. - -“But that don’t mean nothin’. Ain’t no one I ever met ever heerd it.” - -Roy caught his breath, started, looked again and then shouted: - -“I know it. I’ve heard it. You’re not crazy. That’s the name of a man I -know. It’s my great uncle!--a Mormon.” - -Weston caught the boy by the arm. - -“What’s his name?” he asked, in a thick voice. - -“Willard Banks.” - -The plainsman sprang to his feet, laughed nervously and then exclaimed: - -[Illustration: THE REMARKABLE HIEROGLYPHICS] - -“I reckon there’s some one then ’at’ll believe me.” - -“Every word,” answered Roy, handing back the paper. “But,” and he too -laughed in an excited way, “I’m glad you had that proof.” - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE REAL WEST - - -Roy’s idea of a camp at night included a smouldering fire in front of -a tent wherein, on fragrant spruce boughs, carefully sheltered from -the wind and the chill, one went to bed wrapped in blankets. When Sink -Weston scattered the last coals of the little cook fire and pointed to -the sand under the freight wagon as a “likely place to bunk,” the boy -felt a little disappointment. It was one of a number of new things he -learned that summer about life in the “open.” - -Another one was, that riding all day on a lively cow pony when you -are not used to it, does not exactly limber up your limbs. When the -boy attempted to jump up early the next morning, he found his legs -bent almost like hoops. The result was, when a breakfast of salt -pork, crackers and coffee had been eaten, Roy complied with Sink’s -good-natured orders and climbed up on the wagon seat along with Dan -Doolin. His pony was tied to the tail board. - -The day was perfect. The party was in sterile country--land that could -hardly be called desert, although at that point, it was without water. -There was mesquite and sage, rocks here and there--and now and then a -jack rabbit. The misty blue mountains of New Mexico greeted them over -the top of the gray Mesa Verde; peaks of the far Rockies, white-capped -and cold, lay behind, while in front, beyond pink-tipped Ute mountains, -rose the wall of the Utah Desert. - -Before Weston could gallop on ahead, Roy begged of him the mysterious -sheet of hieroglyphics. He wanted to see it in the daylight. Since he -had heard the tale of the Lost Indians, he was able to think of little -else. Sink Weston’s story had taken possession of the boy. He had told -Weston all he knew of his great uncle, and where the Mormon had once -lived. But they had both decided that it availed little to know that -the disciple of Nauvoo had once lived in Parowan. - -Even if Willard Banks left children or other relatives, it was certain -that these would know nothing of the hidden Sink Hole. Weston was -positive in his belief that the indecipherable words formed a key -describing the location of the secret Indian city. And he was almost -as positive that the words were beyond reading by any one but their -writer. He had long since ascribed the existence of the paper to the -fact that, before the Mormon elder visited the Lost Indians, he had -learned their secret, probably from other Indians with whom he had -lived in his missionary work. Not trusting to his memory, he had made a -record of his secret in cipher. - -As Roy took the paper and Weston rode on, old Dan Doolin smiled grimly. - -“So ye got it, too, hev ye?” he said, chuckling. - -Roy opened the paper and pointed to the name on it. - -“I suppose you’re like the rest of ’em,” the boy answered, with some -satisfaction. “Well, you’ve all laughed too soon. There _was_ a Willard -Banks, and he was my _great uncle_!” - -Old Doolin started to smile, but, changing his mind, he turned and -exclaimed: - -“W’ot’s that?” - -“There was such a man as Willard Banks,” continued Roy, with spirit. -“He was my great uncle. He was a Mormon elder, and he lived at -Parowan.” - -“Wal, by hokey!” exclaimed old Doolin, straightening up. “Ef that’s -right, I reckon I been a laughin’ out o’ the wrong side o’ my face. -Say, Kid,” he continued, after a moment’s hard thinking, “I seen -fellers ’at had seen ships asailin’ in the desert. Likewise I seen many -a dockymint o’ them Spanish sharps locatin’ mines an’ sich--mines as -ain’t no one kin find. I never set no more store on Sink’s ramblin’s -an’ I do on Injun tales. An’ nobody else, I reckon. But you listen to -me! Ef thar was a live man o’ that name o’ Banks,” and he shook his -head slowly, “thar’s a many ’at have been makin’ fools o’ theirselves, -an’ Sink ain’t one uv ’em.” - -“Did you ever see anything like this?” asked Roy, smiling and opening -the paper on his knee. - -“I never did and never expec’ to agin. Ain’t no more sense to it ’an a -snake’s trail in the sand. That writin’ ain’t fur nuthin’, but I reckon -mebbe, ef what you say’s right, Sink seen the hole in the ground. Mebbe -he seen a white man thar--I’ll even stand fur that, now,” continued the -grizzled teamster, “an’ mebbe he seen some dishes o’ copper er clay -er say they wuz even gold and silver; fer argymint sake, I’ll stand -fur that, too, seein’ ye know thar was a man o’ that name. Fur as -_them_ things goes, I’ll take off my hat to Sink; but one thing I won’t -stand fur, not even if the old Mormon was hyar and jined Sink in a -affedavit--that’s them bald-headed Injuns. They ain’t no sich a thing. -They cain’t be. Injuns ain’t made that way.” - -The boy laughed outright. - -“But what, after all,” he said, “if there _did_ happen to be such a -place and just such Indians?” - -“Bald-headed?” snorted the veteran teamster, cracking his whip as if to -emphasize his contempt. “Tell me them plates is studded with diments -an’ I’ll swaller it, but I draw the line at bald-headed Injuns.” - -For a long time, Roy studied the enigmatic words while the wagon -bumped along the rough and rocky trail. But it was no use. The first -line had in it ten characters or signs; the second seven; the last -eight. Not one of them resembled a letter of any alphabet that Roy -knew. Some of them seemed patterned after certain Greek letters, and -a few were not dissimilar to “shorthand” or stenographic marks. But -neither of these were familiar to Roy. Naturally, they did not suggest -Greek or “shorthand” to Weston. The arrow might mean anything; death, -the chase, or, as was generally agreed by those who had studied the -writing, a point of the compass, which would be south. - -When the party stopped at noon, Roy returned the paper to Weston. - -“I give it up,” he said, “but if I ever get near Parowan, and I hope to -be there before I go back, I’ll send you word of all that I learn about -my relative.” - -Secretly, he was longing for the guide to make some overtures to him -regarding a sort of partnership in a new quest for the Sink Hole. Of -course, that could not be at once, but he was a boy, and as full of the -spirit of adventure as he was of energy. - -“Are you going to make any more attempts to find your Lost Indians?” he -asked, while Doolin was preparing the noonday meal. - -“Well,” answered Weston, with a peculiar smile, “I promised my wife I -wouldn’t. I promised her purty strong, too. That is, I jist told her -positive I wouldn’t lessen somepin happened wharby I kin read that -writin’.” - -“Maybe we could find the Sink Hole with the aeroplane,” suggested Roy, -voicing an idea that he had been nursing all day. - -Weston shook his head. - -“I don’t know much about yer sky machines,” he replied, “but ye could -look down into them sink holes all over Utah, an’ ye wouldn’t know _my_ -sink hole frum a thousan’ others. I done that aplenty. No, sir. Ye got -to read it right thar on the paper. Ain’t no other way, as I kin see.” - -That afternoon Roy mustered up courage to return to his mount. And -as the hours went by and they came nearer the mountains lying to the -south, the tale of the Lost Indians began to drift into the background. -They were hastening through a corner of the Ute Indian reservation, -where the trail ran, and this was excuse enough for the opening of -Weston’s book of reminiscences. The guide had Indian tales of all -kinds--narratives covering their lives and crimes. - -Toward dusk, Weston, riding not far ahead of the wagon, called Roy’s -attention to a dark mark ahead. It was the unmarked chasm of the San -Juan River. And on the banks of this swift stream, flowing at the -bottom of its open tunnel bed, the second camp was made. A place had -been selected where an Indian trail afforded access to the water below. -And after the horses were cared for Doolin celebrated the crossing of -the Utah line by making a batch of biscuits baked in a skillet. - -“The advantage o’ them biscuits over woman’s bread,” explained old Dan, -smiling, “is ’at they’ll stick to yer innards. Ye won’t need no more uv -’em till ye git to Bluff.” - -“An’ not then,” said Weston, without a smile, “ef I kin get kitchen -bread.” - -That evening, despite what Weston had told the boy about Doolin’s habit -of never sitting by the campfire, Roy noted that the teamster did not -leave the camp. On the contrary, he turned in and was snoring long -before the boy was sleepy. The next day he was told the reason. They -were camping on the Ute Indian land. To a Ute horse stealing is a minor -crime. Doolin slept until one o’clock and Weston kept watch. Then the -guide turned in and Doolin kept an eye open for unannounced visitors. - -Just when the stars began to show the next evening, the aeroplane -cavalcade raised the lights of Bluff, and at ten o’clock entered the -town. Roy was tired but happy. So far no accident had marred his -expectation. Because of the lateness of the hour, Roy had planned to -stop at a boarding house frequented by Weston at times and to report -to Mr. Cook, of the Development Company, in the morning. The wagon, -therefore, did not proceed to the center of the town, but was stopped -at the “San Juan Stables.” The “stables” were little more than a horse -corral. There being no one in charge, Doolin was left with the wagon, -the teamster and cook appropriating horse provender with western -freedom. When Weston and the boy left him, he was preparing to make a -fire and boil some coffee, after which he was to sleep near the wagon -and its valuable freight. - -Unencumbered with baggage, Roy and his companion made their way along -the main street toward the center of the wilderness city. The boy -discovered at once that the brilliant lights came, not from stores, -but from a dozen or more saloons. Adobe sidewalks soon gave way to a -board passageway--timber swept down the San Juan from the far away -mountains--and in the center of the town these were covered by roofs -reaching to the street. - -For what would have been a block, had there been any cross streets, -each door under the wooden awning on each side of the street opened -into either a saloon or a gambling resort. And each door was wide open -as were the windows. Men were coming and going at each place, but few -were loafing on the walk. Among them Weston and the boy strode without -attracting a great deal of attention and speaking to none. - -Near the end of the row, Weston slackened his pace and said: “Ye don’t -mind, do ye, ef I stop at the ‘Crater’ fur a drink? Ye kin see I don’t -drink but a little--ain’t had a drop sence I left home.” - -Roy hesitated. He had been in saloons--out of curiosity. But his -curiosity had been satisfied. In his own town and in the drinking -resorts he knew, the only persons to be found therein were those who -should have been somewhere else, or loafers and drunkards. But, while -he hesitated, he decided that circumstances were different. In that -community of rough men, cut off, almost, from all civilization and -refinement, saloons were common meeting points. - -“I’ll wait for you,” answered Roy, stepping just inside the door. -Instantly he was sorry he had done so. The place was aglow with light -from a half dozen oil chandeliers; the air was heavy with tobacco -smoke and odors from the sloppy bar, and the room was well filled with -men. Almost tempted to return to the street, for his companion at once -hurried toward the bar, Roy was held for a moment by the fascinating -picture afforded by the occupants of the place. - -Above all rose the clink of spurs. Here at last was the “real thing.” -Almost lost in the desert and hanging on the precipitous banks of the -deep San Juan as if to prevent being swept away and buried in the sandy -plains, the town of Bluff, the last echo of civilization, was the -rendezvous of miner, prospector, cow puncher, sheep herder and outcast. -And within Roy’s sight were examples of each. - -Confused, bewildered, and wholly out of place, Roy attempted to -withdraw. But something seemed to hold him--the silver bands on an -Indian, the gaudy color of a cowboy’s handkerchief, the set angle of -another’s hat and everywhere the oaths, the racy slang of the plains -and the always present, swaying firearms. Here were the men of whom he -had read, whose freedom--as a boy--he had often envied. - -In the moment that Roy hesitated there was a familiar “E yawp!” and a -half dozen answering yells. The boy knew at once that Sink Weston had -found old friends. Then he made out Weston’s big, black, dust-covered -hat making its way toward the bar in the midst of a group of white -sombreros, and he turned and left. At the door, an arm intercepted him. -He drew back somewhat alarmed. It was a man who had lunged forward from -the end of the bar near the door. - -“Fur the love o’ God, Kid, buy me a drink.” - -The mumbling speaker was a man who might have been eighty years old. -Age and whisky had wrecked him. An unkempt, white beard, covered a -worn, red flannel shirt. His ragged boots, into which greasy pants -were stuffed, were not those of a horseman, and his gnarled, trembling -fingers fell on the boy’s arm like talons. His hair, dropping from -under a limp, grease-banded, ragged hat, lay on his shoulders in -yellow-white, knotted locks. Almost toothless, he repeated, huskily: - -“Jist one, Kid, jist one!” - -Roy was shocked, and attempted to pass on. But the man, almost in -collapse, held to him and dragged himself to the walk outside. - -“Jist one drink’ll brace me up fur to-night. Mebbe to-morrer, I won’t -need none.” - -“Won’t anything else help you?” said Roy, at last. “Are you hungry?” - -“Hungry?” almost moaned the broken being. “Yes, I’m hungry. But I got -to hev liquor er die.” - -“Why don’t you try eatin’ first?” asked the boy, not knowing what else -to say. “I’ll buy you food.” - -“Gimme a drink an’ I’ll eat. I ain’t et in two days.” - -The boy was puzzled. His sympathetic heart was touched. Next door to -the “Crater,” the usual saloon sign was surmounted by the words, “Joe’s -Imperial Palace Restaurant.” In the window was a display of canned -goods: sardines, asparagus, pepper sauce and bologna sausage. Grasping -the old man by the shoulder, he half led and half pushed