The Boy Inventors' Radio Telephone Part 13

Naturally excitement ran high. The hunt for the island, too, might be a long one. But they felt that ultimately they would find it, that it would not be like the three b.u.t.tes of Peg-leg Smith.

When everything was declared ready, Jack opened the charging-tube of the gas reservoir and poured in some of the volatile powder that made the lifting vapor. In fifteen minutes the gauge showed a good pressure in the tank and the valve was turned.

In the hot sun the balloon bag expanded quickly. At length the bag was almost full.

"Everything ready?" cried Jack, at length, when all were on board.

"Ready," said Tom at the engines.

"Then off we go!"

Tom pulled the clutch lever and the propellers whirled. Jack gave the steering and controlling wheel an impulse and like a huge bird the Wondership shot up. But she rose slowly, for besides the unusual number of pa.s.sengers, she was also carrying a great weight in supplies.

As the craft rose three figures watched it from under the concealment of a clump of mesquite.

"There they go, boys," said Masterson, for it was he and his two cronies.

"Yes, they're off for Rattlesnake Island," sneered Eph. "I hope they get bitten."

"I'll bet they don't dream that we know everything about their plans," chuckled Sam. "I'd like to get even with that red-headed kid."

"Well, you'll get a chance before long," declared Bill Masterson. "I don't see that there's any use in hanging around here any longer," he went on. "The thing to do now is to get our boats and go down the river."

"Won't they be astonished when they see us," said Eph.

"Maybe they'll try to chase us away. They outnumber us," said the timid Sam.

"They'd better not," vaunted Bill Masterson. "I guess we've got as good a right to that old island as they have."

"That's right," echoed Eph, following his leader's sentiments. "I guess they haven't got any mortgage on it."

Viewed from the Wondership, the desert spread out below was a wonderful panorama. Through it, like a deep wound, the Colorado cut its way and far beyond were the pale, misty outlines of mountains. As they flew onward, the character of the scenery began to change.

The river appeared to sink, while mighty walls, of most gorgeous colors, cliffed it in. The rocks glowed with red and yellow and blue like a painter's palate. But this was only in the deep canyon. On either side the desert, vast and unlimited, stretched away grayly to the horizon.

"It must have taken centuries for the river to have cut such a deep valley," said Tom, looking down as they flew far above it.

"Some say that the river didn't cut it," said Zeb. "They claim that there was a big earthquake or some sort of a shake-up, and that made that big hole in the ground."

Below them they could see birds circling above the swiftly racing waters flecked with white foam. So far no sign of land answering the description of Rattlesnake Island had come in view. But several small, isolated spots of land were encountered, and on one, which looked something like Rattlesnake Island described on the map, they descended.

The boys were delighted at the way the great Wondership settled down into the canyon and then came to rest on the back of the island round which the water rushed and roared. They scattered and ran about on it, enjoying the opportunity to stretch their legs.

Jack, Tom and d.i.c.k took a rifle along with them and they were glad they had done so, for as they made their way through a patch of brush a beautiful deer sprang out and dashed off. Jack had the rifle at his shoulder in a minute and the creature bounded into the air, as the crack of the report sounded, and then fell dead.

The boy felt some remorse at having killed it, but he knew they would be in need of fresh meat and some venison would be a welcome addition to the ordinary camp fare. The boys carried the deer back and Zeb skillfully skinned and quartered it. While he was doing this, the boys speculated as to how the animal could have come to the island.

Zeb set their discussion at rest by explaining that it had probably swum the rapids to escape a mountain lion or a lynx. He said that he had often shot deer under similar conditions. As it was almost noon, they decided to wait on the island till they had eaten lunch. Zeb sliced off some venison cutlets and cooked them to a turn over hot wood coals. The boys thought they had never tasted anything better than the fresh meat.

While the plates and knives and forks were being washed and put away, the professor wandered off on his perennial quest of rocks and specimens. He said that he would be back in a short time but was anxious not to miss the opportunity of finding some possibly rare stones.

But everything was ready and the boys were waiting impatiently half an hour later, and there was no sign of the professor.

Suddenly they heard his voice shouting to them from the distance.

"What's he saying?" asked Jack.

"Hark!" admonished Tom.

The professor's shouts came plainly to their ears the next minute, borne on a puff of wind that swept through the canyon.

"Help! Help!" was the burden of his cries. "Get me out!"

"Now, what's happened to him?" demanded Zeb, with a trace of impatience.

"I don't know, but he must be in trouble of some sort," cried Jack.

"Maybe it's another donkey," mischievously suggested d.i.c.k.

The cries were redoubled. They waited no longer but started off across the island on the run. Zeb carried his big forty-four revolver.

CHAPTER XXIX.

A MUD BATH.

The ground was rough and rocky but they made good time. Bursting through a screen of trees from beyond which came the professor's piteous cries, they received a shock.

The man of science was in the center of a large, round hole full of black mud that bubbled and boiled and steamed as if it were alive. All that was visible of the professor was the upper part of his body.

Seriously alarmed, the boys shouted to him to keep up his courage, and that they would get him out.

"How did you get in?" asked Zeb, cupping his hands.

"I fell in," rejoined the poor professor. "The ground gave way under my feet. Hurry and get me out, it's terribly hot."

