Chapter III: Part 3

Over the screen in front of him passed a slight movement which might have been water, but Austin knew that it was a film composition rolling past and in a moment he made out blurred objects which gradually shaped themselves into a back-ground of blue sky, with a rushing stream in the foreground. Shrubs and trees stood out in stately order, then a winding path which led over moss-grown rocks to a wide terrace above. Then something moved and Jim could not contain himself a moment longer as the boy he had first seen in Vermont, stepped out from the garden.

“Yncicea,” he called.

“Jim, Old Scout,” came the laughing response. “In Texas you are to have a white Christmas.”

“We surely are,” Jim laughed. “Bob’s mother is crazy about it, says it’s exactly like when she was a girl in Vermont--you know--”

“When she lived on the farm, by the waters of Lake Champlain.”

“Right you are. Well, it’s great to see you, and your father wants to speak to you. So long, Old Man.”

“So long, Jim, Old Scout; here’s to the membrane on your proboscis.”

“Aw, go on, that’s no way to say--skin on your nose,” Jim laughed.

“My son has not proved to be a very good student of slang,” the Don chuckled, then, for several minutes the two spoke in that strange language which Jim had not been able to attribute to any race. Finally the father and son were finished, then the man moved to the further end of the room. Again the two sat down before a dial board, but this time the screen was more like a moving picture.

“Will this be yesterday--last night, I mean?” the boy asked.

“Yes, and perhaps it will answer your question.”

VI

OUT OF THE SKY

Young Austin waited eagerly for the photo record of certain observations made every day in the laboratory. In a moment the film had rolled to the beginning of the picture and after a few preliminary scenes passed, Jim saw the buildings of the Gordon ranch appear, one after the other. There were the barns, corrals, bunkhouse, the ancient home and the root house a short distance away. Beyond, the cliff rose in ragged ridges to the strip of table land which the boy knew so well. He saw Carl Summers, the deputy, gun on his arm, and snowshoes on his feet, moving cautiously as he made his rounds of the place in search of a sign of the return of Arthur. The picture passed from the young chap to other sections, lingered an instant on Pigeon Jute following the deputy, and at last it revealed the outlaw emerging stealthily from a long, tumbled-down building. Through the open door could be seen a pile of furniture, and as they watched, Gordon returned to the room where he fell to work piling the stuff into a deep hole at the further end. That done, the young man covered it with burlap, earth, and finally snow so that it looked as if it had been undisturbed and that the drifts had come down through the broken sections of the roof.

“What do you know about that!” The boy exclaimed in astonishment, but Don Haurea was occupied with something at the further end of the room and made no reply. Keenly interested, Jim continued his observation, and at last he followed Gordon into the old root-house where Summers had made his headquarters. The sheriff’s assistant was nowhere near the spot, and Gordon gave it an indifferent inspection. He hurried to the end, moved the partition, and quickly stepped inside. He went at once to the wall, which was later blown out, removed a section cleverly covered with dirt, and then stepped hastily into the strange vault-like room, where he pulled out numerous record books, ran his fingers through them as if in search for something, which he did not find. He examined the wall, then proceeded to tear the papers.

At this point the picture changed and Jim found himself watching a group of men who were apparently in some part of Don Haurea’s laboratory. They too were interested in observing Arthur Gordon’s actions, but that part of the record moved to another point in the laboratory, where two men were busy before a huge piece of machinery, with a complicated looking set of dials and wheels. One of the men who had been watching Gordon came close to them. He seemed to be giving some directions, and Jim saw a pointer set, other wheels turned, then a small tube of liquid was poured into a grooved opening, and the men waited. Again the scene changed and Austin saw the new airplane land on the cliff, and he watched with interest every move which he knew the four of them had made right up to the minute when they left the dug-out with Carl and Jute running on ahead. Their own part in what followed was cut off; the picture showed the men in the laboratory and as they stood before the mysterious machine they were observing the inside of the dug-out.

Gordon was coming stealthily out of the small armoured room. He stopped to listen at every step, then he heard an odd whirring and jumped forward as if he recognized the sound as a warning, or as if he had stepped on a powerful spring. He leaped furiously to the partition, sprang out, raced through the room, his hand pressed over his face, then came the rumble, the place shook, the further end boomed and heaved convulsively, while the young fellow ran for his life until he reached the cliff, tore madly toward the plane, stopping barely an instant to fire at Kramer. In a moment he was jumping into the cock-pit, but Jute caught his ankle. With an oath, Gordon kicked out and fired, started the engine and the plane leaped into the air. The Indian was in a heap on the snow but he crawled painfully between the crevices.

“Oh, now I know why you examined those crevices.” The Don had joined him and he nodded quietly.

“I thought the Indian would have a camp in the woods somewhere and would get to it, but I decided to make sure before we left last night.”

“Then the place was exploded from here?”

“Yes. Gordon was ready to leave and he had a bomb which he was setting. He intended it to go off while Summers was alone so the young fellow would be blown to pieces. Unfortunately we had to wait until you boys and Mr. Kramer were a safe distance away, then when we disturbed the bomb, it made a slight noise, which Gordon recognized, so he ran for his life and managed to save it. He rigged up the explosive earlier in the day and was going to start it while Carl was making his rounds, so we decided to let the destructive thing be his own undoing; it seemed the surest way of getting him.”

