CHAPTER XXIII.
THE BOY AVIATORS TRAPPED.
The trail on which Frank and Harry found themselves wound irregularlythrough dense groves of wild fig, orange, custard apple and palmettotrees, through which from time to time they could catch glimpses of thedark, monotonous brown sea of the Everglades stretching away into theremote distance. They plodded along it not speaking a word, throughundergrowth that at times brushed their arms, crackling in an annoyingfashion to anyone who wanted his advance to be unheralded. The growthwas as dry as tinder and Frank could not help thinking to himself that afire once started among it would rage through the forest as if it hadbeen soaked with kerosene.
Suddenly, and without a moment's warning, Frank tripped and fell flat onhis face, his rifle shooting out of his hands and falling with a loudcrash on the hard-baked ground. This was bad enough in itself but therewas a worse shock in store for the boys.
A moment's glance sufficed to show them that a wire had been stretchedacross the trail at this point and that, as Frank's foot struck it andhe tripped, a loud, clanging alarm-bell began to sound and by theloudness of its uproarious clangor, it could not be more than a fewpaces from where they then were.
"Quick, Harry! Run for your life!" said Frank, in a low, tense voice,scrambling to his feet.
"We have struck an alarm wire and in a minute we shall have a dozen menon our track."
Stumbling along the rough path the boys began to make the best speedthey could over its uneven surface. But the tough journey they had madethrough the muddy trail among the saw-grass, and the fact that they hadnot eaten for some hours and were feeling somewhat faint, made a fastspeed impossible.
They had not gone more than a few hundred yards when Harry gave a gaspand pressed his hand to his side.
"What is it, Harry?" asked Frank, through his parched lips.
"Keep on, Frank," gasped the younger boy, "you can make it if you hurry.I'm tuckered out."
"Come, make an effort, you've got to," said Frank sternly, realizingthat now was no time to sympathize with his younger brother, although hehated to use the sharp tone he thought it expedient to assume.
The younger boy rose to his feet. Pluckily he staggered on a few stepsbut sank to the ground again, overcome with the pain of the sharp"stitch" in his side.
"Go on, Frank," he whispered in a faint voice, "you go on. I'll getthrough somehow," he added bravely, with a pitiful effort at a confidentsmile.
"As if I'd leave you," said Frank, indignantly, "can't you run anotherfoot, old boy?"
"No, I really can't, Frank," gasped Harry, "I couldn't move if I was tobe killed the next minute."
"Then I'll have to carry you," decided Frank, "I've done it when youwere a little fellow, and I guess I can manage it now. Put your armsround my neck--so. Now then."
With his added burden Frank struggled gamely on, though every step wastelling heavily on him.
If they could only reach the little glade of cabbage palms, there was apile of rocks there, he recollected, behind which they could hide. Speedmeant everything, and pressing his lips together determinedly, Frankswore to himself that he would make the rocks or die.
And somehow by a supreme effort of will, he made them. Though how hemanaged that last sickening effort of half dragging and half carryinghis inanimate burden across the little grove he never recollected.
But he made it and, having scrambled up the rough crevices in the pileof stone in which he hoped to find a safe asylum, he dragged hishalf-fainting brother into position beside him.
And now he could hear far back in the brush loud shouts and orderscoming thick and fast. What a fool he had been not to realize that menengaged on such a hazardous enterprise as were the bogus manufacturersof Chapinite would have more cunning than to leave their retreatunguarded by alarm appliances. If only he had watched the trail morecarefully.
But it was too late for vain regrets now; they would have to trust toluck to avoid detection for, judging by the noise and the number ofdifferent voices, the search for the invaders was to be a hot one. Theyoung leader tried grittily to choke back the great, panting gasps inwhich his breath came after his exertions. But he might as well haveattempted to stop a cataract, as to check his sobbing respiration. Tohim his deep breaths sounded as loud as the reports of minute guns.
And now a fresh peril made itself manifest. A deep baying sound arosefar up the trail, which Frank recognized, with a violent throb of theheart, as the sound of bloodhounds, giving tongue on the scent. Theirdiscovery was inevitable.
