CHAPTER XIX

JUMPING A PEAK

Before Carl had an opportunity to recover himself the Indian had seized the golden bowl and was making off with it at top speed. It did not take the lad long to comprehend the situation, however, and springing to his feet, he soon overtook the would-be thief. Wresting the prize from him, and throwing it to one side, Carl met the attack with the strength, ability and skill only found in strong young manhood. But the older Indian was fully a match for him, and the struggle promised to be a long and hard one if Carl were left to fight it alone.

This the other boys did not propose should be the case. Forgetting all fear for themselves in the face of Carl's danger, they immediately prepared to utilize the rope ladder, crossing even more quickly than Carl had done and surely with less caution, for their only thought was to come to the rescue of their friend.

Carl's assailant, whose every energy was strained to gain an advantage, did not hear their approach. Before he realized it he found himself helpless in the hands of the strong palefaces, his hands tied behind his back, a threatening Remington, in the hands of Jerry, pointed meaningly in his direction. He was very much the worse for wear, his face having been severely scratched across the lines of paint, and his clothes considerably disarranged.

"Well, what shall we do with him?" asked Dunk, turning to Carl. "He ought to be pitched over the ravine."

But the Indian boy's face wore a strange expression. His eyes were wide and staring, and he stood, pale and open-mouthed, regarding his helpless enemy.

"What's the matter!" cried Gray, alarmed.

Carl did not reply, but walked up to the captive, and, with a hand that shook slightly, examined something that hung on a string around his neck. Then he pulled out the charm from under his own shirt.

"Look," he said huskily.

The stones were exactly alike.

Although the older Indian betrayed no signs of surprise or emotion he broke into an angry torrent of Apache.

Carl, stepping forward, took out his hunting knife, and cut the other's bonds.

"Now get!" he commanded, allowing himself the pleasure of one strong punch at the back of the conquered redskin, who lost no time in making his get-away.

"That's my uncle," said Carl coolly. "I'm civilized and educated, or I'd kill him. Come on, let's get back."

The others thought it best not to make any further reference to the matter, and silently followed Carl, the bowl again in his possession, across the ladder spanning the cascade. At the same time the boys in the plane, who had watched the conflict with tense anxiety, started back to the Fort.

"Gee, I can't stand much more to-day," ejaculated Fly, as they circled the tower for the last time.

"Strange what a lot can happen to a fellow in a short time," commented Herb, reviewing mentally the many adventures in which they had all been involved that summer.

"But most important of all," continued Fly, "we've laid the Thunder Bird low--we've done something for your father."

"Now the next thing is for you to teach us all to aviate," laughed the southerner. "But I don't believe I can ever handle a machine as you do."

"Sure," exclaimed Fly. "Why you--" but he stopped short with an exclamation of horror that fairly froze his companion's blood. At the same moment, Herb was conscious that something--he knew not what--had happened. The loud insistent voice of the machinery was abruptly stilled.

Looking perplexedly at Fly, he saw great drops of perspiration starting out on the young pilot's forehead. "The motor is dead," he breathed, his throat and lips going dry.

For a moment Herb's heart seemed to stop in sympathy with the mechanism that had failed them.

"Can't you volplane," he said giddily.

"Rocks, peaks, crags," sputtered Fly. Oh, if he were only over the smooth meadow. But to volplane here would mean certain death. As it was, he was sliding along at a perceptibly lessening speed. Any moment the machine might balk and rear, hurling them both to destruction.

But Fly was plucky and after the first shock he recovered his nerve, bending every energy of mind and body to maintain his balance. To keep high enough and steady enough until they left the mountains was his sole endeavor. After that, he felt confident that he could volplane with safety into the meadow. Even now he could see this haven of inviting green tantalizingly near at hand--and yet so far away. Grudgingly he was obliged to slant, else the machine would rear and wrest the control from him. But the slightest incline was too much now, for it meant landing on the rocks.

Though a fever raged in his brain, he was rapidly calculating. Someway he must save Herb. That was his predominant thought.

"I'll do it," he suddenly exclaimed through his shut teeth, at the same moment swooping down with such rapidity that his companion's head was jerked violently back, and he grabbed tight hold of his seat. Confident that the end had come, the southerner resolutely shut his eyes and relaxed.

But he was sitting rigid a moment later, for the aeroplane had shot upward again with a jerk, mounting higher and higher, until it seemed ready to tip backwards and whirl to earth like the mortally wounded Thunder Bird.

"Fly!" he implored, suddenly petrified with the fear that his companion had lost his senses and was deliberately throwing caution to the winds with hopeless recklessness.

