CHAPTER XX.

AN OLD FRIEND APPEARS.

“Mr. Hampton isn’t here, but this is one of his men speaking,” Jack heard Frank say.

As in a daze, Jack stood open-mouthed while Frank continued:

“What’s that? Roy Stone?”

Frank’s voice was joyful, unbelieving.

“I can’t believe it’s you, Stone. I just can’t,” Frank continued. “This is Frank Merrick speaking. But how in the world? Where did you come from? Wait a minute, wait a minute.”

He turned to Jack.

“It’s Roy Stone,” he cried. “Remember?”

Did Jack remember? A flood of memory engulfed him. All the details of that fight in the cave a good four years before came sweeping back. Mr. Hampton had been held prisoner by Mexican rebels in a stronghold in Old Sonora, across the border from New Mexico. The rebels also had stolen the airplane which was the pride of Bob and Frank, who were its joint owners. Setting out with Tom Bodine, an ex-cowboy, to rescue Jack’s father, the three boys had put up one night in a mountain cave to which Tom led them.

They found it outfitted as a radio station by the Mexican rebels. Shortly after their arrival, one of the Mexicans named Morales, a German named Von Arnheim, who was stirring up trouble on the border in the hope of embroiling the United States in war, and a young American aviator named Roy Stone, a stormy petrel, a soldier of fortune, who had cast in his lot with the rebels, arrived. More to the point, they arrived in the airplane stolen from the boys.

In the fight which followed in the dark cave, the boys and Tom Bodine had won. The three others had been made prisoners. Learning their story and realizing the Mexican rebels were being employed as pawns by Von Arnheim, to the detriment of his own country, the American Stone had swung his allegiance to the boys and had been of material aid in effecting the subsequent rescue of Mr. Hampton.

All this came back to Jack in a flash, and he wondered if he had heard Frank aright. How in the world could Frank be speaking with Roy Stone? Frank was listening in wrapt attention to whatever message was coming over the radio, and Jack could not bear the suspense. He grasped Frank by an arm.

“Are you dreaming?” he asked. “Tell me what all this is about?”

“Wait a minute, Roy, wait a minute,” Frank again said, speaking into the telephone transmitter. “Jack Hampton is here and he thinks I’m going crazy.” Then he turned to Jack with shining eyes.

“It’s Roy Stone all right enough,” he said. “He’s flying for the Spanish government, which is having one of its numerous wars with the Riff tribesmen of Morocco. At least, he’d been flying for the Spaniards but decided to quit fighting the Moors who had a better right to their own country than the Spaniards. Now he is crossing the desert to Abyssinia, where somebody told him there’s a war he could have a hand in. Anyway that’s what I gather. He was forced to descend at the Oasis Aiz-Or, and there found Amrath who told him of us. He recognized the names and wants to know if he can be of help.”

“Can be of help?” shrieked Jack. Seizing the transmitter he called into it:

“Hello, old scout. This is Jack Hampton. Come a-flying. You’ll be an angel from heaven.”

Releasing the transmitter, Jack darted away, calling to Frank:

“Keep him till I get back. I’m going to round up Dad.”

Mr. Hampton was not in sight in the grove, and Jack dashed out into the hot sunshine and up the Great Road toward Korakum. Despite the oppressive heat in the pass, he ran as if he had wings on his heels. So great was his sense of elation at finding an airplane and a friendly pilot near enough to be of aid, though just how that aid could be employed he had not yet decided, that he would have been able to run all the way to Korakum without feeling fatigue.

As matters turned out, however, that was unnecessary. Before he had gone far, Jack saw Mr. Hampton appear in sight on camel-back. He waved an arm frantically for his father to hurry, and the latter, alarmed, put his animal to a trot.

“What’s happened now?” he called, as he drew nearer.

“Hurry along to the grove, Dad,” panted Jack. “I’ll follow as fast as I can. The radio’s working and we’ve got an angel on the wireless.”

“Jack,” demanded his father, “have you gone crazy? Out here in this sun without your helmet, too.”

“Crazy, yes, Dad,” Jack laughed merrily, “crazy with joy. Now do hurry along. Frank’s got word for you, and someone for you to talk with over the radio who’ll give you your best hour for many a day. No, I’m all right, really. Just go on to the grove.”

Seeing that Jack was really serious, despite his exuberance, Mr. Hampton wonderingly continued. When Jack arrived later he found his father seated at the phone.

“He’s talking to Amrath now,” said Frank. “Hear him, speaking French.”

Drawing Jack to a sufficient distance so that their conversation would not disturb Mr. Hampton, Frank explained. Only a short time before, Roy Stone had arrived at the oasis where, as Frank had earlier told Jack, he was hospitably received by Amrath who had recovered his strength in a considerable measure. Learning he was an American, Amrath had spoken of the other Americans who recently stayed at the oasis. Then, as Stone recognized Mr. Hampton’s name, the whole story, even to the kidnapping of Bob, and the setting out of the rescue party, had been related to him.

At once he had gone to his airplane, which had been forced to descend because of a leak in the radiator, and had tuned up his radio and started calling for Mr. Hampton on the slim chance that he would be able to reach his old-time friends.

“If he hadn’t heard from us,” added Frank, “he intended to get directions from Amrath for finding Korakum and fly south in search of us.”

“Luckily, he did get us,” said Jack. “Think Frank. With an airplane we may be able to work out some plan of getting into Athensi and rescuing Bob.”

“That’s just what I am thinking of,” said Frank. “And what I was thinking of all the time.”

“Dad has finished talking to Amrath, I reckon,” Jack pointed out. “Let’s hear what he has to say.”

They made their way to the side of Mr. Hampton who, having taken the headphones from his ears, sat with his head bowed into his hands.

Jack laid a hand on his father’s shoulder, and the older man lifted a face unashamedly wet with tears.

“Why—why—” began Jack, startled.

His father smiled.

“It’s all right, Jack,” he said. “Only I have been so worried about Bob. And this sudden discovery of Roy Stone in this part of the world, and with an airplane, seems like an answer to prayer. If there is any way of saving Bob, I begin to believe it must be by airplane, because the campaign of the revolutionists will take too long. Athensi may fall in time, but the Sacrificial Games would be held long before the city’s capitulation. And that would mean——”

“I know Dad.” Jack’s hand gripped his father’s shoulder hard.

“Well, things look immeasurably brighter now,” Mr. Hampton added. “And for the revolutionists, too. Stone is a quixotic fellow or he would not have left the Spanish service because he thought the Moors were receiving a bad deal. It may be, he will be glad to help the revolutionists. And an airplane could certainly be of use to them. But, first of all, he said he would do his best to help rescue Bob.

“They’ll be here at sunset. The oasis is three hundred miles away, but what it took us six days to travel, Stone can cover in three hours.”

“They?” asked Frank.

“Yes, Amrath is sufficiently recovered to come, too. Now I must go and tell Horeb. He’ll be glad. Amrath is a big man among these revolutionists.”