"Can you handle your revolver, Harry?" he asked of his younger brother,who was now somewhat recovered, thanks to the shade and the rest he hadhad.
"Yes, Frank," whispered Harry, hoarsely, and then the next minute,noticing Frank's troubled face, as the baying grew louder and nearer,"you needn't tell me, old fellow, what that means--it's bloodhounds."
Frank nodded gravely.
"I'm afraid our chances of seeing the _Golden Eagle II_ and our comradesare about nil," he said.
The other boy did not reply. He was listening to the sounds of the dogsbaying and the savage human shouts that grew momentarily nearer.
"Don't use the revolvers unless you have to," whispered Frank, whosewind was now returning,--"but the first dog that comes over the top ofthe rock--knife him."
Harry nodded and drew his heavy hunting-knife from its case. Frank didthe same.
"Now we are ready for all comers," said Harry, with a wan smile,gripping the horn handle of his blade with a determined grip.
They had not long to wait. From their nest in the rocks they saw thefirst dog, a huge, bristly-haired Cuban bloodhound, with heavy hacklesand blood-shot eyes, come bounding into the clearing, sniffing theground and from time to time throwing his head into the air with a loudringing bay that chilled the blood.
The animal was followed by half a dozen others of his own breed. Withouta moment's hesitation they made straight across the glade and for therocks. The first one scrambled up with difficulty, and as his drippingfangs showed over the top of the rampart of rock, Frank's arm shot outand he fell back with a choking growl--dead.
The next of the savage beasts fell before Harry's knife, a great gapingwound in its throat; but after that the boys were no match for the fourhuge beasts that fell on them at once. Frank felt the teeth of one brutegrip him through his stout khaki clothes while he had his hands on thethroat of another, choking its life out. Harry had plunged his knifeinto another and was turning desperately on its mate when there was asudden interruption of the impending tragedy.
A sharp, clear whistle rang through the clearing and the survivors ofthe brutes that had attacked the boys limped dispiritedly away from themand shuffled in the direction from which the summons had proceeded. Fromtheir eyrie in the rocks the boys saw two dozen or more small yellowmen, in white duck jackets and trousers, with yellow straw slippers ontheir feet, rush into the glen followed by a tall man in a sort ofundress naval uniform. He it was who had given the whistle. He gave anevil laugh as he saw the wounded, exhausted animals come shufflingtoward him, their tails between their legs.
"They are in the rocks yonder, boys. Surround them!" he ordered in asharp, harsh voice. "They shall pay dearly for each of my beauties theyhave killed."
One of the little brown men, who wore a red band about his arm andseemed to be a leader among them, shouted some sharp orders to hisfellow countrymen and they spread about the rocks in a circle. The firstimpulse of the boys had been to run for it but they realized, even asthe thought entered their minds, that it would be useless in theirexhausted condition to try to make their escape. Each of their opponentswas armed and while they also carried weapons, still they could onlyhave stood off an attack for a few minutes.
With a shout the little brown men rushed at the Boy Aviators as theystood side by side, but they hesitated and fell back as Frank and hisbrother aimed their revolvers.
"I do not want to take h
uman life," cried Frank, "but the first one ofyou that lays a hand on us I'll shoot him."
"Very fine talk," sneered the big white man, striding up, "but there aretwelve of us here."
"Yes," replied Frank, undaunted, and tapping the magazine of hisrevolver, "and there are twice twelve here and they all come out atonce."
The big man paused a minute and bit his lip. For a minute he seemedabout to give orders to his followers to fire on the boys and shoot themdown where they stood. He evidently thought better of his intentionlater, however, for he said, with a change of voice from his originalharsh, rasping tone.
"There are several things I want to talk to you about, FrankChester--you see I know you and your brother Harry--will you give upyour weapons and agree to accompany me to my camp if on my part I givemy word not to harm you?"
Frank realized in that instant that the man who faced him was CaptainMortimer Bellman, the renegade American officer, and he also weighed andrecognized the value of a pledge from such a man; but they were inposition where there was nothing to be gained by fighting and in whichmuch benefit might accrue to them from temporizing--so:
"Yes," he said, "we will go with you."