They looked about them desperately for some means of extricating him from his predicament. But just at the moment none was offered, and with every struggle the professor was sinking deeper in the black, evil-smelling pool of mud.

"Gracious, what are we to do?" cried Jack in despair.

"He's too far out to reach him," said Zeb, equally at a loss.

"But we must do something," chimed in Tom.

Suddenly Zeb had an inspiration. A tree grew on the banks of the mud volcano, the sudden caving in of which, under the professor's weight, had precipitated him into it.

"If I could get out on that branch," said Zeb, "I might be able to bend it enough to bring my feet over him and then work back toward the edge of the mudhole."

"It's worth trying--anything is worthy trying," agreed Jack.

Zeb took off his coat and then shinned up the tree. Then, hanging by his hands he began working out along the branch. As he went it bent till it hung right over the mudhole. Before long his feet dangled above the professor's head.

"Now then, professor," panted Zeb, "take hold on my feet and work along toward the edge of the hole with me."

The professor seized Zeb's boots with the grasp of a drowning man. The branch cracked ominously.

"Easy thar, professor," warned Zeb earnestly. "Don't pull more'n you can help or we'll both be in the soup."

The professor lightened his grip and slowly, hand over hand, Zeb began the slow journey back along the branch. It was a feat only possible to a man whose muscles were of iron. And before it was over even Zeb was almost overcome. Perspiration streamed from his forehead and soaked his shirt as he dropped from the branch, having accomplished the journey and pulled the professor to the bank.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The professor seized Zeb's boots with the grasp of a drowning man.--Page 240.]

"That's what I call toeing a man out of trouble," punned d.i.c.k, in the general relief that followed.

"Good thing it warn't no further," puffed Zeb, mopping his forehead. "My arms feels as if they'd been stretched on one of them racks you read about in the history books."

"How did it happen, professor?" asked Jack, as they sc.r.a.ped the mud off the scientist.

"It's hard to say," was the response. "I was walking along, intent on my collecting, when I came to a barren patch of ground that was crusted over with stuff that looked like salt. I stepped out on it to investigate and suddenly in I went. Faugh! how it smells."

"Yes, it isn't exactly perfumed," said Jack. "But how did such a place come there?"

"It's one of those mud-springs of hot water that are found in several places throughout the West," said the scientist. "It must have been quiescent for some time and then the thin skin of alkaline earth formed over it. In Europe, or if we had that spring near a large city, it would be possible to make a fortune with it."

"In what way?" asked d.i.c.k.

"As a curative bath," replied the professor. "Every year people spend fortunes to go to Europe and take just such baths."

"Reckon I'd go without washin' then," commented Zeb.

"I'd just as soon bathe in rotten eggs," said d.i.c.k.

"Well," said Jack, "I guess we've got off about all the mud we can for the present. We'd better be getting back. It's mighty fortunate that we came in time."

"Yes, I was slipping into the stuff all the time," said the professor. "If I'd been alone on the island I might have never been seen again," he added in quite a matter-of-fact tone. "It's too bad I lost that bag of fossils, though. I had some fine specimens."

"Goodness, no wonder you sank down!" exclaimed Jack. "Why didn't you let go of them?"

The scientist was mildly surprised.

"Why, how could I," he asked, "until it became a question of life or death? It's too bad I had to lose them," and he shook his head mournfully at the thought.

The journey was soon resumed, the Wondership rising buoyantly out of the dismal canyon. They were not sorry to get back to the upper air for the gloom of the deep gulch had affected their spirits. But so much time had been consumed in getting the professor out of his predicament that it was not long before twilight set in and they still had caught no glimpse of anything resembling the island they were in search of.

They decided to come to earth and make camp for the night and resume the search in the morning. They made a hearty supper off the venison which remained, and turned in, without setting any watch, as there was no necessity for it out there with not a soul about for scores of miles.

It was about midnight when Jack was awakened by a wild yell from Tom.

"Ow! Ouch! Leggo my toe!" the younger of the Boy Inventors was shouting.

CHAPTER x.x.x.

NIGHT ON THE COLORADO.

"What's the matter? What has happened?" cried Jack.

"Is it Indians?" cried d.i.c.k, who had a lively imagination.

"Something grabbed my foot," declared Tom.

"Grabbed your foot?" repeated Jack.

"Well, maybe, nibbled at it, would be better," replied Tom. "It isn't hurt, but I was awakened by it. I guess the thing, whatever it was, must have been scared away."

"What could it have been?" came from d.i.c.k.

"Perhaps it was a bear," suggested Tom.

"A bear, nonsense. I guess it was all imagination," scoffed Jack. "You ate too much at supper, Tom."

"It was not imagination, I tell you," retorted Tom indignantly. "I felt it just as plainly as anything."

"Well, I don't see what----" began Jack and then he broke off.

From outside the tent had come an appalling crash of tin dishes, followed by unearthly grunts and squeals. The uproar was terrific. It sounded as if every piece of tinware in the camp was being hurled and battered around.

"What under the sun----?" gasped Jack.

"It's Indians; they've attacked the camp," cried d.i.c.k.

A weird screech split the night. Jack seized up a rifle.

"Come on, boys," he cried, but it might have been noticed that d.i.c.k was not particularly alert in following.