“Did you tell the sheriff he was there?” Jim asked.

“No. In order to do that we should have to explain how we knew the fellow was there and it isn’t wise to reveal to the layman something he cannot understand. We did hope to trap Gordon in such a way that he could be captured, but when he showed the determination to kill young Summers, we had to act quickly,” the Don explained, then added, “I am very glad that your airplane has been found.”

“So am I. We miss the bird no end.”

“Well, now you understand exactly what took place, shall we turn our attention to aeronautics?”

“Yes, sir, and I’d like to watch those chemical experiments.”

“Very good.” Presently the boy was seated in his own corner of the great laboratory, a huge book on the table before him, and a collection of shiny instruments and test-tubes waiting for use. He glanced at the array affectionately, gave his head a little shake as he thought how much he wanted to accomplish, then he set grimly to work, forgetting everything else in the world. It wasn’t until Don Haurea touched him on the shoulder to remind him that the hours had passed, that he glanced away from his work.

“Zargo will run you home,” he offered.

“Thank you, sir.”

The next two days were uneventful, although they were full of suppressed excitement because they were the last before Christmas, and on every huge ranch great preparations were going forward for the holiday. Kramer improved rapidly, and so did Jute, and at last the great date arrived. Homes were decorated with greens, extra bells were attached to harnesses, and cooks were putting the last touches on feasts which were to be spread in homes and bunkhouses. The repaired plane had arrived from the shop early Christmas Eve, and the Flying Buddies went gleefully off to Crofton for newspapers and mail, to say nothing of packages which had accumulated at the post office. They came back as laden as a pair of Santa Clauses, and the entire evening was spent in preparations for the next day. No word had come from the sheriff, so the boys knew that young Gordon had made good his escape. Not even a trace of the parachute had been discovered.

Every man working at the Cross-Bar and the K-A was at headquarters for the festival, and because of the tenderfoot guest, a special party was being arranged--a real wild-west affair with rodeo exhibitions such as only real wild west men can put on successfully. The Austin family, even if there were no little members, were up betimes, and Mom insisted that breakfast be eaten before presents were opened. Everybody was in high spirits, and the air was filled with shouted greetings which lingered in the clear atmosphere. The meal was barely finished when from somewhere came the familiar drone of a racing motor. The Flying Buddies glanced at each other, then by one impulse ran out to see who might be arriving by airplane. It took only a moment to locate the tiny speck in the blue which they watched as interestedly as if they were a pair of small boys. Cap Rock was too far west for them ever to see the air-mail-men, and pilots flew their planes over that section very rarely.

“Gosh, she’s a bird,” Bob exclaimed.

“Looks as if she’s pure silver,” Jim added, and in the bright sunshine the plane did look exactly like that, highly polished. She was rapidly getting nearer, but as yet they could not make out her pilot. However, they did not think much about that for the machine was two thousand feet up and the man was probably protecting himself from the cold. Without diminishing her speed she came straight toward them and in a moment they decided that she was going to pass over, but to their surprise she executed a wide graceful curve, dipped as if she were making a salute, banked, zoomed swiftly, curved again, dived and began to descend in narrowing spirals.

“She’s decorated like a Christmas tree,” Bob laughed. “Somebody’s coming to our party.”

“Somebody is a lucky guy if he owns that machine,” Jim gasped in admiration. The motor had stopped and the beautiful plane was dropping lightly into the clear space only a few feet away from the house. With one impulse the boys leaped across the veranda, slid over the frozen snow, and stopped at the same moment the plane did. Then they stared at the stranger, and at length, stared at each other.

“There isn’t anyone in her,” exclaimed Jim incredulously. They were standing by the fuselage, the cock-pit had a special transparent cover, but no one was seated before the controls.

“See in the back.” There were two cock-pits, the machine was a four-passenger, or three-passenger beside the pilot, and the Flying Buddies walked around her, but the back was as empty as the front. They even glanced at the rigging expecting to discover someone hanging on, but not a soul did they see.

“Tell you what, bet somebody lost her. Remember, that’s the way our plane came down, or it came something like that,” Bob declared.

“Sure. Well, we can soon find out about her. Gosh, isn’t she a beauty, Buddy!”

“Boys, bring your guest inside,” Mom called from the veranda. “You haven’t your big coats on.”

“Be with you in a minute,” Bob answered.

“By George, she looks as if she might have been made for Lindbergh.” It took them only a moment to find a pair of small latches on the outside of the cock-pit cover, but before they lifted it, Bob exclaimed.

“I say, if anyone jumped out of this he was mighty particular to close the roof after him.”