The suspense was only for a second, although that seemed to span an eternity. At the last moment, when the plane seemed ready to tilt and somersault backwards, Fly fairly threw it forward with main force, and, as it plunged swiftly downward, he breathed a reassuring sigh. Below them they saw the carpet of the meadow spread out calm and serene, a pale slender stream winding its peaceful course zigzag between flower-decked banks--gently flowing waters that would have reflected their dash to death and destruction as undisturbedly as it mirrored their safe descent.

Dizzy and faint, but almost sick with joy, they landed gently on the bosom of mother earth. Fly had taken a desperate chance to clear the peaks, and had succeeded.

"Safe!" he groaned, too weak to move from the plane. "I'm so glad, old man," he added huskily. "If anything had happened to you--"

"Why, it's a couple of boys," a cheerful voice was saying just behind them.

Herb and Fly turned to see two men approaching the plane, and, at the same moment, their eyes took in another strange sight. A hundred feet or so behind them stood another plane!

"I must believe it, for I have seen it with my own eyes," continued the speaker, a slender young fellow with a spare blond mustache. "You accomplished a feat there, my boy, that I wouldn't attempt for fifty thousand dollars!"

"Who are you?" asked Fly weakly. Surely this was an apparition. The nerve which had upheld him in the face of imminent danger seemed now deserting him. He felt like falling over in a limp heap, abandoning himself to the sick faintness which made his head swim. He saw the stranger as in a haze, and his voice came to him faintly out of the vast distance.

"I'll get him some water," said the other man. "He looks sick."

"No wonder," exclaimed the other. "I never saw such a performance as that in my life."

"Is--is that plane yours?" asked Herb, who, like Fly, did not know whether the two strangers were real beings or ghosts.

"Sure. I just had a silly little breakdown. Stopped to mend it. Then--great Caesar, I saw you fellows up there. How my brain went traveling when I realized the plight you were in. And you came through! A couple of kids! Who is he?" he continued, referring to Fly. "Where did he learn to control like that--at his age!"

The speaker's friend was forcing Fly to drink the water he had brought for him from the stream, and when the boy had moistened his lips, the man bathed his brow and face with the solicitude of a brother.

But Fly's sinking spell was only momentary and he soon recovered his composure.

"Where you going?" demanded their new friend breezily. "I'm going to take charge of you. You're in no condition to fly any more to-day."

But the young aviator was made of stronger stuff.

"Oh, I can handle her all right," he said contemptuously, a little ashamed of the weakness he had shown.

"What!" ejaculated the blond young man, looking at his friend in amazement, as much as to say, "Listen to that, will you!"

"Nothing doing," he added, decidedly. "Barkely, just take care of our baby--follow us up--while I whirl this young dare-devil to--where will it be?"

"Fort Bayard," said Herb, laughing. Certainly, this was an engaging young fellow, and he didn't mind having him along at all.

"Now, young man, I'm going to throw you out of that seat if you don't move over, and let me run this thing!" commanded the stranger. "Hike!"

Fly good-naturedly gave way, for he shared Herb's admiration and was thoroughly pleased with this new acquaintance.

"Who--who are you?" asked Fly again, as the machine ascended.

"That's what I want to know about you," returned the stranger. "I'll tell if you will. My name's Chance."

"Chance!" gasped the boys at once.

"Sure. Ever hear of me?"

"You bet," answered Herb heartily. "You know Hawke, don't you?"

"Hawke the government aviator?" repeated the stranger in surprise.

"Yep."

"Well, he helped us to build this machine, and taught us how to run it," informed Fly.

"Build this machine?" Young Chance scrutinized his informant as he would look upon a strange, supernatural being.

"Say," he said. "We want fellows like you in New York. You wouldn't mind making some good money, would you?"

"I--I--" began Fly, but he could not wield his tongue somehow.

"Got a father around the Fort?" asked the young aviator brusquely.

"Yes--yes," answered Fly. "You must meet him."

That evening, when Herb met the boys returning from their mountain trip, triumphantly bearing the Thunder Bird, which Dunk and Jerry carried with the aid of a stout branch stuck through its bound feet, and happily flashing the golden bowl, he ceremoniously held up his hand for them to halt, demanding silence.

"We formed a Boy Scout patrol," he began strangely. "Didn't we?"

"Why--yes," replied Fred, wonderingly.

"That's nothing." Herb wrinkled his nose contemptuously. "And shot a grizzly?" he interrogated.

"Why yes," answered Gray, regarding him with a puzzled expression.

