Tears welled up into his eyes at the thought of the peril in which his little son was placed.
But in a sudden paroxysm of resolution he dashed them away and muttered hoarsely:
“No, no, no! I must not weakly give way to tears. It is a time for action—not repining. On, my good horse, on, on, and do what you can to carry me to my destination in time to make one effort to save my child’s life.”
Urging would not make the mare go faster, for she was then doing her best, and fairly snorting from the violent exertion.
Within half an hour the town of Foxhall appeared in view, and the Mexican’s heart leaped with joy as the twinkling lights of the windows met his glance in the distance.
This feeling was rudely dashed, however, when, upon a nearer approach to the settlement, he saw a huge object rise from the ground and soar up into the sky ahead.
It then sped away from the settlement, going in a southeasterly direction, and the man gave a groan of anguish.
“There is the flying machine now!” he gasped.
Nor was he mistaken.
The peculiar object was two enormous aluminum planes on a framework of steel, held aloft by strong metal posts.