Gordon Stuart

“ Just then a blinding streak of fire cut its zigzag way through the black sky, lighting up every peak and crevice, followed by a sharp crack that broadened into a deafening roar and made the boys jump with surprise.
"We're in for it, all right," said Herb laughing. "My, this is going to be terrible, Windy," he added with mock solemnity.
They stood not far from the cavernous ravine, where, almost beneath them, they could hear the water tearing over the rocks. ”

“ It must be hauled into the hangar as soon as possible. The draft-fed flames were shooting hungry, livid red tongues skyward, and the almost deafening noise of falling bricks and timber too well foretold the fate of the building.
"Here, everybody lend a hand," said Herb, perspiring from the intense heat of the fire.
"Pick the machine up on your shoulders," Mr. Phipps ordered several of the idlers.
"And get away from this building quick, before the side wall falls," commanded the captain. This note of warning served to send all the onlookers scurrying to a safe distance. ”

“ Just then Jerry, Fly and Dunk came into the room.
"Do what?" inquired Jerry.
"I was looking at Carlito's certificate," replied Fred, assuming that the other boys had seen it.
"Oh, I studied nights a little, and whenever I got a chance," answered Carl, modestly.
"A little!" echoed Fly. "He just studied his old head off."
"Why didn't you go to college when Phipps wanted you to, Carl?" asked Dunk. "He was willin' to pay your way."
"I was afraid I could never pay him back," said Carl. "An Indian has no business owing anything to a white man, anyway." ”

“ Windham to the ground. Assured of their safety Jerry and Dunk ran to the heads of the hack team.
"Carlito," cried Jerry, gripping the shoulder of the slim young fellow who stood there. "Old man, I'm—I—darn it all, come on back!"
"It's Carlito, mother," he shouted, dragging the reluctant young figure with him. "Carl stopped 'em!"
The rescuer reached for his sombrero, which had fallen from his head, as Mrs. Crawford held out her hand.
"You are a brave boy, Carlito!" she said gravely, her face pale. "You've saved us all, I guess. Mrs. Windham, this is Carlito, one of the finest boys at the Post." ”

“ He had, like a number of his comrades, spent the last decade or so in and around the fort, hearing little of the outside world.
"Who's goin' to shoot it up?" asked a sheep herder, with some notion of a sky rocket. He had begged the day off in order to be present at the first flight.
"Da leetle kids," replied a fat, indolent-looking Greaser, spitting a generous supply of tobacco juice. "I na believe it," he added, with a foolish grin which was intended to betoken shrewd disbelief. ”

“ 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. ”

“ Giles said to Fly that evening as he sat on the porch of their residence with his wife and son. "That man Hawke is a wonder. I'm as proud as anybody of that fine aeroplane, and mighty proud that my boy helped in building it."
"You ain't any prouder than I am," said Fly, while his mother stroked his red locks affectionately. "Hawke says he thinks I'm going to make a good flier. Gee, won't it be great to be up in the air sailing around like a bird!" ”

“ Herb shot a second time, just grazing his mark, picking off some of the feathers on the monster's back. At this time the crouching shape sprang upward with a sharp cry of anger, almost completely hiding the top of the tower from view, so enormous was the spread of its wings.
"There it is! There it is," exclaimed several of the party on the back of the ravine.
"An eagle," gasped Fred.
"The Thunder Bird," panted Carl.
"But what's the matter with him?" cried Dunk. At the same moment, the boys, staring upward with fascinated eyes, gave a cry of alarm. ”

“ Finding none, Mr. Phipps suggested that they start for the ranch.
Carl, Dunk, Fly and Fred immediately picked up the stretcher.
"Feeling better, son?" asked the father gently as they started off, the four boys carrying the stretcher, while those on horseback led the ponies.
"Better all the time," answered Herb, trying to speak firmly. While his voice was not normal, it was stronger than when he first spoke.
"What happened anyway?" asked Fly of Tender Gray.
"All I can say is, it's just about like that time you got mixed up when you met Windy at Silver City," answered Tender. ”

“ Better fire a signal," said Fly anxiously.
"He can't fire with his bow and arrow, bone-head," gibed Herb.
"I'll just shout," said Carl. "But I can get around him all right.
"I hope Carl don't kill him before we get a chance," said Fred, when the Indian was out of sight.
"He won't unless he has to," said Jerry. "He's a mighty square fellow."
"Wouldn't mother have a fit if I should bring back a bear. And the scouts in Cleveland!" Fred's bright eyes shone with the prospect. In imagination he had already laid the grizzly low. ”

“ Fred caught an appealing glance from Gray, and though he hesitated to put himself forward, he was a loyal scout, and as he had taken a decided liking to the clean-cut New Yorker, he felt obliged to comply with the earnest request Gray had made when they met.
"I think it's bully, Mr. Phipps," Fred gathered courage to say. "Of course I'm new out here an' all that, but I've been in the scouts pretty near three years now and it's done me a heap of good. More fun than a circus too."
"Sure, we'll do it!" cried Dunk. "We'll lay for that Thunder Bird of yours, Carl, eh, Jerry?" ”

