THE THUNDER BIRD ATTACKS
Thinking that experience was the best teacher, Hawke decided to discontinue lessons on aviation until the materials for the biplane arrived and they could begin actual work.
During the rest of the week, therefore, the boys, with the assistance of Captain Crawford, Dr. Rivers and the aviator, put in their time mastering some of the Boy Scout requirements.
They organized a bucket brigade, and, by several mock fire fights fitted themselves to take care of a blaze should one occur at any time.
"That's what we've been needing at this fort for a long time," remarked Captain Crawford, when he saw the young fire fighters practicing. "In case of a fire here we'd have to depend on the volunteer bunch at Silver City, and everything would be up in smoke before they could get here."
Dr. Rivers gave the young scouts a thorough drilling in first aid to the injured. In his laboratory, which was a large and heretofore mysterious room at the top of the house, he taught them many things which they did not know about the human body and its needs in case of accident—how to construct an emergency stretcher, prepare splints, roll and apply bandages, and stop the flow of blood from an artery by means of the tourniquet.
"I guess I'm beginning to know something," said Jerry, a little proudly, when they left the doctor's office just at dark Friday evening after an interesting lesson.
"I got real well acquainted with that handsome skeleton," remarked Gray, who had been a little sensitive at first about approaching the uncanny bony structure which Dr. Rivers called one of the "ornaments" of his experimenting room.
Although Herb and Tender were urged to remain at the Crawford's for supper, the former thought it best to go on home.
"I can't be very long away from dad," he explained, "or he has a search party out after me."
"I didn't realize how much this Boy Scout affair was going to do for you," observed the captain that night at the supper table, when Jerry and Fred had been relating their new accomplishments. "I was a little skeptical at first—thought it was a waste of time—but I'm getting pretty much interested in it now myself."
"I think it is a splendid idea," agreed Mrs. Windham, who, mother-like, was in favor of anything that safeguarded the interest and welfare of her boy.
"And his aeroplane stunt strikes me as pretty fine," went on Jerry's father. "As a whole, this vacation is doing more for you boys than a year of schooling, and—" he was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone bell.
"Hello—Phipps, yes, this is Crawford," they heard him say. "What's that? Well, that's strange. Oh, I don't think it can be anything serious. The doctor is not at the house? Gone to Silver City? Well, we'll start right out."
"What is it?" cried Mrs. Crawford, as the group at the table arose and surrounded the captain.
"Phipps says Herb's horse came home alone, wounded in the back. He's afraid something has happened to him and Graystock. Thinks it may be that thing that's killing the sheep—or thieving Greasers," explained captain, speaking hurriedly, at the same time putting on his hat and ringing for the maid.
"Tell Ike to get the horses and saddle them at once—three of them," he ordered when the servant appeared. "Tell him to stop and get Carlito, and have them all here as soon as possible."
"Come on, boys—Phipps says he's just starting. He says he telephoned for Dr. Rivers but he isn't home. What'll we do in case either of them is badly hurt?"
"We fellows ought to put our learning into practice," spoke up Fred at once.
"Yes, we'll take our emergency kits," said Jerry.
"I doubt if you can do anything," replied the captain, as they left the house. "You haven't had any practical experience yet."
"We'll do anything we can for Herb," responded Jerry warmly.
"Why not get Dunk?" suggested Fred. "He was the best of the bunch, his father being a doctor."
"All right," agreed the captain, swinging into his saddle, just as Carlito dashed up.
"What's the matter?" he asked, breathlessly.
They told him the situation in a few words.
"I'll go right on," he exclaimed, digging his heels into the pony's flanks.
On the way over to the Rivers' residence, the captain and the boys met Dunk and Fly mounted on their horses. Mr. Phipps' telephone message for the doctor had told them the news.
"Well, if anything's the matter," said the doctor's son, "both of them have their Red Cross materials with them, if they're able to use them. You go on ahead," he added. "Fly and I are going to bring that stretcher we made to-day, and some bandages and stuff. We'll be right along."
The two boys wheeled their ponies, and the rest of the party galloped into the darkness after Carl.
It was an unusually dark night, and very few stars relieved the dense blackness overhead. Fortunately, the riders were familiar with their road, or it would have been impossible for them to keep up the pace they did.
"Carl'll be sure to find them if they're anywheres along here," said Fred, breathlessly, when they were obliged to slow up at a particularly rough place.
They urged on their horses again, and for a time nothing was heard through the moonless silence of the night but the sound of hurrying hoofs and the croaking of the frogs as they vied with the monotonous singsong of the crickets. Occasionally, from somewhere far out on the prairies, a lonesome coyote would wail dismally.
