Transcriber's Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

There was a terrific explosion. Earth and debris were flung into the air to a great height, and fully a dozen of the brigands were killed. The wretches seemed to forget all about Frank Reade, Jr., or anyone else and fled for their lives.

FRANK READE

WEEKLY MAGAZINE.

CONTAINING STORIES OF ADVENTURES ON LAND, SEA AND IN THE AIR.

Issued Weekly—By Subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second Class Matter at New York, N. Y., Post Office. Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1902, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington D. C., by Frank Tousey, 24 Union Square, New York.

Frank Reade, Jr.’s Air Wonder, The “Kite”;
OR,
A SIX WEEKS’ FLIGHT OVER THE ANDES.

By “NONAME.”

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I.
A VILLAIN’S GREED.

It was near the close of a beautiful day in June, and the declining sun shed its radiance softly over the crags and heights of the Andes Mountains in the heart of Peru.

High up in the heart of the hills was a flat shelf of rock projecting from the cliff, and far out over an enormous descent of a thousand feet to depths below.

Upon the verge of this shelf of rock a fearful scene was being enacted.

Two men were there engaged in a fearful death struggle. Locked in each other’s embrace, they fought and panted like veritable fiends.

They were both Americans. On their way over the great Southern Cardilleros they had a falling out, and a battle to the death was the result.

One was tall and supple, with powerful limbs and deep chest. The other was thin and slender, and rather sickly-looking, yet he fought with consummate skill and absolute fearlessness.

“Confound you, Royal Harding! You shall never live to reap the benefit of our discovery of the treasure cave of the Incas. It is mine—all mine—and I shall return to New York and claim the heart and hand of beautiful Mabel Dane—not you.”

“Never, Lester Vane! Your plans shall never win success. A great and just God will never permit it.”

“Worm! I can crush you as I would a reed!”

“I shall fight to the last.”

“Over the precipice with you!”

Fiercely they fought. The larger man, who was the first speaker, made a tremendous effort, and suddenly lifted the other like a feather.

One moment he hovered in mid-air, and then over the precipice he went.

A wild, awful cry of anguish and despair went up from the slight man. Down over the edge he went.

Out of sight he flashed. A yell of fiendish delight escaped the victor.

He rushed to the edge and looked over.

He had expected to see the mangled form of his victim at the bottom of the cliff.

But to his surprise he saw him suspended in mid-air fully a hundred feet below.

In his sliding descent he had managed to grasp a scrub of spruce which projected from the wall of the cliff.

To this he clung.

It was certainly a close call. His life was spared for the moment. But what more awful than his present position.

The white, awe-struck, upturned countenance met the gaze of Lester Vane.

“For mercy’s sake, Lester, do not let me die. Save me!”

A mocking laugh pealed from the villain’s lips.

In his hand there was a huge stone with which he had intended to dash his victim from his slender perch.

But second thought restrained him.

“I was about to dash you from that hold!” he hissed, “but that would be only a merciful ending of your agonies. I shall leave you to hang there until your strength gives out and you are obliged to fall of your own accord. May your thoughts be pleasant and your end a happy one.”

“Villain!” groaned Harding with awful terror. “You do not mean that!”

“Don’t I?”

“You cannot be so inhuman!”

“Ha! you do not know me. Stay there and think of me with the Incas’ treasure on my way to New York to claim Mabel Dane. Ha, ha, ha!”

“Wretch! Monster!” screamed Harding in an insane manner. “You will never do that. No, no, no! I appeal to your sense of right and humanity. Be just!”

But his words were wasted, spent upon empty air.

Vane had disappeared, gliding away noiselessly among the mountain crags.

The stillness of death was upon the defile. Far above a solitary vulture wheeled in airy echelon as if waiting to feast upon a certain victim.

Awful horror was upon Harding.

He clung to the scrub with an energy born of despair.

He dared not cast his glance downward for fear he would relax his grip and fall.

Fearful thoughts coursed through his fevered brain.

