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CHAPTER XIII.
SOUTH AMERICAN JUSTICE
Aided by the rascally guide, who had been employed for the express purpose of decoying Nat, the three men carried the lad’s limp form into the doorway. Inside they ascended a steep flight of stairs, and at length arrived in a room on the upper story.
A lamp was smoking and flaring on a table, which, besides one chair, appeared to be all the furniture there was in the place.
“Fling him on the floor,” ordered Captain Lawless brutally, and poor Nat was chucked into a corner with as scant ceremony as if he had been a sack of potatoes.
The appearance of both Lawless and his rascally mate was materially changed since we last saw them leaving their crew marooned on the tropic island. Both had shaved off their beards, and wore the South American style of dress, so that it would not have been an easy matter to recognize them.
The two rascals had arrived in Callao a week before, and at Lima had exchanged their pearls for substantial sums, so that they were well provided with money. They made no long stay at Lima, but hastened to Santa Rosa, where Durkee fell in with two old acquaintances, to wit, the two South Americans who were now leagued with them.
As soon as the news of the approach of the Motor Rangers’ craft spread along the water front, Lawless and Durkee engaged a sailboat. They wanted to look the craft over, and ascertain the lay of the land, as it were. But, as we know, darkness fell before the Nomad was anchored, and they were chagrined to find no easy way of getting close to the vessel. But they saw the professor and Nat leave her for the shore, and made the cowardly attempt to run them down that we have related.
When this scheme failed, they hastened back to the port, landing at a wharf not far distant from the one at which Nat and his companion had disembarked. Having found their satellites, they deputed one of them to track Nat and lure him into the alley where they lay in wait for him. How easily and unsuspectingly the lad had walked into the trap, we know.
“What are we going to do with this cub, now that we have him?” asked Lawless, as Nat was thrown into the corner.
“Better put him in Manuello’s pit downstairs,” said Durkee. “He’ll come to in a minute or so and may make us a lot of trouble.”
Lawless bent over Nat and examined him carefully.
“You must have hit him a terrible crack, Manuello,” he said to one of the South Americans, who stood by, impassive and indifferent, while this dialogue was carried on.
The man shrugged his shoulders.
“What would you?” he said. “You told me to knock him senseless, and I did so.”
“You certainly did,” said Lawless, with a brutal laugh.
“Well, if we are going to keep him in the pit over night, we had better put him there now,” remarked Durkee.
“All right. Bear a hand in packing him down stairs again, then. Confound it, I wish we hadn’t brought him up here. He’s a heavy youngster.”
“He is that,” agreed Durkee. “And he’s got muscles like iron. He’d be an ugly customer in a rough-and-tumble fight, all right.”
“No danger of such a thing as that occurring,” said Lawless, as he lifted Nat’s feet, while Durkee took his head.
Followed by the South Americans, one of whom held the lamp, they descended the stairs, and opening a trap-door in the passage, they clambered down another flight leading into a damp, earthy-smelling cellar. In the centre of this cellar, the light revealed a deepish pit. Into this pit Nat was lowered. All this time he had given no sign of consciousness and was as limp as a rag-doll.
“Now, get the dogs, Manuello,” ordered Lawless.
In obedience to his commands, the South American approached a small door at the rear of the cellar and opened it. He whistled softly, and two ferocious, half famished looking blood-hounds came leaping out. Their dripping fangs were drawn back, exposing sharp, white teeth.
“Watch that boy carefully,” said Manuello in Spanish to the brutes.
They seemed to comprehend him instantly. They uttered a low growl and crouched close to the edge of the pit. Their red-rimmed eyes were fixed on the boyish form lying at the bottom.
The creatures were vicious to a degree; in fact, Manuello used them in fighting, the scene of the brutal sport being the pit in which Nat now lay.
“Humph!” said Captain Lawless, as he regarded the two dogs, “those fellows are better than human guards. If that boy ever escapes from them, he’ll be – ”
“Look out!” yelled Durkee suddenly.
An astonishing thing had happened. Nat’s limp form had suddenly galvanized into aggressive, fighting life.
He sprang erect like a flash, and in one bound was out of the pit. Another instant, and his fist was crashing into Lawless’s face. The man, taken utterly off his guard, reeled backward, waving his arms wildly.