"That's nothin'," repeated the southerner. "We built an aeroplane," he went on. "That's nothin'. Mere trifle. We shot the Thunder Bird. Nothin', nothin' at all. That bowl's nothin'."

"Say, what you driving at," exclaimed Jerry. "Spit it out quick, or you to the bug house."

"Because something has happened that makes everythin' else look like a thunder clap when it quits."

"What?"

"Fly's goin' to New York to be an aviator with Chance!"

* * * * *

Vacation is over. We are again waiting for the train in the stuffy little depot at Silver City. Gray and Fred are there--they are going back to school. Mr. Phipps is there, smiling happily upon the handsome boy who is returning to college. Captain Crawford and his wife are there, proud of the stalwart young son they are sending to New Jersey, where he will complete his education at Princeton. Lieutenant Rivers and his wife are there, for Dunk is going to an eastern medical school.

And Carl is there, for Carl too is going to college. True, he lost the money he had saved for the purpose, but the golden bowl, which the boys persuaded him was his by right of conquest, proved to be of sufficient value to pay his way through and leave him a generous surplus. Thus, after all, the unselfish Indian realized his dream.

One of the boys is missing--Fly. He left a month ago for New York, where he has already met Mr. Chance, and is showing promise of being one of the most successful bird-men of the day. Before leaving the Fort, he gave all of the boys sufficient instruction to enable them to fly alone, and to qualify for the aviation medal, which, with a number of other awards, for first aid, machinery, marksmanship and stalking, were promptly awarded to the members of the Thunder Bird Patrol, at the recommendation of Hawke, who remembers them now and then with letters from Juarez.

The _Thunder Bird_ aeroplane is safely packed away at the Phipps ranch, where it is to remain until next summer, for, if all turns out well, the boys are again to spend their next vacation in New Mexico.

As for the Thunder Bird himself, stuffed and mounted it occupies a prominent place in the Phipps ranch-house. So hideous is its aspect even in this harmless condition, that you would not care to stumble on it unawares in the dark, but it no longer makes nightly visits to the sheepfold for prey.

The treacherous redskin, his idol dead, has disappeared, and, according to Tommy, has gone back to the Mexican gold fields.

The antiquated train finally reaches the old depot, puffing and blowing as though short of breath. Our young friends scramble into the dusty coaches, stumbling over their suit cases, and bumping good-naturedly against one another.

There are reluctant but cheerful good-byes, and the wheels turn slowly, gathering speed as the last coach passes the station. The last we see of it, handkerchiefs are still fluttering and hats waving farewell.

The Boy Scouts of the Air Books

_By_ GORDON STUART

Are stirring stories of adventure in which real boys, clean-cut and wide-awake, do the things other wide-awake boys like to read about.

THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE AIR AT EAGLE CAMP

THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE AIR AT GREENWOOD SCHOOL

THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE AIR IN INDIAN LAND

THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE AIR IN NORTHERN WILDS

THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE AIR ON FLATHEAD MOUNTAIN

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_Books for Older Children by L. Frank Baum_

The Daring Twins Series

In writing "The Daring Twins Series" Mr. Baum yielded to the hundreds of requests that have been made of him by youngsters, both boys and girls, who in their early childhood read and loved his famous "Oz" books, to write a story for young folk of the ages between twelve and eighteen.

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_Two Titles:_

The Daring Twins Phoebe Daring

While preparing these books Mr. Baum lived with his characters. They have every element of the drama of life as it begins within the lives of children. The two stories are a mixture of the sublime and the ridiculous; the foibles and fancies of childhood, interspersed with humor and pathos.

The Famous AIRSHIP BOYS SERIES

_By_ H. L. SAYLER

_SEVEN TITLES_

THE AIRSHIP BOYS Or, The Quest of the Aztec Treasure THE AIRSHIP BOYS ADRIFT Or, Saved by an Aeroplane THE AIRSHIP BOYS DUE NORTH Or, By Balloon to the Pole THE AIRSHIP BOYS IN THE BARREN LANDS Or, The Secret of the White Eskimos THE AIRSHIP BOYS IN FINANCE Or, The Flight of the Flying Cow THE AIRSHIP BOYS' OCEAN FLYER Or, New York to London in Twelve Hours THE AIRSHIP BOYS AS DETECTIVES Or, On Secret Service in Cloudland

Fascinating stories of that wonderful region of invention where imagination and reality so nearly meet. There is no more interesting field for stories for wide-awake boys. Mr. Sayler combines a remarkable narrative ability with a degree of technical knowledge that makes these books correct in all airship details. Full of adventure without being sensational.

