CHAPTER XII

From Savage Clutches

“Steve says he’ll set some flares right away,” shouted Dick in Phil’s ear, and the latter nodded.

“We ought to be pretty nearly there,” he said, and had hardly ceased speaking when several bright lights flamed out from the darkness almost directly below them.

“Whoa!” exclaimed Phil, “we pretty near ran past our station that time. It’s a good thing that Steve was on the job.”

He shut off the engine, and started down in narrowing circles. Now that they could make themselves heard, the two girls started to pour out their gratitude to their rescuers, but before the embarrassed boys could answer they were going down so fast that conversation ceased for the time being. The girls gripped wildly at the sides of the car, and screamed as the wheels bumped the ground.

In a second the aeroplane was surrounded by excited Rangers, who lifted the girls out, and hoisted the Radio Boys joyously onto broad shoulders. It was a real triumphal procession that marched back to headquarters, where Captain Bradley awaited them.

“Boys, you’ve certainly proved that you can deliver the goods,” he exclaimed, his usual reserve cast to the winds in the excitement of the moment. “And how are your pretty passengers?” he added, as the two girls were ushered in by admiring but somewhat bashful Rangers.

“Thanks to these young men and their aeroplane, we are all right,” answered the elder of the two, Alice Brady. “They snatched us right out from under the noses of the Mexicans, when we had given up all hope of ever getting away from them.”

“Tell us about it,” directed the Captain, “I know I’d never get half the story from Strong and his friends. They’re too modest.”

“Oh, we just did what we were sent to do,” muttered Phil, uncomfortably; “any of the rest of the bunch would have done the same thing if they’d been in our places.”

“You keep quiet,” ordered the Captain, with twinkling eyes, “let the young ladies have their say.”

The young ladies had their say, and painted their rescue in glowing colors. When they had finished, Captain Bradley nodded.

“I guess I sent the right men for the job, all right,” he remarked. “You couldn’t have done better, and the Rangers are proud of you.”

And the boys soon found that this was no idle phrase. The Rangers _were_ proud of them, and were not backward in letting them know it. The Radio Boys had won a secure place for themselves in the esteem of these daring frontiersmen, which further acquaintance only served to strengthen.

The Rangers took an added interest in the _Arrow_ from that time on, and whenever the boys were working on it, they always had an interested audience. After their return with the two girls they had had considerable trouble patching the wings, where they had been torn by the Mexicans’ bullets, but at last succeeded in getting everything in fine shape again.

“Them Greasers is sure poor shots,” commented Dan, as he viewed the aeroplane critically the day after the boys’ triumphant return. “Ef they’d been anyway decent shots, they’d sure have drilled a hole or two in that thar gasoline tank, and then you’d have been out o’ luck.”

“You can bet we were thinking of that all the time we were going up,” grinned Phil. “It was pretty dark, though, and we were moving kind of fast.”

“I’ve got to admit I didn’t take a heap of stock in what that machine could do, when you fellers first landed here,” observed Chip, who was cleaning and oiling his revolvers. “I gotta take off my lid to it now, though. Looks to me as though I’d orter sell my cayuse now, and rustle me one of them aryplanes.”

“Huh!” snorted Dan, “you’d bust the critter clean to bits the fust time you tried to land it. We’d have to collect your remnants with a broom an’ shovel.”

“I reckon you think you’d jest have to step in an’ say ‘giddap’ to it, an’ it would up an’ fly like that there flyin’ horse that the college sharp was tellin’ us about one time,” retorted Chip. “I might have a chance to learn how, but you’re too old to learn them new tricks, Dan.”

“Mebbe so, mebbe so,” said the other. “I’ll stick to my pinto awhile yet, anyways. He spied a rattlesnake the other day, and blamed if he didn’t jump almost as high as that machine kin fly. That pony could give points to a jack rabbit when it comes to jumpin’.”

“Some day I’ll take you up for a flight, Dan, if you think you’d like to try it,” offered Phil.

“Nary flight, thanks just the same,” said Dan, shaking his grizzled head. “I’ll stick to hosses awhile yet, when I want to go anywhere. They ain’t as fast, but still I’ve got a pretty good idea what they’re goin’ to do next, and I wouldn’t have in that aryplane.”

“Go on, Dan, take a chance,” urged Steve, a mischievous light in his eyes, “You can’t any more than get killed, anyway.”

But the old plainsman was obdurate, and could never be persuaded to set foot in the machine. But there was no lack of passengers, nevertheless, for most of the men were only too glad to take a trial flight when opportunity offered.

In the meantime, the Mexicans continued to give trouble at different places along the border, although more than once the boys, patrolling in their machine, detected raiding bands and gave warning in neighboring towns so that the raiders’ reception was considerably warmer than they had anticipated. A number had been captured, and from them it was learned that the Radio Boys had incurred the undying hatred of Espato and his band, who had sworn to kill them.

“Threatened people live long,” quoted Phil, when he heard of this.

“You said it,” agreed Dick. “I never thought that Espato would love us for what we did to his gang.”

“They’d probably kill anybody they got hold of, whether he’d ever done anything to them or not,” observed Tom. “I guess with the help of the old _Arrow_ we can do him more harm than he can us, anyway.”

When this conversation took place, the boys were gathered in Steve’s radio shack, whither they had repaired with the intention of trying to get in touch with Dr. Denby at Castleton.

“My set is no great shakes,” apologized Steve, “but under favorable conditions, I think we can reach your town, all right. It did once, you’ll remember.”

“I’ll have a try at it, anyway, if you don’t mind,” said Phil, and seated himself at the key.

B-z-z-z, whir-r went the motor-generator, as its first low hum mounted in tone to a strident whine, and the blue sparks crackled from the aerial. Time and again Phil called Dr. Denby’s signal, but it was not until he was almost ready to give up in despair that he at last got an answer in the earphones.