“That’s good!” Jimmie chuckled. “If they bring that machine down here, I can give a good guess as to who will take it away.”
CHAPTER VII.
THREE HUNGRY MEN.
After the departure of Jimmie and Carl, Ben sat in the shelter-tent by the side of the injured man until he was half asleep. Mr. Havens had fallen into a light slumber, and there was no one to talk to. He finally arose and walked out to the fire, looking about for some sign of the flying machine as he did so.
The Louise was not in sight, being at that time beyond the ridge to the east, but the boy saw something which contributed wonderfully to his wakefulness. A great mountain rat was creeping out of the long grass toward the spot where the refuse of the meals which had been served offered a tempting repast.
As much to keep awake as anything else, he watched the nimble-footed, sharp-eyed rodent advancing inch by inch toward its supper. Whenever he moved a hand or foot the rat darted back and was lost to view. While he watched, Mr. Havens called softly from the tent.
“Shoot all the rats you see, Ben,” the aviator said. “If he gets a bellyful here every rat in the Rocky mountains will know it before daybreak. We may stay here several days, and can’t afford to fight rats every hour of the day and night!”
Ben drew his revolver and when the rat appeared again, fired. He missed at the first shot and fired again and again, until the rodent lay dead halfway between his hiding-place and the tempting bait.
“That looks wicked to me,” Ben declared as he reloaded his automatic.
“Self-preservation, you know,” Mr. Havens explained. “The rats would eat us alive in less than a week if we let one get away well-fed.”
Ben went back to the tent and sat down, but, at the suggestion of the aviator, left almost immediately to bury the body of the rat and the garbage which had drawn him to the camp. While engaged in this occupation, he heard a call from the grass to the south.