The Flying Girl and Her Chum/Chapter 28

"What's wrong, Ris?" asked Sybil, as the engine skipped and wavered.

"Gasoline," was the brief answer.

"Oh. Can you get to the bluff?"

"I—don't—know. There!" as the propeller ceased to whirl; "now I'll volplane. It's a long reach, Syb; but we'll land somewhere—right side up."

The dim mountain seemed far ahead of them; below was the "dip," or valley, which lay between the rock ridges and the mountain. As they had casually glanced toward it in former times, it seemed a forbidding place, slimy and moist, devoid alike of any green thing or living creature. Even the owls shunned the "dip."

To-night, when everything was obscure, they seemed gliding into a black pit. Orissa had to manipulate her levers cautiously, for she could not tell just when they would reach the ground. As it was they bumped, bounded forward, bumped again and brought up suddenly between two boulders that topped a rugged knoll.

"Any damage?" asked Sybil, catching her breath.

"Not much, I'm sure," replied her chum. "But here we are; and here we'll stay until some one comes with gasoline. Can you see anything, Syb?"

"The mountain, over there against the sky. It seems so near I could almost touch it. It wouldn't have taken but a few drops more to have landed us on the bluff, drat the luck!"

"See anything else?"

"Where?"

"Around us."

"No; but I can smell something. Smells like spoiled gasoline. Does gasoline ever spoil, Ris?"

"Not to my knowledge. But come; let's crawl into the boat and get the blankets out. Wherever we are, it's our hotel, and we must make the best of it."

Skyward, there could be distinguished the mountain at the west and the rock hills at the east; but the pocket in which they lay was black as ink. From the boat Orissa managed to open the aluminum chest and take out the blankets. They then arranged a temporary bed in the bottom of the boat and covered themselves up.

"Anyhow, I managed to save the Aircraft," sighed Orissa, contentedly. Then she sat bolt upright and cried: "Listen!"

"The battle's on," answered Sybil, as a succession of wild shouts reached their ears. It was very aggravating to be so ignorant of what was happening to their friends. The shouts continued, at intervals, but there was no sound of firearms. Evidently the Mexicans had gained the deck but had found it a barren victory. On the mountain the owls were hooting and flying about as usual, but the shouts that had come from the bay were of such a different nature that the shrieks of the night-birds did not drown them.

Suddenly a broad streak of light shot over them, rested a moment on the mountain, swayed to right and left and then sank below the ridges of rock. Above the bay where the Salvador was beached thin shafts of white light radiated, illuminating the sky like an aurora borealis.

"A searchlight!"

"The torpedo boat!" the girls cried in one breath; and then they sat trembling and straining their ears to listen.

A dull, angry "boom!" rent the air and echoed from the mountain. It was a warning gun from the Mermaid. The shouts became screams of fear. Then silence followed, complete and enduring.

Orissa breathed heavily. "It's all over, Sybil!" she gasped.

"I—I wonder if—anyone was—hurt."

"Any of our people?"

"Of course."

"I think not. That gun was merely a signal and I imagine the Mexicans ran like rats. How fortunate it was that Captain Swanson arrived with the Mermaid so soon!"

"How unfortunate he didn't come sooner. We wouldn't have been in this awkward predicament. It will take them hours to get to us over those sharp rocks."

Orissa did not reply. She was trying to understand the events transpiring around the Salvador. Had there been a tragedy? Or had the torpedo boat merely frightened the outlaws, as she had imagined, and driven them away?

There was no sleep for the isolated girls during the brief hours preceding the dawn. As it gradually lightened they peered about them to see where they were, and by degrees made out their surroundings. There were fewer rocks in this cup-shaped hollow than in other parts of the island. On the knoll where the Aircraft rested were the two big rocks which had arrested its progress, and between these the body of the aluminum boat was tightly wedged. At intervals throughout the valley were similar rocky hummocks, but all the space between consisted of an oozy, damp soil of a greenish-brown color, with glints of red where the sun caught it prismatically. Looking at this ooze critically, as the light strengthened, it seemed to the girls to shift somewhat, showing here and there a thick bubble which slowly formed and disappeared.

Orissa put her hand over the side of the boat and withdrew it again.

"Look, Sybil," she exclaimed. "It's oil."

"Hair or salad oil, Ris?"

Orissa sniffed at her dipped finger.

"Petroleum. This is the crude article, and seeps up from some store of oil far down in the earth. There would be a fortune in this find, Syb, if it happened to be in America. Out here it is, of course, valueless."

"Don't they make kerosene and gasoline of it?"

"Yes; of course."

"Then make some gasoline and let's fly away."