him into the -eating resort. A man at the bar scowled at sight of the decrepit man, -but smiled as he saw the brisk looking lad. - -Three tables were lined up on one side of the room. Leading the whisky -supplicant to one of these, Roy almost dropped him into a chair -and then stepped over to the bar. Handing a two-dollar bill to the -barkeeper, he said: - -“The old man wants whisky. Looks to me as is he needs something to eat -a good deal worse.” - -The barkeeper grunted: - -“To be decent he’d orter to eat, sure. But, as fur liquor, he’ll sartin -die without it.” - -“Well,” said Roy, “fill him up with somethin’ to eat. Then, give him -his drink.” - -The old man was stumbling toward the bar as Roy hurried from the place. -Outside the “Crater” he waited some minutes for Weston. Apparently, -more than one drink was demanding the Colorado man’s attention. And the -boy grew nervous. From time to time he peered into the glaring resort, -and at last had about concluded to make his way to the corral and spend -the night with Doolin when the waited-for Weston suddenly appeared. - -“That’s part o’ the game out here, Son,” he began by way of apology, -“but I’m sorry to keep ye waitin’. Now we’ll turn in.” - -They had scarcely started along the walk when there was a sudden -commotion in the adjoining restaurant. With what seemed to be the crash -of chairs overturning, there was an oath and a scuffle and a shrunken -figure was hurled across the plank walk. Instantly, a dozen men seemed -to spring up. Several hands grasped a senseless red-shirted body and -straightened it out on the dust-covered walk. A smear of red covered -the prostrate man’s yellow-white uncovered hair. His eyes were closed -and he was breathing heavily. - -“Humph,” exclaimed Weston, as he pushed Roy around the onlookers. “Old -Utah Banning--an’ all in.” - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -ASSEMBLING AN AEROPLANE IN THE DESERT - - -Weston explained that the old man was known in the camp only as Utah -Banning. For years he had been too old for any active work. No one -knew how he managed to exist. On the edge of the town, furthest from -the river, he lived alone in an adobe hut. Roy was disturbed by what -had happened, but when Weston told him this was the old man’s nightly -experience, the boy tried to dismiss the incident. - -On the way to their boarding house, Weston pointed out the office of -the Utah Mining and Development Company. It was a one-story building, -covered with tin pressed in imitation of stone, with a large enclosed -yard in the rear. As they passed the dark structure, it was almost like -meeting an old friend to read on the big, plate-glass window the words, -“R. C. Cook, Manager,” in brilliant gold letters. - -“Them fellers,” remarked Weston, in passing, “don’t make no great -splurge, but they’re the Rothchilds er the Stan’ard Oil Company er the -Pierpont Morgans o’ this land. An’ when ye speak o’ the firm yer goin’ -to work fur, ye don’t have to say nothin’ but ‘Company’--ever’body -knows.” - -Weston and Roy were just finishing a hot breakfast of tortillas and -chili-con-carne about eight o’clock the next morning--the boarding -house was an adobe structure with an interior court and conducted in -Mexican style--when there was a clutter of pony hoofs on the sandy -street without and an energetic, middle-aged man, much better dressed -than those Roy had seen the night before, came striding into the court -where the new arrivals were dining. - -“Well, Sink,” he exclaimed in a quick, pleasant voice, “thought you’d -surprise me, eh? Howdy?” - -He reached out his hand, and looked inquiringly at Roy. - -“Had to come on business,” answered Weston, with a chuckle. “Brung my -friend hyar. I kind o’ thought I’d stay awhile lessen ye’ve changed yur -mind.” - -“Job’s open. Glad to have you,” added the newcomer. “Heard you blew in -last night--from one o’ the boys.” - -“Shake hands with Mr. Osborne,” interrupted Weston, by way of -introducing Roy and the stranger. “Roy, this is Mr. Cook, o’ the -‘Company.’” - -The boy sprang forward and clasped Mr. Cook’s hand vigorously. - -“I see you don’t know who I am,” he exclaimed with a smile. “I reckon -they didn’t send you word. I’ve been sent out here by Mr. Atkinson, of -the American Aeroplane Company, to work for you.” - -Mr. Cook almost dropped his hat. Stuffing it under his arm, he clasped -Roy’s hand in both his and then patted him on the back. - -“Well, sir, my boy, those are about the welcomest words I’ve heard in a -long time. I’m sure glad to see you. And you’ve got your machine with -you?” - -Weston smiled and answered for Roy: - -“That’s what brung me, Colonel. Old Doolin’s got her down to the -corral.” - -“You don’t say so,” exclaimed Manager Cook. “The whole danged shebang?” - -“Everything,” said Roy, laughing. “And I’m glad to meet you. I’m ready -to get busy, too. I’ve been a long time gettin’ here.” - -“The whole business?” went on Mr. Cook, as if the news was too good to -be true. - -“If it isn’t,” said Roy, with another smile, “I’ll be pretty well -disappointed.” - -“Well, sir,” went on Mr. Cook, looking at Roy again and patting him on -the back, almost affectionately, “you’re about ten or fifteen years -younger than I thought you’d be.” Then he sobered, suddenly. “They told -you what the work was, did they?” - -“I understand, perfectly,” answered Roy. “I can do it.” - -“That’s the talk,” snapped Mr. Cook. “Come,” he added, glancing around -at the rather squalid courtyard. “Let’s go over to the office and talk -it over. Where’s your baggage?” he added, turning to Roy. - -“Down at the corral.” - -“Well, don’t send it here. You’ll bunk with me. Sink,” he went on, -“what d’you mean by steerin’ the boy up against this?” He pointed to -the Mexican food. - -“I enjoyed it,” exclaimed Roy, smiling. - -Mr. Cook sniffed. - -“You think you did, youngster. But you’ll find out later that it ain’t -fit for white men. Sink’s been here so long he ain’t really white any -more,” continued Mr. Cook, with a dig at Weston’s ribs; “but that’s no -reason why he should poison you. Keep them things out o’ your system -as long as you can. Let’s vamose!” - -There was only a short stop at the company’s office, and then all went -at once to the corral. But the stay in the company headquarters was -long enough to show Roy that he had become connected with no small -company. Roy presented his letter of introduction and another from Mr. -Atkinson, the president of the aeroplane company, in reference to Roy’s -expenses and compensation. - -“No trouble about that,” exclaimed Mr. Cook impulsively. “But we won’t -stop to thresh over figures this morning. When you get time,” he said -to Roy, “make out a statement of all your expenses, and I’ll include -the amount in our check to the company. The salary is all right. You -won’t find much use for money down here. But, whenever you need any, -let me know.” - -Roy assured him he had plenty of cash on hand. - -“You’re goin’ to stop with us awhile, aren’t you, Sink?” inquired Mr. -Cook as they left the office. - -“Might as well, I reckon. What’s up?” - -Mr. Cook paused, looked first at Weston and then at Roy. - -“Plenty adoin’,” he answered. “Glad to see both of you. I can use you -right away. You recollect Lang Rury? Well, he’s been up on Montezuma -Creek east of the Blue Mountains just this side of Abaja Peak ’bout two -months. He’s got some copper ’at’s runnin’ fair an’ he’s got a patch o’ -pine timber ’at’s worth more I reckon. But when Rury gets goin’ after -copper, you can’t depend much on his judgment ’bout timber. If the -timber’s all right, I want to buy it and run it down to the San Juan. -You go and find out.” - -Copper or cattle, timber or trailing were all alike to Weston. He was -to start the next day, using a company horse and pack mule. Doolin was -to return to Dolores with the two ponies and the wagon as soon as a -load of freight accumulated. This meant cattle hides. - -“Well,” said Roy, at last, as he and his companions came upon old Dan, -who reclined comfortably in the shade of the wagon drawing on his pipe, -“there it is. Shall we unload here?” - -“Not much,” answered Mr. Cook, as he eyed the laden wagon with -interest. “I’ve been gettin’ ready for you. Your headquarters are back -of the office--that’s the Aeroplane Express depot.” - -Doolin and Weston soon had the horses harnessed and before nine o’clock -the creaking wagon was in position in the corral back of the Company -office. In a shed at one side was stored grain and feed, for the -Company issued supplies of this sort direct from headquarters. Mr. Cook -had made a side excursion on the way back and secured Bluff’s only -metal-worker--the camp horseshoer. - -“Now,” said Roy, shaking hands with Chris. Hagerman, the mechanic, “I -guess Chris. and Dan and I can begin work.” - -“Trying to get rid of us,” laughed Mr. Cook. “Don’t you believe it. I’m -going to see that airship unpacked and put together, if the whole works -have to stop.” - -“What’d ye suppose I come fur?” added Weston. “Fur a dollar a mile? And -more,” he added for Mr. Cook’s apparent benefit, “I ain’t startin’ fur -no timber patch till she’s flew, neither.” - -“Good,” shouted Roy. “We’ll all get to work.” - -By noon the corral looked like a cross between a hardware store and a -sail loft. There was a high mesquite fence around the lot, but that by -no means shut out visitors. The news of Roy’s advent had spread over -town, and, since a man only visits Bluff to loaf, the quickly assembled -audience soon lined the fence. - -After examining the enclosure, Roy explained to Mr. Cook that it was by -no means large enough to make a start from or a landing in. The manager -at once put a squad of men at work removing the mesquite posts forming -the fence at the far end of the corral. At first, the boy thought it -would be well to erect a shed to shelter the aeroplane. Then he changed -his mind about this. In the summer it seldom rained, and it was not -improbable that the airship would be employed in the field quite as -much as it would be resting in the corral. - -The precious gasoline was stored in the feed shed. The precaution in -bringing such a quantity of this was a wise one. And yet, before Doolin -set out on his return trip to Dolores, Mr. Cook gave him an order to be -telegraphed to Denver for a duplicate supply which Doolin was to bring -out later in the summer, if needed. - -The unloading of the aeroplane was a joy to Roy. As each box and crate -was eased from the wagon by twice as many hands as were necessary, it -was checked off in the little red book. Nor was a single box opened -until every item was accounted for. Then the precise and careful young -manager went to the further extreme of arranging each lot in proper -numerical order. - -All the crates and boxes were fastened with screws. There was no -knocking and banging of nailed boards. The spruce section posts, struts -and connecting strips came first. As these aluminum-covered, exactly -finished parts came out of their protecting canvas covers, it was no -longer possible to restrain the curious plainsmen. With a tinkle of -sounding spurs, there was a concerted rush, and Roy had to appease the -crowd by holding up a couple of long, slender strips. - -“That’s it, gentlemen,” he said, laughing. “That’s part of the airship. -This afternoon we’ll join ’em. Now, let’s all go and eat.” - -“Would you believe it?” asked Mr. Cook, as the crowd good-naturedly -took its leave and Roy and his friends made ready for the noonday meal. -“But the boys are sort o’ hungry for something besides faro and whisky. -I’m glad it amuses ’em.” - -“That’s nothing,” remarked Roy. “If you’d open up that outfit in the -streets of New York or Chicago, the people’d tramp each other to death -to get a sight of it. Everybody’s crazy about airships. And I’ve got it -bad,” he concluded, laughing. - -Mr. Cook took the entire “aeroplane crew” to his own house, having -previously sent word to his cook. He was a bachelor, but he was not -“roughing it” in his home life. A Jap cook gave them a meal without a -single Mexican dish--native beef and excellent bread and a pie made -with “canned” peaches. - -Then came the real work on the aeroplane. By sundown the two sections -across which the planes extended, one behind the other, had been put -together, bolted, and wired. Beneath these, the long and delicate but -stout landing and starting skids had been attached. In a moment of rest -Roy explained to Mr. Cook a detail that Mr. Atkinson and his father -had taken the liberty to add to the ordinary aeroplane such as the -Development Company had bought. - -Model No. 1 was planned to start, practically, from the ground without -track or wheels. But this presupposed ideal conditions--a smooth -surface and the assistance of attendants. Realizing that the aeroplane -would often face far from ideal conditions in both starting and -landing and that it would be mainly where there would be no one to -assist in either starting or landing, Roy’s father had sent with the -airship a set of starting wheels. Four of these, small pneumatic-tired -rubber wheels, were arranged for automatic attachment to the ends -of each skid. They were light and, when not needed, could be easily -detached. - -“I’ll take ’em with me,” said Roy, “but I’ll not need ’em in starting -from this place. These boys,” and he looked toward the still patiently -waiting and curious spectators, “could pitch me over the San Juan.” - -To the rear of the sections, the big white semi-circular rudder had -also been attached--although the taut stretching of the silk cover -of this had been a tedious job--and the rudder control wires were in -place. When work concluded that evening, the aeroplane was far from -assembled. - -Mr. Cook laughed. - -“I thought the company advertised that this airship could be taken -apart in two hours,” he said. - -“It does,” answered Roy, “and it can. But you can’t put it together -in two hours. However, it wouldn’t take so long if we hadn’t taken -everything apart. Usually the long planes are left in wide sections. I -wanted to be sure, so I took everything apart.” - -“Good for you,” exclaimed Mr. Cook; “but I’m glad you’re here to get it -together again. How long will it take to finish the job to-morrow?” - -“All day. The silk plane covers fit like a woman’s dress, and they’ve -got to be ‘just so’. Then the planes must be leveled and braced like -a yacht’s rigging--only more so. And then comes the engine, the -shafts and truing ’em up and last the propellers, to say nothin’ of -the cooling coils, the fuel tank, the operator’s seat and the control -stirrup--” - -“Come on,” interrupted Mr. Cook, with a pretended groan. “Let’s go home -and rest.” - -After supper, Weston and Doolin disappeared on programs of their own, -but Roy had had a thing on his mind all day that prevented him from -settling down to rest at once. Mr. Cook’s one luxury on the plains -was a good cigar. He had hardly lit his after supper smoke before -Roy broached the matter about which he had been bothering. What had -happened to old Utah Banning the night before he could not help but -feel was partly due to him. - -He related the details of the episode to Mr. Cook. He had wanted to do -it all day, but Weston had almost persuaded him that it was no affair -of his and that the old “bum” had probably experienced the same thing -scores of times. But Mr. Cook was vastly more sympathetic. He entered -at once into a full discussion of the matter. - -“He probably wanted whisky for the full amount,” suggested Mr. Cook. -“Anyway, it was likely an unprovoked assault. If you like, we’ll go and -find out.” - -It was just what Roy did want, and with Mr. Cook drawing slowly on his -fragrant weed, he and the boy set out for Saloon Row. