Читать книгу The Flying Machine Boys in the Wilds - Frank Walton - Страница 6

Shortly after midnight Ben was awakened by a noise which seemed to come from the door of his room. Half asleep as he was, it came to his consciousness like the sparkling of a motor. There was the same sharp tick, tick, tick, with regular pauses between.

As he sat up in bed and listened, however, the sounds resolved themselves into the rattle of one metal against another. In a minute he knew that some one unfamiliar with the lock of his door was moving the stem of a key against the metal plate which surrounded the key-hole.

Then he heard the bolt shoot back and the door opened. There was an electric switch on the wall within reach of his hand, and in a second the room was flooded with light. The person who stood in the center of the floor, halfway between the doorway and the bed, was an entire stranger to the boy. He was dressed in clothing which would not have been rejected by the head waiter of one of the lobster palaces on Broadway, and his manner was pleasing and friendly.

He smiled and dropped into a chair, holding out both hands when he saw Ben’s eyes traveling from himself to an automatic revolver which lay on a stand at the head of the bed.

“Of course,” he said, then, as Ben sat down on the edge of the bed, “you want to know what I’m doing here.”

“Naturally!” replied the boy.

The man, who appeared to be somewhere near the age of twenty-five, drew a yellow envelope from his pocket and tossed it over to Ben.

“I am manager at the Quito telegraph office!” he said. “And I received this despatch for you just before twelve o’clock. In addition to this I received a personal message from Mr. Havens. Read your message and then I will show you mine!”

Ben opened the envelope and read:

“Be sure and wait for me at the point where this message is delivered. Complications which can only be explained in person!”

The manager then passed his own despatch over to the boy. It read as follows:

“Mr. Charles Mellen, Manager: Spare no expense in the delivery of the message to Ben Whitcomb. If necessary, wire all stations on your circuit for information regarding aeroplanes. If Whitcomb is at Quito, kindly deliver this message in person, and warn him to be on the watch for trouble. I hope to reach your town within twenty-four hours.”

“Now for an explanation regarding my surreptitious entrance into your sleeping room,” Mellen went on. “My room is next to yours, and in order not to awaken other sleepers, and at the same time make certain that you understood the situation thoroughly, I tried my hand at burglary.”

“I am glad you did!” replied Ben. “For if there is anything serious in the air it is quite important that no stir be created in the hotel at this hour of the night.”

“That was just my idea!” Mellen answered. “I knew that if I asked the clerk to send a page to your room every person in the hotel would know all about the midnight visit in the morning. So far as I know, understand, the complications hinted at by Mr. Havens may have had their origin in Quito—perhaps in this very hotel.”

“It was very thoughtful of you,” answered Ben. “You know Mr. Havens personally?” he asked then.

“Certainly!” was the reply. “He is a heavy stock-holder in the company I represent; and it was partly through his influence that I secured my present position.”

“After all,” smiled Ben, “this is a small world, isn’t it? The idea of finding a friend of a friend up near the roof of the world!”

“Yes, it’s a small world,” replied Mellen. “Now tell me this,” he went on, “have you any idea as to what Mr. Havens refers in his two rather mysterious messages?”

“Not the slightest!” was the reply.

“I wish we knew where to find Havens at this time,” mused Mellen.

“I don’t think it will be possible to reach him until he wires again,” Ben answered, “because, unless I am greatly mistaken, he is somewhere between New Orleans and this point in his airship, the Ann.”

“I gathered as much from his messages to Bixby,” replied Mellen. “You see,” the manager went on, “I got in touch with Havens to-night through the despatches he sent to Bixby yesterday, I say ‘yesterday’ because it is now ‘to-morrow’,” he added with a smile.

“Then you knew we were here?” asked Ben. “That is,” he corrected himself, “you knew Bixby was expecting us?”

“When Bixby left you at the hotel,” Mellen laughed, “he came direct to the telegraph office, so you see I knew all about it before I burglarized your room.”

“Bixby strikes me as being a very straightforward kind of a man,” Ben suggested. “I rather like his appearance.”

“He’s all right!” replied Mellen.

“And now,” Ben continued, “I’d like to have you remain here a short time until I can call the other boys and get a general expression of opinion.”

“Of course you’ll wait for Mr. Havens?” suggested Mellen.

“Of course,” answered Ben. “However,” he continued, “I’d like to have the other members of the party talk this matter over with you. To tell the truth, I’m all at sea over this suggestion of trouble.”