Orissa laughed.

"If you will furnish the distillery, Syb, I'll make the gasoline," she said; "but I believe it's a long, slow process, and"

"Look!" cried Sybil, with a start, as she pointed a slim finger toward the east. From a far distant ridge a man came bounding over the rocks, leaping from one to another with little hesitation in picking his way. He was a big man, but as the light was still dim they could see no more than his huge form. Presently he paused to look behind him; then on he dashed again. He had come from the direction of the bay and was at first headed toward the mountain, but in one of his pauses, whether to regain his breath or look behind, he caught sight of the aëroplane and at once turned directly toward it.

"Do you think," asked Sybil, uneasily, "it is one of our people come to look for us?"

"No," returned Orissa, positively. "That man is a fugitive. He has escaped over the rock hills and is trying to find some hiding place."

"Then I wonder he dares come in our direction."

"It is strange," agreed Orissa, with a shudder as she remembered how helpless they were.

Then, with fascinated gaze, the two girls fell silent and watched the approaching fugitive. As he neared that part of the valley where the oil seeped up he proceeded more cautiously, leaping from one point of rock—or hummock—to another. Once, when forced to step on the level ground, the oil tripped him. He slipped and fell, but was instantly up again and bounding on his way. It seemed no easy task to make speed over such a rough and trackless way, yet here it was easier to proceed than back in those almost impassable hills. It was wonderful that he had succeeded in crossing them at all.

"I think," said Orissa, as she sat cold and staring, "it is Ramon Ganza."

"The outlaw? But he wears white flannels."

"Not now. He probably changed them for the night attack; but I can see the rings glitter on his fingers, and—none of the other Mexicans is so big."

Sybil nestled a little closer to her friend.

"Have you a revolver, Ris?"

Orissa shook her head.

"No arms at all—not even a hatpin?"

"Nothing whatever to use for defense."

The man was quite near now. Yes; it was Ramon Ganza. His clothes were torn by the rocks and hung around him in rags, and where he had fallen the thick, slimy oil clung to them. His face was smeared with dust and grime and the whole aspect of the outlaw was ghastly and repulsive—perhaps rendered more acute by the jewelled rings that loaded his fingers.

He was obliged to step with more care as he neared the aëroplane, in which crouched the two girls, and finally he came to a halt on a hummock a few paces away. The oil lay more thickly around the Aircraft than elsewhere, and Ramon Ganza eyed it suspiciously. Then he spoke, resting his hands on his hips and leering insolently at Sybil and Orissa.

"So, I have caught you, then," he cried. "Why did you try to escape?"

"For the same reason you are trying to escape, perhaps," retorted Orissa, summoning what courage she could command. "But I warn you that our friends will presently come for us, and—you may not care to meet them."

He uttered an angry snarl and cast a quick glance around the valley. In all its broad stretch not a person other than themselves was visible.

Ramon sat down on his knoll, breathing heavily from his long run.

"Yes, I have run away," he admitted, bitterness and hate in his tone. "I can fight ten—or twenty, perhaps—with my single hand; but not fifty. They have come to put me in prison, those fiends over there," jerking his thumb toward the bay, "and seeing they were too strong for me to oppose, I came away. It is what you call discreet—eh?—which is more safe, if less noble, than valor. But they have the island and they will hunt me down. And once more I shall laugh at them—once more Ramon Ganza will defy them all!"

"How?" asked Orissa, curiously.

"Have you not the flying-machine—the airship?" he asked, simply. "And are you not here alone, and in my power? It carries but two, I see, so one of you shall stay here. The other must fly with me to my own island, where I will take a sailboat and—vanish from the dogs who are hounding me."

"That," said Orissa, with forced calmness, for her heart was beating wildly, "is impossible."

He uttered a fierce growl.

"It is not impossible," he cried. "I have seen your machine fly, and know it can fly when you want it to. It must fly now, or by San Filippe I will tumble you both out and fly it myself. It is best that you not arouse my anger, for Ramon Ganza is desperate and will not be denied. Get ready, girl! We will fly to my island, or" He laughed harshly. "Or you will both ruin your beautiful toilets, and—the mire is dangerous," he added.

"We have no gasoline," pleaded Orissa.

"Pah! a trick to deceive me."

"No; it is true," cried Sybil, who grew more quiet as fear possessed her.

He hesitated, a look of despair flashing across his features. Then he said with grim determination: "I will see for myself," and stepped recklessly into the pool of oil that lay between him and the hummock where the aëroplane perched.