“That’s so, but perhaps it snaps shut.” They lifted the cover, much as they would lift the hood of an automobile, and they saw that the main section folded into a long narrow space. Everything about the plane was brand new. The seats were heavy shiny brown leather with lighter shade trimmings. In front of the pilot’s seat the control board looked, at first glance, like any other machine’s, but on closer inspection they found it was equipped with several extra dials and indicators. On each side of the cock-pit were a pair of long slender glasses. There was a radio, for receiving and transmitting, speaking tube, hamper for the traveler’s convenience. The mirror was the shape of a globe and it had a reflector to cut off any part, or act as a protection for the whole sphere. It looked to the boys as if the altitude meter registered not only the height above the sea level, but it would automatically change according to the nature of the territory over which it would fly.

“Why, Buddy!!!” Jim discovered a long white envelope hanging on one of the parachute buckles and he detached it carefully.

“Does it give the chap’s name?”

“I’ll--why Buddy!” That was all Austin could say and he held out the envelope, which he had turned over. “Look!” Caldwell stared, and read mechanically.

“‘Merry Christmas to the Flying Buddies’--Flying?--Why Jim, that’s--great guns--it can’t be our--Say, what’s inside that envelope?” Jim was already opening it. He took out a folded sheet of heavy paper that looked like some sort of parchment. Swiftly he scanned the lines, then he jumped ten feet into the air and gave a whoop which bounded and rebounded like a ball. Bob caught the sheet from his hand and read.

“Flying Buddies: Christmas

Gentlemen:

I hope to find a place in your hearts and that I shall be
permitted to serve you through many happy excursions above the
world. No man of your race has ever ridden in such a plane, but
I am built so that you will miss none of the pleasure of good
piloting. If you will be seated and replace the cover, it will be
my pleasure to show you something extra in joy-rides.

I have no name, so I can only sign myself, at your service!”

“Come a-hopping, Buddy,” Jim shouted. He jumped into the cock-pit, but Bob hesitated.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“You haven’t a coat on.”

“The cabin is as warm as toast. Hustle, me brave lad, you are retarding progress, which is sinful.” Bob took the second seat, which was adjusted exactly the right size and shape, and Jim swiftly closed the cover. The motor began to purr gently, like a dozen contented lion cubs, and the plane lifted, spiraling in close circles until it reached a thousand feet, then the nose was turned north and she shot forward at a speed of nearly two hundred miles an hour. Austin was busily examining the paraphernalia on the board before his eyes, while Bob was simply too puzzled to do anything more than sit back and wonder if he was experiencing some sort of fantastic dream. In ten minutes the machine was dropping lightly in the Haurea front yard, where the Flying Buddies saw Zargo and the Don waiting for them.

“You did not fear to accept the invitation,” Don Haurea smiled as Jim shoved the cover from over the cock-pit.

“Not so that you could notice it,” Jim declared. “Wow, what a bird.”

“Glad you like it.”

“Who wouldn’t! Golly, Don Haurea, it’s a wonderful present, but it’s pretty steep--”

“Don’t you like it?”

“Crazy about it.”

“My son and I both feel that the several services you Flying Buddies have rendered us certainly warrant some token--”

“Token, great heavens, Don Haurea--oh, but she’s a beauty. How did you send her over and bring her back?” Bob demanded.

“A very simple little instrument. You will notice one of the dials is a little different color from the other controls. It is now set, in time as it were, with a section of our plant here, and was controlled from the laboratory. You have demonstrated that part; we will show you the ordinary method of plane piloting in a very few minutes. One thing I shall ask is that you do not mention the fact that she is equipped to operate from a central power-control. There are five stations in the world from which she can be directed, and in an emergency, even though she ran out of gas she could be kept up. I’d suggest that you keep the dial turned to the lowest notch, that will tune-in whenever you are flying, and in case of accident it may save you some trouble.”

“Jinks,” Bob whistled.

“May I ask where the power control comes from? but I suppose it comes from here,” Jim said.

“It did for today’s demonstration. There are five stations in the world; four beside this one of mine. One is in South America, one in India, one in China, and the other in England.”

“I suppose there are more planes like this one,” remarked Jim.

“A few.”

“Well, jinks--I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Just the same, we do think it’s mighty good of you--”

“That’s all that is necessary. Now, I must go inside. Zargo will tell you how she works, then I expect, although I regret that you cannot pay me a visit this morning, that you would better get back, for you are A.W.O.L., and Mrs. Austin will be anxious.”

“She sure will, and Jim, they are waiting to open the packages,” Bob reminded his step-brother.

“We’ll hustle.” It took Zargo only a few minutes to point out the different parts and explain their use. At last the two were again closed in the snug little cabin and Jim was in the pilot’s seat. He had no difficulty getting home, but when they dropped down by their own house, the elder Austins were looking for them.

“See what Santa Claus brought us,” Bob shouted. Then the gift had to be admired, and although the two grown-ups thought it was a pretty extravagant one, they could not protest against its acceptance.

“It looks to me as if I shall certainly have to learn to fly if the other plane is neglected for I expect that you boys will scorn my purchase,” Mr. Austin told them.

“We do not scorn your purchase, Dad, but learning to fly isn’t a half bad idea. While Mr. Kramer is here, why not have him give you lessons? He’ll be glad to.”

“And Mom, too,” Bob added.

“That is an excellent idea,” Mrs. Austin agreed heartily. “I have read of women doing remarkably well and I should like to try.”

