CHAPTER VIII

The Jaws of Death

A light breeze was already blowing, and amid cries of farewell and encouragement from those on the ground the boys headed their aeroplane into this and took off to a perfect start just as the rim of the morning sun appeared over the horizon. The glorious beams flooded the beautiful green landscape below them, and the boys felt a wonderful surge and uplift of spirit that matched the upward flight of the aeroplane as it climbed swiftly toward the clouds. Higher and higher they went, until the little group of waving figures became mere dots, and then were entirely lost to sight.

The motor roared its rhythmic speed song as Phil opened the throttle bit by bit, until their instruments registered an altitude of a thousand feet and a speed of ninety miles an hour. This was not by any means the maximum speed of which the machine was capable, but they were not out to break speed records, and preferred to save both gasoline and excessive wear on the engine.

The light breeze with which they had started freshened after awhile, but it was steady, and so did not interfere with their progress as an unsteady, puffy breeze would have done. The sun climbed higher in the heavens, but the wings of the plane protected them from the intensity of its rays, and they could not have been more comfortable nor felt more secure had they been seated in rocking chairs at home.

After they had been traveling a few hours, however, the weather became somewhat hazy, and suddenly, before Phil could change his course, they had run into a solid bank of dense gray fog that shut off the genial rays of the sun and sprinkled them liberally with moisture.

“Good night!” exclaimed Dick. “I hope it doesn’t take us long to get out of this, Phil. It’s as damp and cold as a vault.”

“You don’t want to get out any more than I do,” returned Phil. “About the only thing we can do is hold our course and hope that the fog belt isn’t very wide. Chances are we’ll run out into the sunshine within a few miles.”

This prediction proved to be far too optimistic, however, for after they had traveled half an hour the fog seemed even more dense than before, and at last Phil decided to descend and try to get under it. Piloting an aeroplane in a fog is almost as bad as trying to walk blindfolded on the ground; one never knows what unexpected object he is going to collide with.

Phil’s instruments told him that he was several hundred feet above the earth, but he knew that they were flying above hilly country, and it does not take a very pretentious mountain to be five hundred or so feet high. However, something must be risked in order to win clear of that clammy, clinging fog, so Phil headed the plane steadily earthward. At length the boys could see a lightening of the fog, upon which they all gave three lusty cheers. A few moments later they swept out into dazzling sunlight, but what they saw struck the shouts of gladness from their lips.

Directly in their line of flight towered a high and threatening wall of rock, so close that Dick and Tom gripped the sides of the aeroplane with every muscle tense, waiting for the crash to come.

On every hand rose other jagged peaks, so that to veer away from that grim wall ahead was useless, even had they had time. The last chance left them was to rise—to soar up and over that formidable barrier of weather-worn rock. To fail meant instant death against the cliff or among the tumbled boulders at its base.

Phil tugged desperately at the elevating controls, and opened the throttle wide. The aeroplane responded instantly, sweeping up with a rush and roar. But they were terribly close to the cliff now, and the boys held their breath in an agony of suspense. Could the trusty machine make it, or would their trip end so quickly in black tragedy?

The cliff overhung at the top, and was fringed with a dense growth of scrub and small trees. Had it not been for this they would probably have won clear, but as it was, as they swept up, the wheels and framework under the fuselage caught in the dense undergrowth, and the boys could feel their speed suddenly slacken. The heavy pull underneath dragged the nose of the machine down, which caused the propeller to become entangled also. Phil tried desperately to get the machine clear of the tenacious brush and creepers, but finally he saw that they were hopelessly entangled. Fortunately, they were over the edge of the cliff, at any rate, and on a small fairly level plateau at the top of the mountain.

Phil shut off the motor, in order to keep the propeller from getting broken, and the aeroplane crashed down among the bushes and floundered to a standstill.

The boys gazed ruefully at each other, and for a few moments no one spoke. Then Phil climbed slowly from his seat, and dropped to the ground, the others following suit.

“We’re in a fine mess now,” he remarked. “It looks to me as though this is about as near Texas as we get this trip.”

“I don’t care,” said Tom, mopping big drops of perspiration from his face. “I’m glad enough to be right here. I don’t mind admitting that I thought we were all goners a few minutes ago. I don’t know yet how you got us over the edge, Phil.”

“Neither do I,” said Dick. “We must have gone pretty near straight up, Phil, to do it.”

“I guess we did,” nodded Phil. “It was the good old machine that did the trick, though, not I. But never mind about that now. Who can tell me how we’re going to get away from here?”

“Is the machine damaged much?” inquired Dick. “I suppose we’d better make an examination and find out what’s broken before we figure how to get away.”

Fortunately for the boys, the aeroplane had suffered only minor injuries. Both rubber tires on the landing wheels were punctured, and some of the framework supporting the wheels was badly bent, but there was no damage done that they could not repair on the spot.

“It might have been a lot worse,” said Phil, at length. “I guess we’d better break out our axes and clear a space where we can work. After we’ve fixed the machine, I don’t see anything for it but to chop a clear space big enough to get started in. And that’s going to be some job, too, believe me.”

“It certainly looks as though it might be,” said Tom, gazing ruefully at the tangle of bushes and vines. “But before we start in, why not have something to eat. I’ve got a feeling that it’s way past lunch time right now.”

This suggestion met with instant approval, and they all ate with appetites unimpaired by their recent narrow escape. Having finished, they rested for a brief spell, and then, getting out their axes, attacked the thick undergrowth in earnest. After an hour’s hard labor, they had a space cleared under and around the aeroplane, and then proceeded to straighten the bent framework and repair the tires. They worked fast, and in a surprisingly short time had everything in good shape. Then they turned their attention to clearing a path sufficiently long to allow the aeroplane to gather speed for its take-off. But here they found themselves in a quandary. Less than three hundred feet from the edge of the precipice there were a number of large trees, and to cut these down and level off the ground there was out of the question. Toward the brink of the cliff there was only the underbrush, but to take-off in that direction was perilous in the extreme. It meant heading straight for the edge of the abyss, and what if the aeroplane could not gather sufficient speed in that short distance to rise? In that event they might plunge downward, and so meet the very death that they had so lately avoided.

They fell to work on the stubborn undergrowth, but although they worked with desperate haste and energy, the sun was close to the horizon before they were finally ready to take their hazardous start.

“Well, fellows, I guess we’ve done all we can,” said Phil at length, mopping at a countenance that was fiery red from sunburn and exertion. “We’ve done our part, and now it’s up to the old machine. If it rises, all right, if not—” he shrugged his shoulders.

The boys climbed to their places in the machine with grave faces. Phil ran the motor until it was thoroughly warm, and then, with lips grimly set, opened the throttle.