CHAPTER XXIII.

THE FLIERS WARN KORAKUM.

After a hectic morning, all was ready for the take-off as one-thirty o’clock approached. Right up to the last minute, Frank was kept by Stone at practising landing and taking-off within a limited space for, although the description given by the young revolutionists of the tremendous size of the arena promised sufficient space for the delicate work of alighting and re-ascending, yet Frank must be perfect. Otherwise, if the plane smashed, the expedition would be wrecked. Once inside of Athensi and the Coliseum, the only way to escape would be by means of the plane.

Understanding full well the responsibility resting upon him, Frank concentrated on the task in hand. An expert aviator with four years of flying to his credit, he won the approval of Roy Stone as he managed the plane in masterly fashion and as his landings and ascents approached perfection. Finally, when twice in succession he had landed and re-ascended within an oval traced on the desert sand which all the Athensians, who could not recall the exact measurements of the arena, declared according to the best of their recollection was even smaller than that of the Coliseum, Stone ordered him to cease his efforts and rest for an hour.

At the end of that period, sharp at one-thirty, the take-off was made.

What a cheering and hullabaloo there was as, with Frank at the stick, and Stone and Amrath riding as passengers, the start of the flight was made. Brilliant sunlight flooded the desert and, gathered in a group a bit out from the Great Mountain Wall, revolutionists, Arabs and Jack and Mr. Hampton waved farewells and called Godspeeds to the expedition.

Amrath occupied the seat beside Frank, for his was the task of piloting the flight. Stone, sitting in the rear pit from which had been removed the drums of gasoline which formed his surplus fuel supply, in order to make room for Bob on the return trip, had his gas bombs nicely adjusted. A grim smile crossed his features as he regarded them. Let one of those bombs light on the stone platform of the Janissaries in the middle of the arena, and those gentlemen would give no trouble to anybody for quite some time.

Jack and Frank had clasped hands just before the latter clambered to his seat, and the look in his eyes told better than words could have done the gratitude he felt because his chum had stepped aside unselfishly and given him the opportunity to fly the plane.

A running start out over the desert, away from the Great Mountain Wall, a spurning of the sand, a turn in the air, and then higher and higher mounted Frank seeking altitude. Those watching from the sands saw the plane grow smaller and smaller until it seemed to their sun-dazzled eyes only a mote dancing in the sun. Then away toward the Great Mountain Wall headed Frank, crossed its serrated summit and disappeared.

Mr. Hampton’s eyes were moist and his lips moved soundlessly in a prayer from the heart for the success of the expedition and the safe return of all concerned.

Jack’s eyes were unashamedly moist, too, and, as they trudged back apart from the others, Mr. Hampton’s arm went across his son’s shoulders and stayed there. The two were very close in that hour.

A guard of six, four Athensian revolutionists and two Arabs, had been left in the valley of Korakum to watch the river approach. Accordingly, it was deemed unnecessary for the balance of the party which had witnessed the start of the flight, to return at once and, instead, a halt was made under the trees of the grove where the radio station had been set up.

Jack took his seat at the instruments, while the others crowded around, eager to hear the first word received from the plane with which, of course, constant communication could be maintained. Earlier, before going down to the desert after his rest period to begin the flight, Frank had broadcasted a message of cheer to Bob, in the faint hope that he might be able to receive it, telling him of the effort to be made that afternoon for his rescue.

At once Jack began calling, and back came Stone’s voice in re-assuring accents almost immediately, telling that they had cleared the Mountain Wall in handsome style, that the plane was performing flawlessly, and that even the cross-currents of wind which tugged at them, sweeping down valleys and canyons and around mountain peaks, seemed to make no difference to Frank. To the latter’s skill, Stone paid handsome tribute.

All this Jack repeated to his auditors and Ali and Jepthah interpreted for the Arabs and the revolutionists respectively. Jepthah had stayed to witness the start of the expedition instead of rejoining his command and now intended to wait the few hours more which would tell its outcome.

Suddenly, excitement seized Jack. His brow contracted, his eyes blazed.

