CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Tim, raging at the injustice of the whole thing, leaped, forward, hisfists clenched, but Dugan caught his arms and whispered in his ear.
"Easy, Tim, easy. You'll only get a knife in your ribs."
Tim could see the truth in Dugan's words and allowed himself to be ledback to the stinking little building which was dignified by the word"prison."
"Isn't there any way we can get word to the American authorities?" askedTim.
"I'm afraid not," replied the daredevil. "Once a fellow comes below theborder he's pretty much on his own and it's up to us to get out of herebefore daylight tomorrow. It won't be long before dark and then we'llsee what can be done."
Tim, restless and angered by the events which had just taken place,paced about the room, testing the bars at the windows and kicking thedobe walls in an attempt to find some weakness. The idea of facing afiring squad in the morning did not strike him as especially alarmingfor he had confidence that in some way he and the daredevil would beable to make their escape.
The shadows of evening were already filling the plaza when Dugan went toa window and raised a shout for food. A guard ordered him to be silent,but he only increased his clamor until his cries attracted the attentionof General Lopez, who was taking his evening stroll on the far side ofthe square.
"Provide them with food," ordered the rebel leader, "and see to it thatit is a good meal for it will be their last."
The guard muttered under his breath but hastened away to carry out thecommand.
On one of his restless rounds of the room Tim's foot struck somethinghalf imbedded in the floor. He managed to pull the object free and foundhimself the possessor of a piece of iron pipe about eighteen incheslong.
"Look here, Dugan," he exclaimed, "we ought to be able to dispose of Mr.Guard with this when he comes with our food."
"Give it to me," said the daredevil, "I want just one whack at thatfellow's head."
"Not on your life," replied Tim. "I found the pipe and I'm perfectlycapable of using it. You'll have your hands full if another guardhappens along with this chap."
The guard could be heard returning and Tim took his place behind thedoor. His heart beat a trifle faster and he took a fresh grip on thepipe. He heard Dugan move closer.
"There's two of them," whispered the daredevil. "Let them both getinside and then use that pipe."
Tim heard one of the guards fumbling with the heavy lock, then therattle of the chain, and finally the squeak of the rusty hinges as thedoor was swung open. The rays from a smoky kerosene lantern made ahalf-hearted attempt to pierce the gloom of their prison and the guardcarrying the basket of food stepped into the room, followed by the manwith the lantern. Before the rebels had a chance to get their eyesaccustomed to the gloom, Tim leaped from his hiding place, his armflashing in a quick blow that felled the man with the lantern before hecould utter a cry of warning. Dugan caught the lantern as it droppedfrom the fingers of the unconscious soldier and Tim lunged ahead, benton completing his task.
The man with the basket of food half turned. He saw Tim's upraised armbut was powerless to evade the blow. His cry of alarm was cut short andhe fell limp into Tim's arms.
The whole thing had taken less than five seconds for Tim's two blows hadbeen fast and true.
"Did you crack their heads?" asked Dugan.
"No," snapped Tim. "They'll be all right in a few minutes. We'd betterget out of here and head for our planes. When they come to or aremissed, this hotbed of rebels will be at our heels."
"Grab a blanket and sombrero from one of those chaps," said Dugan. "Itwill help us in getting out of the village."
Tim threw a blanket over his shoulders and pulled one of thehigh-crowned hats far down over his head.
"All right, let's go. You lead the way, Dugan."
The daredevil stepped outside their jail, pulled the door shut, rattledthe chain, and then blew out the lantern. "Just in case anyone might belooking," he whispered to Tim. They melted into the shadows, and hurriedin the direction of the field which served as headquarters for the rebelair force.
They reached the field unmolested and discarded their blankets.
"Better take my plane," suggested Tim. "It's fast and there's plenty ofgas to get us to the border."
"Suits me," said Dugan. "The quicker we get away from here the better."
Tim climbed into the cockpit and his legs struck something boxlike as heswung into his seat. His groping hands discovered his camera. He couldhardly repress a shout for there was his machine loaded with thepictures for which Lopez had so arrogantly posed in the afternoon. Timrecalled having seen an officer drop the camera back into the cockpit ofhis plane. What rare luck.
Tim placed the heavy camera under his seat and turned on the light overhis instrument board for a moment to be sure that the delicate gaugesand his compass had not been tampered. Satisfied that everything was allright, he called down to Dugan to hop aboard.
"In just a minute, Tim," said the daredevil. "There are a couple ofplanes here and Lopez may send them out after us when he realizes wehave escaped. It will be moonlight in a few minutes and we don't want totake any chances of being overhauled and shot down."
He slipped away and a moment later Tim heard the sound of a heavy blowand splintering of wood. In a few seconds the sound was repeated andthen Dugan appeared beside the Good News chuckling.
"Neither one of those ships will get into the air tonight," he said. "Ifound a heavy club and smashed their props."
Dugan took his place in the forward cockpit and Tim bent down to turn onthe starter. Just then he heard shouts and cries of alarm from thevillage and lanterns flashed in the trees that separated the field fromLopez' headquarters.