The Captain Becky Series

_By_ MARGARET LOVE SANDERSON

Resourceful, self-reliant, sunny-natured Captain Becky will find many friends among girl readers. The Captain Becky Series is a noteworthy contribution to books for girls--distinctive and individual in every detail, inside and out.

Two very much alive stories of a girl who makes things happen--who is a _doer_. Whether she is on cruise on the picturesque Indian River in Florida or in laughable masquerade among the old homesteads of New Hampshire, her experiences are worth writing about--and worth reading. Two titles:

Captain Becky's Winter Cruise. Captain Becky's Masquerade.

The Aeroplane Boys Series

_By_ ASHTON LAMAR

"The best yet written," says the Grand Rapids Herald. These stories have a strong appeal to the active American boy, as their steady sales bear witness. Each of the seven titles already published has met with great popularity, and the new title, "On the Edge of the Arctic," is the best of the series. Correct in all mechanical details, full of wholesome adventure and excitement.

EIGHT TITLES

_IN THE CLOUDS FOR UNCLE SAM Or, Morey Marshall of the Signal Corps_

_THE STOLEN AEROPLANE Or, How Bud Wilson Made Good_

_THE AEROPLANE EXPRESS Or, The Boy Aeronaut's Grit_

_THE BOY AERONAUTS' CLUB Or, Flying for Fun_

_A CRUISE IN THE SKY Or, The Legend of the Great Pink Pearl_

_BATTLING THE BIGHORN Or, The Aeroplane in the Rockies_

_WHEN SCOUT MEETS SCOUT Or, The Aeroplane Spy_

_ON THE EDGE OF THE ARCTIC Or, An Aeroplane in Snowland_

The Aunt Jane's Nieces Series

BOOKS FOR GIRLS

_By_ EDITH VAN DYNE

EIGHT TITLES

_Aunt Jane's Nieces_ _Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad_ _Aunt Jane's Nieces at Millville_ _Aunt Jane's Nieces at Work_ _Aunt Jane's Nieces in Society_ _Aunt Jane's Nieces and Uncle John_ _Aunt Jane's Nieces on Vacation_ _Aunt Jane's Nieces on the Ranch_

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HER OWN BOOK

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ANNABEL

_By_ SUSANNE METCALF

A girls' book with a clever, quick-moving plot is unusual. ANNABEL is that kind. The heroine is a lovable girl, but one with plenty of snap--her red hair testifies to that. Her friend, Will Carden, too, is a boy of unusual qualities, as is apparent in everything he does. He and Annabel make an excellent team.

The two, the best of chums, retrieve the fortunes of the Carden family in a way that makes some exciting situations. The secret of the mysterious Mr. Jordan is surprised by Annabel, while Will, in a trip to England with an unexpected climax, finds the real fortune of the Cardens.

ANNABEL is a book whose make-up is in keeping with the high quality of the story.

School-Fellow Days

_Designed by_ CLARA POWERS WILSON

_A Memory Book for Younger Boys_

A record book suitable for boys of the upper grammar grades, through high school, preparatory school and military academy. Striking illustrations, printed in two colors on specially made, tinted paper with good writing surface.

My Golden School Days

For schoolboys of all ages--with places and departments for every important item of interest--and containing appropriate verses and poems.

Azalea

_By_ ELIA W. PEATTIE

The first book of the "Blue Ridge" Series

Azalea is the heroine of a good, wholesome story that will appeal to every mother as the sort of book she would like her daughter to read. In the homy McBirneys of Mt. Tennyson, down in the Blue Ridge country, and their hearty mountain neighbors, girl readers will find new friends they will be glad to make old friends.

This book marks a distinct advance in the quality of books offered for girls. No lack of action--no sacrifice of charm.

The Flying Girl Series

_By_ EDITH VAN DYNE

_Author of "Aunt Jane's Nieces" Series_

_Exhilarating Books for Girls of Today_

Capital up-to-the-minute stories for girls and young people, in which the author is at her very best. Thrilling and full of adventure, but of that wholesome type parents are glad to put in the hands of their daughters. Two titles:

The Flying Girl

Orissa Kane, self-reliant and full of sparkling good nature, under-study for her brother, prospective inventor and aviator whose experiments put the Kane family into great difficulties, in the crisis proves resourceful and plucky, and saves the day in a most thrilling manner.

The Flying Girl and Her Chum

This story takes Orissa and her friend Sybil through further adventures that test these two clever girls to the limit. A remarkably well told story.