“That bird’s not coming down,” Jim said softly to himself and drawing some of the foliage carefully above his head, he ventured stealthily to peep out.
The plane was executing a wide circle as low as the pilot dared in that rugged section, and the boy noticed that at least three men were staring over the sides of the cock-pit. The machine dived swiftly toward the dried bed of the river-branch, leveled out precariously close, then with nose tilted, shot high and so close to the ledge that the boy could easily see the landing gear. He wondered why Gordon and the trapper did not run to shelter, or get away in their own machine, for it was obvious that they anticipated trouble. Perhaps he did not dare risk a smash-up if he attempted flight, for his machine was not in a position from which to make a hasty take-off; also, probably Arthur thought that concealment would serve him little, for his machine must have been spotted immediately by the men in the air. They were zooming swiftly and as steeply as they dared. For a moment Austin thought they were going to climb well out of the dangerous zone above the ledges and go away, but this idea was soon dismissed, for by the sound he could tell that the machine was circling again, and presently it came into view far below; diving as before, only this time, he saw one of the men high in his seat. Down it roared, the wheels barely escaping the topmost branches as it came like some bird of prey, the men straining forward with faces set and determined.
Something suddenly startled Gordon, for he jumped toward them as hard as he could go and in a zig-zag course. He clutched the trapper as he passed, but the man stumbled, and almost at the same instant there was a flash of flame, followed by a vicious rat-a-tat-tat that sent a hail of shot in a wide swath. It cut the trapper down in a lifeless heap.
“A machine gun,” Jim whispered. “Regular war stuff!” He was so fascinated that he could hardly take his eyes off the deadly instrument of destruction and it wasn’t until bits of stone and rebounding bullets began to pepper the rocks where he and his friends were hiding that he backed further into the shelter of the boulders. He hoped fervently that the Gonzalas were well protected from the attack and he tried to calculate a way of helping his companions. He couldn’t leave his own corner without risking being seen and that certainly would not help them.
From under his hiding place the boy listened intently and heard the plane going up again as if to repeat the maneuver, then suddenly it came back more quickly and its motor was shut off.
“They must be coming down,” he told himself. Creeping close to the opening he made a place so that he could see what was taking place below and then he saw Arthur standing waving his white handkerchief. By that he knew that the young Texan was signaling his surrender. The machine descended quickly, presently landed, ran a few feet and stopped.
“What you doing here?” came a hoarse demand, as a man leaped from the cock-pit. He shoved his helmet back from his face and then Jim recognized the chap who had been with Ollie Boome at the fiesta, the man the police were so anxious to capture, and the same fellow who had circled above Amy-Ran early that morning. It hardly seemed possible that so much could have happened in one day.
“I might ask you the same question,” Gordon answered indifferently, “and I might add, what are you shooting the place up for?”
“You might, yes. Explanations are in order but they are coming from you. What are you butting into the chief’s work for? This isn’t the first time—”
“No? Well, the chief isn’t taking me into his confidence these days so how the blazes could I know he was sending a bunch of you fellows here?” Arthur demanded hotly. He had taken a cigarette from his pocket and was lighting it coolly.