On special invitation from the boys they went over to the bunk house that night and spent the time with them, listening to stories of thrilling interest connected with the wild life of the desert trails, and the valleys among the mountains in that strip of Arizona, most singular of all the States in the Union in its many sharp contrasts with regard to the rock strata and mineral formations.
In return, Frank and Andy told in a modest way something of the many exploits in which they had been concerned as air voyagers. Most of all, the punchers wanted to hear about how they had gone down to South America, and found Frank’s missing father a prisoner in a cliff-enclosed valley, into which he had fallen at the time his runaway balloon drifted far to the south from the Panama Peninsula, when he was conducting a series of experiments, and explorations in the interest of the great Northern college with which his name had long been connected as a scientist.
Andy was not so backward as his cousin about telling of what wonderful things they had seen, and how close to death they had been on numerous occasions; he even took advantage of the opportunity to describe how often Frank’s splendid nerve had been the only thing that had kept them from instant destruction; and although the other tried to make light of the facts, those hardy cow-punchers realized that in this slender stripling, who was so modest, and yet so self-possessed, they saw as true a hero as ever had his name recorded in the annals of history.
CHAPTER X—LEARNING THE ROPES ON A RANCH
The days began to just glide away, and every one saw Frank and Andy finding new sources of keen enjoyment.
They seldom lost a day for a while but that they went up for a short time, at least, in the aeroplane that was the marvel and admiration of the whole ranch. Those who worked on other cattle ranges were no longer startled when they saw a strange object not unlike a monstrous bird come spinning overhead, and disappearing in the distance. Though they never failed to stop their work, no matter what that might be, and gape upwards, as long as the aeroplane remained in sight, still, they no longer fired at it, as happened at first.
The boys had been warned by Uncle Jethro in the beginning that in making their flights miles away from home they would be wise to keep a pretty considerable distance aloft. There was never any telling what cowboys would do; and they were so apt to empty their guns at what they fancied must be some queer bird belonging to the supposed to be extinct class. At any rate, the warning was heeded, and on numerous occasions Frank and Andy believed that they profited from it. Indeed, it seemed to be the usual thing, whenever they passed over a cowboy in some strange section of the country, for him to whip out his gun and empty it; after which he would sometimes dodge, and try to conceal himself under a tree, or a clump of sage brush, or it might be a sentinel cactus ten feet high, growing on the border of the desert.
But by degrees the news was circulating around that this was one of the new fangled aeroplanes, and the shooting began to grow less frequent, though the young aviators did not take more chances than they could help.
Frequently, now, there would be company at the ranch and bunk house. In fact, these days Double X Ranch was fast becoming the Mecca for the entire neighborhood. Whenever a party of punchers got a holiday, instead of going off to town to indulge in a booze, they would start over to see the “wonder of the air,” and hope that the young pilots of the upper currents would perform for them.
This got to be such a nuisance that finally Frank had to announce that they were only going up on certain days, when the exhibition would be free. And at such times there was sure to be quite a crowd present, all wild to see how this queer steed that flew through the air at the rate of from forty to eighty miles an hour, or even a full hundred on occasion, was managed.