He fell into the pit with a crash and lay still.
Before Durkee could recover from his amazement, he, too, had joined him. There remained only the two Spanish-Americans for Nat to face. But they had had more time to prepare themselves. Both brandished wicked-looking knives as the boy came at them.
Moreover, the dogs had now awakened to the situation. With frantic yaps and snarls, they sprang at Nat.
The lamp which had lighted their progress to these lower regions stood on the ground. Nat saw in it a weapon of necessity. Snatching it up, he swung it round his head and then sent it crashing at the brutes as they leaped for his throat.
As the crash of splintering glass resounded, the place was plunged in darkness, but the howls of the two savage brutes showed that the burning oil had singed their skins.
Without waiting an instant, Nat plunged off through the darkness, in the direction in which he judged the door lay. As he dashed forward, he collided with a body, no doubt one of the South Americans. Down went the fellow before Nat’s onrush, just as if he had opposed him on the football field.
But in the meantime, Durkee had recovered his wits and scrambled out of the dog-pit. His rough voice came bawling through the darkness with appalling ferocity.
Fear of this ruffian lent Nat winged feet. He found the door, darted through it and then down the passage and out into the dark street. At the far end of it he could see lights gleaming. He made for these at top speed and found himself in a well-lighted plaza opposite the cathedral.
He knew that the ruffians would not dare to pursue him there, and, spying an alguzil, or native policeman, he made his way to him. In Spanish Nat explained the outrage that had been perpetrated on him, and demanded that the police investigate instantly.
To his astonishment, the man merely shrugged his shoulders, and twisted his little black moustache. He said that nothing could be done that night.
“To-morrow, perhaps, but not to-night, señor,” he replied, and turned away to strut off on his beat once more.
“Gee whiz!” muttered Nat, as he watched this competent conserver of law and order, “what wouldn’t I give for a good American cop with a big nightstick, right now. However, it’s no good trying to wake that chap up, and those rascals must have decamped by this time, anyhow. Wonder if they meant to rob me, or what? Funny thing that two of the voices sounded so familiar. If it hadn’t been for the impossibility of their being here, I could almost have sworn that they were the voices of Lawless and Durkee.”
As it was past the hour at which he had promised to return to the consulate, Nat set off at a brisk pace. Once he had to ask his way. The man he inquired of, a woe-begone looking personage in a long cloak and a cone-shaped hat, replied with great volubility.
“I will guide the señor there,” he declared.
“I guess not,” rejoined Nat, with such vigor that the fellow fell back a pace, “I’ve had all I want of guides in this place.”
As Nat walked along, he felt the back of his neck, where he had been struck, for it was becoming quite painful.
“Good thing the force of that blow was mostly wasted on my shoulder,” he said to himself, “or I might have been knocked unconscious in good earnest. As it was, it was a lucky thing I shammed insensibility, or I might have got another tap.”
CHAPTER XIV.
OFF ON THEIR STRANGE VOYAGE
“Well, boys, everything appears to be all right.”
It was morning in the large compound, or garden, adjoining the consul’s house, and our adventurers were grouped about an odd collection of articles that had formed the contents of several big packing cases.
“By the way,” put in Mr. Stowe, who had been an interested spectator of the unpacking of the cases, “I have news for you, Master Trevor.”
“What is it?” inquired Nat, whose shoulders still felt a bit stiff and sore, but was otherwise in fine fettle.
“The police say that they will arrest that man who struck you – to-morrow.”
“I thought so,” said Nat, with a laugh, as he caught a twinkle in the consul’s eyes; “I guess it will be one of those to-morrows that never come.”
“I’m afraid so,” said the consul. “There is little law in this country, and it’s a case of every one looking out for himself.”
After some more talk, in which all freely expressed their indignation against the rascals who had decoyed Nat, work on the erection of the dirigible was begun. It proceeded rapidly. By afternoon the lower framework of the craft was in position and bolted firmly in place. This part of the craft merits a somewhat detailed description. It was of an aluminum alloy, of great strength and lightness.