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -WHY MIKE HASSELL HIT THE TRAIL - - -“It was like this, Colonel Cook,” explained the bartender at Joe’s -place, as he leaned over the counter with no great assurance and faced -the Company manager. “This young gent kem in hyar all right. Decent -like he gives me a two-dollar bill to pay fur a meal fur ole Bannin’. -The kid ain’t no sooner gone ’an the ole man up an’ says he ain’t goin’ -to eat an’ reckons ’at he’ll fill his hide with liquor. I knowed that -was not the young man’s program, an’ I turned the bum down. I give him -three er four drinks an’ tole him to git. He raised sech a row ’at I -fin’ly guve him the whole two dollars and put ’im out. Bein’ purty -drunk, he fell.” - -“Where is he?” asked Mr. Cook, without comment. - -“Marshal Wooley drug him home.” - -Mr. Cook thought a moment, looking coldly at the bartender. - -“Mike,” he said at last, “I hope you didn’t kill him.” - -“Colonel,” answered the man, apparently far from being at ease, “I -never laid a hand on the ole man more’n to push him outten the place.” - -“Who was in here at the time?” said Mr. Cook, slowly, puffing a cloud -of smoke lazily from his cigar. - -“In here?” repeated the man, wiping the perspiration from his face. “I -don’t rickollec’.” - -“I wouldn’t, if I was you, Mike,” said Mr. Cook. “Now, you send out and -find Marshal Wooley. Tell him I want him. You don’t need to look at -this young man that way. He didn’t see anything. If the old man’s dead, -it ain’t much loss, I reckon,” added Mr. Cook, flipping his cigar ashes -upon the floor thoughtfully--“not much loss either to him nor to Bluff. -But, Mike,” he added in his low, decided voice, “if he _is_ dead, I’d -get a job in some other part o’ the country.” - -Mike’s face was almost white. - -“I--” he began in a faltering way, but Mr. Cook raised his hand as if -to stop him and nodded toward a man who had just appeared. - -“Wooley,” said Mr. Cook, “let’s go out to old Utah Banning’s place and -see how he’s gettin’ along.” - -Marshal Wooley was a man much after the style of Sink Weston. A few -minutes later the two men and Roy were in front of the broken-down -prospector’s hut. It was dark and still inside. The officer of the -law struck a match. Roy was at a sashless window, and the two men -crowded into the half open door. A close, sooty smell greeted the boy’s -nostrils. As the match flared up, he saw a dirty pallet in a far corner -of the room. It was empty. But, in the opposite corner, his head in the -cold ashes of a fireplace, was Banning. - -The old man was dead. Another match flared up. But there was little -need for examination. Mr. Cook sank on his knee beside the shriveled -corpse, and in the light of another match, tried to bring the extended -legs and arms together. Then he rose, closed the door and walked away -in silence. - -“Bumped hisself on the awnin’ post, I understan’,” suggested the -marshal as the three made their way back toward the center of the town. - -“So I’m told,” said Mr. Cook. “Used to be a Mormon, didn’t he?” - -The marshal grunted an assent. Then he added: - -“Ain’t none o’ his religion ’round hyar to give him no burial, though.” - -Mr. Cook had not lost his cigar. It glowed in the darkness and then Roy -heard the smoker say: - -“Wooley, accidents will happen. This is the third one that’s happened -to Mike. I think Mike’s goin’ away--to stay. But, before he goes, you -go down to Joe’s and tell Mike I heard he was goin’ to bury the old -man--to-night.” - -As Mr. Cook and Roy turned down the street toward Mr. Cook’s house, the -boy sighed. - -“Botherin’ about it, are you?” said his companion. “I used to, too. I -was foolish that way. But you’ll get over it. It’s what we call the -‘free life of the west.’” - -As they entered the house, Mr. Cook took a book from under his arm. -Standing by the hot lamp, he opened it and looked it over. - -“I took it from the old man’s fingers,” he explained. “It’s a Mormon -Bible,” he added a moment later. “Perhaps it will interest you some -time. Take it.” And pressing upon the boy the only thing of value that -old Utah Banning had owned, Mr. Cook dusted his hands and opened the -jar to take a fresh cigar. - -Roy didn’t know whether he wanted the book; it seemed gruesome. But -evidently Mr. Cook did not. The volume was small--it would slip -easily into a coat pocket--and when new must have been a sightly -book. Even now, battered and worn, the faded red-brown morocco cover -was gracefully stamped. In gold on the back were the words, “Book of -Mormon.” - -The inner cover and the fly leaf were green. On the next blank page, in -brown, indistinct ink, was written: “Heber P. Banning, Salt Lake City, -1856.” The title page began: “The Book of Mormon: An Account Written -by the Hand of Mormon, upon Plates taken from Plates of Nephi.... -Translated by Joseph Smith, Junior.” The book had been printed in -London in 1854. Five hundred or more pages of fine print appalled Roy. - -“I don’t know that I want it,” explained Roy, “but I guess I’ll take -it. My mother’ll be interested in it.” - -The work in the aeroplane corral the next day attracted an even larger -audience. But toward evening when it was understood that no flight -of the car was possible before the following day, the spectators -began to withdraw. An early caller was Mike, the bartender in “Joe’s” -restaurant. He had a few moments’ talk with Mr. Cook, and then -disappeared. - -“Mike’s tired of Bluff,” said Mr. Cook, sententiously. “He’s hittin’ -the trail.” - -By noon the rubberized-silk plane coverings were attached to the -32-foot wing-like surfaces--the fore plane, 3 feet 9 inches, and the -rear one, 3 feet 10 inches deep. Then came the bracing of the front -rims of these, which was accomplished with piano wires tightened over -arms extending from the upright section frames. The rear of each wing -surface, left free to move at the will of the operator, was then -attached to the flexing wires, which ended in the controlling stirrups -at the operator’s feet. - -While Roy, assisted by Weston--who persisted in giving help--finished -this work, blacksmith Hagerman carefully opened the engine crate. All -were in ecstasies over the engine. It had been mounted on the aeroplane -in the factory, and it was not a difficult job to readjust it. Chris., -the horseshoer, was enough of a mechanic to be of material assistance. -By ceaseless effort, the engine was in place, the arm holding the two -propellers was attached, the shaft braces and the arm braces were -bolted on and the propeller chain-gears rigged up by supper time. - -Mr. Cook was anxious to see the engine tested. So, in the twilight, -the cooling coils and gasoline tanks were quickly mounted and -everything was ready. - -“Will the engine go, now?” asked the anxious manager, as this work was -done. The splash lubrication, feed and oil gauges were in place and Roy -had just had the joy of putting the last touch on the magneto-ignition. - -“Will she go!” he repeated. - -Quickly adjusting his valves and gasoline supply, and testing the -ignition, the proud but nervous boy gave one turn of the fly-wheel -crank. With a buzz and a welcome “spit, spit” the four-cylinder motor -slipped into a smooth whirr that was music to those who understood. - -“Connect the fans,” suggested Mr. Cook, exuberantly, referring to the -big propeller wheels. - -“Not yet,” laughed Roy. “They’re all right. And now, sir,” he added, -shutting off the engine and grabbing a piece of waste, “we’re ready for -orders.” - -“The first one,” answered the manager is, “all hands to supper.” - -Although the operations of the Utah Development Company were on a large -scale, the clerical force in the general office was small. In addition -to Mr. Cook, two men were on duty there. Both these men had given more -attention to the work on the aeroplane than to their books during the -day. In fact, they had both been absorbed spectators of the test of the -engine. While Roy and Mr. Cook, leaving the set-up airship in charge of -the corral watchman for the night, made ready to go to supper, the two -clerks preceded them into the office by only a few minutes. - -As Mr. Cook entered the rear door of the room he was greeted with a -shout and scurrying feet. - -“The safe’s been robbed!” - -It was the elder bookkeeper, a middle-aged man with a bent leg, who -came stumbling toward his superior with an empty cash box in his hand. - -“Robbed?” exclaimed Mr. Cook. Then he caught up the empty box, one of -the safe compartments. - -“All that five thousand dollars,” gasped the bookkeeper, looking -excitedly about, as if he expected to find the missing money on the -floor. - -Mr. Cook sprang back to the corral. Weston, Doolin and a dozen other -men were yet grouped about the aeroplane. - -“Boys,” he exclaimed, in an authoritative tone, “somebody’s touched us -for our cash. Get busy ’round in front. Stop any one that looks as if -he might have five thousand dollars on him that don’t belong to him.” - -There was a flight of armed men to the street in front. Then Mr. Cook -and Roy returned to the office and the manager made a hasty examination. - -“Door locked?” he asked first. - -Apparently neither employe had thought of that. But the one front door -was bolted. Iron screens covered each window. - -“And he couldn’t a’ come in or out the back door, ’cause I stood right -in it,” explained the elder clerk. - -After a thorough search, Mr. Cook asked: - -“When did you see the money last?” - -With a good deal of thinking, both clerks acknowledged that they had -not looked in the safe since it was opened that morning. - -“Was the safe locked at noon?” Mr. Cook then asked. - -As if greatly relieved, both clerks spoke at once. The safe had not -been locked at noon, but they had not left the office together. The -younger man had waited while the elder went home to dinner. - -“Was the front door locked this morning--before dinner?” went on Mr. -Cook. - -On that point, the two men were not clear. A few persons had been in on -business and the door had been open at times. - -“Who was here?” asked the manager, abruptly. - -The elder clerk named a half dozen persons. Mr. Cook seemed to mentally -check off each name. - -“No one else?” - -Both men hesitated. - -“One er two ’at come in from the corral--mostly fur a drink o’ water,” -answered the chief clerk. But, as to the identity of these, neither -clerk was clear. Mr. Cook seemed thinking deeply. He idly handed the -cash drawer to the distracted elder clerk and motioned him to close the -safe. Then, without any of the agitation that was disconcerting his -employes, and even Roy, he said calmly to the younger clerk: - -“Go and find Marshal Wooley. You can tell him what’s happened, if he -wants to know, but tell him not to get excited over it. I want him to -find out when Mike Hassell left town, and how he was mounted.” - -Both clerks shouted together: - -“Hassell? He was in here.” - -“Sure,” remarked Mr. Cook. “I know that--about nine o’clock. An’ he -came in the back way. As he didn’t come out again, he must have left by -the front door. He’s got about nine hours the start of us.” - -While Mr. Cook, Roy and Weston were at supper, Marshal Wooley appeared -in a state of some concern. - -“Yer right, Colonel, I reckon,” he said looking at Mr. Cook in a -knowing way. “He lit out to-day up the river--’bout a quarter after -nine. Took his own pony--’tain’t much. I got a couple o’ boys on the -trail a’ready. They’d ought to overhaul him afore to-morrey night. He’s -headin’ fur Dolores.” - -Mr. Cook smiled. - -“All right, Wooley. Have a cigar. Much obliged.” - -“I reckon he got it,” went on the marshal sagely. “But he’s got a -nerve. He took an awful chanct.” - -Sink Weston ventured an opinion. - -“He’s sure got sense enough to know he can’t go to Dolores with no -bundle like that on him. I reckon he’ll hit the first hard ground -he comes to fur the mountains. Mr. Cook,” he added, “I’d ruther go -lookin’ fur Mike than measurin’ timber.” - -He pushed back his chair as if he would like to begin the quest at once. - -“Them two ponies I got air ’bout as likely to ketch up with him as any -hoss flesh ’round hyar.” - -Mr. Cook smiled again. - -“Wooley’s on the trail,” he answered. “That’s enough. How about a game -of pinochle, gentlemen?” - -That was the apparent interest Mr. Cook had in his five-thousand-dollar -loss. But, two hours later, when Weston and Marshal Wooley had retired -from the card game and Mr. Cook and Roy had repaired to the front -gallery or porch where the manager lit a fresh cigar, he said: - -“I’m thinkin’ o’ putting your airship to a test. Will it carry two?” - -“Certainly,” exclaimed Roy, with enthusiasm. “What is it?” - -“Well,” said Mr. Cook, leaning back in a big rustic chair, “I don’t -like to get excited over five thousand dollars. But I don’t enjoy -having a man of Mike Hassell’s kind put the joke on me. And there don’t -seem much doubt but what he’s done it--so far.” - -“Don’t you think the marshal’ll get him?” asked Roy. - -Mr. Cook laughed. - -“Hassell ain’t a westerner. I know him. He’s what you call a ‘bank -sneak.’ He’s an eastern criminal. I’ve had him spotted ever since he -came here. Wooley’s chase would be all right for a stage robber who -rides a pony to death and then steals another. But Hassell ain’t agoin’ -to do that. Couldn’t do it if he wanted to. He’d give out before the -horse would. He’ll hide just like a city thief.” - -“Hide?” repeated Roy. “Out in the desert?” - -“A likely place would be the rocky banks of the San Juan as soon as -he got out of sight of the town. I make a guess,” went on the cool, -philosophic Mr. Cook. “If I was Mike, I’d go as far as Montezuma Creek. -Where the Montezuma enters the San Juan, we’ve got a raft of mountain -pine. Wouldn’t be no trick to kill your horse and hide it under -the raft till night. And when it’s dark, the way I’d go _on_ would -be _back_. With about three of them logs for a boat, I’d light out -down the San Juan--if I wanted to save my skin and the five thousand -dollars.” - -“That’d bring him right by here to-night, wouldn’t it?” asked Roy, -excitedly. - -“Might,” responded his companion. “Anyway, if he figured out to do -this, he won’t go further than he has to. He’ll land before he gets too -far. He knows the Colorado’s below him. And then, like enough, he’ll -take a chance among the Navajos.” - -“Why didn’t you tell Marshal Wooley that?” asked Roy. - -“Because,” laughed Mr. Cook, “he hasn’t any imagination. I saved the -idea to test the aeroplane.” - -Roy straightened up. - -“At daylight,” said Mr. Cook, taking a long draw on his cigar, “you and -I are going to get up steam and make a little flight over the desert -south of the San Juan down toward the Calabasa Mountains. If we don’t -scent our game, there won’t be any one to give us the laugh. Can we do -it?” - -The boy chuckled. - -“At the rate of fifty miles an hour,” he answered. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE END OF THE TRAIL - - -It was not necessary for any one to arouse Roy Osborne the next -morning. Just as the distant peaks of the Blue Mountains were growing -pink, the boy sprang out of bed. It was yet dark without and the stars -were shining. Roy was surprised to find Mr. Cook already arisen and -the Jap busy in the kitchen. As day began to break, they had coffee -and bacon. Then Mr. Cook wrote a note which he left in charge of the -house boy and with a small parcel of food, he and Roy proceeded to the -Company office and the corral. - -“You mustn’t do that while we are in the air,” said Roy laughing, as -Mr. Cook lit his usual after breakfast cigar. - -The manager looked at him in some surprise. - -“Can’t smoke?” he replied. - -“Better not,” answered Roy. “Rather risky. We’re right beside the -gasoline, you know. There are certain chances we _have_ to take, and -this isn’t one of them.” - -Mr. Cook grunted. - -“All right,” he exclaimed with a pretended growl, “but it kind o’ takes -away the pleasure o’ the excursion.” - -Roy had to smile. “Pleasure of the excursion,” he thought. “Racing over -the desert after a cold-blooded murderer and thief who’ll probably -shoot us full of holes at the first chance.” - -“Rule number one,” he went on, his smile broadening. “And number two -is: ‘It takes only one person to operate an aeroplane.’ I’ll be that -person. Never interfere. It’s worse than a woman grabbin’ the reins -when you’re drivin’.” - -“Anything else?” asked Mr. Cook, with assumed soberness. - -“Yes,” added Roy. “The car balances itself. It may turn over, but it’ll -come up again. If anything happens, hold fast and wait. _Don’t jump._” - -“You know what I told your boss?” asked Mr. Cook suddenly. “I told him -I’d done about everything that was risky, but that I wouldn’t go up in -one o’ them things. I hadn’t seen one o’ them then. I’m agoin’ now even -if I have to cut out smokin’. I’ve got the fever.” - -It was now early dawn. The corral watchman was the only person to -greet the early visitors and he gave what assistance was needed. Roy -determined to use the starting wheels and within a few minutes he had -attached them; the passenger seat which had not been put in place was -also attached. The watchman was sent to fill the water bottle--the one -Roy had purchased with such satisfaction--and it and the packet of food -were made fast in the little baggage hammock. - -Then Roy debated as to whether he had better make a short trial trip. -He left the matter to Mr. Cook. - -“I’m game from the start,” answered the westerner. “It looks good to -me.” - -Roy pointed to the passenger seat. - -“One minute!” exclaimed Mr. Cook. - -He hurried to the rear door of the office building, unlocked it and in -a few moments reappeared buckling on a six-shooter. - -“I don’t usually wear such things,” he exclaimed, with a smile. “But -I see you have one and I thought I’d be in style. And say,” he added, -“talkin’ about rules, I’ve got a suggestion. If by any chance we should -happen to strike Mike’s trail, an’ you have any choice about it, you -can fly just as high as you like till I tell you to come down.” - -Roy understood. Mr. Cook climbed into the fragile framework and -gingerly took his seat. Having made a last close examination of the -car, Roy did the same. He dropped his hat string into place, turned -his loose cuffs back to be sure they were out of the way, adjusted his -feet, tested the flexing wires, rudder guides and lever, and then said: - -“Hold on and sit steady.” - -A moment later the engine exploded into action. The boy with a quick -motion threw the chain gear into play, and as the two propellers began -to turn, he sprang back and grasped the forward rudder lever. - -The car trembled, seemed to heave like a boat rising on the water -and then, for a second, settled back into place. The next instant it -lunged forward on its wheels, hesitated, sprang forward again and then, -touching the corral yard in a series of little jumps started toward the -wide space in the mesquite fence. Roy knew the proper moment. Just as -the trembling framework seemed settling into its stride, there was a -quick movement of the rudder lever. - -The swiftly moving car responded like an arrow. With a parting bound, -it left the ground and, its big propellers tearing through the air, the -aeroplane shot upward. Mr. Cook sat like a professional. Roy’s eyes saw -nothing but the engine, the chain gear and the flying propellers. Two -hundred feet above the ground, he brought down the rudder, felt the -car settle on a level course, and knew from the rushing air that the -machine was flying under control and safely. - -The start had been parallel with the river and east toward Colorado. -Without speaking, the young aviator followed this course a few moments -and then, with a long turn, headed for the river. As the deep canyon of -this shadowed itself beneath him, he relaxed. - -“She’s all right, Mr. Cook. How do you feel?” - -“Wouldn’t have missed it for all Mike took. Say,” he added with almost -boyish enthusiasm, “why couldn’t I do this? Looks easy.” - -“Every one’ll do it in a few years,” answered Roy. “I guess I won’t -have my job very long.” - -“You can have it as long as you like,” came the answer--punctuated with -little gasps, for Roy was now making a sharper turn down the river, -“maybe you’ll have more time to work it than I will.” - -“What’s the program?” exclaimed Roy, interrupting him, for the -aeroplane was now on a course down the river on the south bank, the -town was already behind them, and the sun was fully above the horizon. - -“Ain’t but one thing to do,” answered the passenger. “If you can, -get right down over the river canyon. It’s gettin’ light now. Follow -the river. You watch the machine, an’ I’ll look out below. If I see -anything, I’ll whistle.” - -Roy dropped the machine lower and laid a course immediately over the -dark strip marking the depths of the San Juan. It was almost impossible -to see the rushing water at the bottom of the rocky chasm, but the -boy could hear it, and, as he steadied the swiftly flying machine, he -recalled how Sink Weston had swept down this same stream years before. - -Glancing at the country on each side of the river now and then, the -boy saw, when the town of Bluff had disappeared from sight, nothing -but sand and rock, distant pink-tipped mountain ranges and a turquoise -sky, cloudless and dry. As Weston had described to him, very often the -plains or deserts, which seemed to rise upward like the rim of a bowl -toward the horizon, were cut with plateaus crowned with crumbled rock. -But there were no trees, no animal life and only patches of grass here -and there near the canyon brink. - -As it grew lighter, the gray stream within the precipitous river -walls began to turn into a yellow swirl of grease, foam-crested and -spray-crowned, where the rushing current impinged on abutting rocks. -They were sailing almost due west. To the north as the rose faded from -the low-lying mountain spurs, the intervening stretches turned into the -blare of the alkali desert of Utah. South of the river, the more rugged -heights of the Arizona Mountains told of the unexplored wilderness of -the Navajo Indian land. - -“I’d hate,” thought Roy to himself, “to take a chance on either side -for five thousand dollars.” - -On the cross arm supporting the propellers was fastened the anemometer -or speed recording device. As it was a breezeless morning, Roy knew -the instrument was recording truly. They were traveling at the rate -of thirty-two miles an hour. A little calculation showed that the -aeroplane was then about eighteen and one-half miles from Bluff. - -Roy had had time to do some thinking. For the first time, it began to -strike him as strange that Mr. Cook should form the theory, on which -they were working, out of such improbable conjectures. - -“It’s like one of these detective stories,” he at last suggested. - -“No,” answered Mr. Cook, “just the reverse. Your all-wise detective -would tell you just where to go and find your man. We’re just taking -one chance in a hundred. The chances are much against us. If he -hasn’t come this way, Wooley’s men’ll get him. We’ve gained just -that much--but we are on the right track,” exclaimed the manager -suddenly--“turn south!” - -Roy’s heart thumped. He tried to follow instructions and discover what -Mr. Cook had seen at the same time. The result was that, on the sharp -turn, the aeroplane almost “turned turtle.” As it righted and darted -away over the desert toward the Navajo Mountains, Mr. Cook spoke: - -“Close shave that. First time I felt chilly.” - -“What’d you see?” asked Roy embarrassed, but not the less curious. - -“Three Company pine logs on a point o’ rocks,” answered Mr. Cook. - -“How’d you know Hassell used them? Maybe they just floated down the -river.” - -“We ain’t as careless as that with our timber,” explained the -westerner, twisting in his seat. “They wouldn’t be here if some one had -cut ’em loose. They’re ours because the ends are red. And Mike has been -on ’em because they’re roped together.” - -“Then Hassell is up here somewhere?” suggested Roy excitedly. - -“On this side,” said Mr. Cook, as if his mind were on something else. - -Roy was now beginning to get busy on Mr. Cook’s theory. - -“How fast is that stream running?” he asked--he knew that his companion -was searching the plains. - -“’Bout seven miles an hour.” - -“How far is this point from Montezuma Creek?” - -“Nearly forty miles.” - -“When do you reckon he’d leave the creek on his raft?” - -“He’d hide in the rocks till night--long as he didn’t see any one -coming after him--and start ’bout dark, say eight o’clock.” - -“Then he’d be here in less than six hours. Might have landed down there -early as two o’clock this morning. That’s nearly six hours ago. He may -be fifteen miles back in the hills now.” - -“Likely,” agreed Mr. Cook, slowly, “if he got out right away. But it’s -more likely that he waited for daybreak to climb the canyon walls. It -was dark down there an hour and a half ago.” - -“Perhaps he’s down there yet,” suggested Roy. “Maybe he’s drowned.” - -“Didn’t you see his tracks?” asked Mr. Cook, in surprise. - -Roy flushed with embarrassment. He had neither seen them nor thought -of looking for them, although the aeroplane had turned and passed low -along the abrupt river just above the stranded raft. - -“You’re going all right,” added Roy’s passenger, “but head up a little -and keep your eye on the machine. I’ll tell you when to change your -course.” - -For several minutes neither spoke. Despite Mr. Cook’s admonition, Roy -took occasional looks at the land over which they were flying. For -about three miles back from the river, the sandy plain extended almost -free of rocks. Then a ridge of sand buttes began, interspersed with -fragments dislodged from a secondary and higher ridge or plateau of -rock. These in turn broke into canyons or higher elevations, all at -last losing themselves in the mountains about twenty miles from the -river. When they had reached the first ridge and were well over it, Mr. -Cook exclaimed: - -“East. Nothing here.” - -The aeroplane whirled and sped away over the rocky table land. Three -or four miles of this were covered. Then Mr. Cook ordered Roy to head -north again as far as the edge of the ridge and follow this back to -the west. Mr. Cook explained what he was doing. When the aeroplane -was elevated he at once lost the trail. But, seeing that the supposed -fugitive was heading for the plateau, he had hurried forward hoping to -get sight of the flying Hassell. - -There was no sign of the man where he would naturally have entered -the rocks. Nor was there indication of him to the east within the -distance he could probably cover, on foot. Mr. Cook was now about to -make a similar search to the west. Three or four miles the whirring -airship cleaved the breezeless, tonic air to the west. It was after -eight o’clock and the strain was beginning to tell on Roy. The car was -working perfectly, but an aviator’s nerves never relax. Four or five -hours in an aeroplane frequently leave the controller utterly exhausted. - -At this point, the fringe of plateaus or buttes ended abruptly in a -wide, basin-like valley of sand and alkali. As the aeroplane shot out -over this, there was a sharp whistle from Mr. Cook and the instant -command: “South again!” Roy altered the swing of his ship, and then -made the discovery that had startled his companion. South of the -plateaus the strip of desert opened out like a fan, with the wide -portion leading to the distant mountain cliffs. - -Perhaps a mile ahead, only a black spot on the half white sands of the -vacant desert, a moving object could be seen. - -“Right over him,” said Mr. Cook quickly. - -Roy’s brain was whirling with excitement. Within two minutes, the black -object had become a man hastening across the sands toward the high -ground. He had heard the engines and propellers and had come to a -halt. Although the aeroplane was, perhaps, six hundred feet in the air, -it was plain that Mr. Cook’s theory was right. It was Mike Hassell who -stood, motionless and as calm, apparently, as if behind Joe’s bar. - -“Come down,” was Mr. Cook’s sharp order. - -The boy’s heart throbbed. What was about to happen? Neither man had -spoken. Would the thief surrender? Or, would it be a tragedy? As the -aeroplane touched the sand with a jolt and bumped ahead on its light -wheels, Roy felt Mr. Cook drop from the car. When the trembling car at -last came to a stop, 300 yards beyond Hassell, the young operator also -sprang to the ground. As he turned and caught sight of the two men, -he felt cold all over. Something in their attitude told him that the -voiceless men facing each other would not speak in words. - -Hassell made no attempt to retreat. The white heavy desert stretched -about him like a floor. A black hat was pulled low over his eyes. His -arms hung limply at his sides. There was not even a revolver in sight. -Approaching the murderer-thief was Roy’s employer. His hat was pushed -back from his forehead, and, as he strode forward with a slow pace, -his arms also hung loosely by his sides. - -Roy nervously thought of his new untried revolver and laid his hand -upon it. These men were both armed. The boy could see the holster of -each hanging at his side. The men were now about a hundred yards from -each other. Roy could no longer restrain himself. As Mr. Cook advanced -toward the motionless Hassell the boy also began to move forward. -Finally, Mr. Cook stopped suddenly. Roy continued to advance until -he heard the imperative words: “Go back!” They were from Mr. Cook. -But, while he spoke, the man neither moved nor took his eyes from the -equally statue-like Hassell. He had heard the boy following. - -As Roy came to a halt, the cold perspiration broke out on him. Directly -in front of Mr. Cook, a thick rattlesnake was crawling slowly across -his path. “Why don’t he shoot it?” was Roy’s only thought. But the -Company manager seemed not to notice the reptile. As the boy stepped -back, he could see Mr. Cook standing with his eyes, not on the snake, -but on Mike Hassell. - -Then, as the venomous thing slid away in the sand, the man who had -come to find Hassell began to advance once more. - -Fifty yards, then thirty. Then, as one, two pistol shots sounded in the -hollow of the desert. Roy, trembling and aghast, clenched his hands. -What had happened? Who had shot? The boy had seen neither man draw a -revolver; not a word had been said. But, in the two balls of white -smoke, Roy saw Mike Hassell crumble to his knees; saw his revolver sink -to the sand, and the black hatted fugitive was flat on his face. - -Just before him, Roy also saw Mr. Cook slowly returning his revolver to -its holster. His aim had been true. Hassell had missed. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -ROY MAKES MR. COOK A PRESENT - - -The fugitive was dead before Mr. Cook and Roy reached his body. - -“It was me or him or both,” exclaimed the Company manager. “And after -this, my boy, when you see two men out in this country eyeing each -other as Mike and I were, you get to one side--not behind one of ’em. -Killin’ Mike don’t prove he was a thief, but I’m goin’ to do that now.” - -The briefest examination enabled Mr. Cook to make his word good. Of -the stolen money, four thousand dollars was in one-hundred-dollar -bills, each thousand dollars in a separate wrapper. The other thousand -had been in one package about two inches thick; two hundred dollars -in ones; two hundred dollars in twos; and the remainder in five-and -ten-dollar bills. Hassell had divided the small bills into two parcels -which he had stuffed into his hip pockets. The thin, green packet of -new and unused bills, was in his inside waistcoat pocket. - -Having taken this money and put it into his own pockets, Mr. Cook arose. - -“If you don’t mind,” suggested Roy, “I’d like to look for something.” - -Mr. Cook raised his eyebrows. - -“We’re pretty straight about one thing out here,” he replied. “We’ll -kill a man all right, an’ sometimes for mighty little provocation, but -after he’s dead, what’s his is his. Of course, that isn’t what you -mean, but you ought to know that we’re touchy on the point o’ molestin’ -the dead. Wooley an’ the coroner’ll do what’s necessary now. It’s up to -them to say whether I was justified.” - -“I couldn’t tell who shot first,” exclaimed Roy innocently. - -“You couldn’t?” answered Mr. Cook, with a smile. - -“I didn’t hear but one shot.” - -“There were two, all right,” added Mr. Cook, with another grim smile. -Without further explanation, he held out his left arm. As his loose -coat was extended, the boy saw two small, ragged holes where Hassell’s -bullet had gone in and out of the folds of the garment just along the -left side of the wearer’s body. - -“What’ll the coroner decide?” continued Roy, whose tense, straining -muscles were just relaxing into nervousness. “I can’t say Hassell fired -first. And I wouldn’t think you’d know--hardly.” - -Mr. Cook laughed. - -“My boy,” he said, “there’s some laws that never get into the printed -statutes. You know how it is if a man and his wife are lost at sea in -the same wreck? The printed law presumes that the woman died first -because she’s weaker than the man. In the desert, we have a lot of our -own laws. If two men come together with shooting irons and both fire -and one dies, the live one is given the benefit of the doubt.” - -Roy couldn’t see the logic of this, but he hastened to explain that he -had no desire to despoil the dead bartender’s body. “I have an idea,” -he said. - -A short search confirmed his theory. In Hassell’s vest pocket, Roy -found a carefully folded two-dollar bill. - -“I can’t be mistaken,” he said, rising to his feet, “for all my bills -were alike. This is the money I gave Mike to pay for Banning’s supper. -He even robbed Joe, his boss.” - -“And when Old Utah set up a howl for the bill,” added Mr. Cook, “Mike -shut him up by murderin’ him. Don’t you bother about which of us shot -first. If Mike didn’t he’d ought to.” - -Soon after nine o’clock, the aeroplane was in the Company corral again. -The flight back to Bluff was made at top speed, and, strange to say, -the landing attracted no attention. In the Company office, both clerks -were already at work or going through the motions of it. As a matter of -fact, they were both too much excited over the theft of the previous -day to do more than discuss it. - -Mr. Cook and Roy entered the office together. Offering the tired boy an -easy chair, Mr. Cook stepped to a tank in a corner of the room, drew a -glass of water which he considerately carried to the hot and nervous -lad and then helped himself to one. That done, he extracted from his -pocket his long-delayed morning cigar and lit it with great gusto. - -“Mr. Blocki,” he said at last, addressing the clerk with the bent leg, -“some time to-day make me a sketch map showing where all our men were -the last time we heard from them.” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“And, by the way,” continued Mr. Cook, “put this back into the safe.” - -With the words, he slowly drew from his coat pocket the two bundles of -stolen money. The two clerks sprang forward with bulging eyes, their -mouths open. - -“Vic,” he added, indicating the younger clerk, “you go and find Marshal -Wooley. Tell him Mike Hassell is over in Rattle Snake Desert, just -below the buttes, waitin’ for the coroner. Better bring Hassell back -here, tell him. And tell the marshal he don’t need a warrant. I’ll be -at the inquest.” - -Then he turned to Roy and after a few moments’ conference, made a -little calculation. On a bit of paper, he set down: “Outfit $110; -railroad, sleeper fare and meals, $98; aeroplane, $5,000.” - -“I’ll attend to Weston’s bill,” he said. “As for your own services, -your pay begins from the time you reached Dolores. You can draw on us -whenever you like at the rate of four hundred dollars a month.” - -Then he tossed the memorandum on the table and beckoned to Blocki, the -elder clerk and bookkeeper. - -“Blocki,” he continued, “make out a check for $5,208, payable to the -American Aeroplane Company.” - -Then he turned to Roy. - -“It isn’t often that you can get a full return on an investment before -you pay in your money. That’s one of the most profitable business deals -I ever made.” - -Elated and having somewhat quieted his tingling nerves, Roy sprang up -ready for new action. - -“We’ve tried her out,” he said, with satisfaction. “Now, what’s the -program?” - -“I would suggest,” answered Mr. Cook, arising and taking off his coat -as though about to attack his usual day’s routine of work, whatever it -was, “that you are entitled to a little play. I can see you have been -under a strain--probably ever since you left Newark--” - -“Before,” interrupted Roy, with a laugh, thinking of his concern over -the packing of the aeroplane and his constant apprehension over its -safe transportation. - -“Then take a day or two off. I may need you to-morrow or the next day. -Get out and amuse yourself to-day. See you at dinner.” - -The boy was certainly glad enough to follow instructions. The -responsibility of the aeroplane off his shoulders, for a time, he -passed out into the glare of the July sun ready to enjoy his holiday -to the full. First, he went home, had a bath, changed his clothes and -amused himself in Mr. Cook’s library for a few moments. Then, throwing -his brother Phil’s camera over his shoulder, he went out sight-seeing. - -With a pretty fair knowledge of the desert and surrounding country, -he first made an examination of the town. That meant the stores--he -had had enough of the saloons. Not one of these escaped him. In the -main, they were similar--practically trading-posts, with horse feed -and provisions for prospectors, miners, oil and cattle men--but one -shop made a half-hearted attempt at notions, books, and drugs in front, -while in the rear was a stock of showy toys, beads and machine-made -blankets and moccasins for lazy Indians who might have money. - -To Roy’s delight--but to his surprise--he found here an assortment of -local picture postcards. He immediately purchased three sets which he -later forwarded to his mother and brothers. On those which were labeled -“Calabasa Mountains from the San Juan river,” he drew arrows pointing -to a gap in the range. Beneath this, he wrote: “Where we captured Mike -Hassell, the thief, bandit and murderer. See letter to follow.” These -he sent to his brothers. His mother’s card he left blank. - -Then, discovering that the postmaster was also a photographer, he took -a boyish fancy to have his picture made. Carefully putting aside his -camera as a part of civilization, he adjusted his revolver so that it -was well to the fore, and tilting his hat brim, assumed a careless -pose. In a few minutes, he had six tintypes, representing him in his -prized outfit. A quarter of an hour later, he was on the banks of the -San Juan. - -There he took a half dozen snap shots and then sat down on the -cliff-like banks to enjoy another look at his gorgeous tintypes. -Finally he began to smile. As last, he said to himself: - -“I never expected I’d get it that bad. Why, it’s worse than the -factory boy who has his picture taken down at Coney Island sitting in -a pasteboard automobile.” Then he laughed outright. One after another, -he sent five of the pictures shooting down into the swift river below. -The sixth, as evidence of his boyish exuberance, he buried in his hip -pocket. “I’m over that now, anyway,” he said with another laugh. - -At dinner, Mr. Cook told him that two more men had been sent up the -river to stop the search for the missing thief. There had also been a -conference in Mr. Cook’s office and Marshal Wooley and an aide with -an extra horse had set out to recover and bring in Hassell’s body. By -night, Roy had exhausted the sights of Bluff, and photographed most of -them, including Utah Banning’s hut. - -The town had few visitors, and almost no sightseers. For that reason, -the trading stores were not stocked with curios. A few things that Roy -bought were of real Indian manufacture or were articles made for the -use of the men of the wilderness. Navajo silver rings, bracelets and -chains were so cheap that the boy could not resist purchasing some -of them. One ring struck him particularly. Instead of the prevailing -silver, it was of copper, a beautiful oxydized brown. For a setting, -it had a square of deep, almost translucent turquoise of the pure, sky -blue. He bought it for himself at a cost of three dollars. - -When Mr. Cook came home late in the afternoon, Roy was taking his -ease on the gallery, refreshed with another washup, and twirling the -exquisitely colored ring in his fingers. The moment Mr. Cook saw it, -his eyes lit up with enthusiasm. - -“Where’d you get that?” he asked impulsively. - -“At that old fellow’s down by the postoffice. Three dollars,” he added, -with some pride. - -His host examined and fondled the ring with the gentle touch of a -connoisseur. Then he sighed: - -“That’s the way it goes,” he said at last almost scowling. “I’ve been -snooping around desert towns and Indian camps nearly six years, keepin’ -my eye open for one of these, and I never saw one till this minute. -Where I’ve been rakin’ with a fine-tooth comb,” he added, changing his -smile to a scowl, “you stumble over the thing I can’t find.” - -“Why,” exclaimed Roy, jumping up and taking another look at the ring, -“what is it? I just--” - -“That,” broke in Mr. Cook, “is the rarest speciment of Navajo -metal work that you can find. And that stone--you won’t see its -like in Tiffany’s. No matrix there--the true turquoise. As for the -copper--well, look at it!” - -He held it off and feasted his eyes on it as if it had been of gold and -diamonds. - -“I’ve heard of two others,” the absorbed enthusiast went on. “There -isn’t any way to gauge its value. Colonel Oje, of Dolores, has one. -You couldn’t buy it. He got it out of a religious Khiva down on the -Tunit-Cha Mountains. He says it’s older than the Aztecs.” - -Roy looked at the ring with new interest. Then he reached out and -taking hold of it, slipped it upon Mr. Cook’s third finger. It fitted -perfectly. - -“I’m glad you like it,” he said as he settled back into his chair and -dropped his head upon his arms on the chair back. “I hoped you would. I -bought it for you.” - -Mr. Cook looked at him with sudden intenseness. Then his face relaxed -into a good natured laugh. - -“You are a li--a prevaricator,” he said. - -“Only a little,” laughed Roy in reply. “I really bought it for myself. -But it’s yours now.” - -Mr. Cook sat down, twisted the jewel on his finger a moment, and then -said: - -“Do you really want me to take it?” - -“It’ll give me more pleasure than to own it myself.” - -“Are you sure you don’t want it?” - -“Of course, I want it. I wouldn’t give it to you if I didn’t. It’s my -greatest joy to give people things I want myself. That’s how I show -them how much I care for them. I may never have a better chance to show -you how glad I am that I came to know you.” - -Mr. Cook was silent for a moment. Then, with a little huskiness in his -voice, he said: - -“That’s more to me than the ring, and that’s saying a good deal. I’m -goin’ to take it. I won’t thank you. I’ll just say, for what you’ve -said, I’m glad. I hope I deserve it.” - -At noon the next day, in the corral back of the Company office, -six sworn citizens of Bluff met and held formal inquest on the -blanket-covered body of Mike Hassell. Perhaps a hundred men were -present--all standing. Joe Ullmacher identified the body, and added, -without being questioned and at some length, that the deceased had -stolen six twenty-dollar gold pieces from his bar till. - -“Hyar they air,” exclaimed Marshal Wooley tersely at the end of the -witness’ harangue. “I got ’em outten his belt.” - -Roy was then called as a witness. The formality of swearing him was -not observed. At Mr. Cook’s suggestion, the boy told truthfully and -in detail what had taken place. At the end of his testimony the jury -stepped aside and almost immediately reached a verdict. The postmaster, -Al Christian, was foreman. Mr. Christian removed his hat, cleared his -throat and faced the crowd. Moved by his example, many of those present -also solemnly removed their hats. - -“We, the jury settin’ on the case o’ Mike Hassell, now layin’ dead -afore us, hevin’ heard the evidence an’ duly considered it, hev reached -the followin’ verdic’, to wit: That the deceased kem to his death at -the hands o’ our respected citizen Colonel R. C. Cook, which same was -justifiable suicide--” - -“Homicide,” whispered two or three jurors at once. - -“Homicide,” corrected Foreman Christian, “an’ that the said Colonel -Cook didn’t shoot none too quick.