The Boy Scouts of the Air in Indian Land Part 28

"I could get across if you could span it with a rope ladder," said Carl.

"Maybe Herb wounded him so badly he's dead up there somewhere," Jerry went on. "You know he told us over the phone that he and Gray found some feathers about where he shot the other night."

"Whether it's a bird or not, it's got wings," said Carl. "But if those feathers are as long as Herb said they were it can't be an eagle."

"Don't care nohow," responded Fly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets with an air of dejection as he rose to his feet. "Hawke maybe can't be back this summer. Didn't even have a chance to say good-bye to the B. P. bunch. And mother just won't let me run the plane alone. Aw, I'm going home," he continued thoroughly disgusted. "Good night."

"Wait a minute--here comes your father," said Fred.

"Just got a letter from Hawke," announced Mr. Giles, walking up to the veranda.

"What does he say?" exclaimed Fred eagerly, the faces of all the boys brightening at once. A faint hope of the aviator's early return sprang into their minds.

"Don't get too excited if I tell you," said Mr. Giles mischievously.

This only served to make the boys more anxious, of course.

"Well, he says he thinks Fly's pretty steady and could handle the machine all right alone. So we've decided to let you continue the hunt.

We owe it to Phipps anyhow," he added.

"What!" yelled Fly, scarcely comprehending the good news at first.

"Hurray!" shouted several of the boys.

"Keep cool," laughed Mr. Crawford, but Fly was unable to contain himself for joy, and singing gayly, began hopping around first on one leg and then the other.

"I knew it would come out all right," said Dunk, although his att.i.tude of a half hour before had not betokened very strong optimism.

"We'll go right over to the Phipps ranch in the morning," announced Fly, when he became calmer, "tell Herb and Gray, and start right out. Maybe Herb can go up with me," and he turned another handspring.

"I'd like to see a trial flight first," said the father.

"Just give me the chance," retorted Fly.

The next morning, before a skeptical audience composed of Mr. and Mrs.

Giles, Captain Crawford and his wife, Mrs. Windham and Lieutenant Rivers, Fly practically repeated Hawke's performance of the first day.

"My, it's great!" he exclaimed after the flight, his eyes s.h.i.+ning and his face flushed. "I could do it with Hawke, and I knew I could do it alone."

The older ones were satisfied, and Fly was permitted to start out for the B. P. to get Herb, if his father would allow him to go. It was planned that the others should ride, and going as far as they could with their horses, climb up to the spot near the tower.

Mr. Phipps was at first reluctant, but a telephone conversation with Mr.

Giles and Captain Crawford, strengthened by eager coaxing on the part of his son, finally gained his consent. Gray started off to meet the other boys with his pony.

Fly and Herb remained at the B. P., for a while, to give the plane a thorough inspection, and to make a rope ladder they had previously planned to use if possible.

About midway in their way they experienced some difficulty with the engine, and were obliged to make a landing in a pasture and remedy the difficulty. This took the better part of an hour.

"I feel that we're goin' to get him to-day," said Herb, as Fly once more lifted the plane above the green meadowland. It was one of those rare, quiet, contented summer days, when even the bee's buzzing sounded noisy.

The mountains, with all their towering majesty, seemed challenging the young aviators, who, calm and confident, rose steadily upward and forward, the fresh air blowing cool and sweet against their faces. It was a day such as fills the veins with a joyousness of life, a willingness to undertake anything, and a confidence that bespeaks success.

They were soon pa.s.sing swiftly over the rugged mountain's face, its huge irregular boulders, tufted here and there with stubborn plant life, rapidly receding. The tall majestic firs, which, as the boys looked down from their superior height, dwindled to miniature Christmas trees with the morning dew still upon them glistening like toy candles, and the foaming torrents rus.h.i.+ng down the time-scarred and waterworn ravines.

Above all they could see, as they mounted higher, the gloomy old tower lifting its dark head to the suns.h.i.+ne, and rising out of a ma.s.s of rock, stone and dense growth.

"Look! Look!" panted Herb when they at last circled above the mysterious dwelling.

Fly looked down through the mica window at his feet and saw, crouching between the four walls of the roof, a monstrous feathered shape, apparently headless, its wings folded. Like some gorged dragon it lay there, contentedly wallowing in a bed of bones, skeletons, sheeps' wool and meat still red, the remains of many an ill-gotten feast.

Startled by the noise of the propellers, it drew out from under its wing its great s.h.i.+ning black head, disclosing a vicious hooked beak.

Meanwhile, the rest of the party had arrived on the other side of the ravine. They shouted at the boys in the air, but the tremendous noise caused by the roaring water and the whirring propellers, drowned their voices completely. Herb and Fly had seen them, however.

"Scare him out," suggested Fly. "Then they can all see him and have a shot."

"I hate to shoot an enemy in the back," said Herb. "But he deserves it."

And he fired down into the roost. But the plane was going at such a speed that his aim was not true. The bullet struck the side of the structure, throwing up dust and mortar. The creature fluttered and stirred, moving its head about perplexedly, but remained in its nest.

Herb shot a second time, just grazing his mark, picking off some of the feathers on the monster's back. At this time the crouching shape sprang upward with a sharp cry of anger, almost completely hiding the top of the tower from view, so enormous was the spread of its wings.

"There it is! There it is," exclaimed several of the party on the back of the ravine.

"An eagle," gasped Fred.

"The Thunder Bird," panted Carl.

"But what's the matter with him?" cried Dunk. At the same moment, the boys, staring upward with fascinated eyes, gave a cry of alarm.

The great creature seemed flying about wildly, furiously, without sense of, or regard for direction, beating its immense wings against the air, and, instead of attempting to escape, flew straight for the plane, almost colliding with it.

Fly, who had antic.i.p.ated a chase, now found himself on the defensive, and was obliged to dodge, circle, swoop and whirl in a manner that made his head swim. Although almost near enough to touch the bird at times, the motion of the machine and the strange uncertain course of their antagonist made accurate aim impossible.

Above them it flew, pa.s.sing like a dark cloud over the machine, then veering down so suddenly that Fly was obliged to concentrate all his energies to get out of its way. It was an equal conflict between nature's great king of the air, and the supreme handicraft of mechanical skill which had been made to conquer it in its own element.

"It must be blind," said Herb, remembering that Carl had told them the Thunder Bird was sightless in the daylight. "If I could only get a line on it!"

The boys below dared not shoot, lest their bullets go astray and strike their friends. The monster seemed possessed by an insane rage, throwing itself about in the air with blind recklessness.

"Now!" exclaimed Fly, as the wily native of the air rushed below them.

Herb, with the quickness of an experienced hunter, did not waste his chance. There was a loud report, a shrill blood-curdling cry, such as they had heard on two other occasions, and the creature's inert bulk whirled to the earth, landing heavily almost in front of Jerry.

It was not yet dead however, and the boys made for a safe distance, as the monster, in its death struggle, furiously beat the ground with its powerful wings, springing upward again and again in a desperate effort to recover itself, each time falling back.

"Finish him," implored Fred. "It's a shame to have him suffer."

A second later a shot from Dunk's rifle stilled the great bird's fluttering form forever. Its frightful beak opened and closed, its beastlike talons sought to clutch support, its owl-like eyes became glazed and fixed. The Thunder Bird had killed his last sheep!

Hushed and silent the boys crowded around the huddled shape. Carl, taking hold of one of its wings, pulled it out to its natural spread.