“Hurrah for you,” the boys shouted.

“We still have unopened packages,” she reminded them, so they trooped into the house, and presently were having a gala time as gifts were distributed by Bob, who was rather glad that he was the youngest member of the family, therefore entitled to that privilege.

After the feast early in the afternoon, they wrapped Mr. Kramer warmly in blankets so he couldn’t possibly take cold, then he was seated on the fence of the corral from which vantage point he could have a first class view of the rodeo put on by the men of the K-A and the Cross-Bar ranches. Jim brought him some peanuts, so it would seem like a real circus, and the young man from the north announced when the last horse had made his bow, that it was the best he had ever witnessed.

“Seeing a horse do stunts like that makes me admire them no end, but it also makes me feel that I am more at home in a plane. They do not buck and snort--”

“They don’t,” Bob interrupted. “I say, where did you learn to fly? In a kindergarten? The ones Buddy and I were taken up in did more kinds of fan-fishing, and jumping than any bronc.”

“Well, of course they do put you through a course of stunts,” Kramer grinned.

“And you have to do that for Dad and Mom,” Jim announced.

“I shall be very glad to do so.”

VII

PARTS UNKNOWN

During the two weeks which followed, the elder Austins, under the able tutelage of Mr. Kramer, and the additional assistance of their sons, became remarkably proficient in flying the ranch plane, also, the Sky Buddies became thoroughly acquainted with the “Lark,” which was the name of their own super-machine. Then the salesman removed himself to Crofton, where his firm had a new plane waiting for him and he expected to demonstrate it for prospective purchasers. Already the sheriff was watching its performance with keen interest and it looked as if that worthy might become the possessor of one of the birds. Although the boys spent a good deal of time in the air, neither of them neglected his studies with Don Haurea, and Caldwell could hardly wait until spring came in order to put some of his information into practice. One afternoon, Mr. Austin came out of his office with a letter which had come in the morning’s mail.

“Oh, Jim.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy hurried to learn what was wanted, and presently they were seated at the big desk.

“I may go to South America,” the man announced thoughtfully.

“Golly, what a trip that will be, Dad,” the boy exclaimed. “Be gone long, sir?”

“I do not know. It’s a matter of business and I was rather hoping that my part of it could be transacted from here, but I have received a confidential letter in which one of my associates urges me to come personally and look after my interests,” he answered thoughtfully.

“Taking Mom?”

“I do not believe I had better. I have no idea the sort of places I shall be compelled to visit and I do not want to take her where she may not be comfortable. There is always a risk. If it were earlier in the winter, I should not hesitate, but it is a long trip, will take weeks, and while I can rely upon my men to look after things here, I do not see how I can get back before very late spring,” he said, as if he were thinking the matter over instead of discussing it.

“Why don’t you go by airplane?” the boy asked. “Goodness, Dad, no sense in wasting weeks.”

“Humph. That is a good suggestion, but I do not know that the air service will help me. Although, come to think of it, I read recently that they are running trips to the southern part of Chile--perhaps I can get some information on the--”

“I say, Dad, what’s the matter with you? We have two planes right here on the ranch. Furthermore, you can fly yours--”

“After a fashion. I should not think of attempting anything so--”

“No, of course not. I was just thinking that you could help out some of the time. You aren’t like a tenderfoot in the air. We’ll take you in the “Lark”--and it will be a grand lark--”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” his father hesitated.

“Didn’t we go traipsing all over the United States and Canada?”

“You did, and got into all sort of things,” Mr. Austin chuckled. “This would have to be a very serious trip, few stop-overs, and return home just as soon as I conclude my business. I don’t know about taking you away from your studies.”

“We can take a couple of books along with the luggage. Now, Dad, don’t be a kill joy. This business deal is important, isn’t it?”

“Very important to all of us,” the man admitted.

“All right, then, let’s all of us get at it as fast as we can. Nothing can beat the “Lark”, and with two pilots--why Dad, Henry Ford hasn’t a thing on you,” the boy urged.

“I guess I’d better talk the matter over with Mother.”

Such a project could not be undertaken without very serious consideration and preparation. When the idea was presented to Mrs. Austin, she, too, hesitated about letting the Flying Buddies pilot such a trip, but she did understand the importance of her husband’s arriving at Cuzco in Peru just as quickly as possible, and that the shortest time by boat was eighteen days. Usually it took longer; depending upon the weather conditions. Added to that must be the time necessary to get to the nearest port, securing reservations at a season of the year when ships sailing to southern points were booked up full before leaving the north. By airplane it would take at least two weeks less, which was a big item. Bob added his voice to the plea that he and Jim be permitted to go.

“Goodness, Mother, didn’t we go all over the country, find our way and come back without so much as a broken wire?”

“Yes, you did, but you got into so many adventures. Of course you didn’t have anything serious happen to you, but you were in your own country, or Canada, which is almost the same, and you did not have to travel over long stretches of water,” she persisted.

“It’s just as safe over water as land, Mom. We’d stop at some port to be sure that everything was ship-shape before we started to cross, and it can be made in several hops, not all at a clip, as Lindbergh did. His mother didn’t object, so you be a good sport, please.”

