CHAPTER XVI

A FRIGHTENED SETTLEMENT

Silence greeted the announcement of Jerry Hopkins, and for a few moments all gazed downward on the horsemen below them--that is, all but Professor Snodgrass. It would need something more than this to take him away from his notebooks.

“Just show ’em that we don’t care about ’em,” proposed Ned. “Scoot down toward ’em, Jerry, and then speed up for all you’re worth. We can easily leave ’em behind.”

“That’s right,” chimed in Bob. “You do that, and I’ll see about getting something to eat.”

“Something to eat!” exclaimed Jim Nestor. “Why, we had breakfast only a little while ago.”

“You don’t know Chunky,” said Jerry, with a smile. “From now on he’s going to live in the cooking galley.”

“I am not!” indignantly exclaimed the stout lad. “And if I did, I guess you fellows would be glad of it, for you’re generally as hungry as I am.”

“All right, Chunky, we’ll forgive you,” spoke Ned.

“But, how about fooling Noddy, Jerry?”

“I guess it won’t do any harm. Here goes.”

He went back to the engine room, and while the others in the party watched those below them, who sought to get on the trail of the sixty nuggets of gold, Jerry sent the _Comet_ down until they could hear the excited shouts of one of the horsemen with Noddy.

“That’s the grub-staker!” exclaimed Ned. “He doesn’t know much about airships, and I guess he thinks we’re going to smash into him.”

“Noddy and Bill are taking it calmly enough,” observed the tall lad, as indeed the two plotters were, for they could be seen gazing up at the motorship as if they knew its power and what it would do. But the other man was yelling excitedly, and urging his steed to one side.

The motor boys were too far away to permit them to hear what was being said, but it was evident that Noddy and Bill were trying to reassure their companion.

“Now show ’em our heels!” cried Ned and, as Jerry set the motor to full speed ahead, the _Comet_ leaped forward on an upward slant and soon was but a speck in the sky, while the disappointed horsemen tried in vain to follow its flight.

“They’ve given us the slip!” exclaimed Bill Berry.

“Never mind, we’ve seen in what direction they started,” declared Noddy. “And you know the best place to head for; don’t you?” he asked of the other man.

“I reckon so,” replied the grub-staker. “But I never thought they could handle an airship so. Why, they might ram us!”

“Oh, it’s easy enough to handle one of those things,” spoke Noddy, half contemptuously. “I have done it.” But in his own heart he knew he had never managed a craft with the skill of the motor boys.

Our friends continued on their upward flight until they lost sight of the horsemen, and they knew they, themselves, must be but a mere speck in the sky.

“Now let ’em follow--if they can!” exclaimed Jerry, as he set the automatic steering gear. “How about that grub you spoke of, Bob?”

“It’ll be ready soon. What did I tell you?” demanded the vindicated stout lad, with a laugh. “I said you’d be hungry as soon as I was.”

“Well, this high altitude--ahem!” laughed the tall lad. “Serve it up, Bob!” he added, with assumed dignity.

During the meal they talked over their plans, and it was decided, first of all, to stick to the original scheme of pretending to be attached to the professor’s scientific party.

“We’ll go to Bolton,” said Jim Nestor. “That’s the nearest settlement of any account this side of the Border, and near the valley you spoke of, Harvey.”

“Yes, I guess Bolton would be the best place,” assented the prospector. “I was there just before I made my strike, and from there I can lay out the course to the valley. There’s only one thing bothering me, though.”

“What is that?” asked Jim.

“Well, you see the only way I can locate that valley is by the landmarks on the surface. There are two or three things by which I could tell when I got to the head of it. But, being up in the air this way, I don’t see how I’m going to recognize ’em.”

“Oh, that will be easy,” asserted Jerry. “We can make a descent whenever we want to, and look about. If you see any signs that would tell us we were near the valley, then we can rise above the hills again, and move along until we are hovering over the big gash. Then we can drop down into it.”

“Drop down into it!” exclaimed the prospector, for he had not yet gotten used to hearing Jerry and the others speaking so naturally of a “drop” from the clouds.

“Well, that is, drop gently,” explained Jerry, with a smile.

This plan appealed to all as a good one, and it was adopted. That day they skimmed along, not going at any great speed after they had left Noddy and his cronies behind. At night, to prevent being blown too far off their course, in case a wind should spring up, they descended into a little valley, where they anchored. Harvey Brill recognized the place as one where he had once prospected without results.

“We’re not many miles, as the crow flies, from the Border valley,” said the old prospector, as he looked about him; “though it took me a good while to make that distance, traveling on foot.”

The night passed uneventfully, but, when morning dawned, they found that a stiff gale was blowing. Sheltered as they were, they did not realize the strength of it, but, when they ascended, the _Comet_ was almost pitched on her “beam ends” once she was above the shelter of the hills.

“Say, this is fierce!” cried Ned, who was in the pilot house, helping Jerry, while Bob attended to the engine room. “We’d better go down, Jerry!”

“I think so--myself!” panted the tall lad, struggling to pull over the lever of the deflecting rudder. “I want to--but this is stuck!” he cried. “It’s gotten jammed in some way!”

“What can we do?”

“Scud along--that’s the only chance until the wind slackens. Then, when there isn’t so much pressure on the planes, I can work the rudder.”

And scud they did, their speed being increased by the power of the wind. They were not flying high, and Jerry dared not send the craft up any farther for fear of getting into a still breezier stratum of air.

“I hope we don’t hit anything!” he murmured, as he watched the speed and pressure gauges in the pilot house. Ned stood beside him, ready to help, and Jim Nestor had been pressed into service in the motor room. The professor was, as usual, busy over his books, and Harvey Brill was moving restlessly about, half fearing the danger he knew surrounded them.

It was about noon when Ned, who was looking from the forward port of the pilot house, exclaimed:

“Jerry, I think we’ll have to go up whether we want to or not. There’s a big cliff just ahead of us, and we’re heading right for it.”

Jerry sprang to his chum’s side, and quickly made some calculations.

“I think we can just about clear it,” he said. “If we can, so much the better, for I have a notion that it’s blowing great guns higher up. I think we can clear it.”

He and Ned watched anxiously, their hands on the levers ready to send the _Comet_ up if necessary. But, as they approached the cliff, they saw that they could clear it by a small margin.

“And a good thing, too,” declared Jerry, with a glance aloft at the scudding clouds.

They crossed the pinnacle of the small mountain, and on the other side, saw, stretched before them, a level plain. On the far edge could be made out a small village or settlement.

“There’s Bolton!” exclaimed Jim Nestor. “We’re near the Border now!”

On rushed the _Comet_, and, as it came nearer the town, under better control now, for the wind had fallen off somewhat, a curious scene was presented. There was an outpouring of men and a few women--a horde of horsemen, and all gathered in a compact mass to watch the oncoming motorship.

As it approached nearer, cries of wonder could be heard, and then, as the craft swept straight for the settlement, with Jerry in the pilot house looking for a smooth place to make a landing, the whole population turned, and fled as though some pursuing demon was after them.

“They’re scared out of their wits!” cried Ned. “I guess they never saw an airship before.”