“Say that again,” he shouted into the transmitter.

A moment of concentrated listening, then:

“All right, I’ll tell them. How far away, did you say? Twenty-five miles of straight flying. All right, all right. We’ll be ready for them.”

Tearing off the headset in his eagerness, he whirled around to the crowd which, alarmed by his tone even though the words were not understood by most, had drawn close about him. His eyes sought and found Jepthah and him he addressed:

“There’s an attack against Korakum coming by way of the river. As the airplane crossed a gorge twenty-five miles from here through which the subterranean river ran exposed, Amrath counted three boatloads of armed men making their way toward Korakum. There may be more. He didn’t see them. About twelve men in a boat.”

“Perhaps, they are not advancing on Korakum,” suggested Mr. Hampton.

Jepthah shook his head in negation.

“They could be going nowhere else,” he said. “Well, thanks to our friends, we are warned. We shall be ready for them.”

Turning, he issued a crisp order in Athensian which caused the revolutionists in the group to dart away at once. Their bare legs flashed as they raced through the grove, then they leaped over the underbrush at the edge of the terrace without even seeking out the path which had been cut through it, and started running up the Great Road.

“Your Arabs,” said Jepthah, tersely, to Mr. Hampton, “can we count on them?”

“They are free agents,” said the latter. “I’ll ask Ali.”

The latter, standing close at hand, did not wait to be appealed to.

“We are at your command, sir,” he said to Jepthah.

Between this educated Arab with his cosmopolitan experience and air of mystery, and all the young Athensian revolutionists, had developed a warm feeling of mutual liking and respect.

“I knew it,” said Jepthah. “Good. Would you take your men and report at once to Lieutenant Horeb.”

The latter had not gone down the Great Road to witness the start of the flight, but had remained in command of the tunnel guard.

Ali gave a quick nod, more eloquent than words, said something in Arabic to his four companions, whose eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the prospect of a fight, and without more ado the five set out in pursuit of the revolutionists.

Only Jack, Mr. Hampton and Jepthah were left in the little grove. Even the camels were missing, having been taken to the valley of Korakum to graze. Hardly had the last Arab disappeared up the Great Road than the clatter of hoofs was heard approaching, and a man on horseback dashed by making for the desert at a break-neck pace.

“Twenty-five miles away,” explained Jepthah. “The river flows swiftly, and they will row besides. Yet they cannot reach Korakum for an hour or more. I ordered one of the men to ride to the other pass and bring help. Thirty-six men will outnumber us two to one, and it is more than likely there will be many more.”

“Can help arrive from the other pass in time?” asked Mr. Hampton, anxiously.

“Not before the attack begins,” answered Jepthah. “But we will have the advantage, and can hold the enemy off, for a time.”

The defenders of Korakum had thrown up earth works at each bank of the river, where it broke from the interior mountain range into the valley. Besides, for a considerable distance along the river, inside the tunnel, they had dumped heaps of big rocks which rose close to the surface and against which, in the gloom, carried along by the swift current, boats approaching from Athensi would be smashed. Where the river emerged into the open, strong nets had been spread under the surface, staked down to the banks, and sharp stakes also had been driven into the river bottom.

The result was that boats approaching from Athensi would have a perilous gauntlet to run. Smashed against the rocks inside the tunnel, their occupants would be carried along into the nets and, if they managed to get through these, they would be involved in the sharpened sunken stakes below. All the time, rifle fire would be playing on them from the earthworks, and showers of arrows would be whirring into their midst.

Determined men, of course, could effect a landing, but only at a tremendous loss of life. It was said of the Athensian Janissaries, however, that they were absolutely fearless. Their ranks were recruited from the sturdiest, strongest sons of the peasants, seized from their homes before old enough to have imbibed the popular hatred of the Oligarchs and trained in the practise of arms at Athensi. They never saw their relatives again and became mere creatures of the Oligarchy. Knowing they were hated and despised by the people as traitors to their blood, and that if captured they would be slain without mercy, they fought with unparalleled ferocity when employed to quell the numerous rebellions.