“His mother must have had some awful hours. I’m sure that every minute of them seemed like a life time,” she sighed in sympathy.

“Perhaps they did, but we’ll be just as cautious as Lindy was. We’ll have everything in proper order, and take good care to keep it that way,” Bob assured her. “Besides, if Dad can get there ahead of time, and those fellows are planning to put something over on him, we’ll get him there early and he can give them the laugh. Then, we’ll be home in time to start things this spring.”

“It won’t be like when we went alone,” Jim added. “Dad will be along and he will see that we do not go butting into any mischief.”

“Well--” She looked at her husband. “What do you think about it?”

“The more I think about it the more it appeals to me, my dear, but I do not want to influence you unduly. As Jim says, I shall be along, it’s a business trip, no sky-larking adventure, and I rather feel that our Flying Buddies will be thoroughly reliable. They must both realize that it is a serious undertaking--”

“Sure, Dad, we do; we aren’t kids any more, we’re grown up--” The two real grown-ups smiled at this, and although they did not dispute the argument, neither of them could agree that seventeen and sixteen were exactly mature.

“Well, probably--since we have planes and pilots it is wisdom to make use of them and not delay needlessly,” Mrs. Austin finally announced.

“Atta girl!” Bob shouted. He picked her up in his arms and swung her off the floor just to prove how big he really was.

“Robert!” His mother protested, so he sat her down again.

“Gosh, Mom, you haven’t called me that since I put the cat in the frying pan,” he grinned.

“Did it jump into the fire?” Jim drawled.

“It did, and after Mom got through with me, I felt as if I had been sitting in it. Wow, she did wave a wicked palm! It makes me warm to think of it,” he laughed.

“Dismiss such unpleasant memories. Come on, I’m going to the Bar-Z. Probably Don Haurea can give me some valuable information about air-currents and other jams.”

“Flap along by yourself, Old Timer. I’m going to the Cross-Bar to look at my new hotbeds. I want to be sure I have them in order to leave, and I’ll get one of the boys to look after them.”

“Shall I take you along in the “Lark”?”

“No, thanks. Dad isn’t using the freighter, so I’ll take that, and carry some pots back,” Bob answered. The “Freighter” was the name the Flying Buddies had named the ranch plane.

“I think it isn’t very respectful to call the plane Dad and I use a freighter--are we the freight?” his mother demanded with assumed indignation.

“Nope,” he answered quickly, “but she’s a slow-boat compared to the “Lark”, Mom, and before we leave, I’ll clean her up spick and span for you.”

A bit later the two boys took off from the open corral, and the difference in the two machines was immediately evident. The “Lark” rose, like the bird from which her name was borrowed, while the other plane went into the air at a more gradual ascent, and by the time Bob had reached sufficient altitude to set his course, Jim was becoming a speck in the distance. It did not take him long to reach Don Haurea’s and leaving the bus with one of the men. He proceeded to the laboratory where he knew he would find the Don busy at work.

“Good afternoon, my boy, something I can do for you?”

“I expect you can, sir. Fact is, Dad has to go to Peru, place in the southern part called Cuzco--”

“Cuzco?”

“Yes sir, do you know it?”

“Rather.”

“Well, we persuaded him, Buddy and I did, to let us take him in the “Lark”, and I thought I’d ask you about--well, the best route, and the sort of air we are likely to hit, or get hit by.”

“How do you expect to go?”

“Haven’t had time to consider it much, but I thought of going to Southern California and down that way, or shooting across Mexico,” Jim told him. The Don pressed a button and one of the men appeared.

“Bring me the atlas, if you please.” Presently an enormous book, its pages of fine quality paper, and the cover of light wood, which held the sheets together with clamps, was opened before them. The maps were the best the boy had ever seen and as he examined them he saw that land, water and air were all carefully charted so one could tell the depths of the sea, the proprieties of its surface, whether it was rugged or comparatively smooth, the direction of tides and under-water streams, also the force of the various winds and their usual course. Each section of the world was recorded in the most complete detail, and air currents marked clearly.

“Golly, what a set of maps,” he exclaimed in wonder.

“They are exceptionally fine and were compiled after years of the most careful study. Now, let me see, going directly across Mexico would seem like the better course, but I advise you to go to Miami, over the Keys, to Havana, to Belize in British Honduras (you’ll have no trouble finding people with whom you can talk), then to Panama, across and down the coast line to Lima. Cuzco is inland.”

“That sounds like a good route.” Jim examined the map carefully. “It gives us plenty of places to come down.”

“Yes. A part of the way the N. Y. R. B. A. air lines have mail and passenger service.”

“That’s the New York, Rio and Buenos Aires line!”

“Yes. I’ll have one of the boys make you an itinerary so that you can be over the water during the daytime unless you get in too big a hurry. May I ask why you are going?”

“Dad and some friends of his are interested in a project down there with some other business associates. One of his friends wrote confidentially that my father better be on the ground. He’s making quite an investment,” Jim explained.

