The Boy Scouts of the Air in Indian Land Part 8

"We're pretty warm after that ride," apologized Hawke, mopping his forehead with his handkerchief.

"Mebbe yuh'd like to go inside and wash up," suggested Mr. Phipps amiably, and his invitation was heartily accepted by all the party.

"Herb, show them around," commanded the rancher, and his son readily complied.

The ranch-house, which Mr. Phipps had built himself, was a duplicate of the old homestead in Texas. The roominess which the large, square exterior suggested was carried out in the great, wide rooms and high ceilings within. The s.p.a.cious halls and stairways reminded one more of a magnificent southern home than of a New Mexico ranch-house. Oriental rugs in delicate shadings covered the highly polished floors, and the ma.s.sive mahogany furniture and tasteful hangings gave the whole an appearance of elegance and refinement such as sheepmen are not reputed to have.

"This is one of my venerable ancestors," said Herb, when the party filed downstairs, refreshed. "Yuh see, father's folks was French. This fellow is General Dupont, and fought some good fights in the Franco-Prussian war. They say he never would have been killed, born under a lucky star like Napoleon--only he lingered too long with a wounded comrade at the siege of Paris."

"And this lady?" asked Hawke, pointing to a large portrait of a slim, dark beauty, dressed in white, and wearing a cl.u.s.ter of yellow roses at her waist line.

"That's my mother." Herb lowered his voice a little as he answered. "She died when I was a little tad, yuh know."

"A very beautiful woman," said Mr. Hawke, quickly pa.s.sing on to spare Herb's feelings. "And this man looks like your father."

"That was painted a long time ago," said Herb.

"It looks like you now," put in Jerry, who had been inspecting the same painting, while the other boys walked up and down the halls and made an interested examination of the many large oils which lined the walls.

"This is father's sister, who used to keep house for us. She died a few years ago. Then we got Hop Sing."

There was, then, Hawke reflected, no woman in this immaculately-kept house, where there seemed to be so many evidences of the feminine touch.

The rough rancher, it seemed, had that strain of tenderness so often found in outwardly brusque men, which expressed itself in his home.

"This is just the way the house down South looked when mother died,"

said Herb, as if in answer to the visitor's thoughts. "Dad never wants anything changed. Even her room is the same, and no one ever sleeps in it. One night we had so many visitors we thought we'd have to use it or be rude, but father slept in the herder's cottage instead. You'll always find a bunch of yellow tea roses in her room--she was very fond of them, and father grows them himself in the greenhouse."

Herb shook his head back with a sudden jerk, as though shaking off a painful twinge, and pa.s.sed on to some relics which were hung in the next room.

"This is General Dupont's sword, and a medal which Napoleon gave him for his services."

After a few minutes they all returned to the veranda, where they found Mr. Phipps mixing some purple colored stuff in a huge punch bowl. The clink of the ice was an agreeable sound, for they were all thirsty.

"This is my own grape juice punch," said Mr. Phipps, as he filled gla.s.ses for the Chinaman to pa.s.s around. "My scheme is to have Sing make it, and set it out here. Then when the guests appear I am stirring it industriously, as though it were my own job."

Sitting in the shade of the vine-covered veranda, and sipping the iced punch, it was not long before Mr. Hawke and the boys were thoroughly refreshed and rested. The aviator felt entirely at home with the hospitable rancher, and they chatted like old friends. Hawke noticed that besides holding vases of flowers, the tables were stacked with the latest magazines and popular books. He caught sight of a New York newspaper, and some from other parts of the country. There were hanging baskets suspended from the roof of the veranda, and the whole scene was restful and quiet, and even luxuriously comfortable.

CHAPTER VI

WINNING AN AEROPLANE

"Well, I see that the boys have got you into this sheep stealing mystery," began Mr. Phipps, when the gla.s.ses had been taken away.

"Another bunch of my sheep killed or ruined last night. It beats the world what's happening to 'em."

"Fly said they found one of them lying down the road," said Herb.

"I looked him all over," spoke up Carlito, "and it looked to me like something with big claws had been at him, but he was in such shape that you couldn't tell for sure. Then there were a lot of magpies feeding on him when I rode up and the claw marks might have been those of some bird that had alighted on him after he was dead."

"Well, this thing has got to be stopped someway, somehow." Mr. Phipps spoke with an emphasis that meant business. "Herb and I have been talking it over all morning. He says yuh had an idea, Mr. Hawke, we might chase the thing, whatever it is, with an aeroplane."

"I suggested that to the boys on the a.s.sumption that it was a bird,"

replied Mr. Hawke, noticing, with a twinkle in his eye, that the boys were moving their chairs closer and listening with tense interest.

"We're sure it's a bird," chimed in the enthusiastic Fly. "We were hit by it ourselves coming from Silver City--and that rancher was picked up by it. What else could it be? You never see tracks."

"It must be something that flies, anyway," argued Dunk. "Everything shows that."

"But how could you get around flying after it at night," objected Mr.

Phipps. "It never seems to come around in daytime."

"Oh, Mr. Hawke can fix that," exclaimed Herb confidently.

"With an equipment of acetylene lamps," a.s.sented Mr. Hawke. "They would give all the light we would need."

"But you would probably have to shoot at him," protested Mr. Phipps. "I don't see how that could be done."

"Carl's the best shot there ever was," a.s.sured Jerry. "He can shoot anything. Even in the dark."

Mr. Phipps and the aviator smiled broadly at this.

"I should think if it were a bird," said the latter, leaning back in his chair, "the thing would be to chase it to its haunt and trap it."

"That's not a bad idea," agreed Mr. Phipps. "With an aeroplane you could follow it at its own speed."

"Of course, Mr. Phipps, an aeroplane would not be an inexpensive proposition, and I do not say it would positively do the work, but the boys are very much interested in aviation and I suggested that they might help me build a biplane here which we could use in clearing up this trouble."

"You mean, let us help in building it?" Herb leaned forward in his chair while Tender Gray's eyes grew large with excitement.

"That was my thought."

"Dad, that'd be great," exclaimed Herb, his dark cheeks flooding with deep-hued red. "Let's do it! You said I could have an aeroplane sometime, anyway."

"I didn't expect to be taken so seriously," laughed Mr. Phipps good-naturedly, though there was no finality in his tone.

During this conversation the boys had been suppressing their anxiety with difficulty. Their eager, impulsive faces changed with every new argument put forth, according to its effect on their project. Only Carlito, the Indian, sat impa.s.sive and solemn. But he was paying strict attention to all that was said.

"Hawke ain't talking hard enough," protested Fred in an undertone to Jerry. But Jerry gave him a kick and his lips formed the admonition "keep still."

"How much would the thing cost?" asked Mr. Phipps. Dunk gave Fly a punch with his elbow and Fred hitched his chair closer.

"About a fourth the cost of a factory-built machine," answered Hawke.

"You see, I can buy the material at first cost. With the help of the boys it can be built at the fort and I have an engine of my own which I can furnish. Altogether, eight hundred dollars would see us through."

"Eight hundred dollars, eh?" Mr. Phipps seemed to be turning the matter over in his mind.