The Boy Scouts of the Air in Indian Land Part 9

"But you've lost a thousand dollars' worth of sheep already," urged Herb, feeling that this was the time to press his strongest arguments.

"If it keeps on we won't have any sheep left. Besides, you know that the ponies got frightened a little while ago and broke down part of the corral. What if they'd all get out and run away? They're worth two thousand dollars themselves. And gee whiz, Dad, think of what I'd learn in helping to build an aeroplane. Just what I want."

Tender Gray gave Herb's arm a squeeze while the other boys regarded him with grateful eyes.

"How long would it take to get this material?" asked Mr. Phipps, seeming to disregard his son's remarks.

"About a week. I can get most of the stuff from Kansas City. The northern spruce comes from Denver. I'd have to order the bamboo from a New York house. My engine is at Fort Omaha."

"I suppose you would teach the boys how to run the machine," queried the rancher, who appeared to have reached his decision and merely wished further a.s.surance.

"Oh, certainly, that is part of the plan," responded the aviator.

"Well then, go ahead and get things together as soon as you can. But I guess a government aviator knows his business." Extending his cigar case to Mr. Hawke, the southerner prepared for a leisurely smoke, as if, having settled the question, he would worry no more about it. Mr. Hawke settled back into the depths of his large wicker chair and lighted his cigar.

The boys, however, did not take the matter so calmly. They broke into excited yells of delight. Herb and Tender Gray did something like an Indian war dance on the front steps. Fred was pummelling Jerry with a will, and Dunk and Fly stood talking with bright eager faces, making gestures with their hands and arms. The Indian, though he smiled with satisfaction, sat quietly and looked on.

"Gee, Dad, you're a brick," exclaimed Herb, slapping his father affectionately on the back.

"I like the enthusiasm of these boys," Hawke told Mr. Phipps, when Herb had joined his companions. "In all my experience I never came across a more promising bunch. There isn't a dullard in the lot."

"To tell you the truth," answered the rancher, after a long drag at his Havana, and regarding with kindly eyes the group at the end of the veranda, "the idea of showing them how to build the machine appeals to me about as much as the bird--or man--hunt, although that is an important factor of course. And I hope you may be able to land the thief, whoever or whatever it is."

"Say, boys," he added, in a louder tone, "you'd better all stay for dinner to-night, and we'll have a little moonlight party on the veranda here--how about it, Mr. Hawke?"

"Sure--you'll stay, won't you, Hawke?" queried Jerry, while all the others nodded their ready a.s.sent to the rancher's proposal. Hawke was easily induced to fall in with the scheme.

"And by the way," continued Mr. Phipps, "why don't you take Hawke for a scouting expedition up in the mountains to-morrow, while you're waiting for your uniforms and the material?"

"We'd just been talking about that," a.s.sented Fly. "We thought mebbe we'd find the place where the bird lives."

Mr. Phipps and the aviator smiled at this nave response.

"Carlito can take you," said the southerner, "and Herb wants to try out a new gun he has. Suit you, Mr. Hawke?"

"I'm here on a vacation," responded the aviator. "And anything like that sounds good to me."

After a while the boys grew more calm, and the party on the veranda settled down to the quiet of the waning afternoon. Mr. Hawke and the southerner found topics of conversation in politics, aeronautics and affairs of the day. The boys separated into groups of two, some reading or glancing over the ill.u.s.trated magazines, others talking in low voices, flipping penknives or whittling. At last the sun sank in a bed of red, gold and purple behind the tallest mountain peak, lighting up its snowy whiteness with vivid crimson and yellow, and deluging the sky with beautifully mingled colors, which gradually trailed off at each side into faint lavender.

"This is the country for sunsets," said Mr. Phipps, as they sat watching the beautiful scene. "No king ever wore a more glorious crown than nature places on that old mountain's brow every evening, s.h.i.+ning with colors as brilliant as the finest gems ever mined."

When the last soft light had dwindled, twilight quietly settled over the scene, and the stars, like faint sparks of the sun's final salute, gradually came out clearer against the growing darkness.