“I see. I take it you expect to go and return as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, this route will really be the better one, and with two pilots you can stay in the air as long as you like. I have been in Peru, and don’t forget to take light clothing. It is very hot, unless you get back into the mountains. Cuzco is two hundred miles from Lima and is more temperate than places west of the Andes.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, you better leave the “Lark” here until you are ready to start. Our men will put her in order for you, and I’ll see that she has one or two extra conveniences. She is built to withstand acids--”

“Oh, we don’t expect to get into any trouble,” Jim laughed.

“Of course not, but if your father is planning to give his associates, some of them, a surprise, you want to be prepared. Men of this age are frequently particularly vicious if their financial plans are threatened. This is something you want to remember, and so, do not take any chances.” The Don spoke so earnestly that Jim was sobered.

“It’s kind of a wild country down there isn’t it?”

“Parts of it, certainly.”

“Not very thickly settled.”

“It isn’t always the isolated spots where the greatest evil is committed. Be on your guard all of the time. I do not mean for you to be stupidly fearful, but be precautious.”

“I understand. Thank you, Don Haurea, and you bet I’ll be glad to have all the trimmings that the “Lark” will carry.”

“All right. You might study these maps while you are here, and later I’ll send Zargo home with you, unless you will dine with me. I have not had young company for some weeks.”

“I’ll be glad to stay, but jinks, I’m in working clothes.”

“Never mind that. Is the plane here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll have the boys set to work on her at once. When do you expect to leave?”

“Not for a couple of days anyway. I know that Dad can’t start before that.”

“Fine. Now, I’ll get back to my observations.”

“I thought I could take some lessons with me,” Jim remarked.

“We’ll have some prepared.”

Jim bent over the maps, made a memorandum of the route the Don had suggested, a rough sketch on which he marked various items of importance, and when the man came to tell him it was time to go to dinner, the boy could hardly believe it. Half an hour later they were seated in the cheery living room, and the meal was being served. Through the first course they discussed this and that, then suddenly Jim remembered that Don Haurea had said he had been in Peru.

“It must be an interesting country, down there, sir. Did you like it when you were in Peru?”

“Very much indeed.”

“We studied its history in school, and I read some extra books about the Conquistadores. Most of the writers soft peddled the old duffers, but I got a hunch they were a pretty hot lot. Pizzaro and his brothers--they were half brothers. Only one of them got back to Spain, and he spent twenty years in prison. The Marquis Francisco was assassinated, one brother was killed by the Indians, and the other was hanged. Rather a come-down from being chief moguls, but I wasn’t a bit sorry for them, they were a--” Jim saw Don Haurea’s face flush and was filled with dismay lest he had said something personal.

“South America, particularly Peru, has stood for hundreds of years as a monument to those men, whose ignorance, cruelty and avarice caused them to commit crimes which constitute one of the greatest blots in the history of the world,” the Don said. His eyes rested on his plate, then he looked up with his usual pleasant smile. “No doubt you have guessed that my regard for the ‘Marquis’ as they called him, his brothers and also partner, Almagro, is not very high. They were all low born men, except Hernando Pizzaro, who was the legitimate son of his father, and as you say, the only one to return to Spain alive. It must have been galling to him to return to his native land and be treated as a criminal; he had sailed away as a great hero, had known the riches of kings, but he died in comparative poverty.”

“He had it coming to him,” Jim declared. He was no end relieved that he had not embarrassed his host, and he did wonder a bit why Don Haurea, who was usually so perfectly calm and self possessed, should feel so deeply about the fate of Peru and her neighbors. “I thought it was too bad Spain didn’t take a tumble to herself sooner, she might have saved something from the wreck.”

“She might have.”

“Buddy and I were talking about those countries, those old ones. Spain had all South America, Central America, Mexico, part of the United States, Portugal, and goodness knows what else, and now she’s one of the least significant countries in the world, almost. Alfonso, he’s not half bad and of course he can’t help what his predecessors did, but I should think it would make him want to bite nails when he thinks, if he dares to, what his country might have done in all these years.”

“Probably the history of his heritage does not constitute his happiest reading,” the Don answered.

“Some of those chaps had brains enough to see that the system was a blamed poor one, but they couldn’t do much until the worst was over.”

“A few of the men who went or were sent out were the finest of their time, or any time. They were keen enough to see that their country must lose instead of gain by the ruthless oppression of a race which was intellectually superior to their own. The destruction of public works as great as any in Spain, and the wrecking of a government under which men lived more happily than any country before or since; could only react like a boomerang against them. At the time the Pizarros invaded Peru, there was no poverty among the people of the Yncas; there hadn’t been a beggar in the land in hundreds of years; every man, woman and child was trained as few were trained in the old world. There were no rats, comparatively little disease, the travelers on the great roads were guests at the depots--inns--the Spaniards called them, and there was no oppression. The poor were cared for; everyone, from the greatest to the least, worked, did his share and had plenty. They worshipped the Sun--it was their God--and they had ceremonies in their beautiful temples--but the conquerors called them heathen, destroyed the wonderful works of art--destroyed them so effectively that the world still wonders how the work was done. The great buildings were razed, the gold ripped off. One man’s share was a huge gold sun, several feet in diameter, of the purest quality, and he lost it with a throw of the dice.”