Amidships of the structure, which was shaped not unlike a long sleigh, was a canvas-enclosed cabin. The front part of this was fitted with round windows for the helmsman to see out of, and contained the wheel by which the great rudder was controlled. The various levers and handles for the management of the engine were also manipulated, like the rudder, from this “pilot-house,” as it may be called.
Just aft of the pilot-house the canvas-enclosed framework did duty as a dining, living and sleeping room, being fitted with swinging bunks, which, when not in use, folded up against the ceiling. A collapsible table and other furniture of the same character were also to be found in this chamber, as well as a denatured alcohol stove for cooking, and a complete outfit of plates, knives, forks, etc.
Behind the pilot-house came the heavy frames and stringers, destined to support the engine. This was a six-cylinder motor of one hundred horse power, which drove a big suction propeller attached to the front of the framework. Thus the dirigible was drawn, and not pushed, through the air. The propeller was ten feet from tip to tip, and formed of laminated wood covered with canvas stretched tightly upon the timber.
A sort of gangway, or path, extended from bow to stern of this framework, enabling the aerial navigators to walk to any part of the structure at will.
The entire frame was secured to the vast gas bag by numbered ropes, with steel cores to insure their stoutness. Relief valve-cords and gas controls all ran to the pilot-house, under which structure a steel tank, capable of holding two hundred gallons of gasolene, was suspended. A reserve supply of fuel was also carried, as well as lubricating oil, and what Joe Hartley called “a machine shop full of tools.”
There were other features of the craft, which will be described as occasion arises; but when we say that the Discoverer was, roughly, a hundred and fifty feet from stem to stern, one of the largest airships of her type, constructed in America, had a capacity of 150,000 cubic feet of gas and could lift 6,000 pounds, we have covered the main features of her construction. It may be added that the motor was of the four-cycle type, and, despite its high horse power, weighed but a trifle over 250 pounds. Aluminum alloy had been used freely in its construction.
By nightfall the engine was in place and firmly bolted to its foundation plates. A test showed it to be working perfectly. The cabin provision lockers were then stored with canned goods of all descriptions, and staples, such as flour, beans, bacon, corned beef and preserved butter. Tea was also carried, but no coffee. One feature of the cabin was the “armory.” This was a chest containing rifles and shotguns of the latest automatic type. It was an important feature of the Discoverer’s equipment, inasmuch as the adventurers expected to “live on the country” to a great extent, for Bolivia abounds in game.
All that remained to do then, was to inflate the great gas bag. The adjustment of this to the frame proved tedious work. But at last it was done, and the folds all carefully straightened out, in itself an arduous job. The whole party was pretty well tired out by this time, and work was discontinued for the day.
“In the morning,” said the professor, “we will inflate the bag, and then there will be nothing more to detain us.”
The boys gave a cheer. It seemed almost too good to be true – the idea that before many hours had passed they would be flying high above old Mother Earth in a cloud cruiser, that for completeness and effectiveness surpassed their wildest dreams.
Between four and five o’clock the next morning the lads were astir. After early coffee and some fruit and rolls, the task of inflating the great bag was begun. Huge wooden tanks full of iron filings and metal scrap had already been erected. Acid was now added to the filings and the tops clamped on. Then the inflation pipes, purifier and nozzles were adjusted.
A cheer broke from the boys as they saw the huge bag begin to swell like a live thing as the gas poured into it. By noon the professor announced the inflation as being sufficient. At that time, the great yellow bag was as tight as a drum almost, and the heat of the sun served to swell it still further. While the bag had been filling, the under frame of the dirigible had been weighted down by bags of sand. Otherwise it would have risen of its own volition.
The last things loaded on the framework were several cylinders of hydrogen gas at tremendous pressure. This was the reserve supply of the adventurers, and the tanks contained enough almost to refill the bag in case of necessity. A hasty lunch was consumed at the consul’s table, and Nat gave final instructions to the man who had been employed to take care of the Nomad during their absence.
This done, there was nothing else to wait for, and at one-thirty sharp, the professor gave a final look over things. Then he turned to Ding-dong Bell.
“You can take your place at the motor,” he said. “Mr. Tubbs, you will attend to the handling of the craft as we rise.”
The versatile Mr. Tubbs, whose moving picture apparatus was in readiness, paused to take a few pictures, and then mounted to his place in the pilot-house.
