CHAPTER VII—A PRETTY CLOSE CALL
“Oh! it’s our hangar on fire!” gasped Andy.
“Quick, get into something then, and out we go!” cried Frank, always the prompt one to act in an emergency.
Andy hardly knew how he ever did manage to drag on a pair of trousers, and his shoes. His hands were shaking so he could hardly do what he aimed to accomplish; and all the while the shouts were increasing in violence, as well as that terrible light growing brighter.
By the time he had managed to get the second shoe on, Frank was already outside; and having seen how easily the other jumped through the window to the ground, Andy hastened to follow his example.
Already there was a group of the punchers at work; and the clear commanding tones of Mr. Witherspoon’s voice could be heard telling them just what to do. Fortunately it had always been a set principle of the rancher to prepare for war in time of peace, and he had a drilled fire department, with the hose and extinguisher handy.
Every fellow knew just where he fitted in; and perhaps it was this very system that prevented much damage being done. Instead of great confusion, with each eager fire-fighter getting in the way of the others, and nothing worth while being accomplished, the genius at the head of the combination saw that every man occupied the place that had been laid out for him.
And when several chemical fire extinguishers started to get busy, it was a losing fight with that conflagration; though possibly had it been given another quarter of an hour in which to get a firm grip on the contents of the shed, there must have been a far different story to tell.
All this while the boys seemed to feel their hearts choking them with burning anxiety. What if after all their precious aeroplane should be injured after so successfully passing through the perils of that long journey! It was like a slap in the face, as Andy termed it.
And it may be readily understood that, when the water with which that end of the long shed had thoroughly drenched the last spark of fire, so that it was safe to enter, they hurried in alongside Uncle Jethro, who was breathing all sorts of bitterness toward the one whose carelessness had brought about this accident, both Frank and his cousin were in a feverish state of suspense.
Eagerly they made the rounds escorted by the equally anxious Buckskin and the other range riders. It was almost pitiful to see how these usually loud voiced fellows now had not a whisper to spare; but just watched the faces of the young aviators, and waited to hear the verdict.
And then, when finally the rounds had been made, and Frank gave it as his opinion that no damage worth mentioning had come about, it seemed as though the very roof of that shed would be fairly lifted from its supports by the volume of the lusty shouts that soared upwards from the leather-lined throats of Buckskin and his companions.
Those who had been slightly burned in fighting the blaze went around showing the red marks with the pride that a warrior might in his scars of battle; and the forlorn chaps who had come off unscathed felt sorry because they had not seen to it that they secured their share of the hall marks of fame when they had the chance.
Each cowboy had to line up and shake hands with Frank and Andy, while he offered congratulations on the lucky outcome of what at one time had threatened to be a national misfortune. And they looked as happy over it as though some rich uncle had suddenly stepped off, leaving them a fortune; or a big cattle ranch, which is the cowboy conception of great good luck.
But Mr. Witherspoon was not so easily satisfied. That fire had not started of its own account. Either some one had been exceedingly careless, criminally so, or else there was a mystery back of its happening; and he meant to know which of the two possibilities was the truth.
So he started an investigation right on the spot, with the half-clad punchers brought up before him one after the other. It was easily proven who had been last at the shed; but this was one of the oldest and most reliable of the force, a man by the name of Steady Matt; and he declared that when he left the new building it was perfectly safe, nor had he seen a single match struck by a cowboy while there—this being one of the little fads of the rancher, who was next door to a crank concerning the careless use of matches about the place.
“Now, the boys, they seem to reckon, Mr. Witherspoon, that it might a-been the work of an outside party; leastwise, that’s what they say,” remarked Buckskin, when the examination seemed about to end, without any one being a bit the wiser.
“Oh! is that so, Buckskin?” ejaculated the rancher, looking immediately interested. “Suppose you tell me, then, what they are talking about. We’ve had our little differences with Major Cloud and his Circle Ranch crowd; but I wouldn’t want to think any man who ever threw a leg over a pony’s back, or snapped a quirt as he rounded up cattle, could be guilty of such a nasty job as trying to burn a neighbor’s buildings.”
“’Tain’t them, Mr. Witherspoon,” the puncher went on to say, earnestly, as he slapped his leather chaps with the stick he held; “p’raps Rustler Carlos’d fill the bill more like, sir.”
“Well, I wouldn’t put such a job past that sneak one minute,” declared the rancher, promptly, “and he certainly has plenty of cause to hate me, after the way we took that bunch of stolen long-horns away from him last spring, and gave him a close call before he could cross the border into Mexico. But he hasn’t been heard of around here since then; so it must be only a wide guess you boys are making. But I’d a thousand times rather think that, than have a man in my employ be careless, or ready to play a low-down trick like that.”