“I shall be pleased to meet the other members of your party,” replied Mellen. “I have already heard something of them through my correspondence with Mr. Havens.”

Ben drew on his clothes and hurried to Glenn’s room. The boy was awake and opened the door at the first light knock. Ben merely told him to go to the room where Mr. Mellen had been left and passed on to the apartment which had been taken by Jimmie and Carl.

He knocked softly on the door several times but received no answer. Believing that the boys were sound asleep he tried the door, and to his great surprise found that it was unlocked.

As the reader will understand, he found the room unoccupied. The bed had not been disturbed except that some of the upper blankets were missing.

He hastened back to his own room, where he found Glenn and Mellen engaged in conversation. Both looked very blank when informed of the disappearance of Jimmie and Carl.

“What do you make of it?” asked Mellen.

“I don’t know what to make of it!” replied Glenn.

“I think I can explain it!” Ben cried, walking nervously up and down the room. “Don’t you remember, Glenn,” he went on, “that Jimmie and Carl suggested the advisability of going back to the old camp after moonrise and getting the valuable tents, arms and provisions we left there?”

“Sure I remember that!” answered Glenn. “But do you really think they had the nerve to try a scheme like that?”

“I haven’t the least doubt of it!” declared Ben.

“It’s just one of their tricks,” agreed Glenn.

“They must be rather lively young fellows!” suggested Mellen.

“They certainly are!” answered Ben. “And now the question is this,” he continued, “what ought we to do?”

“I’m afraid they’ll get into trouble,” Glenn suggested.

“It was a foolhardy thing to do!” Mellen declared. “The idea of their going back into the heart of that savage tribe is certainly preposterous! I’m afraid they’re already in trouble.”

“Perhaps we ought to get the Bertha and take a trip out there!” suggested Glenn. “They may be in need of assistance.”

“That’s just my idea!” Ben agreed.

“It seems to me that the suggested course is the correct one to pursue,” Mellen said.

“Perhaps we can get to the field before they leave for the valley,” Ben interposed. “They spoke of going after the moon came up, and that was only a short time ago.”

“Well,” said Mellen, “the quicker we act the more certain we shall be of success. You boys get downstairs, if you can, without attracting much attention, and I’ll go out and get a carriage.”

“Will you go with us to the field?” asked Ben.

“I should be glad to,” was the reply.

When the boys reached the corner of the next cross street, in ten minutes’ time, they found Mellen waiting for them with a high-power automobile. He was already in the seat with the chauffeur.

“I captured a machine belonging to a friend of mine,” he said, with a smile, “and so we shall be able to make quick time.”

As soon as the party came within sight of the field they saw that something unusual was taking place there, for people were massing from different parts of the plain to a common center, and people standing in the highway, evidently about to seek their homes, turned and ran back.

“Can you see the flying machines?” asked Ben.

“I can see one of them!” answered Mellen in the front seat. “And it seems to be mounting into the air!”

“I guess the little rascals have got off in spite of us!” declared Ben. “Perhaps we’d better hold up a minute and follow the direction it takes. It may not head for the valley.”

“It’s heading for the valley, all right!” Glenn exclaimed.

“Yes, and there’s something going on in the field below,” Mellen declared. “There are people running about, evidently in great excitement, and the second machine is being pushed forward.”

“Do you think the little rascals have taken a machine apiece?” demanded Ben. “There’s no knowing what they will do!”

“No, I don’t,” replied Glenn. “They’d be sure to stick together.”

“Then we’d better hustle up and find who’s taking out the second machine!” exclaimed Ben. “This does look like trouble, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, it may be all right,” smiled Mellen. “The boys may have taken a machine apiece.”

When the party reached the field the second flying machine was some distance away. The driver, however, seemed to be wavering about in the air as if uncertain of his control of the levers. Once or twice in an uncertain current of air the Bertha came near dropping to the ground. In time, however, he gained better control.

One of the native policemen secured by Bixby rushed up to the automobile as it came to a stop. He recognized Mellen in the car and addressed him in Spanish, speaking as if laboring under great excitement.

The boys listened to the conversation very impatiently, noting with no little apprehension the look of anxiety growing on the face of the manager as he listened to the story of the policeman. At length Mellen turned to the boys and began translating what he had heard.

The story told by the policeman was virtually the story told in the last chapter, with the exception that it included the departure of Doran and another in pursuit of the Louise