Nat and his chums bade good-bye to the consul, and then took their places. It was Nat and Joe’s task to attend to the throwing off of ballast as they arose.
“Good-bye and good fortune to you,” said the consul, as the great airship quivered and strained, as if anxious to be up.
The bags had been thrown off so rapidly that now the weight of only a few held her down. The professor took his place beside Mr. Tubbs. The consul’s wife waved a dainty handkerchief.
The departure had been kept a secret, but the sight of the great yellow bag’s outlines rising above the compound walls had attracted a crowd outside. A cheer arose as the Discoverer’s electric siren sounded a prolonged blast.
It was the signal for throwing off the remaining bags. Nat and Joe worked with a will. Suddenly the craft bounded upward, almost throwing them off. Hastily they cast off the final sacks, while Ding-dong, his face pale with excitement, stood by his engines.
Clang-clang! came from the gong at his elbow.
The lad’s hand shoved over the starting lever that gave the engines their first impulse by means of compressed air. Then he manipulated the sparking and gas controls.
The mighty propeller began to beat the air as the Discoverer soared buoyantly, and yet in stately fashion, high above the houses and tree-tops.
“Hurray! We’re off!” cried Nat, clambering along the runway as nimbly as a sailor.
Faster and faster the propeller revolved. The wind was blowing lightly out of the west, aiding the Discoverer on her flight toward the mountains.
Suddenly Ding-dong felt something fan the air past his ear. It was a bullet. At the same instant a report came from below. Somebody was shooting at the craft of the clouds. The others rushed out excitedly. They were just in time to see two figures struggling in the hands of several native policemen.
“It’s that rascal Lawless and his mate Durkee!” cried Nat. “Now I know why those voices seemed so familiar. It was those two ruffians who captured me the other night.”
“But how in the world did they get here?” asked Joe.
It was many days before that mystery was solved for the Motor Rangers, but in the meantime they at least had the satisfaction of seeing that the cowardly endeavor to injure the airship had resulted in their arrest.
But they gave little time to thinking of Lawless and his fellow ruffian. The land of mystery, of the lost city, of the unknown, lay before them.
With a fair wind and with perfectly working engines, the Discoverer drove forward at forty miles an hour, carrying the Motor Rangers on the strangest cruise of their eventful lives.
CHAPTER XV.
A SIGNAL THAT MEANT “DANGER.”
Spinning along at a height the barograph showed to be 1,500 feet, was an exhilarating experience. The slight feeling of apprehension which the Motor Rangers had felt when they set out on their novel cruise, soon wore off, and was replaced by a buoyant sensation.
“Well, Master Nat, what do you think of it?” inquired the professor, emerging from the cabin and coming “aft” to where Nat was standing by the smoothly running motor.
“It’s glorious,” replied Nat enthusiastically. “I had no idea, though, that it was possible to get used to it so soon.”
“Well, a craft of this kind is vastly different from an aeroplane,” commented the man of science. “It is my belief that the aerial trans-Atlantic liner of the future will be a dirigible.”
“I wouldn’t mind undertaking the trip in the Discoverer,” declared Nat, with glowing eyes and cheeks.
“What speed are we making?” inquired Joe Hartley.
“About forty miles an hour,” said the professor; “but you can tell the exact speed by stepping into the pilot-house and examining the instruments.”
The lads followed his advice, and found that the speed recorder registered a shade more than the professor had assumed. Mr. Tubbs had the wheel, and was gazing straight ahead, like a steamboat pilot.
The pilot-house of the Discoverer, in fact, was not unlike that of a steamer, although much smaller, of course. The registers and indicators, too, that were fastened to the walls, or rather the framework of the Discoverer’s “hull,” were totally unlike any that the lads had seen before.
Joe Hartley, who had been appointed chief cook and bottle washer, soon left, to begin his preparations for lunch. But Nat lingered on, fascinated. Joe’s meal proved an excellent one, and the fact that they were so high above the earth did not affect the boys’ appetites in the least. In fact, Ding-dong Bell observed that he had never felt so hungry in all his life before.
