They all chorused assent, and Frank and Harry at once got into the machine.
“Hand me some rain bombs, Billy,” said Frank.
Billy Barnes reached into the tonneau and produced some blue flares. These he handed to Frank.
“Take care they don’t go off, Frank,” he said solemnly.
“Yes; you recollect them twenty fellers as was killed in St. Looey,” warned old Witherbee solemnly.
“Say, strangers, are them there things dangerous?” asked the cowboy leader.
“Well, there’s enough dynamite in them to blow that river there clean into the next county,” rejoined Frank, “but don’t be scared, we won’t drop them.”
“Get into the auto when we are well up,” Frank whispered rapidly to Billy, while the cowboys exchanged awed glances.
“Now, gentlemen,” he went on aloud, “get your umbrellas ready, for pretty soon there’s going to be some big rain.”
The aeroplane started up while the cowboys yelled and whooped. It had reached a height of about two hundred feet, and was circling above their heads, when Harry suddenly lighted one of the fizzing blue flares; at the same instant Billy, followed by the others, leaped into the auto.