CHAPTER XIV.

A NEW RADIO STATION.

The moon had been down for two hours or more. They had so timed their approach as to make the last part of their journey come at the darkest time of night, in order to minimize the risk of being seen by any spies on the mountain.

In the distance, on either hand, stretched away to the horizon a great mountain mass, the outer walls of which Mr. Hampton estimated to be 2,000 feet at least in height. Steep precipitous slopes of rock, as far as they could judge, made ascent next to impossible. Here, in this pass, however, the mountain walls were slightly lower. Yet, as they proceeded slowly up the stone road, which ascended gradually but steadily, going carefully, with an Arab well in the lead as they approached each turn in order to give warning against surprise, the walls were steep enough in all seeming.

Conversation had been forbidden, and only the soft padding of the camels broke the silence. Yet each man thought to himself that it would be impossible to scale those slopes, and prepared to fight to the death where he stood in case of attack.

It was even darker in the pass than it had been on the desert, where the soft diffusive light of the stars gave a faint illumination. They rode two abreast, and Jack and Frank, who rode together, could make little out of their surroundings. They were in the middle of the line and could barely see the men ahead and behind them—dark, hooded shapes all. For Mr. Hampton and the boys wore Arab burnooses and, except for their sun helmets, which they wore in place of the Arab turban, resembled their companions in appearance.

Of the road itself little could be seen, except that it was smooth and without breaks, composed of immense rocks which could have been moved from a quarry and put in place only at the expense of Herculean labor, especially in that dim bygone age when laid down. Filling the pass from wall to wall, it was a road built for the ages. How deep it went, who knew? Certainly, it must have been yards in depth. Over the surface, one would have expected sand from the desert to have collected, but so free was the stone from any such accumulation that it seemed to be newly-swept. Winds playing up and down the pass like the draught in a chimney were responsible.

Suddenly the Arab riding far in the lead to guard against surprise, as similarly rode a single Arab well in the rear of the main body, fell back beside Mr. Hampton and Ali who headed the procession.

“What is it?” asked Ali, low-voiced. “Men ahead?”

The other whispered softly to him, and Ali turned to his anxious companion, and interpreted in a relieved tone.

“Akmet says there is a little pocket ahead in the canyon wall,” he whispered. “He cannot see well because of the darkness. There are trees and bushes. He will not go in alone. Akmet,” said Ali, in a tone of scorn, “does not fear to find men, but he is afraid of spirits. He wants the Master to accompany him because he is a great wizard.”

In the darkness, unseen by Ali, Mr. Hampton smiled. This child-like fear of _djinn_ or spirits he had noted among the men on other occasions. Early in their association, whiling away hours in camp as they crossed the Great Desert toward the oasis, he had performed some intricate tricks of magic which had made a great impression on the men. That they believed him a wizard, he knew.

“Very well,” he said, “tell Akmet to lead, and I’ll follow. Do the rest of you remain here until we return.”

Then the forms of the two men melted into the darkness. A considerable time elapsed before their return and Jack, alarmed despite the absence of shots or other sounds which would indicate his father had encountered trouble, was arguing with Ali who barred the way to be permitted to go in search, when his father and Akmet returned.

“Just the place for us,” said Mr. Hampton, in a tone of satisfaction, still speaking in a low voice. “A little grassy plateau, slightly above the level of the road and stretching back under a steep overhanging bulge in the rocky wall of the mountains as far as we could judge. Some wild fig trees have grown up there and the grass is luxuriant. There is a spring of water at the rear. The plateau is about an acre and a half or two acres in extent, running back under the rock rather than alongside the road. The trees will screen us, there is water, grass for the camels, and we will be protected from attack overhead. We could make a stand there against an army, if necessary.”

Expressions of satisfaction greeted this announcement, and with Akmet and Mr. Hampton in the lead, the whole party, which the rear guard had joined during its halt, proceeded to the retreat.

Things were as Mr. Hampton had described and, after bedding down the camels at the rear, and rearranging the screen of bushes where they had entered in order to hide signs of their passage, all lay down to snatch a few hours’ sleep except the two guards. Jack and Frank begged so hard to be given the task of keeping guard that Mr. Hampton, knowing their anxiety regarding Bob, gave his consent.

Two hours later came daylight without an alarm having been sounded. Then the two boys reluctantly summoned Ali and another Arab, as had been arranged, and rolling up in their burnooses flung themselves on the grass. They were firmly convinced that sleep would be impossible but nature had her way with their overwrought systems, and they sank fathoms deep in slumber. It was well past noon before Mr. Hampton aroused them, and their looks of astonishment at discovering they had yielded to sleep were so comical that he chuckled with silent laughter.