Awful agonies he suffered in that moment, and the end seemed certain to be death. Several times the frenzy of despair nigh overcame him and he almost relaxed his grip and fell.

“Oh, God!” he moaned, “am I to die thus? Is this to be my fate?”

And yet what was to save him?

The region seemed utterly deserted. There seemed not the least chance of his rescue being effected, for there were probably no human beings other than himself and Vane within many miles of the place.

The story of the presence of the two men in these parts was a brief one.

They had met in Callao and fraternized. As it chanced both were from New York.

Harding was in love with a young lady of good family in York.

He carried Mabel Dane’s picture with him, and in an unsuspecting moment showed it to Vane.

The latter, a fellow of fiery impulse, at once fell in love with the portrait, and instinctively became jealous of Harding.

In the blackness of his heart he was resolved to cut his friend out and win the girl whom he had never seen as his own.

Harding never suspected him.

He took a fancy to Vane and confided to him a valuable secret.

This was the supposed location of an Incas treasure far up in the Andes. Arrangements were quickly made, and the two men set out with the purpose of securing the treasure.

For weeks they wandered about through the wilds.

Then success crowned their efforts.

A cavern was found deep in the mountains in which golden images and plate were buried. The value of the buried treasure was enormous.

It made rich men of both of them.

It seemed as if life had opened up before them with new and glowing prospects. The delirium of the gold seeker was upon them.

But after a time this wore away in part, and practical questions began to assert themselves.

How were they to transport their wealth to civilization?

It certainly was of no use to them here. It was a problem which required some little study to solve.

“I will tell you,” said Vane, finally. “Let us go to Quito and procure a pack train of mules. We can transport the treasure to some point on the coast, and there we may find a trading vessel on which we may embark for the United States.”

“Your plan is to purchase the vessel?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” agreed Harding. “It shall be as you say. We will do that.”

Thus the plan was made.

No doubt it would have been successful.

But Lester Vane had in his heart a dark and dreadful purpose. His selfish, covetous nature would not admit of a generous division of the treasure.

His whole soul was filled with the one purpose to appropriate the whole wealth to himself, and with it to return to New York and win the heart of Mabel Dane.

But to do this it was necessary to dispose of Harding.

He saw but one way to do this.

Lester Vane was cold, calculating and unscrupulous. He determined to murder his companion outright.

With his mind made up to do this, he suddenly halted Harding near the brow of the precipice, and coolly informed him of the fact.

He believed that as he was much stronger he could easily overcome the weaker man.

Harding was horrified with the discovery that his companion was this kind of a man.

But he was not disposed to yield to such a fate without a struggle.

So he made a brave and a resolute fight, as the reader has seen.

But the villain triumphed, and we now see Royal Harding clinging vainly to the face of the precipice, with death in its most awful form yawning below him.

It did not seem as if any human power could save him.

Lester Vane was making his way with all haste to Quito.

He would charter a vessel, have the treasure transported to the coast, and sail away to the United States.

As Harding thought of all this he groaned with awful horror and despair.

“Oh,” he moaned; “is this to be my unkind fate? Will nothing save me?”

Then he thought of Mabel Dane; and his eyes flashed.

“And he thinks he can win her heart!” he muttered, “but he will learn better when he meets her. Mabel is too sweet and true to ever play me false!”

Then he began desperately to consider every possible chance of escape.

The distance to the bottom of the gorge was frightful.

The fall would be sure to dash the life from his body.

There was no way of climbing down.

The descent was sheer and precipitous, and jagged rocks were below. Neither could he hope to retain his present position long.

The tax upon the scrub was a severe one, and it had already begun to yield.

At any moment it was apt to give way. An awful horror overcame Royal Harding.

“Oh,” he wailed; “will the villain triumph in this manner? Am I to be thus consigned to death?”

It was the prayer of a despairing soul, and that it found speedy answer seemed an assured fact.

For suddenly Harding felt a shadow pass between him and the dying rays of the sun.

There was a peculiar whirring sound like the movement of many wings, and he looked up to behold a stunning spectacle.