The slime reached to his ankle, but he kept doggedly on. The second step sent him knee-deep into the ooze and he had to struggle to wade farther in. But now he sank nearly to his waist and the sticky soil held him fast. Then suddenly the man seemed to realize his peril and uttered a shrill cry of terror.

"Help, young ladies! For the love of humanity—help! Will you see me die like this?" he screamed.

Orissa and Sybil, both horrified, had risen to their feet. The sinking outlaw was fully five yards distant and there seemed no possible way to aid him. But it was terrible to allow a human being to perish in such a way, even when it was a confessed enemy who stood in peril. Orissa caught up a blanket and hurled it toward him, and he seized it eagerly and spread it around him for support. Next moment Sybil had hastily folded the second blanket and cast it with all her strength toward Ganza. One corner he caught and in a moment had added it to the first, now becoming saturated with oil. Yet the blankets would not have availed much had not Ramon's feet now rested upon a rock far beneath the surface, effectually preventing him from sinking any lower. Almost waist-deep in the putty-like mire he stood a fast prisoner, for no effort of his own could enable him to free himself.

He realized, presently, that he was not fated to be entombed in the mire, so part of his old assurance returned to him. As he stared at the girls and they returned his gaze with horrified looks, he remarked:

"Well, I am caught, as you see; but it was no officer of the law that did it. Ramon Ganza can defy mankind, as he has often proved, but he bows to Nature. Also, young ladies, I beg to point out that—if you have spoken truly—you are likewise caught, and alas! we cannot assist one another. What, then, shall we do for amusement?"

"I think," said Sybil gravely, "you ought to pray."

"I? I have forgotten how. What then? Shall we sing songs? If you will accompany the chorus I will delight your ears with my excellent tenor voice."

This bravado, coming from a man stuck fast in the mire, was so gruesome that it made the girls shudder with aversion. But Sybil, happening to glance up, cried with sudden animation: "Look, Orissa!" and pointed with a trembling finger.

In the distance a group of men had appeared over the edge of the rock hills. They saw the stalled aëroplane and waved their arms encouragingly.

Ganza screwed his head around with some difficulty and also observed the rescue party.

"It cannot matter," he said coolly. "As well one prison as another, and no Mexican dungeon could hug me tighter than this."

He fell silent, however, and no further remarks were exchanged as the distant party drew nearer. They were forced by the treacherous nature of the valley to move cautiously and when they entered the area of oil seepage more than one slipped in the slimy pools. But gradually they approached the spot where the aëroplane rested and now Orissa and Sybil could make out Stephen Kane, Mr. Cumberford, Captain Krell, Chesty Todd and an unknown man in uniform, who were accompanied by several seamen.

The girls stood up and waved their handkerchiefs and then cried out warnings to beware the mire. Not until the rescuers were quite near to the place did they perceive the upper half of Ramon Ganza protruding from the imprisoning slime.

"Dear me," cried Mr. Cumberford; "this is interesting; very! How are you, girls? All right?"

Through the bombardment of eager questions they assured their friends that they had suffered no serious discomfort because of the accident to the Aircraft. "But," added Sybil, "we had a good fright when Ramon Ganza threatened us, unless we assisted him to escape in our aëroplane. Fortunately the mire came to our assistance, for he stepped into a soft place and it held him fast—as you see."

All eyes turned upon the helpless outlaw, who nodded his head with astonishing nonchalance.

"I bid you good morning, señors," said he. "When you are sufficiently rested from your walk, be kind enough to pull me out of this loving embrace; but gently, or you may dislocate my bones."

"Who is this?" asked the officer in uniform, a fine featured young man.

"The rascal who has so boldly annoyed us, regardless of consequences," replied Cumberford, frowning upon the Mexican. "He escaped us last night, but we have him now, sure enough, and I intend to see he is handed over to the authorities of his country, whose laws he has defied."

"What did he do?" the officer inquired, gazing at Ganza curiously.

"Permit me to explain that I robbed a bank—a bank engaged in robbing others under government sanction," said Ganza. "To rob is a small thing, señors; but it is a crime to be discovered robbing. That was my fault. Others in my native land, who are more successful embezzlers than I, are to-day respected, rich and happy."

"Was that your only crime?"

"So far as is known, señor. Otherwise I am very good man and quite respectable."

"He is a tyrant and a bully, and whips his men if they disobey him," declared Steve.

"Pah! they are curs. The whip is less than they deserve," retorted Ganza. "But permit me to remind you of my present discomfort, señors. I will gladly exchange this bog for a Mexican prison."

They managed to drag him out, none too gently, and the seamen scraped the oily slime from his legs and body so that he could stand erect.

Then they turned to examine the condition of the aëroplane.