Before they could speak he laid a finger on his lips, enjoining silence, and then in a low voice added:

“We haven’t seen anybody nor heard a sound. But it is well to be careful. So keep your voices down.”

While they breakfasted, Mr. Hampton sat beside the boys, and a sudden thought came to Jack which caused him to jump up excitedly.

“Look here, Dad,” he said. “We’ve got the Professor’s radio apparatus with us. Frank put it in good shape. Now, it just occurred to me that when Bob left the oasis with me to go on that disastrous ostrich hunt he had a receiving set—our little pet set—tucked away with him. The instruments were in his helmet. The phones and the wire for antenna and ground, were on his saddle.

“It sounds crazy, I know, but it’s just possible that he may have managed to persuade his captors to let him fiddle with the contraption. They wouldn’t know what it was for, and they might let him amuse himself with it. Why not set up the sending apparatus, and try to send him a message. It’s just a chance, I know. But still, if we should manage to let the old boy know we were waiting to rescue him, it would cheer him up, and it would put him on his guard, too, so that he could look out for himself when the attack comes.”

Mr. Hampton, thus appealed to, was tempted to smile tolerantly. It seemed to him, indeed, crazy to believe Bob would be able to receive a message. Yet he was too kind-hearted to hurt the feelings of his son and of Frank, who also hung on his decision. Their anxiety about Bob was known to him. In fact, he shared it. To be doing something, anything, would help relieve the tension on their nerves.

“All right, Jack,” he said, “go ahead and try it. Can’t do any harm, and if you do manage to reach Bob, even though he can’t let you know you succeeded, you certainly will be of comfort to him.”

When he thought of Bob’s predicament, of the mental torture the poor fellow must be undergoing, Mr. Hampton was filled with despair. He turned away to keep the boys from reading his thoughts in his face.

Jack, however, was very close to his father in spirit. Many a time, he showed an uncanny ability at reading his thoughts. As Mr. Hampton strode abruptly away, he turned to Frank and whispered:

“Dad’s in the dumps. He doesn’t really believe we can rescue Bob. I can tell, all right. But, somehow, I have a different feeling myself.”

Frank nodded soberly.

“I can see how your father feels, too,” he said. “I don’t quite share your optimism. Things look pretty black to me. After all, you must remember, that fellow Amrath told your father there was another way beside this to pass through the mountains to Athensi. Bob’s captors may have learned about the exiles having repaired it, and may take it.”

“I wonder,” said Jack, thoughtfully, “what measures Father has taken to keep watch for the approach of Bob and his captors. Think I’ll ask him,” he added, rising.

“Go ahead,” said Frank, draining the last of his coffee. “I’ll be getting to work on the radio in the meantime.”

Presently Jack returned with word that one of the Arabs had been out to the mouth of the pass where, posted with glasses, he could maintain a sharp lookout over the desert, while another had been sent scouting up the Great Road toward Korakum.

“I had a look at that road, Frank,” added Jack. “Believe me, it is a wonder. It is composed of great slabs of quarried rock two or three yards square. The road is all eighty feet wide, Dad estimates. And the ruts! Man alive, you ought to see them, not deep, but innumerable, from the passing of chariots in the ancient days Dad believes. He says that at one time, undoubtedly, the road led out into the desert, perhaps clear to Egypt. But of course the shifting sand has covered it deep by now.”

“Hand me that coil of No. 14 wire, will you?” asked Frank, absorbed in the business of connecting up his motor with the double-pole switch. “There,” as he leaned back, to contemplate his work with satisfaction, before resuming.

“Have you thought, Jack,” he asked, “of how fascinating it is to camp beside this Great Road? Think of the history it has made. History so ancient there is no record of it left.”

“Oh, yes, there is a record,” corrected Jack. “Wait till we start deciphering the papyrus rolls in the library of Athensi.”

“I’m afraid we’ll wait a long time for that,” commented Frank, completing the connection between one pole of the switch with a post of the primary coil of the alternating power transformer. “A long time.”

“Pessimist,” said Jack, stooping down and connecting the other post of the primary coil with one of the posts of the key, then connecting the other pole of the key with the second pole of the switch. “Pessimist,” he repeated, “you’ve got a bad day, that’s all.”

“I have,” said Frank, with conviction. “Wish I could feel as optimistic as you. But it strikes me poor Bob is in one fix, and we stand a poor chance of rescuing him.”