PURSUED

From the boat of the _F 8_ the little straggling, mud-walled town looked like a child’s village of wooden blocks. The dirigible had found her level at something over three hundred feet above the desert, or, as the altometer showed, nearly thirty-eight hundred above sea-level. Perdero lay southeastward a good mile away. The dirigible floated steadily and on an even keel, her stern planes dead into the wind.

“She’s stopped rising,” announced Hugh. “Let’s try her, Jack.”

Hugh’s engine knowledge was to prove its value now. Together, their faces showing the anxiety they felt, they passed back into the central cockpit. Mr. Jordan had instructed clearly and they had striven hard to remember, but suppose they had forgotten something? Or suppose the Mexicans had meddled? There had been no opportunity to examine anything in the engine compartment, for their guards had kept too close a watch on them. The glances of the boys met and each looked a question.

“Gas supply,” murmured Jack, frowning as he tried to recall the engineer’s directions.

Hugh nodded. “I know,” he said. “I was only wondering what would happen if she didn’t start. Well, here’s where we find out. Let’s go!”

Quickly, without hesitation, he attended to gasoline flow and spark. Then, his mouth set tightly, he pressed the starter of the port engine. The propeller spun slowly and a whirring sound arose from under their feet, but the engine didn’t answer.

“Cold, maybe,” muttererd Hugh. “Let’s try more gas.” He swept the throttle further up. Again he pressed the starter and again the propeller spun. The boys exchanged anxious looks. And then, with a sudden sharp explosion in the exhaust, the port engine came to life. With a gasp of relief Hugh closed the throttle down, and: “Controls!” he cried.

Jack jumped forward as the dirigible dipped her nose and clutched the wheel. Slowly the ship came back to an even keel. From outboard the whine of the port engine made delicious music and the wind came straight along the hull into Jack’s face as he stood erect to view the dials in the coxswain’s compartment. In the engine space Hugh was busy with the long-nosed oilcan which he waved exultantly as Jack looked back.

“Thirty-six, about,” he shouted, “and running sweetly! Better bring her around, Jack, and we’ll beat it!”

Jack waved agreement and went forward to the little compartment in the bow and squirmed into Mr. Gandell’s seat. His heart was jumping as he laid his hand on the control and turned slowly. At first there seemed to be no result, but a glance at the compass showed the needle trembling to the left, and presently, glancing backward and downward, Jack saw the distant village creep into sight again. When the course was set due north he turned the rudder control gently back again, and sighed exultantly. Below, the desert stretched level and monotonous. Above, the crisp, cloudless blue arched the whole world in. The wind sung gayly to him. It was none too warm, for the shadow of the big envelope fell over the boat, and the breeze held a chill. Hugh called and Jack locked the rudder control and went back to the next compartment.

“She’s on her course,” he announced proudly.

“Good! Lucky thing we got that rudder fixed, wasn’t it? I’m going to start the other engine now and give her all she’ll take. I’ll feel a lot easier when I see the last of that place.” He nodded in the direction of the village. “I guess Dan fixed their airplane for them, all right. If he hadn’t it would have been after us long before this.”

“I hope you’re right,” responded Jack, “but we’ve only been up twelve minutes, and――――”

“Twelve minutes!” echoed the other incredulously. “You’re crazy!”

“Look at your own watch then. We got off at――――”

“Great Scott, Jack, it seems like an hour!” Hugh cast an anxious look in the direction of Perdero. “It’s too soon to whistle, then, isn’t it? Well, let’s get a move on!”

“Yes,” Jack agreed, “but if those airmen can get up all the moves we can make won’t do much good. They can do a hundred and twenty in that bus of theirs, and we can’t better sixty.”

“Just the same, we’ll give ’em a run,” retorted Hugh.

The starboard engine added its voice to that of the port and the hand on the small dial moved up and up. “Forty-eight――fifty――fifty-two――three,” muttered Hugh, watching, his hand on throttle. “Come on, old girl! Want some more? How’s that? Fifty-six! That’s the stuff! Gosh, what a roar, Jack! Where’s that oilcan?” He climbed up on the starboard outrigger and deluged the throbbing mechanism. “I hope to goodness the grease-cups were well filled, for I don’t know where they all are and haven’t time to fill ’em, anyway. What’s she doing now?”

“Sixty and a fraction: sixty-one, about.” Jack had to shout to make himself heard. “You don’t think there’s any danger of busting something, do you?”

“I think there is, but we’ve got to take that chance. We’ve got a hundred and fifty miles to do, if they told us the truth back there, and I propose to cover that before I throttle her down, Jack. Once over the border those engines may die if they want to, but until then they’re going to hustle! Controls all right?”

Jack nodded after a glance forward. “I should think it would be safe enough to swing her east just as sure as we aren’t being chased. We could reach some place like Laredo, couldn’t we? Or we might make home if she held out.”

“We’ll take her right back to Camp Stanton, Jack, if it can be done, but the Old Man’s orders said straight for the border first. And straight it is. And I’ll be mighty glad to get a look at the old Rio Grande again! Wish to goodness we might have fixed that radio. Wonder if I’ve got――――” He thrust a hand into an inside pocket of his coat and nodded. “All right. I was afraid I might have dropped Weeks’ message out. What do you suppose they’ll do to ’em, Jack?”

“The others?” Jack shook his head soberly. “I don’t know. I don’t like to think about it. That weasel-eyed little Roza looked to me like a fellow who’d have the temper of a wildcat if he ever got really angry. It seems a lot like deserting, doesn’t it, to come off safely while the rest are facing the music back there?”

“We don’t know that we are safe yet,” answered Hugh dryly. “Anyway, we’re following orders, old son. I don’t believe Roza will dare do very much to ’em, Jack. He knows mighty well that we’ll be back again, and――well, I’d hate to be in his boots if we didn’t find the whole bunch safe when we got there! He will be ugly, all right; that’s a safe wager; but, there won’t be any shooting. I dare say he will dump ’em into that place they call a _cárcel_ and feed ’em on bread and water. I wonder if any one got hurt in that fracas.”

“Last I could see our chaps were all on their feet,” said Jack. “Jordan was plowing his way through a dozen greasers, heading for Mr. Weeks and Mr. Traine, and Mr. Gandell was close behind. I saw Mr. Gandell give one peachy punch!”

“I didn’t like the way those dirty little villains were jabbing bayonets around, though. Too bad Jordan didn’t get to us half a second sooner. I’d feel a heap happier if he were here. I’m not nearly so cocky as I was about my ability as an engineer. I guess I can feed the gas and douse on oil, but if anything goes wrong with these engines――good night! Besides that――――” He broke off abruptly, staring southward. Then: “Fetch the Old Man’s glasses, Jack, will you?” he asked soberly. “They’re in one of those lockers at the right of his seat.”

Jack dived forward and found the binoculars, jerking them from their case as he hurried back. “See anything?” he asked anxiously.

“Yes, but it may be only a bird or――――” Hugh’s voice dwindled into silence as he raised the binoculars to his eyes and quickly adjusted the focus. An instant of suspense followed. Then: “It’s the airplane, Jack,” he announced. “And she’s hitting on all four! Guess this is where we say ‘Now I lay me’!”