“ Although the older Indian betrayed no signs of surprise or emotion he broke into an angry torrent of Apache.
Carl, stepping forward, took out his hunting knife, and cut the other's bonds.
"Now get!" he commanded, allowing himself the pleasure of one strong punch at the back of the conquered redskin, who lost no time in making his get-away.
"That's my uncle," said Carl coolly. "I'm civilized and educated, or I'd kill him. Come on, let's get back." ”

“ Two guns boomed—Herb's and Fred's. The big animal rolled over with a furious growl, and lay kicking for a second. Then he regained his feet, and, his teeth and red gums showing, was about to make a spring at the party on the rocks. Jerry could not suppress a shriek, and Fly was too excited to do anything but cling to Dunk. Hawke, however, was quick enough for the animal. He let him have it just before Carl's arrow wedged itself in the animal's forehead. ”

“ To go into the timber was dangerous, and blocking them in front was the yawning chasm.
"If we could only get at that old cliff dwellin'," suggested Fly, "we might find cover."
"We'll have to wait until we get our airship, to do that," laughed Hawke.
"There's a big rock down here," said Carl, returning from a short excursion which he had made along the side of the cascade, looking for shelter. "I think we can crowd under it till this is over."
The others hastily followed him, and were soon shielded from the rain under a huge, projecting boulder situated almost perilously on a smaller rock. ”

“ Our people used to have great sacrifices to him twice a year."
"Human sacrifices?" asked Fred innocently. At this even Carlito burst out laughing.
"Where'm I off now?" cried Fred.
"There were no human sacrifices," replied the Indian boy. "Only the Aztecs used to have them. Our people and the other Apaches, the Navajos, Moqui and neighboring tribes used to appoint deputies twice each year. They'd go to a certain place where the medicine men went through elaborate rituals, the deputies representing the tribes. No people is so symbolical as we are—or were. ”

“ CHAPTER II THE DESTROYER
"Who's that good-lookin' Indian, Jerry?" asked Fred, as the light of Fort Bayard came into sight.
"Araviapa Apache," came the reply. "He's been chasing around the Post 'most all his life. Came from the San Carlos agency, I guess, so folks called him Carl. Used to be a Dutchman named Carl here, and the Greasers called the Injun Carlito, or Little Carl. He goes by both names. He's the cool guy, you bet, and a wise one, too."
"But what does he do?" persisted the practical Fred. "He can't live on air, can he? Does he get his living for nothing?" ”

“ Fred handed Fly the spyglass.
"Well, it does look kind of queer," admitted Fly. "You look, Hawke."
"Looks to me like a tower," announced the aviator, when he had studied the spot for some time.
"Like a square tower with windows!" prompted Fred, glad to have his suspicions confirmed.
"I guess that's one of these lookout towers," said Carl, when he inspected it. "Pretty high up, though."
"Let's go up that way," suggested Herb. "Might as well as any other. Looks easier to climb, too." ”

“ It's all a legend now."
"That's funny," exclaimed Jerry, as Carlito paused. "How did the Thunder Bird knock those chaps around that way?"
"Search me," responded the Apache. "He says the Thunder Bird was angry at having his shrine profaned with blood and wouldn't let it be used again."
"Sounds a whole lot like the Thunder Bird was after them sheep, Herb," laughed Dunk. "Better get us medicine men's outfits, Carl! We may need 'em!"
"I think we'll need six-guns more," replied the Apache gravely.
"Gee, it's goin' to be a real adventure," exclaimed Fred, his bright eyes snapping. ”

“ The aviator took the parts to the table and began putting them together.
"We'll make this a lesson," he said. "So fire in your questions."
"Well, I'd like to know how much that weighs?" complied Fly at once.
"About thirty pounds."
"Is it all there?" continued Fly.
"All but the engine."
"An' how much does a real one weigh—I mean a big one?" asked Dunk.
"Well, a full-sized machine built after this design would reach a weight of about 1,100 pounds or over, with the load."
"How fast would it go?" asked Herb.
"About forty miles an hour," replied Hawke.
"Whoopee!" cried Jerry. ”

“ Giles had in the shop was to be used in wheeling the aeroplane out of the shop through the big middle doors of the stable, and into the hangar.
"My, ain't she a beautiful bird," exclaimed Jerry, when they put away their tools, and were proudly viewing the result of their work, for the aeroplane was set up complete with the exception of the engine, and stood mounted on the small wheeled truck ready for removal. A trial flight was to be made in the morning.
"You can't beat that anywhere in the world," said Dunk, proudly.
"I almost feel as though she were alive," commented Herb. ”