"Get going, Tim, get going," urged Dugan. "They've found out we'veescaped. You've got about a thousand feet of level ground ahead. Thenyou'll have to lift her fast to clear the trees."
Tim turned on the starter and it whirred for what seemed an age whilethe dancing lanterns came closer.
Finally the motor caught and burst into a roar that reverberated downthe valley. There was no time to warm up the engine and Tim opened histhrottle and sped his plane down the field.
Faster and faster they raced while behind them the night was punctuatedwith crimson stabs of rifle fire as the rebels sent volley after volleycrashing in pursuit of the fleeing plane.
The motor never faltered and when the trees loomed ahead Tim had plentyof flying speed. He zoomed the Good News into the night sky and turnedon his instrument light to get his bearings.
Ahead of him he could discern the gap in the mountains and he roaredthrough it with his exhaust belching streams of flame.
Tim set his course for Nogales, north by west and settled down for threehours of flying. By the time the moon came up, Sonora was far to theirrear and a few minutes after midnight they circled the field at Nogales.The sound of their motor awakened the field crew and landing lights wereturned on.
When Tim brought the Good News to a stop, he was greeted by CaptainTalbot, who had thrown a coat on over his pajamas.
"Back already?" he asked.
"Back and with half a dozen pictures posed by General Lopez," grinnedTim.
"What!" exclaimed the army man, who could hardly believe what he hadheard.
Tim pulled his camera out from under his seat. "Right here," he said,"are half a dozen of first class pictures of Lopez. Let's go into theoffice," he added, "and I'll tell you all about it."
Captain Talbot was almost incredulous when he heard Tim's story but theplates were absolute proof of his tale.
"I'll leave one of the plates with you for your border patrol bulletin,"said Tim, "but the pictures must be kept in strict confidence. Now if Ican get some gas I think we'll hop along toward Atkinson. If we can getaway from here at 1 o'clock we ought to make it there by noon tomorrow,figuring on one more stop for gas and oil."
"Dugan going to help you pilot on the way home?"
asked Captain Talbot.
"Yes," said Tim, "and I'll need the help."
"I expect you will. I ought to hold Dugan here under arrest but I guesshe's learned his lesson and won't go hunting for any more revolutions.How about it Dugan?"
"You're right, Captain Talbot. No more revolutions for mine."
"If I can borrow a control stick for the front cockpit it will help outa lot," suggested Tim.
"I'll have the boys put one in right away," said the genial captain.
While the Good News was being made ready for its thousand mile flight toAtkinson, Tim wired Carson that he was on his way with the plates andwould arrive about noon the next day.
At one a. m. Tim and Dugan sped away from the Nogales field and theirfriends of the border patrol. Dawn found them well on their way towardAtkinson and at 11:30 o'clock Tim sighted his home field.
When they taxied up to the apron, Tim found Carson waiting for him.
The managing editor had ordered a dark room for developing the platesrigged up at the field and in less than half an hour, a complete set ofpictures were on their way to the News office while another set, stilldamp, were placed on board a special plane to be rushed to Chicago wherethey were to be placed on the telephoto wires.
Tim had written the story of his adventure while Dugan had handled thecontrols and the story of his flight and the pictures of the rebelleader were on the front page of the first afternoon edition of theNews--a clean beat over every other paper in the country.
Tim was preparing to leave the field when Dugan stopped him,
"Can you spare a minute?" he asked, his voice low and tense. He wasevidently laboring under great emotion and Tim followed him toward thefield and away from the others.
"I haven't forgotten how you saved me the day the good will tour endedhere," hastened Dugan, "nor what you've done this time and I'll repayyou now. You've heard of the Sky Hawk?"
Tim nodded, waiting for the other to go on.
"I know who he is," went on Dugan, his voice hoarse from emotion. "He'sa former German ace, a great flyer, but obsessed with the idea that byplundering the air lines he can amass a great fortune and eventuallyattack America from the air. It's a crazy dream--a wild one--but he'ssure raising hob while he's free."
"He certainly is," agreed Tim. "Who is it, Dugan?" He waited for theanswer, hardly breathing.
The daredevil's lips started to move. Then he glanced toward the skywhere a heavy humming drifted down.
A plane shot through the clouds, whipped around and headed in for thefield. The crescendo of its motor was deafening; conversation wasimpossible. Dugan screamed something at Tim but the words wereinaudible. Then he started running along the field in front of thehangers.
Tim yelled after him but his words were lost in the storm of noise asthe plane skimmed over the field. The flying reporter screamed until hethought his lungs would burst. Dugan, running toward the Good News, wassprinting directly into the path of the incoming plane.
There was a blur of light, a form hurtling through the air.
The pilot of the plane leaped from his ship. There was somethingfamiliar in his build--in his stride. When they reached Dugan he wasbeyond help and Tim stared across the body of the daredevil into thehard eyes of Kurt Blandin.