A huge ship seemed floating in the air above him. There it was, hull and masts, and bowsprit, decks and all.

For a moment Harding thought it the effect of a disordered mind.

But he pulled himself together and gazed hard at the spectacle.

Then he saw beyond a doubt that it was truly an air-ship, and upon the bow he read in gilt letters:

“THE KITE,

“Frank Reade, Jr.”

A wild, thrilling cry went up from Royal Harding’s lips.

“Saved, saved!” he cried. “It is Frank Reade, Jr., the wonderful young inventor, and one of his air-ships. Saved, thank God!”

Harding had not been so long absent from the world of civilization that he had not heard of Frank Reade, Jr., and his wonderful inventions.

He had read the exploits of the young inventor and was well familiar with his history.

He knew that Frank Reade, Jr., was a young and handsome fellow of the rarest gifts, whose home was in a beautiful American city called Readestown.

Air-ships were the hobby of this famous young inventor, and he had taken many trips about the world, accompanied by two faithful servants, an Irishman named Barney O’Shea and a negro called Pomp.

These were now at the rail of the air-ship, and the Celt shouted:

“Howld fast, sor! Shure it’s to your rescue we’ll be afther coming!”

CHAPTER II.
THE WONDERFUL AIR-SHIP.

The joy of Harding bordered upon a frenzy. He could hardly contain himself.

“Hurrah!” he cried. “God has answered my prayer. I shall be saved.”

“Av coorse yez will!” cried Barney, in an encouraging voice. “Shure an’ howiver did yez come in this persition?”

“I was thrown over the cliff by a companion whom I supposed to be a friend, but who was my worst enemy.”

“Shure that was a dhirty thrick. Niver mind, yez may yit git squar wid the omadhoun!”

“I will,” replied Harding, resolutely.

The darky, Pomp, throw a rope over the rail.

“Golly, sah!” he cried, with a comical grin. “Jes’ yo’ cach hol’ ob dat an’ dis chile brung yo’ abo’d pooty quick!”

“Easy, Pomp,” said a rich, melodious voice. “It is not quite time yet.”

The speaker was Frank Reade, Jr., himself. He stood upon the deck with one hand upon the rail and an eye upon the revolving rotascopes which served to hold the ship suspended in the air.

He was a fine, handsome specimen of youth, with clear-cut features, a steady eye and an air of one born to command.

The Kite was settling down slowly into the defile.

Pomp now rushed to the pilot-house near and pressed one of the electric keys.

This so regulated the speed of the rotascopes that the air-ship was held immovable at its present attitude.

Then Pomp sprang back to the rail.

Barney had taken the rope and had now swung it over until it came within reach of Harding.

“Steady dar, boss!” cried Pomp. “Now jes’ yo’ hang right on!”

“All right, my good friends,” replied Harding.

There was a noose in the end of the rope, and the gold seeker slipped this under his shoulders.

Then he cried:

“All right! Haul away!”

This was done. Pomp and Barney hauled away with a will, and very quickly Harding was lifted over the rail on board the Kite.

He stood upon his feet and gazed about him.

“Heaven be praised!” he gasped. “This is all like a strange dream. It does not seem at all a reality.”

“I can understand that, sir,” cried Frank Reade, Jr., with a pleasant laugh. “You are welcome on board the Kite.”

He shook hands with Harding most warmly. But the gold seeker continued to gaze about the air-ship wonderingly.

“I have heard much of you and your inventions, Mr. Reade,” he said, “but I never dreamed that your air-ship was such a beautiful and wonderful machine.”

“Indeed,” said Frank, pleasantly; “if you desire I will shortly show you about the ship and explain to you its details and manner of construction.”

“Indeed, I shall be delighted.”

“But you are fatigued. Come into the cabin and have a glass of wine, and tell us how you came in that dangerous position.”

“I will do that with all pleasure,” replied Harding.

He followed Frank Reade, Jr., into the cabin of the Kite.