“ If it wasn't for the propeller the machine wouldn't go at all," he finished triumphantly.
"Oh, indeed," remarked the southerner, an amused twinkle in his eye. "And what's the reason for that?"
"Well, yuh see," replied Herb, seriously, not noticing the smile playing about his father's mouth, and anxious to display his newly acquired knowledge, "it's the thing that moves the machine forward, and it has almost everything to do with the pitch and speed. The surfaces of the aeroplane are called the skin, and there is some friction of air against these surfaces, and that is called skin friction. ”

“ A complete list of everything that was wanted was made out and given to Herb, who would hand it over to his father to be ordered at once.
"Ever see a cliff dwelling, Windy?" asked Dunk, after they had been measured.
"No," answered Fred. "Any 'round here?"
"Sure," cried Fly eagerly. "Feller over at Silver City has a tame one—built it himself! Collects two bits each from tourists to see it."
"Shut up!" laughed Dunk, and fired a pillow at Fly. "There's a mighty good bunch of 'em over north of the post, Windy. Five or six real old Mojaves there too. Make baskets and stuff to sell. ”

“ Jerry went on. "You know he told us over the phone that he and Gray found some feathers about where he shot the other night."
"Whether it's a bird or not, it's got wings," said Carl. "But if those feathers are as long as Herb said they were it can't be an eagle."
"Don't care nohow," responded Fly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets with an air of dejection as he rose to his feet. "Hawke maybe can't be back this summer. Didn't even have a chance to say good-bye to the B. P. bunch. And mother just won't let me run the plane alone. Aw, I'm going home," he continued thoroughly disgusted. ”

“ The captain breathed a sigh of relief.
"He's not badly hurt," Carlito was saying as they drew up to where the Indian and Tender Gray were bending over Herb, bandaging his arm while the father held the boy's hand.
"I'll be all right," faintly assured Herb. "Don't you—" but his voice trailed off into silence, and the upraised arm grew limp.
"Here, I brought some ammonia," exclaimed Fred, springing forward, and placing a small bottle to Herb's nostrils, while Gray and Carl rubbed his arms and legs vigorously.
"I wish we had a stretcher," exclaimed Mr. Phipps, his voice shaking with anxiety. ”

“ Mrs. Windham met the boys; then the two ladies entered the hack. Evidently Mrs. Crawford's guest expected her son to follow her.
"Oh, he'll drive with the boys," laughed Mrs. Crawford, "unless he's afraid of the jolting."
"Sure I will!" grinned Fred. "If it's all right with you fellows?"
"What do you think we're here for?" responded Dunk, vigorously.
"Go ahead, Ike. We'll load up the trucks and be right behind."
The hack started off with lighted lamps, while the four boys got the Windham trunks and piled into the waiting freight wagon on top of them, Jerry taking the reins. ”

“ The hunt, for which they had worked and waited all summer, had been nipped in the bud at the moment of success.
"Let's scout it, anyhow," suggested Fred that evening, as the downcast group huddled together on Jerry's veranda.
"What d'ye mean?" asked Dunk, uninterestedly.
"Well, make a trip up into the mountains and see what we can do," continued the easterner.
"How you going to get across that ravine?" disparaged Fly, who had been moping all day. "It's too wide even to throw a rope across."
"I could get across if you could span it with a rope ladder," said Carl. ”

“ 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," assented 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," assured Jerry. "He can shoot anything. Even in the dark." ”

“ Why, Brett Phipps ain't got a puncher on the place!"
"Thought you said it was a ranch," protested Fred.
"It is," explained Jerry. "Sheep ranch though. All the punchers you'll see will be Greaser sheep herders. 'Bout a million sheep on the Bread Puddin'—Hello! See that?"
"What?" cried the others.
"Look out!" yelled Windham suddenly. Everybody dodged as a great gray and white shape drove down through the air beside them and was gone on the instant. A shriek went up from the hack in front, followed by a wild shout from Ike.
"Runaway!" cried Dunk. "After 'em Jerry!" ”

“ I like boys—especially aeroplane boys."
"Maybe you can give them some pointers about the mystery at the Phipps ranch," Mr. Crawford called back as he hurried away.
"We'll tell you about that," volunteered Jerry, in answer to Mr. Hawke's look of inquiry, and, assisted by Fly, Dunk and Fred, he told the story of the runaway and the loss of sheep at the ranch.
"And this trouble has been going on about a month?" asked Mr. Hawke. "Looks to me as if your Indian friend is pretty near right. It must be some kind of flesh-eating animal or bird that is doing the damage. ”

“ Then Dunk stopped, thrust his hands deep in his pockets and said, with emphasis, "If I were you, Fly, I wouldn't fret about our new friend liking us or the place. He ain't visitin' to our houses. It's up to Jerry to entertain him an' keep him right. But, as far as that goes, he may take to it like that New York kid who's over to Brett's ranch. Graystock just took one look at a cow pony and the mountains and gave it out cold he didn't care whether he ever went back to New York. And New York's a heap sight bigger than Cleveland." ”