After about a half hour of riding, the party on horseback descried through the darkness a glimmering light almost in the center of the road. As they came nearer, Jerry blew his whistle.
"We're here," came the answer.
"That's Phipps." 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.
"Dunk and Fly are coming along with one," responded the captain.
"Thank heaven for that," exclaimed the rancher gratefully. "Carl snatched some branches off of the trees coming along," he continued "and made some splints on the run." He laid his hand affectionately on the Indian's bent shoulders.
A few moments later Dunk and Fly came up, bearing a stretcher between them. Riding had been rather difficult with this clumsy load.
It was not long before Herb was comfortably stretched out on the improvised bed, and, resuscitated by the liberal whiffs of ammonia which Fred faithfully applied, and the constant massage, he soon opened his eyes and smiled, as a sign that he had regained consciousness.
"It's mostly jolt," said Dunk, who began applying more bandages. When the arm was well bound up, he went over Herb's body carefully in search of more injuries.
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. "I didn't know anything was wrong until I heard Herb yell, and the next minute he was thrown from his horse, while the critter ran off like wild."
"Didn't you see anything?" urged Fred.
"It was too dark—anyhow I didn't look for anything. I got busy with Herb," responded Gray.
"That's right," approved Mr. Phipps. "But it looks to me as if it was the same devil that's been botherin' my sheep—horse's back is cut pretty deep."
When they reached the ranch-house, Sing informed them that Dr. Rivers had telephoned, and was on his way over. They had scarcely put Herb on the bed before the doctor arrived. After listening to a hasty explanation, he made a thorough examination of the wounded boy.
"Well, it's just a minor fracture of the forearm," he announced finally. "Nothing serious. I'll have to set it though.
"It may hurt you a little," he warned Herb, as he removed the bandages and splints, but, though his patient did wince once or twice, he set his lips tightly, and did not emit a sound of complaint.
After it was all over, however, he sank back with a sigh of relief and exhaustion. With the aid of a sleeping potion, he was soon quietly resting.
Mr. Phipps, though relieved by the doctor's reassurance, was greatly agitated over the accident, and continually paced the floor in the big library, his face pale and his lips set.
"I'll be over early to-morrow," the doctor told him. "It's only a green stick break and will soon knit. The bandaging was splendidly done—I couldn't have put those splints on better myself," he added. "By the way, did you do it?"
"The boys did," answered the rancher, with a faint smile, looking affectionately around the anxious group.
"You certainly did well," said the doctor heartily. "I had some doubts about instructing you at first, but I must admit you have profited by your lessons wonderfully."
As there was nothing more to be done, the party from the fort prepared to start back, the doctor going ahead with his machine.
"We've got to get that confounded animal that's causing all this trouble," exclaimed Phipps as vigorously as his shaking voice would permit.
"We're goin' to get him, all right!" responded Jerry heartily.
"You bet we are," reiterated Fred, with determination, while the other boys made similar assurances.
It was a sober party that rode slowly away, and for a long time nothing was said.
"It's so quiet to-night it makes me think of spooks," remarked Jerry, finally breaking the silence.
"Something makes me feel queer too," said Fred.
Just then a shrill, weird inhuman shriek came from somewhere in the direction of the mountains: "Kreee-kreee-ee," almost blood-curdling in its penetrating sharpness, cutting through the air like a keen knife blade, and sending unpleasant shivers down the backs of all who heard.
Again and again it came, threatening, foreboding, like some evil spirit about to swoop upon its prey.
They listened, spellbound, thrilled in every nerve. It was not fear that seemed to clutch at their hearts and make them pound, or that struck them silent, it was an awing sense of something supernatural, something not quite real. It was as though they had suddenly caught a glimpse of a demon of the underworld.
The dread cry continued for some minutes, then gradually grew fainter, until it seemed smothered by the intervening hills.
Before any of the party gathered courage to speak, a tall figure, like a fleeting shadow, glided across the path in front of them, and rapidly disappeared into the darkness. He seemed bent on an errand and was going toward the northeast mountain ranges.
"It's the Indian," whispered Carl, as the form hurried into the darkness.
"What do you suppose that noise was?" queried Jerry in a low tone.
"Was it a hawk?" asked Fly cautiously, crowding nearer to Carl.
"I've heard hawks cry and eagles scream, but never like that," returned the Indian, his voice growing louder.
"What was it then?" asked Fly in a natural voice, gathering courage as the conversation progressed.
"I never heard one, of course," replied Carl slowly, "but I think that was the Thunder Bird."
"That's just what it was," exclaimed Dunk at once.
For some moments nobody spoke, then Carl said reflectively: "I suppose that Indian friend of ours heard it too, and is on the trail."
"You'd better look out or he'll get it before you do," commented the captain, who had heard of the mysterious stranger.