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE AEROPLANE AS AN AMBULANCE - - -On the sixteenth of July, the Aeroplane Express was inaugurated. Mr. -Blocki spent over a day on his sketch map of the country in which the -Utah Mining and Development Company was interested. This extended from -Bluff, on the east, to the Sevier Mountains, on the west, and from the -south boundary of the state as far north as the junction of the Grand -and Green Rivers. - -The Company had six gangs of oil and coal prospectors in the field. -One of these was opening new territory in the Elk Ridge District. -Another had moved east beyond Abaja Peak on Montezuma Creek. To this -party, Sink Weston had been assigned. The other four parties had spread -out west and north. On Mr. Blocki’s map, their probable location was -indicated by pencil crosses with the date when last heard from. - -No. 1, Hi. Clark in charge, had crossed the Colorado and was on the -banks of Pine Alcove Creek, June second, ready to ascend to the Henry -Mountains. - -No. 2, Alex. Woodruff in command, was following up the Fremont River -toward Castle Ridge, May fifteenth. - -No. 3, Fulmer Lowell in charge, was somewhere east of the Cliff -Dwellers, on Dark Canyon. He had sent in a courier, June twenty-second. - -No. 4, Burnham Stenhouse, a young graduate of the Colorado School -of Mines, in charge, had not been heard from since it parted from -Woodruff, May twelfth, at the mouth of the Fremont, Dandy Crossing of -the Colorado. - -“There is no reason to be apprehensive,” explained Mr. Cook. “But -Stenhouse should have sent some word before this.” - -“Why do you want to keep advised of their movements?” asked Roy. - -“It’s business. We’re following the petroleum and coal veins. When -they show up in one place, that’s where we’d like to work everybody. -Probably not one of these gangs is over one hundred and twenty-five -miles from our office, but they might as well be a thousand.” - -“I’ll find ’em,” exclaimed Roy. “Here’s the map. I’ll get ’em all. I’m -ready.” - -Young Stenhouse’s party was selected as the first to be located. But, -as a precaution, while Roy made his preparations, the next morning, Mr. -Cook wrote letters to all his “oil scouts.” Roy equipped the aeroplane -with the entire outfit he had brought from Chicago. - -Food was secured from Mr. Cook’s house, and the trading stores. The -list was prepared by Sink Weston. - -“What I’m apackin’ fur ye,” he explained, “won’t spile. An’ so be it -anything puts yur aeroplane express out o’ commission, hyar’s enough -fur any keerful man fur five days.” - -The list included: 1½ pounds of crackers; ¾ pound of rice; 1¼ pounds -salt pork; 1¼ pounds bacon; 2½ pounds ham; 1 pint syrup; 1½ pounds -sugar; ¼ pound tea; 1 can condensed cream; ¼ sack salt; 1 jar cheese; 1 -bar soap; 2 candles; 2 boxes sardines. - -“An’ lastly an’ firstly,” exclaimed Weston, “two boxes o’ matches kept -separate.” - -There had been no advertising of Roy’s departure, and the event passed -off with but a few spectators. - -“An’ say,” suggested Weston, who had appointed himself a sort of master -of ceremonies, “ef ye git time down thar about Pine Alcove an’ are -achin’ fur somepin to do, remember my ole friend Banks, the Mormon, -the High Mucky-Muck o’ the Lost Injuns. Ef ever ye git time drop into -Parowan.” - -Roy laughed and promised. Then he spoke upon the subject that he had -been thinking about all morning. - -“Mr. Cook,” he asked, with a laugh, “what are you going to name the new -express?” - -“Name?” repeated the manager--they were all standing about the -aeroplane. “Why, ah, why--I haven’t any name.” - -Roy opened his “carryall” bag and took out the streamer the painter -in Newark had made. A moment later, the red letters _Parowan_ were in -place. - -“Parowan!” exclaimed Mr. Cook. “What’s that?” - -“Mr. Weston’ll tell you,” said Roy, reaching out his hand. “I’m off -now. Good bye, all. See you this evening.” - -Five minutes later, the _Parowan_ was a bird-like speck in the -northwest. Sink Weston, with his pack mule trailing behind him, watched -it from the trail along the Cottonwood on his way to join the Abaja -Peak party. - -“I reckon,” mused the old ranger as he sat cross-legged on his pony -and sucked at his pipe, “that’s the last o’ the kid I’ll see and -_Parowan_, too. Back to salt pork an’ alkali water fur me.” - -Sink was mistaken; both as to Roy and news of the old Mormon elder. -But, for six weeks, the young aeronaut and his friend did not meet -again. - -In that time, Roy made the name of the _Parowan_ and the Company’s -Aeroplane Express famous all over southern Utah. - -Within a week Roy had located, although with the greatest difficulty -in the cases of the Lowell and Stenhouse parties, all the prospecting -sections. That done, carrying out Mr. Cook’s idea, each “boss” was -furnished a yard square of bright red cloth. Subsequently, when a -“boss” had any advices for the home office or desired to communicate -with the express, he kept the red flag flying. The result of this was -that when the _Parowan_ in what soon settled into a weekly cruise, made -the long, swift flight over mountain and desert, it landed at a camp -only in response to the signal. This was when it did not happen to have -orders from the manager. - -Late in August, Mr. Cook found it necessary to go to Denver. Roy -carried him ninety-four miles to Dolores, starting at ten o’clock in -the morning, and putting his proud passenger upon the one o’clock -train. Five days later, he met him again, started from Dolores at one -forty-five in the afternoon and at three thirty-three landed upon the -Company corral. - -But the only person in Bluff who gave promise of being able to take -Roy’s place when he left was the younger clerk Vic. Christian. With -a natural mechanical turn, the postmaster’s son soon learned the -theory of the airship. But he had not the inborn daring of the natural -aviator. However, he did not lack in courage, and after a desperate -struggle, he began making flights with Roy. - -“He’ll do,” said Roy at last to Mr. Cook. “And, in the end he’ll be -better than a daredevil who isn’t afraid.” - -Mr. Cook was skeptical. He used every argument to persuade Roy to put -off his return. But school time was approaching. And Roy was in the -third year of high-school. He had promised his father and mother that -even a hundred dollars a week would not make him forget the education -ahead of him. - -The one event that shadowed the brightness of Roy’s experience as the -director of the Aeroplane Express was the tragic fate of poor Burnham -Stenhouse, the young engineer. Reaching Camp No. 4 one afternoon about -four o’clock, Roy saw the signal and made a landing. He found Stenhouse -delirious and in charge of one of the men. Roy attempted, with the aid -of his few simple drugs, to give the engineer some relief. - -Toward evening, the young man’s temperature fell somewhat, but Roy -decided to remain by the sick man all night. About bedtime, the boy -noticed a sudden change in his patient. The man’s temperature fell -perceptibly and his delirium subsided into such passive weakness that -the camp took new alarm. Within a quarter of an hour, Stenhouse’s -circulation and pulse were so poor that Roy realized the sick man was -beyond possibility of assistance from those about him. - -There was not a doctor in the camp. Roy decided that the man must -receive professional attention at once or die. - -“I’ll try it,” he announced to Stenhouse’s assistants. “It may be too -late, but he’ll certainly die here.” - -“He’ll die anyway,” argued one of the men, “it’s desert fever. No use -to make sure o’ two o’ you kickin’ in.” - -“Ain’t no sense uv it in a night like this,” said another. “He’ll git -vi’lent afore the end.” - -But Roy did not consider the matter of his own safety. He realized that -directing an aeroplane almost a hundred miles in black night with an -unconscious man in his charge was a perilous venture, but the sight of -the boy’s drawn face outweighed this argument. Giving the sick man a -hypodermic injection of digitalis and strychnine, he waited only for -some slight improvement in the patient’s heart action. Then he made his -preparations. - -Roy’s operating seat was just back of the engine. Between his feet and -the motor, a pallet of blankets was made. Laying the unconscious form -of Stenhouse diagonally across the section in front of him, Roy made -ready his acetylene gas light, affixed the lamp to his head and with -the brilliant shaft shooting out over the dark sands made a start for -Bluff. - -For an hour, he sat like a man of wood. The whirring propellers and an -occasional groan from the sick man were all that marked his flight. His -compass route he knew. This instrument he had tied to the section floor -where he could throw the search light upon it from time to time. - -About the time he calculated that he was half way to Bluff, Stenhouse -suddenly made an effort to arise. As Roy’s right hand was controlling -the forward and rear rudder, he used his engine hand to gently force -the disturbed man back to his cot. At the same time noticing that the -engineer’s fever was rising. The delirium had set in again. - -Perhaps another quarter of an hour passed. Then the prostrate man again -attempted to rise. The strain was telling on Roy, for, with neither -light nor landmark to guide him, he was flying at top speed toward an -unseen destination. The ceaseless operation of the rudders, the effort -to watch the compass and his ears ever open for a possible variation in -the hum of the engine and propellers would have unnerved the boy had he -not steeled himself to his task. When Stenhouse attempted to get upon -his knees, Roy again reached forward with his left hand to calm him. - -To his horror, the sick man did not relax. Instead, with sudden and -unexpected strength, he continued his effort. The cold perspiration -broke out on the boy. He spoke soothingly and then sternly ordered the -man to lie down. But there was no response. The next moment, Stenhouse -was upon his hands and knees and made renewed efforts to get up. - -“Water,” he said huskily. - -The situation was not only pitiful, but perilous in the extreme. Roy -could not use more than one hand to subdue or control the delirious -man--there was no possible way to give him water--and yet, should the -man escape the boy’s grasp, it meant certain death by being dashed -hundreds of feet to the ground below. - -Like an inspiration, the knowledge came to Roy that there was but one -thing to be done. Throwing his left arm about Stenhouse’s shoulders and -arms, he suddenly drew the man’s body close to his own. The sick man -struggled for a few moments. One of his feet came in contact with a -cross bar of the section floor and, as it snapped, the engineer’s right -leg shot through the hole. - -His body would have followed, but Roy, with desperate exertion, drew -the weakened man closer to him. Exhausted, the partly revived man sank -on his preserver’s arm almost a dead weight. For over thirty minutes -the gritty boy held the engineer from certain death. When the lights -of Bluff came in sight at last, Roy’s arms were almost immovable. The -pain had almost gone, for the circulation in the left arm had stopped -and it was as rigid as if cast in metal. - -He made no attempt to reach the corral. Back of the town, in some -manner, with his free arm, he managed to shut off the engine and make -a landing. When the aeroplane came to a pause, Roy was too stiff to -move. In time, he attracted attention, and those who came to his rescue -carried the engineer to Mr. Cook’s house. Later in the evening, Roy was -able to make another ascent and he removed the _Parowan_ to the Company -yard. - -But his hazardous flight was without avail. Young Stenhouse died two -days later. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE SECRET DECIPHERED - - -On the evening of the last day of August, a sort of reunion and -farewell dinner took place in Mr. Cook’s bungalow. Two guests were -particularly jovial. One of these, Sink Weston, had, as they say in the -far north, “cast up” from Abaja with his gang the day before leaving -the dry upper Montezuma choked with logs waiting for the winter rains. -Another was old Dan Doolin just in with food supplies and gasoline from -Dolores. The others were Roy Osborne and the host, Manager Cook. - -Roy was to leave in the morning with Weston and Doolin on his homeward -trip. That afternoon, he had made final settlement with the company. - -“I’m sorry to be payin’ you this,” said Mr. Cook, as he wrote out a -check for over seven hundred dollars, “because it means you’re goin’ to -leave us. But, aside from that, it’s the best earned money I ever saw -go out of this office.” - -“And I’m sorry, too,” answered Roy. “I’m sorry to think I’ve got to -give up the _Parowan_, the mountains and the deserts. I’ve come to -love ’em all. And I’m sorry to think I’m goin’ to leave the bungalow -and you,” he added, holding out his hand to Mr. Cook. “I’ve seen some -hard things out here, but among the worst of ’em, I’ve always found at -least one man who stood for the fair and square, even if he didn’t talk -about it.” - -The boy and the man shook hands. - -Mr. Cook was an abstainer as to intoxicants, but he always saw that his -convivial guests were supplied with liquid refreshments. Both Doolin -and Weston celebrated the occasion by reaching the talkative stage. - -“I’m proud o’ the kid, Colonel,” announced Sink, at last. “An’ you got -to give me credit fur bringin’ him to you. That right, Dan?” - -“We shore did,” answered the grizzled teamster enthusiastically. “An’ -I’m sorry to be takin’ him out. I reckon the boys out in the desert’ll -be sorry to see him go. They tell me,” the old man continued, “’at he’s -got a reg’lar mail route an’ took letters and papers leastways onct a -week to them mis’able prospectors.” - -“He did, and more,” replied Mr. Cook. “He’s changed the whole plan of -doin’ things down here. In a year we’ll know more about this forsaken -country than we’d have known in ten without what he’s taught us.” - -“Right,” interrupted Weston. “An’ I brung him in. Don’t fergit that. He -ain’t disappointed no one but me--” - -Mr. Cook and Roy looked up. - -“I kind o’ counted on him gettin’ to Parowan an’ findin’ out somepin -about my old High Mucky-Muck o’ the Lost Injuns.” - -Mr. Cook laughed and Roy colored a little. - -“Sink,” exclaimed the boy hastily, “the fact that I never had a chance -to get to Parowan is one of the reasons I hate to leave this country. -For a long time, I thought I’d get over there. But when the Aeroplane -Express got down to a regular schedule, it seemed as if every hour was -taken up with something. I just couldn’t work it in. And I’d liked to -have gone for my mother’s sake.” - -“Oh, I accept yer apology,” muttered Weston good naturedly. - -“But don’t git the idee I’ve give up. I got the location o’ that sink -hole comin’ to me yit.” - -Mr. Cook laughed and laid his hand on Weston’s arm. - -“Sink,” he said, “if you keep on you’ll get to believin’ that story -some day.” - -Old Doolin looked at Roy and made a desperate effort to wink his heavy -eyelid. As he did so, Weston pulled himself up in his chair, hit the -table with his clenched fist until the dishes and glasses rattled, and -exclaimed, in a thick voice: - -“Ye’ll acknowledge thet thar’s one feller ’at kem out hyar an’ showed -you all a few things ye didn’t know. Why? ’Cause he was a sight smarter -’an some wise ones I could name--” - -“Or touch,” laughed Mr. Cook. - -“An’ bein’ smart enough he knows a fack when he hears it. Mr. Osborne,” -went on the old plainsman, leaning toward Roy, “wuz they a sink hole, -an’ a white priest, an’ lost Injuns, an’ treasure to fill a freighter, -or wuz they not?” - -Roy flushed again, looked at Mr. Cook in an embarrassed way, and then -said: - -“I’ve felt there were. But, well, I know one thing. There isn’t any -doubt that there was a white man, and he was likely enough a priest. -His name was certainly Willard Banks, and I know this man was my great -uncle, a Mormon elder.” - -“Thar you air,” shouted Weston, defiantly hanging the table again. “Did -I dream that? Answer, whar did I git the paper?” - -Mr. Cook seemed amused. He had many times heard the wild tale of -Weston’s fabled sink hole, but the Parowan end of the story, the -knowledge that here old man Banks had lived, was unknown to him until -the day Roy named the aeroplane. Weston’s positive manner aroused his -interest anew in the story. - -“I never saw your cipher or hieroglyphics, Sink,” he answered, ignoring -Weston’s question. “I’d like to have a look at it.” - -Helping himself to another drink, Weston slowly produced his old -wallet, and, with much ceremony, finally laid the faded and much-worn -brown paper upon the table. Mr. Cook took a long look at it, and -then carried it to a wall light that he might better examine the dim -characters. Plainly he made nothing of it. Roy stepped to his side and -pointed out the dim name at the bottom--“Willard Banks.” - -“I had a great uncle of that name out here in Utah. He lived in -Parowan. They drove him out of the Mormon Church for some reason. But -he was an elder in it once.” - -Mr. Cook shook his head, and was, apparently, about to hand the sheet -back to its owner when he stopped, straightened up, made another close -survey of it and then said: - -“Sink, let me have your mysterious paper to-night. I’d like to look it -over.” - -“I ain’t objectin’ to yer lookin’ it over,” answered Weston, “so long -as ye keep yer hands on it. But, Colonel Cook, I wouldn’t part with -that dockymint fur the best oil well yur agoin’ to find in Utah.” - -Old Doolin’s head was nodding. - -“Well,” suggested the manager, in a low tone to Weston, “just to be -sure it ain’t mislaid, if you’re thinkin’ of escortin’ Dan to his bunk -now, come back in an hour and I’ll return it to you.” - -This was as good as a command to Weston. A few minutes later, arousing -the well-dined teamster, the two men disappeared in the direction of -the “Crater.” The uncouth freighter dispensed with the formalities of -a good night to his host, but, as he followed his friend out into the -sandy street, he did not fail to mutter: - -“The kid’s shore all right. An’ we brung him, didn’t we, Sink?” - -Plainly enough, the tale of the Sink Hole was not on Old Dan’s mind. - -“What is it?” exclaimed Roy, impetuously, as the two men disappeared. -He knew that Mr. Cook had an idea. Without answering at once, his host -walked to the bookcase, and returned with the little Mormon Bible that -had been taken from the hand of murdered “Utah” Banning. - -“You’ve found something,” added Roy, almost catching his breath. - -“This was the first Mormon Bible I ever saw,” said Mr. Cook, pushing -the supper things aside, and bringing a lamp to the dining table. -“Several times in your absence, I’ve amused myself looking it over. A -very curious religion,” he added, as he drew up a chair and motioned -Roy to do the same. “You saw the notes on the back flyleaf didn’t you?” -he asked, turning to Roy. - -The boy flushed with chagrin. He had not. Nor had he looked at the book -since his first cursory examination of it. - -Hanging over Mr. Cook’s shoulder, he watched the manager turn to the -back of the book and finally expose a yellow edged page. In ink that -had turned to a faint brown, the boy read, at the top of the page, -these words: - -“Deseret Alphabet.” - -Beneath it, in a fine, close hand, were two columns of characters. -Manifestly, it was the Mormon phonetic alphabet. After each odd -character, the sound was indicated with a syllable in English. - -“That’s it,” shouted Roy, almost snatching the book from Mr. Cook’s -hand. “Those are the letters on Mr. Weston’s paper. Here, see,” he -added nervously catching up the paper and confirming his theory. -“They’re the same. We found it. Sink’s found his treasure.” - -“One moment,” interrupted the less exuberant Mr. Cook. “Let’s see what -we can make of it.” - -“We’ve got to make something,” insisted the boy, impulsively. “It has -to work out. The man who wrote on Mr. Weston’s paper was my great -uncle. He helped to make this alphabet. I know that. That’s what the -Banks’ history says.” - -“Then I reckon we’ve got it,” answered Mr. Cook. He began to read off -the characters with their equivalents in English. - -“Come on,” broke in Roy, “let’s see what we can find. Here, what’s -this?” - -He pointed to a letter like a capital “O” with a little ridge in the -bottom. It was easily found. - -“‘K,’” answered Mr. Cook. “Put it down.” - -Chuckling and enthusiastic, the boy ran to Mr. Cook’s desk for a piece -of paper. With this before them, the boy and his hardly less interested -elder, began to work out the mystery. Both the flyleaf characters -and Mr. Weston’s scrap were dim with age, but, by finally applying a -reading glass to the Bible key, the first line of characters was turned -into this--two of the Mormon letters standing in English for sounds -instead of letters: - - “K A I P U R O W I T T S” - -“That’s easy,” announced Mr. Cook, when the interpretation was -complete. “Should have been ‘Kaiparowits’. But it’s close enough. -There’s a peak o’ that name at the north end of the Kaiparowits -Plateau.” - -“Where’s that?” exclaimed Roy. - -“The plateau’s northwest of where the San Juan hits the Colorado.” - -“That’s it,” almost shouted the excited boy. “That’s where Weston got -out of the canyon.” - -Mr. Cook was already busy on the next line. It resulted in this word: - - “E L L S U R T H” - -“Another mountain?” asked Roy. - -“Probably means Ellsworth. There is such a peak east of Pine Alcove -River. Hi. Clark worked up that way this summer.” - -“But they are a long ways apart,” exclaimed the boy. “How far?” - -Mr. Cook consulted the large wall map. - -“Nearly a hundred miles.” - -The boy’s face fell. - -“Anyway,” he said, “these mountains have something to do with each -other and the Sink Hole. Looks as if it might be between ’em, don’t it?” - -“Let’s spell the other word,” suggested his companion. When this had -been done, the letters read: - - “S K A L A E N T E” - -Mr. Cook eyed it a long time and then shook his head. Finally, he went -to the map again, but apparently with no better success. - -“Looks like Swedish,” suggested Roy. - -Mr. Cook returned to the table, held the sheet at all angles before him -and then suddenly broke out into a laugh. - -“Escalante!” he exclaimed. “Mustn’t forget the characters are phonetic. -That’s the Escalante River--first one south of Horse Creek. I guess -that’s it.” - -Roy had hurried to the map. With his pencil he drew a line under Mr. -Cook’s direction, from Ellsworth mountain to Kaiparowits. Where it -crossed the river, he made a cross. - -Then, his hand trembling, he wrote at the intersection, “Sink Hole of -the Lost Indians.” - -“What do you think of Sink’s story now?” he broke out, boy fashion. - -“All he has to do,” answered Mr. Cook, relieving his excitement by -lighting a cigar, “is to find something there. What he tells about, -he saw fifteen years ago. A good many people have been prowling about -there in fifteen years.” - -“Anyway,” exclaimed Roy, “he can have another look at the place.” - -“But,” said Mr. Cook, after a pause, “I never saw a sink hole on or -near a flowing river.” - -Roy’s jaw fell. He was looking at Weston’s paper. Suddenly his face lit -up. Then he pointed to the arrow. - -“That’s pointin’ south,” he exclaimed. “Now, we got it. Where a line -between the two mountains crosses the Escalante, turn south until you -come to the Sink Hole.” - -“Not bad,” said Mr. Cook. “Very probable. That’s the trail I’d take.” - -The excited boy wanted to rush out on a search for Weston, but Mr. Cook -stopped him. - -“Leave that to me,” he said, after he and Roy had retired to the cool -porch. “When Weston comes, say nothing. Let me do the talking.” - -They had not long to wait. In a short time, the veteran guide was with -them. As Mr. Cook handed Weston his precious paper and proffered him a -cigar, he said: - -“Sink, that looks mighty interesting. Why don’t you find the Treasure -Cave?” - -“Humph,” grunted Weston, as he lit his cigar. “Why don’t I? Read this -fur me an’ I will.” - -“What’ll you give to have it read?” - -“I’ll give you my livery stable, an’ my house--yes, sir,” he added with -a grim smile, “I’ll even throw in my real ’state office.” - -“Would you give half of anything you might find in your underground -safety deposit vault?” - -Weston looked up, without any trace of liquor now, and said: - -“To the man ’at’ll take me to that pint, I’ll give ever’ other dish and -bowl we git. I reckon that’d be fair.” - -“Well,” went on Mr. Cook, “here’s the man that can do it,” pointing to -Roy. “He knows where your cave is. Is it an even divide?” - -Weston sprang up with a shout. At the same time, Roy stepped to Mr. -Cook’s side in protest. The only answer he got was: - -“I’ve got to pay you for what you said when you gave me the ring, Kid. -This is my contract.” - -Weston’s shout had died to a note of alarm. - -“You ain’t kiddin’ me, Colonel? I’m sober.” - -“Be sure you are in the same condition to-morrow morning at seven -o’clock, Sink,” exclaimed Mr. Cook. “Roy’s put off his return a day or -so. He’s goin’ to give you a little ride in the _Parowan_. And remember -our bargain.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE LAST OF THE LOST INDIANS - - -From the day he entered southwestern Colorado, Roy had heard the tales -of the ancient Indian Cliff Dwellers. Mr. Cook had often explained to -him the history of this disappeared race. Whence they came, he told -Roy, ethnologists could not say. - -“Some,” he had explained, “believe the Cliff Dwellers drifted from -Mexico--that they are the last of the Aztecs, the most highly cultured -of all red men. Others have urged that they may as well have come from -the north--even from Asia and its ancient civilization.” - -“Mr. Cook,” exclaimed Roy suddenly that evening, after Weston had -finally withdrawn to prepare for the trip he had anticipated for years, -“you have told me that the old Cliff Dwellers may have come down the -coast from Asia by way of Bering Sea.” - -“That’s one theory. Students have found shell remains and ivory knives -up in Yakima Valley, Washington. They look like Eskimo articles.” - -“Weston says his Lost Indians looked like Chinamen. He means Eskimos, -of course. If we found such people over there, would that prove -anything?” - -“It might mean this,” he said at last. “Weston’s Asiatics may have -met the Aztecs coming north. The two streams may have clashed and the -Asiatics may have been licked. Naturally they’d retreat. They may have -hidden themselves in the mountains.” - -“Then there really may have been Lost Indians?” exclaimed Roy. - -The prospector laughed outright and shrugged his shoulders. Then he -leaned forward, and checking the points on his fingers, said: - -“Somewhere in the heart of the lower California or Nevada mountains -these Asiatics may have concealed themselves for centuries. There they -may have lived, built their towns, manufactured their own strange -implements and wares in their own way, and, lost to the world, -worshiped their own gods. At last, discovered by other incoming and -increasing red men, they fly to a new home. Hemmed in by other savages, -worn with flight and war, lessened by disease, the remnant of the band -takes refuge beneath the desert.” - -“Is that right?” almost shouted Roy. - -“Go and find out,” answered Mr. Cook, with another laugh. - -Mt. Ellsworth was, by the map, sixty-seven miles northwest of Bluff, a -few points west of northwest. From that peak Kaiparowits lay seventy -miles south of west. In passing from Ellsworth to Kaiparowits, Pine -Alcove Creek would be crossed not far west at Hi. Clark’s camp. Here -there was food and a small supply of gasoline. Roy and Weston took -breakfast with Clark’s men the next morning, having left the corral in -the _Parowan_ a little before five o’clock. - -At eight o’clock with the Escalante River not more than twenty miles -away, the _Parowan_ was started on the real search for the Sink Hole. -All of Weston’s conviviality of the night before was gone. Roy was -nervous. The prospect of meeting belligerent Indians did not frighten -him, but he was surprised that neither Weston nor Mr. Cook seemed to -reckon this as an item of danger. - -“If we find the place,” Roy had asked in their flight in the early -dawn, “do you look for trouble?” - -“Them old grandpa baldies?” answered Weston, as if surprised. “They -ain’t got a gun among ’em.” - -It was the first day of September. The depressing monotony of the -lifeless plains was accentuated by a choking dust. The rose tints of -early days had disappeared