CHAPTER XIX
THE FIRST FLIGHT
The balloon was still sliding downwards and swiftly forward. Forseveral minutes the three boys stood in silence. Only the steadywhirr of the engine and a musical humming of vibrating wires couldbe heard. Bob wondered if they were headed earthward again, for hecould see the approaching foothills widening out beneath. At last,when they could not have been over five hundred feet from theground, came the quick order:
"Right the planes."
Bob was almost caught napping, for he was busy looking through thewindow. But his hands responded instantly, and he almost chokedwith chagrin to find that he had started to throw the lever thewrong way. But his recovery of himself was instant and with adesperate pull he forced the guiding planes back horizontally. Theglide downward stopped and the Cibola shot forward with renewedspeed.
On the bridge Ned held a fluttering chart before him.
"How is she heading?" he called to Pilot Alan at the wheel. With aglance at the compass before him Alan promptly responded:
"Nor'nor'east."
"Make it north by east."
A quick slight movement and a strain told that the alteration hadbeen made.
"North by east it is," sang out Alan.
"Keep her there," was the echoing response.
Bob was thrilled. Every word was to him a joy. Everything hadhappened so quickly that he hardly knew what it all meant, but hewas happy. Even the sudden discipline pleased him and he was gladto be a part of it. The knowledge that a younger boy was giving himorders did not bother him. He had skill in his own line, but he sawand realized that in the Cibola Ned Napier was in charge and meantbusiness.
For some time then no word was heard. The Cibola, speeding, swiftlyonward, had crossed the low foothills and was pulling herselfthrough the almost breezeless air like a modern liner, five hundredfeet above the ground. She was holding her course beautifully.Then Ned appeared and tested the gas exhaust and oil feed of theengine.
"Were you ever in a balloon before?" he said when he had finished,turning sharply towards Bob.
"Never," answered Bob, glad enough for a chance to say something.
"Have you any matches?" somewhat sternly asked the commander of theCibola.
"Sure," replied Bob reaching in his pocket and finding one.
"Any more? All of them."
Surprised, Bob searched his clothes and discovered a few more whichhe obediently handed over to his superior officer. Noting the lookof surprise in the reporter's face Ned laughed.
"The first rule in a balloon is 'No fire.' But beginners forget,sometimes; we can't take this chance with you."
"Take anything I have got," answered Bob with his old smile, whichhad now been in eclipse for some time, "and if I can speak at last Iwant to say that you boys are white, clean white, through andthrough. Didn't you need that ballast?"
"We may need it badly," said Ned, laughing. "If it should becomenecessary I suppose you won't mind if we throw you overboard."
"No," retorted Bob, "not if it is a little at, a time. But you'rebricks--both of you--if I thank you I'll cry." The tears were againin his eyes.
"Well, it wasn't the thing to do, I suppose," said Ned turning away,"but you looked so hungry to go, and I knew what it meant. So Ithought we'd just give you a little ride up to the camp."
"Yes, of course," answered Bob slowly as his hopes fell. "Put meout wherever you like," he added.
"You can go up now and have a look around," said Ned at last, "bothof you. I'll take the wheel."
The relieved boys scrambled onto the bridge deck. Night was comingon and the mountains to the west were already black. Eveningshadows were lengthening on the sloping plains beneath and a gentle,rising breeze flapped the flag and pennant and swayed the bag abovethem. Beneath, the Chusco wound its half dry course and off to theeast a blue haze, melting into the unending sand, told of a treelessand waterless waste.
"And there," exclaimed Alan at last, pointing off to the northwestwhere snow-capped, ragged peaks rose out of a black jumble ofmountains, "are the Tunit Chas and the land of our dreams.To-morrow--"
"One moment," interrupted Bob quickly. "I think you are forgetting.That is your secret and not mine."
Alan flushed. "I forgot," he said with a stammer, "and I thankyou."
"I can't afford to make you sorry you brought me," added Bob, "andyou are not going to be."
There was a little jar. The propeller slackened a trifle, and Alanexplained that Ned had headed the Cibola another point into thefreshening breeze.
"Steward," said Ned from below, "it's seven o'clock and I'm hungry.Besides, it's getting pretty dark down here."
Alan and Bob looked at each other and laughed.
"That certainly means me," exclaimed Bob, and both boys clamberedbelow. With Alan's help Bob made his first examination of the storeroom.
The meal was rather haphazard, as the boys, carried away by theexcitement of their new flight, had neglected to eat when it waslight. But water and hardtack were easily accessible, and Alan,taking the first two cans at hand, found happily that they containedsardines and veal loaf.
"We'll eat on deck," suggested Ned, as he set the wheel and hadanother look at the engine, which had not missed a revolution.
The night that greeted them was magnificent. The moon was not yetup, but the stars were scintillating in the inky sky and the deepsilence of the clouds and desert was about them. Bob gazed as ifspellbound. The charm of the night appealed to him as it did to Nedand Alan; but with it his brain formed phrases--"cloudland bynight," "a dash to the stars." The reporter in him was thinking"copy."
"Hey, there, wake up!" cried practical Ned.
Bob flew to his task; with a turn he had the veal loaf can open andhad dumped its contents in the wooden plate held by Alan.
In another moment he would have thrown the empty can overboard butthe watchful Ned, ready for another lesson in aeronautics, caughthis hand.
"Don't you like the route we are taking?" laughed Ned.
Bob's face showed he did not understand.
"The loss of the weight of that can might send us sparing upward athousand feet," explained Ned dryly, "so don't cast over ballastuntil you get orders."
Bob shook his head. "Well doesn't that beat all," he exclaimed.
As night fell and the air grew heavier, the barometer showed thatthe Cibola had a tendency to rise. The aeroplanes were readjustedand then for an hour the craft sped on untouched. At eight o'clockNed said:
"We haven't traveled over eighteen miles in an hour and we've beenafloat four hours. If we are still over the Chusco and Elmer andBuck are at the appointed place we may be within ten or twelve milesof them."
"They are going to burn three small camp fires set in a triangle,you remember," remarked Bob.
"Therefore," suggested. Ned, "all keep a sharp lookout."
At half past eight Ned showed some concern. No lights had beensighted and the reckoning showed that they must be within two orthree miles of the probable location of the camp. Another fifteenminutes went by, and yet no signal fires were seen. They had nowpassed over the junction of the two rivers, if their calculationswere right, and Ned and Alan were in a quandary.
"It's no use to go on," commented Ned; "so we'll just make a widecircle and see what we can find."
It was also useless to look below. In the darkness there was nosight of either river or desert.
"It we don't pick them up in that way," continued Ned, "we'lldescend and tie up for the night."
Both Ned and Alan went below, and with the engine shut down to halfspeed the Cibola was turned on her course in a wide sweep. Bobalone watched with anxious eyes, until he was joined in a short timeby Ned. There was no sound but the soft chug-chug of the engine,and for some time neither spoke. The breeze of the early eveninghad died and there was not a breath of air. Alan in the dark cabinbelow held the wheel and Ned and Bob alone, hanging over the sidenet, watche
d and listened in vain.