“If we thought it was done a purpose, Mr. Witherspoon, and could find out the feller that done it, there’d be some queer fruit a-growin’ on one of them telegraph poles along the Santa Fe railroad; ain’t it so, boys?” and the indignant Buckskin turned around upon the cluster of listening hustlers.
The instantaneous shout of wild approval that greeted these words would have convinced any listener of the evident sincerity of the group. If there was one among them who had yielded to any sort of temptation, it was evident that he could not be easily persuaded to make a second attempt. But after all, it seemed silly to think such a thing could be true; when the Bird boys did not have an enemy down here in this new country, where every one had been an utter stranger until now.
“But let’s forget all about it,” said Frank, at this juncture. “Not a speck of harm has been done, and we’re as sure that no one here would dream of trying to injure our machine as we are that we draw breath.”
“Bully for you, Frank!” shouted one of the punchers; and of course another wild cheer had to allow some of the pent-up enthusiasm to break loose.
Had any one been passing along the trail that led to the mines, and which ran about a mile from the ranch buildings, and heard all this clamor at dead of night, he must have been greatly puzzled to account for the racket; and possibly think that the Double X outfit were making a night of it with good cheer.
“There’s one thing sure,” said Uncle Jethro, positively, “after this we’re not going to let this flying machine of yours, boys, lie unguarded. I leave it to my foreman, Waldo Kline, here, to see that it holds safe; and he’ll be accountable to me for it.”
“Wow! we’ll all camp around it, if so be he says the word!” cried Buckskin, with a look toward his chums, which brought out encouraging comments.
“Come on back to the house, Frank and Andy,” remarked the rancher, “and you can just as well make up your minds that after this no piece of property was ever so jealously guarded as your machine will be. I’m sorry for the wretch that tried to do it any injury after this. He’ll sure believe he’s run up against the biggest hurricane ever, the way those boys will rustle him.” And Frank believed him.
He went back deeply thankful that no harm had befallen the aeroplane before it made its maiden trip in those Arizona hot airs; and yet puzzled to account for the fire.
“Do you really think it was an accident, Frank?” asked Andy, when they found themselves once more alone in their little room.
“Ask me something easy, won’t you?” replied the other, as he prepared to crawl into bed again. “I wish I did know the truth, because I don’t like this thing of suspecting any fellow, when he may be as innocent as you and me. But honest now, I can’t bring myself to believe that it was an accident.”
“Well, there may be something in that story about the Mexican they call Rustler Carlos,” Andy went on to say. “Buckskin was telling me some things about his doings around this region some years back. He cut a pretty wide swathe, they say; and in his many ‘drives’ carried off hundreds of fat cattle across the border into Mexico, where it wasn’t safe for Americans to go, because they sort of hate Gringoes down there, you know.”
“Yes, I understand,” Frank added, “and just as Uncle Jethro said, he was the first to really break up this fine and profitable rustler business of the cattle thieves. This Carlos must hate him with all the fury his breed can show. And if he ever did have nerve enough to run up this way again, I guess he’d be glad to try and do the Double X Ranch people a rough turn, if he saw the chance. But perhaps we’ll know more about this thing some time later.”
“Yes,” Andy went on to say, a little vindictively, for he had been much worked up over the threatened destruction of the planes and woodwork of the aeroplane; “and if this Rustler Carlos should happen around again, I reckon it’ll be hardly worth mentioning what they won’t do to him. I never saw fellows madder than these boys seem to be right now. And Frank, I kind of think they’ve taken a great liking to you, on so short an acquaintance.”
“Better say yourself, Andy,” retorted the other immediately; “because everybody nearly does, that meets you. Now roll over, and quit thinking about the thing. It’s all right, and no damage done, so go to sleep like a good fellow. You won’t get a single word out of me, I warn you.”
And Andy knowing that his cousin meant it did proceed to chase all thoughts of the recent excitement from his mind, so that he might settle down again into a sound sleep, for it seemed that midnight had no more than passed, so that a long period still remained before the coming of dawn awoke them.
There was no further alarm.
Doubtless that cordon of slumbering cowboys lying around the new shed formed so close a protection, that even a wandering rattlesnake could hardly have passed the line without being challenged.
And when Frank opened his eyes again, the light of day was shining in through the two windows facing the east; so that, hearing sounds that told of breakfast being made ready, he gave Andy a kick, telling him to bestir himself, if he hoped to start the day rightly by appearing at early breakfast with the rest of the Double X outfit.