in a dead blue, cloudless sky. The heat -seemed to penetrate to the lungs and brain. - -“There’s the Escalante,” said Roy a half hour after Clark’s camp was -left. - -“Now fur the south,” added Weston in a dry, harsh voice. “Hold her true -an’ don’t ye stop till ye see somepin, ef it takes us acrost Arizony.” - -The great wonder was, how Weston had missed finding the hole in his -several searches. Within five miles of where the aeroplane turned south -from the river, the mysterious hole suddenly appeared directly beneath -the swiftly sailing _Parowan_. No dark depths greeted the approaching -eye. What had at first seemed but a slight depression in the desert -suddenly became a large circular shaft. The fumes of sulphur had -colored its sides a yellowish white. - -The _Parowan_ came to a stop several hundred yards beyond the hole. Too -excited to return in the airship, Weston and the boy sprang to the sand -and started on a run back to the chasm. Then they discovered that their -path lay along the dry bed of a watercourse. - -“That’s it,” exclaimed Weston. “This is my river bed. But it comes from -the south. It comes off the Straight Cliffs. I allers reckoned it come -out o’ the west. An’ I sarched mainly along the Sevier Range.” - -In a few moments they reached the point where the river bed ended in a -worn gully leading down to the top rock shelf of the Sink Hole. Weston -sprang into the depression, and, Roy at his heels, was soon on the -rough, rocky shoulder that dropped, screw-like, lower and lower toward -the north face of the circular opening. - -About sixty feet beneath the surface of the ground, the hard -ledge--which Roy now saw was not wholly the work of nature--disappeared -beneath an overhanging arch of rock. No living thing was in sight, but -Roy saw Weston draw his revolver and he did the same. Then, peering -over his companion’s shoulder, he saw first, a half-lit gallery. The -trail on the ledge seemed to disappear within the tunnel. Into this, -every few yards, fell rays of light entering through openings in the -front of the overhanging rock. - -“Seems to be nobody to home,” suggested Weston. - -He pushed forward. As he and Roy got well within the gallery, they -paused to accustom themselves to the half light. Still no sound. - -“Might as well have it over,” went on Weston. “E yawp!” he shouted -suddenly, springing close to the wall and raising his revolver to his -hip. - -“I wonder if they’re all dead?” asked Roy. He had already wondered that -many times to himself. - -“I’ve kind o’ calkerlated that way. Anyhow, they shore air so old an’ -dried up ’at they ain’t no more worth shootin’ an’ a rattler,” Weston -answered. - -As if reassured by this, Weston moved forward again. Two irregular -tunnel-like openings he passed, and then pointed to the next opening. - -“Thar she be, Kid. Now I’m a liar er I ain’t. Thar’s the selfsame room -er temple o’ them dishes. Hyar’s whar we win er lose.” - -One of the light openings was nearly opposite this chamber, and the -light from it fell full on the entrance to Weston’s treasure temple. -Unable to control his curiosity, Roy hastened to the old guide’s side. -Together the two faced the chamber entrance. Before they had even a -chance to look within, an object whirred through the air, grazed Roy’s -left shoulder, and then struck the rock floor with a dull crack. It was -an oval rock attached to a thong. - -Both Weston and Roy rushed into the cave. A few yards from the door, on -his hands and knees, was the shriveled figure of an aged man. As the -intruders paused, the decrepit figure collapsed. Before either Weston -or the boy could reach his side, the man was in a heap on the floor. -Weston caught the prostrate Indian by the shoulders, but the figure -slid from his grasp and fell upon its back. The man opened his eyes -once and then seemed to pass into unconsciousness. In his left hand was -a white, polished knife of ivory. - -The lone guardian of the cave was emaciated. Clay-brown parchment-like -skin seemed barely to encase his bones. - -“He’s one of ’em,” exclaimed Weston, who was visibly affected by the -sight. “He’s one o’ them Lost Injuns. An’, ef I ain’t mistook, he’s the -last uv ’em.” - -[Illustration: THE LAST OF THE LOST INDIANS] - -“The last of the Lost Indians,” exclaimed Roy half aloud. - -The man was bald and toothless. About his loins he wore an almost black -breech-clout of some sort of skin. A brown blanket, woven of some -vegetable fiber, lay beneath his extended form. And the eyes--they -resembled those of no Indian Roy had ever seen--had the slant of the -Asiatic. - -But there was the spell of the apartment. Did it contain the treasures -described by the veteran westerner? Although the sympathetic boy was -held by the sight of the ancient Indian, he heard Weston springing -forward. Roy turned. The plainsman was already hastening toward a group -of strange objects at the side of the apartment opposite the entrance. -Roy followed--his mind full of the tale of silver and gold vessels. - -To the right and left of the objects toward which Weston was making his -way, were two decorated columns of wood wedged between the floor and -the ceiling. Designs on them caught the boy’s eye. As he sprang toward -the nearest one, a shadow shot across the ray of light falling through -the door. The boy had just time to turn and make out the tottering -form of the old Indian. - -As Roy sprang forward, the Indian made a feeble leap toward the -unperceiving Weston. In his withered, talon-like fingers, glinted the -polished blade of the ivory knife. As it would have entered Weston’s -back, Roy’s desperate lunge intercepted the blow. As the lad’s arm -struck the palsied fingers of the would-be assassin, the ivory weapon -flew into the air, and the Indian reeled to the far side of the room. - -Weston’s revolver flashed. But again Roy saved a life. As the point of -the plainsman’s weapon fell upon the Indian, the boy threw it upward. -The explosion filled the hollow room. When the smoke rose to the -ceiling, the wavering Indian, untouched by the bullet, faced them once -more. - -His fleshless arms extended high above his head; the palsied, spectral -form swayed for a moment, and then, with a wail of anguish--perhaps the -last expression of an extinct race--the figure stumbled across the cave -and hurled itself upon the floor. - -Awe-stricken, the man and the boy gazed upon the shadowy human being. -When they attempted to move the mummy-like shape, they knew that the -Indian was dead. On the sole surviving treasures of his people, the old -man had died. - -“Faithful to the end,” whispered Roy. - -“The last of the Lost Indians,” added Weston solemnly. - -It was ten days later when Roy finally left Bluff for Dolores. The -discoveries made in the Underground City of the Lost Indians were so -astounding that, before noon, the _Parowan_, with Roy as the sole -passenger, was on a bee-line flight to Bluff. By night Roy was carrying -Mr. Cook to the wonderful Sink Hole. With the manager’s assistance, the -wonders of the caves were gradually brought to light. Camping at night -on the dry bed of the river for two days, the men and Roy studied the -puzzles of each separate chamber. - -Beyond question, the dead Indian was the last of his race. What that -race represented, they could only conjecture. That it came originally -from the far north was certain. Strangely wrought vessels of wood -inlaid with ivory could not have been made in or near this last refuge -of the dead race. Representations of the walrus, of the whale, and of -the polar bear ran through decorations as certain proof of a one-time -tribal knowledge of the far northern seas. - -But, with these carefully preserved articles, were others of a later -date. In their wanderings, the tribe had evidently come south by way of -the sea. For, in addition to ivory utensils and ornaments, there had -been a later utilization of the beautiful Abalone shell found only near -Catalina Island off the California Coast. Mosaics of this in various -local woods were discovered. - -“Lastly,” suggested Mr. Cook, “in these mountains of the southwest, -long before this people began to degenerate, there came to it a -knowledge of metals. Before the wanderers began to decline and long -before the last of them were driven to this refuge, they were skilful -workers in gold, silver and copper.” - -In these remains, both shell and the jewel of the -southwest--turquoise--had been freely used. Battered and worn samples -of each of these periods of craftsmanship were found in the tomb of the -unknown race. Most of them, and the best preserved, were found in the -cave where the last survivor came to his death. - -Apparently the tribe neither cremated nor mummified its dead. In one of -the deepest recesses of a far gallery a burial chamber was discovered. -At the foot of a carved post, over a foot in diameter and resembling -an Alaska totem pole, there were found in this catacomb some of the -most curious and valuable relics. At the urgent request of Mr. Cook, -Roy counted the human skulls in this sepulchre and found there were -four hundred and twenty-three. In this work the acetylene headlight was -useful. - -After the complete survey of the caves had been made, and detailed maps -made, showing their ramifications and apartments, Mr. Cook was carried -back to Bluff. For five days the _Parowan_ was in truth an Aeroplane -Express. Three hundred and eighty-five objects, large and small; gold, -silver, copper, wood, ivory and shell; worn textile fabrics, feather -decorations, and the few pieces of pottery found were all carried to -Mr. Cook’s bungalow in Bluff. The four immense wooden posts or “totem -poles,” as Mr. Cook called them, were hauled to Bluff two months later -by wagon. - -Then came the question of dividing the treasure. There was nothing -avaricious in Roy. - -“It belongs to Weston,” he repeatedly insisted. “Weston suffered for -it, and he found it. He ought to have it all.” - -“A contrack is a contrack,” Weston would declare. “Ef I found it, I -lost it, too. An’ you and Mr. Cook is the gents as really diskivered -it. Hep yourselves. They’s a plenty fur all!” - -A few of the simpler and best preserved pieces were what interested Mr. -Cook most. These he consented to accept. And, at Mr. Weston’s and Roy’s -joint request, he finally took for himself one of the prize specimens. -This was a heavy copper bowl--eighteen inches across the top--with a -beautifully carved silver lid. In the top of the lid, as a handle, -was set an oblong piece of ivory in each side of which was traced the -outlines of a seal. Around the edge of the lid, set deep in the silver, -was a continuous band of turquoise almost imperceptibly joined. - -Roy’s first selection was a bowl of dark odorous wood, almost a -duplicate of the silver-copper vessel in size and shape. The inside -of this, when it had been cleaned, was found to be almost as smooth -as glass. The outside was a mosaic of tiny bits of iridescent Abalone -shell set in a hard, pitch-like substance. - -When Weston and Roy returned to Bluff an agreement was reached that -their joint treasure was to be sent east in one shipment in care of -President Atkinson, of the aeroplane company in Newark. Before this -was done, an inventory was made of each item. Copies of this were kept -by Weston and Roy, and when the treasure had been carefully packed and -boxed, a third copy was forwarded to Mr. Atkinson. It had been finally -arranged that Roy was to receive a third of the value of the remarkable -find. - -Weston remained in Bluff awaiting the arrival of Dan Doolin to freight -the precious cargo to Dolores. But, on the eleventh of September Roy at -last took farewell of his western friends. Vic. Christian was to carry -him to Dolores in the _Parowan_. - -“I can’t feel as if it is good bye forever,” said Roy, grasping Mr. -Cook’s hand. - -“I know it isn’t,” answered the set-faced manager. “You’ll come again. -They all do. The salt marshes o’ New Jersey’ll never satisfy you now.” - -“As fur me,” added Sink Weston, “I’ll see you soon. When you write me -’at that truck’s been sold, I’m comin’ out to New York and collect. I -ain’t never been east o’ Kansas City, but ole Sink Weston an’ his lady -is agoin’ to see Broadway ef it costs us all them thar Injun dishes. -An’ ef they’s any o’ the long green left, I’m agoin’ to hire some -reporter to write up what we discivered an’ send it to ever’ one o’ -them wise boys ’at said I was cracked.” - -When that long-looked-for letter reached Dolores in December, addressed -to Mr. A. B. Weston, the last lines of it read: - - “----or a total of $22,000, which makes your share about - $14,666. Mr. Atkinson is anticipating the closing of the deal - by sending you a draft for $1,000. Come and see us. - - “Your true friend, - - “ROY OSBORNE.” - -The last survivor of the Lost Indians of the Sink Hole was interred, -nameless and without rites, in the hidden tomb of his race. - - - * * * * * - - - While Roy Osborne was solving the mystery of the Lost Indians - of Utah, a club of Pensacola, Florida, lads was engaged on an - equally interesting task--the discovery of the “Secret City of - the Seminoles” in the Everglades of Florida. This story may - be read in “THE BOY AERONAUTS’ CLUB, OR, FLYING FOR FUN.” See - advertisement page 2. - - - - -_Other Books for Boys_ - - -The Boy Fortune Hunters Series - -By FLOYD AKERS - - The Boy Fortune Hunters in Alaska - The Boy Fortune Hunters in Panama - The Boy Fortune Hunters in Egypt - The Boy Fortune Hunters in China - The Boy Fortune Hunters in Yucatan - -Mr. Akers, in these new books, has at a single bound taken front rank -as a writer for boys. The stories are full of adventure, yet clean, -bright and up-to-date. The first volume tells of the exciting scenes -in the early days of the Alaskan gold fields. The next book takes -“The Boy Fortune Hunters” to the “Canal Zone,” and the third story is -filled with stirring incidents in a trip through Egypt. The fourth book -relates thrilling adventures in the Flowery Kingdom, while the last -story carries the youthful heroes through further exciting times in -Yucatan. - -_Illustrated 12mos. Uniform cloth binding, stamped in three colors._ - -Price 60 cents each - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes: - - --Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). - - --Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected. - - --Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved. - - --Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Aeroplane Express, by Ashton Lamar - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AEROPLANE EXPRESS *** - -***** This file should be named 55534-0.txt or 55534-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/5/3/55534/ - -Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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