After the meal was concluded, the motors of the craft were slowed down a bit, so as to economize on gasolene as much as possible. The fact that the westerly wind had increased made it possible to slow the engine down and still make good progress.
“I wonder what they think of us down below there?” said Joe, as he stood by Nat’s side, leaning over the forward deck-rail and watching the dwarfed figures of the inhabitants of a village above which they were passing, scurrying to and fro like ants.
“I guess they must think we are some sort of demoniacal bird,” grinned Nat. “Hark!”
Faintly, very faintly, borne to their ears, came the sound of church bells ringing furiously.
“They must be going to hold services in our honor,” hazarded Joe.
“More likely they are going to pray that we don’t harm them,” responded Nat. “According to the professor, the people of this country are a very ignorant lot.”
By afternoon the Discoverer was flying above rugged country. The foothills of the great Andean range had been reached, and they were in Bolivia. It gave the boys a thrill to think that they were actually at last in the hoped-for vicinity of the lost city of the mysterious old Incas.
As the sun grew lower, the great altitude to which they had attained struck them with a sharp sense of chilliness.
“This part of the world ought to be called Chile,” observed Joe, as he and the professor and Nat stood on the forward deck just below the pilot-house.
“If you will come into the cabin and see what I have in that big chest, we can possibly get over that difficulty,” said the professor, with a smile.
The lads accompanied him within and found that the chest referred to contained a variety of warm clothing.
“I knew that the late afternoons and nights on the Andean heights were bitterly cold,” said the professor, as the boys selected some garments, not forgetting a coat-sweater for Ding-dong. “I therefore took the precaution to be prepared to meet them.”
It was not long after this that the professor addressed a few words to Mr. Tubbs, and the Discoverer began to drop. Then came a sudden signal to Ding-dong to slow up his engines. This being done, the lateral planes of the dirigible, which have not yet been mentioned, were inclined at an angle that brought her to earth with an easy, gliding motion.
“Are you going to land for the night?” asked Nat, who had watched the maneuvers with interest.
“Such is my intention,” said the professor. “It is too late in the day to get any observations now, and I don’t fancy traveling at night in this region. We might blunder miles off our course.”
The boys agreed that this was so, and then gave their full attention to what was going forward. Immediately beneath them was a charming, park-like savannah, set in the midst of dense forests of gigantic trees, from whose branches hung great twisted creepers, looking not unlike big snakes.
It formed an ideal landing spot for the big dirigible, which, in a few moments after the descending planes had been set, grazed the ground and then settled. Instantly the professor shouted an order for the anchoring process to begin.
The boys had been drilled in this before the voyage was started, and fell to work with a will on their task. By running the propeller slowly, with the descending planes set at a sharp angle, the Discoverer’s body was naturally held against the ground.
Nat and Joe leaped off on opposite sides, both armed with sledges. With these heavy hammers they drove sharp, barbed steel stakes into the ground till they were almost as firm as rocks. Each stake had a ring at its top through which ropes were rapidly looped. The ends were then led back on board and secured. This was done so that in case of a sudden attack the great aircraft could be released by those on board. Of course, in such an event, the stakes would have to be left behind, but as an extra supply was carried, this would not be such a serious matter.
Ten minutes after she nestled to the ground, the Discoverer was secured as snugly as a vessel at her wharf. The engine was shut off and the various necessary adjustments of the controls and apparatus of the pilot-house made. This done, the entire party stepped “ashore” for the first time in many hours.
“We will sleep on board, but cook our supper here,” decided the professor.
This plan just suited the boys, and they scattered in all directions to obtain firewood for the encampment. While they were doing this, Mr. Tubbs set about the task of getting the needed utensils from on board the cloud cruiser. He had been busily engaged on it for some time when the professor looked up from some calculations he was making on the back of an old envelope.
“It appears to me those boys are a long time gone,” he said. “I hope they are all right.”
“Oh, they are all right,” spoke the moving-picture artist easily. “They took the rifles with them, and agreed that in case of any danger or difficulty befalling them, they would fire three times.”
“In that case – ” began the professor.
But he halted with an abrupt exclamation of consternation. Mr. Tubbs’s face likewise took on a perturbed look at the interruption.
From the forest, to their right, three shots, fired in rapid succession, had resounded.
