CHAPTER XX

A NIGHT ATTACK

“Well, this is our first bit of bad luck,” remarked Ned, when the prospector had gone off to do guard duty. “But I suppose we couldn’t expect to have everything too easy.”

“No, that’s right,” agreed Jerry. “Well, now it’s up to us to get busy and make these repairs as soon as we can. If the Indians want to make trouble they will, and the best thing for us to do is to get out of here.”

“I don’t call it all bad luck,” observed Bob, as he started back to the galley, whence came appetizing smells.

“What part isn’t?” asked Ned.

“Getting the bear steaks was good luck. I’m going to broil ’em, and we’ll----”

“Well, you are the limit, Chunky!” exclaimed Jerry. “You can’t see any bad luck in anything, as long as there are eats connected with it; eh, Ned?”

“That’s right. Well, I am glad that I shot the bear. He was a big fellow, and if the skin had been in prime condition I think I’d have tried to make a bargain with the Indians for it. But it’s too late now.”

“Don’t have any more to do with the beggars than you have to,” advised Jim Nestor. “Everything may come out all right yet. Can I help you boys any?”

“Yes, you can,” said Jerry, in a low voice. “But not by working on the rudder--we can attend to that. If you keep an eye on Professor Snodgrass, though, you’ll be doing well. I think he’ll wander off too far looking for specimens, in spite of what Harvey said. Just sort of watch over him; will you? He’ll get so interested chasing after a one-legged bumble bee that he won’t realize how far from camp he’s going.”

“That’s right--I will,” agreed Mr. Nestor, and he strolled along the path taken by the scientist, who, intent on capturing a new kind of butterfly, paid no attention to anything else.

Bob had disappeared into the galley, where he could be heard whistling and singing by turns as he prepared the meal.

“Chunky is in his element now,” observed Jerry, with a laugh.

“He sure is,” came from Ned. “What can I do, Jerry?”

“Well, you might be making the braces for the new rudder; I have it nearly finished, but I’m going to rig the controls a little differently. I want to make them stronger, so that in case of a hard blow, straining on them won’t break ’em, as it did a little while ago. If we work fast we may be able to leave to-morrow.”

“I hope so,” murmured Ned. “I want to see the color of those sixty nuggets.”

“And the longer we delay,” said Jerry, “the better chance Noddy Nixon and his crowd have of getting there ahead of us.”

“Do you really think they’re after the gold?”

“I don’t doubt it in the least. I think all they wanted was to get an idea of the general direction in which the valley was. Now they’ll prospect about, join forces with the grub-stakers, and try to find it. So we don’t want to lose any time.”

Ned and his tall chum were soon busily engaged on the rudder. It was no easy task, and several times Jerry feared it would take at least two days more to make the repairs.

“And I don’t want to spend more than one night here if I can help it,” he murmured. “Not with those Indians roaming the woods.”

Bob served the bear steaks, and they all agreed that they made a tasty meal. Professor Snodgrass even consented to give up his bug-collecting long enough to partake of some.

Jim Nestor relieved Harvey Brill at standing guard, but, when night fell, it was decided that instead of staying in the open, and building a campfire, the watch would be kept from within the airship.

“We can take turns in the pilot house,” said Jerry, “and I can mount the search lamp on top of it, so it can be swung in a circle all about, being worked from inside. By keeping it on the move it will flash all around the _Comet_ at intervals, and the one on watch can spot the Indians if they try to attack us.”

“That’s all right, as far as it goes,” declared Jim; “but the trouble is that the woods are so thick, and come so close up to us, that we can’t see the Indians until the last minute. But it’s the best we can do.”

“It’s better than nothing,” asserted the other Westerner. “Maybe I’m over cautious expecting trouble, but it’s best to be on the safe side. It’s better to be sure than sorry. Those redmen, even though I did give ’em most of the bear, may feel that they have been cheated, though it was Ned’s bullet that did the killing. They may persuade the chief to lead the attack. So we’ll just stand guard all night.”

“We can do some work on the rudder to-night, too,” decided Jerry, “and that will fix things so we can surely get off to-morrow.”

Accordingly, he and Ned labored away after supper inside the airship, while the professor classified his day’s catch of bugs, and Jim and Harvey took turns in the pilot house, the great searchlight flashing the finger of fire on the dark trees.

“There, this is all we can do until we can go outside and attach it, to see how to rig the controls,” announced Jerry, at ten o’clock. “Now, how about turning in?”

“You and Ned get some rest,” proposed Jim. “We can take the early watches, and you can relieve us after you’ve had some sleep.”

“I want to do my share,” put in Bob.

“You shall,” promised the mine foreman.

It fell to Bob’s lot to take the last morning trick. At three o’clock he took his place in the pilot house, Jerry and Ned having stood two hours each. It would be daylight shortly after five, and then the danger would not be so great.

“If they come at all, it will be just before dawn,” Jim Nestor had said. “But they may not come. I haven’t seen a sign of ’em, and I’ve been watching carefully. That searchlight is a great stunt. It makes the woods as bright as day; though, as I said, I wish we had a wider circle of clearing around us. Keep your eyes peeled, Bob.”

The stout lad promised, and took his position. At first he followed the circle of the light zealously, as it moved about, being operated by a small motor that sent it revolving on a cogged base. Then, as he saw nothing but the leafy shadow of the trees, he became less nervous, and took his task more comfortably.

Bob was a hearty eater, and, just before coming on watch he had partaken of a lunch, though it was night. And, as is well known, a hearty meal often makes one sleepy. It was so in Bob’s case.

At first he felt only drowsy. Then he felt his head nodding from time to time. Once he even dozed for a moment.

“Come! This won’t do!” he exclaimed. “I believe I’m getting sleepy. Guess I’ll get a drink of water.”

As he arose to leave the pilot house, he gave a look once more all around the little clearing, lighted by the flashing light. He could see nothing.

But scarcely had Bob reached the water cooler, and raised the glass to his lips, then, from the surrounding forest, arose a chorus of shrill yells--cries that sent a cold shiver down his spine, and seemed to stop the beating of his heart.

“Indians!” he yelled. “The Blackfeet! They’re attacking us! Wake up, everybody!”