“Jinks, I never read that,” Jim gasped. “Wow.”

“It is quite true. The gold and silver workers had made marvelous vases, all sorts of pieces of service and statuary. When you are in Cuzco you can see the remains of a temple. How the stones were brought to that spot, put together, and worked, still is one of the world’s mysteries. Depots were built in every province; a whole army on the march could be supplied at a moment’s notice, and if disaster over-took one section of the land, it could be re-supplied very quickly from another. Runners traveled the road from one end to the other, men who were swift of foot, and news was passed back and forth in an incredibly short time.”

“It must have been lovely. I read somewhere that the roads were much more marvelous than the ones built by the early Romans,” Jim said.

“They were. They went over desert and Mountains, were wide and smooth, with beautiful shade trees and seats. The land was irrigated by a system which is still a mystery. In years, ten or fifteen millions of people were butchered without rhyme or reason, vast flocks of llamas were almost wiped off the face of the earth, the highways were hacked to pieces, and the guide posts set across the deserts were burned for firewood.”

“The Ynca gave them a room full of gold as a ransom.”

“And they strangled him in spite of their promise to set him free. He was not a particularly good man, but he was better than his captors. During the weeks of his captivity he learned Spanish. He could read, write and speak it, could play chess well, and cards. Several men who surrounded him realized that he had a fine mind. A few like Ferdinand De Soto, were greatly opposed to his death, but they were sent off to another part of the country, and while they were gone charges were trumped up against the Ynca. They killed him because they were afraid. Had those men gone to the land, expressed a desire to trade with the Ynca’s people, sent Christian missionaries if they wanted to, they would have been kindly received, welcomed, and the Spaniards could have made themselves richer than their wildest dreams. The world in general would have been better and Spain might now be a great country instead of a backward, poverty-stricken one. When you are in Cuzco you will see Lake Titicaca, one of the highest in the world. It is about half as big as Lake Champlain and very beautiful. I am sure that you will enjoy seeing the country; the Andes are marvelous.”

“They must be. But, jinks, I guess I’ll feel a bit as you do, Don Haurea. It was a rotten shame those people got such a raw deal,” the boy said earnestly.

“Don’t let what I have told you prejudice you or spoil your trip. Remember, the whole land is free now, and it was through the leadership of some of the descendants of the Yncas that the different sections managed, one by one, to shake off the yoke. You’ll have a marvelous experience, and remember that when you are flying safe and high, those sixteenth century men traveled horseback or on foot through leagues of unbroken forests.”

“I will,” Jim promised.

VIII

AN OFFICER’S PLEA

Two mornings after the decision to fly to Peru had been made, the Flying Buddies were at Don Haurea’s early, but it was not bright, for it was bitter cold, and more snow was falling, or rather being driven every which way so the air was almost as thick as milk. The boys had beaten their way up against the north wind in the “Freighter” and were now listening while the Don explained the changes which had been installed in the “Lark”. A long roll of waterproof chart was on a tall spool at the left side of the control board and at the other side were small hooks so that it could be stretched across and observed without obstructing the view of the dials and keys. The knob which tuned-in with the central control power was turned half on.

“I did that so that I can keep in touch with you and any time you need help we will be able to give it to you promptly. However, we shall not interfere unless you are in difficulties, and when you are, just sit back and let things alone unless you see a light across the radio.”

“All right. You can talk to us and we can talk with you over the radio, but no one else can pick us up--what we say, I mean, unless we tune down into the broadcasting belt,” Bob remarked in order to impress it upon his own mind.

“Exactly. The little shutter thing like a camera will throw a light two hundred feet ahead of you; but it will not light up the plane in case you do not wish to reveal yourselves. The cabins are warm, and there is a heating system which will dispel ice--prevent it from forming on the wings and weighing you down. You can take moving pictures by releasing this spring, then setting the pointer in the proper direction. The glasses we have attached above your goggles on your helmets will be more convenient to handle than heavy field ones. They have very rare lenses so leave the flap over them except when you are using them alone.”

“It sure beats me how we are to get so much power with so little weight and extra luggage,” Bob frowned. “I can’t get that through my head.”

“I know a little about it,” Jim put in. “We gather up energy as we go along and store all we need.”

“That’s the idea. Here are a pair of caps--they are really gas masks. Slip them over your heads, helmets and all. They are soft now, but the warmth from your faces will give them body and if anyone should attempt to put you to sleep when you want to keep awake, you will be quite safe. Keep them in your pockets and put them on at the slightest provocation. Your parachutes are of dark material instead of light, and will open all around you, like life-belts. You can use them on sea and land. There are two extra ones in case of an emergency or if you should lose one.”

“Good gracious. It’s well Mom isn’t here, she’d think we are planning to get into something awful.”

“We don’t expect to, but we may as well be on the safe side. We can scoot along three hundred miles an hour if we have to, but you think we’d better not do that because it would attract attention,” said Jim.