It seemed like an interruption when Hop Sing announced dinner, but his voice broke the spell, and the boys resumed their noisy chatter as they filed into the house.

"This is Thunder Bird roast lamb," announced Mr. Phipps, as he whetted the carving knife. "The poor animal escaped the ravages of the destroyer only to be seized by the cruel headsman and quartered for my pleasure."

The party had seated itself, with some commotion, around the great round table. The s.p.a.cious dining room was softly lighted with shaded lamps.

The snowy table cloth, s.h.i.+ning gla.s.ses and silver, and a huge bunch of white carnations made the tempting viands look even more appetizing.

There was no formality about the service. Mr. Phipps knew the capacity of growing boys, and saw that they were helped to liberal quant.i.ties of everything. Hop Sing was kept busy hopping from one side of the table to the other. The young fellows were entirely at their ease, and did not hesitate to ask for whatever they wanted, and as much as they desired.

"Hop Sing is some fine cook," said Fly, as the Chinaman good-naturedly pa.s.sed him his third helping of mashed potatoes.

The celestial grinned. "Melican show me," he said, pointing to the rancher.

"Whoopee, what'll Hop say when he sees our aeroplane!" exclaimed Jerry, and all the boys joined in the laugh that followed.

"He'll want to go to a Chinese heaven in a chop suey bowl sure," said Herb. "He sc.r.a.pes in front of his idol whenever he sees an automobile, which isn't often in these parts."

The subject being thus introduced, considerable talk about the new aeroplane ensued, and when, happy and satisfied, they all returned to the veranda, they found Sing putting up the last j.a.panese lantern.

"Give us some c.o.o.n songs, Dad," asked Herb, and instantly there was a clamor from all directions.

"No--I don't do that any more," objected Mr. Phipps, but his misgivings were overruled when Herb appeared with a banjo and guitar.

"Come on, let's give 'em 'Drag the Chariot,'" coaxed his son, strumming on the guitar.

The boys, with Hawke, had gathered around the rancher and Herb expectantly.

"What's this yuh got me into, yuh young scalawag," exclaimed Mr. Phipps, with mock anger, but he took the banjo and struck up a lively tune.

One song was followed by another, until the whole bunch of boys, unable to sit still under the enchanting strains, had risen to their feet and were performing jigs of one style or another. It was soon noticed that Fred had some skill in this direction, and he was urged to jig "Turkey in the Straw," and numerous other dances, until he sank down panting for breath.

In the midst of their festivities there was a series of sharp barks in the direction of the corral, and then a regular din of neighs from the horses, violent barking from the dogs, and an occasional bleat.

Mr. Phipps threw his banjo aside and quickly ran down the steps in the direction of the corral. The others followed him. They found the horses greatly excited, running pell-mell around the enclosure, almost pus.h.i.+ng each other over, and some of them trying to climb up on the fence. The dogs were baying, and running about in a confused fas.h.i.+on. Three sheep had apparently strayed from the herd and were standing by the side of the corral.

"It's that confounded thing again," exclaimed Mr. Phipps, calling to the horses to quiet them, while Herb went inside and endeavored to calm them. After a time the dogs, remembering their offices, got after the sheep and drove them back to the fold.

"Doesn't look as though there's any damage done, but you'd better get Mike to go down and look over the sheep."

As Herb went off on this errand, the others returned to the house.

"Bothering the horses too," said Hawke, when they had seated themselves.

"That looks bad."

"Must have been chasin' those three sheep," Mr. Phipps conjectured.

"I looked around, but couldn't see a sign of anything," said Carl.

When Herb came back, he said he had gone down to the sheepfold but, as far as he could see, there was no further damage there.

After a little further conversation, Carlito and Herb went after the ponies and led them up to the veranda. Somewhat subdued in spirit, and a little disturbed, the party started off through the moonlight for the Fort, after bidding a cordial good night to the hospitable rancher, his son and Tender Gray.

"Hurry along with that aeroplane, boys," Mr. Phipps called after them, and the boys cheered and waved their sombreros in reply.

CHAPTER VII