At that moment there was another shout and Bob Russell, his face red with the sun and his shirt wet with perspiration, walked into the corral. In his right hand was gripped a revolver and in his left a repeating rifle. In front of him, and prodded on by Bob's pistol, was the Mexican, Domingo, Jack Jellup's tool and fellow thief.
CHAPTER XVIII
FREE AND AFLOAT AT LAST
This is what had happened.
At the time of the rain storm, two days before, Buck and his cavalcade were in camp on the bank of the dry Chusco, sixty miles north of Clarkeville. The experienced scout knew that a water supply was now assured, and he at once followed prearranged orders by instructing Bob to return with the smaller wagon. This was a sad blow to the young reporter, but it was a part of his contract and he knew that it was his duty to obey. And with necessity before him, he acted promptly. Emptying the heavy casks, Bob started on the back trail at five the following morning, and by night had made thirty miles with the light wagon. All day he wondered if it might not be possible to reach Clarkeville again before the Cibola sailed.
The next morning, spurred on by the hope that he might do this, he started at daybreak. By the middle of the morning he was on the old wagon trail and making better time. Some time after two o'clock he came up over the rise of the last foothills and saw, eight miles away, the glistening shape which he at once knew was the inflated balloon. He hesitated a moment and then, unhitching the horses, mounted one bareback and began a dash for the town. The animals were tired and worn, and progress was slow, but it beat walking, and Bob urged them on.
As the young reporter came nearer and the balloon grew more distinct he knew that it would be a close call. From time to time as the winded horses dropped into a walk Bob wondered why he was making such a race. "I can't go with them," he argued. But, like the trained reporter, he decided that no effort was wasted that gave him new information. And it was something out of the ordinary to see the most complete balloon ever made start on a mysterious flight into the wilderness.
So he spurred up the horses anew. The hot sun reflected from the yellow sands burnt his face and his muscles were sore, but he stuck to it. When half a mile from the town he could see the boys on the bridge of the Cibola. When a quarter of a mile away he decided that he could beat the horses by going afoot, and, throwing himself to the ground, he ran onward, knowing that the tired animals would follow. Out of breath he reached the edge of the town and stumbled on toward the corral.
With head down he plunged forward. Almost at his goal he threw his head up for breath just in time to notice a kneeling man with a rifle at his shoulder.