“Yes. Of course your trip is unheralded, but if anyone noticed the hour you left one point, compared it with the time you reach the next, the “Lark” would immediately become the center of observation. You have a good supply of fuel, dining service if you decide to take your meals in the air, communication with the rear cock-pit; and the man who wants to sleep, if he isn’t in the pilot’s seat, can shove his chair out, tip it back and make himself quite comfortable. I’d suggest that when you get to the warmer temperatures that you fly low so the change from cold to hot will not be too sudden and extreme. That is likely to be very debilitating. I see that you are both wearing the emerald rings my son gave you.”

“Oh sure, why, we’d feel undressed without them,” Bob laughed.

“That’s well. Keep them on, they may be of service. Now, that is all. I trust that you will have a pleasant trip and that you’ll return in good time. We shall look forward to seeing the “Lark” come soaring up the Cap in a very few weeks. Good luck to you all.”

“Thank you, Don Haurea. I guess we’ll hop along. I was just thinking, no one knows about our starting, so we might put on speed from here to Miami and save some hours,” Jim proposed.

“A good idea. So long.”

“So long.” The Flying Buddies hopped into the front cock-pit, adjusted the shelter and themselves. Jim sat before the controls, and Bob was beside him.

“I can see where I have a good nap,” he yawned as he slid his seat forward and lowered the back to a comfortable angle. The engine was roaring, so was the north wind, but no one paid any attention to that. The “Lark” rose swiftly, then, with the gale at her tail she made record time to the K-A where Mr. Austin was already dressed in flying clothes, with suit case and hamper beside him. It did not take long for him to get into his place, while his wife looked on anxiously.

“Zargo will bring the “Freighter” home this morning, Mom,” Bob told her.

“All right, dear, thank you. This is awful weather--”

“We’ll be out of it into a summer land in a few hours,” Jim laughed.

“Don’t stay away any longer than you have to,” she urged, and she smiled bravely, although she didn’t feel one bit comfortable about seeing her men folk flying away from her.

“Not a minute,” they promised. “We’ll send you wireless messages every day, and postcards with the place where we stopped marked by a cross. Be good, Mom.”

Presently they were again climbing into the storm and as soon as they had altitude enough, Jim leveled off, set the course south by southeast, and opened her wide. The “Lark” split through the air like a shot and an hour later had left behind her all sign of winter weather. The two boys were intensely interested in the performance of the plane and as the speed was recorded, they glanced at each other with exclamations of enthusiasm. Before noon the peninsula of Florida was stretched out beneath them, the waters rolling on either side; at one o’clock they glided down to a landing at a private airdrome the Don had recommended. A mechanic came to greet them, and he eyed the plane with unconcealed admiration.

“Some bird!”

“We think so. Don Haurea suggested that we stop here. We want to go and have lunch, replace the gas we have used, and start off in a couple of hours,” Jim explained. At the mention of the Don’s name, the man looked at them more closely.

“My boss isn’t here but I know that friends of Don Haurea are to be given the works. I’ll be glad to do anything I can for you,” he answered.

“Thank you.”

“Roll her up and I’ll lock her in that small hangar for you. I’ll give you a key and in case I’m not here when you return just help yourself. There is a filling tank in the house.”

“That is very courteous.” They exchanged introductions, a few words of general interest, and when the “Lark” was housed, Mr. Austin joined them. His face wore a frown.

“Didn’t we make rather good time, Jim?” he wanted to know.

“Rather,” Jim grinned, but he made no further explanation then.

“When do we eat?” Bob demanded. “To quote Yncicea, my esophagus feels as if my pharynx was severed.”

“We’d better take you right to the nearest hospital,” Mr. Austin laughed. “I’d say you must be suffering.”

“Right you are, but it’s a restaurant I need,” Bob declared.

“There is a very good hotel, any number of them in fact, but one I think is pretty good about a mile from here. I’m sending one of our men up that way in the car. If you care to go along he’ll give you a lift.”

“That is very kind, thank you so much,” Mr. Austin accepted. It did not take long to get the “Lark” stored and locked in, then the party went with the chauffeur for the drive into the lovely city. The hotel looked most attractive, and the travelers decided it was exactly what they were looking for. Presently they were seated in an out-of-door dining room, and when they had given their orders Mr. Austin again broached the subject of their speed.

“Didn’t we make the trip in rather short order?” he asked.

“Yes, we did, Dad. Don Haurea fixed the “Lark” so that she has extra capacity, but we are not broadcasting the fact. Besides that, we flew high and almost straight.”

“And we didn’t meet a bump,” Bob added. “Holy smoke, winter underwear isn’t so good in Miami.” He began to squirm and the others watched with sympathetic amusement.

“Suppose we buy some lighter things while we are here,” Dad proposed.

“Corking idea,” Bob agreed. “You can’t get them too light for me.”

“You fellows go shopping when we finish lunch, and I’ll go back to the drome. I want to have a look at the “Lark” and fill her up,” Jim told them.

“Come to think of it, didn’t Mom put lighter suits in the bag?”

“Yes, but just suits. She said we might need to buy extra ones and we may as well do it while we are here,” Mr. Austin told them.