This was situated amidships, and was a most beautifully furnished saloon.

Frank offered a chair to his visitor, and said:

“Now, Mr. Harding, we shall be very glad to have your story.”

Harding had already given his name and business in these parts to Frank Reade, Jr.

He now began at the beginning and detailed the entire story of his life.

He told frankly of his love for Mabel Dane and of his expedition to Peru to search for the Incas treasure.

“I had hoped to find the fortune,” he said, “and then return and claim the girl I love.”

He then detailed his meeting with Vane and the after incidents.

How they had found the Incas treasure and had planned to remove it. Then the perfidy of Vane.

Frank Reade, Jr., and Barney and Pomp listened with the deepest of interest.

To them it was a most interesting and thrilling recital.

Particularly was the young inventor interested. When Harding had finished he cried, vehemently:

“My friend, you shall have your rights. That treasure every bit belongs to you, and yours it shall be.”

“Thank you a thousand times!” cried Harding, eagerly. “Oh, do you really mean to say that you will help me to recover the Incas treasure?”

“I do,” replied Frank.

“Half, yes, two-thirds of it shall be yours. I only ask enough——”

“Not one cent!” replied Frank, quickly. “I do not want money. I am rich enough.”

Harding was almost delirious in his great joy.

He alternately thanked and blessed his young benefactor.

“If I can return to America with a fortune, and claim Mabel Dane as my wife,” he declared, “I shall be the happiest man in the world.”

“If it is in my power to assist you to do that, I will do it.”

Frank now proceeded to show Harding the wonderful mechanism and construction of his air-ship.

“All the electrical devices aboard this ship,” he declared, “are patents of my own.”

The Kite was built after the shape of a modern cruiser, with a narrow hull, and long, pointed bow.

The hull was made of the lightest rolled platinum, lined on the bottom with tough steel meshes to resist a blow or the impact of a bullet.

Lightness and strength are the two prime things to be considered in building an air-ship.

Frank Reade, Jr., considered these well and carefully. He was certain that he had hit upon the right plan.

The hull of the Kite was roomy enough to admit of the storage of the electrical machinery, batteries and dynamos. Also there was a cabin for Barney and Pomp and a good-sized galley for cooking purposes.

A deck over all was made of light wood highly polished.

Amidships was the cabin with furnishings and decorations of the richest description.

Forward was the pilot-house or tower, and aft was a similar tower for the regulating of the propeller or the rotascope shafts.

One huge mast rose from the deck and supported a monster rotascope, which was in itself sufficient to elevate the ship.

But to make sure, two smaller rotascopes were provided upon shafts which rose from the two towers.

In the stern was a large propeller like the huge screw of an ocean steamer.

From the mast and the bowsprit two flying jib sails were swung, for the purpose of steadying the Kite.

Altogether, the Kite was a most wonderful invention.

Harding was captivated by the plan as revealed by Frank Reade, Jr.

“It is wonderful,” he declared. “You are certainly the most wonderful inventor on earth, Mr. Reade!”

“That may be a large statement,” said the young inventor, with, a smile. “However, I am glad that you appreciate my air-ship.”

“I can only say that I am delighted beyond expression with the prospect of taking a voyage with you aboard the Kite,” declared Harding, ardently. “It is a treat which any man would be glad to accept.”

“The question now is,” said Frank, brusquely, “what shall we do about the treasure you speak of? Would it not be best to secure that at once?”

“It will take Vane a long while to secure a transportation from Quito.”

“True; but he may have decided to remove the treasure to some other hiding place!”

“Right!” cried Harding, nervously. “I appreciate the danger of procrastination, Mr. Reade. I am ready when you are.”

“But you must first direct us where to find the treasure cave.”

“That I will do, but——”

“What?”

“You cannot go thither with this air-ship.”

“Why?”

“It is buried deep in a dark and unwholesome cavern. The air-ship cannot enter that.”

“That is all right,” said Frank. “We can leave the ship and return to it when we have secured the treasure.”

“Certainly.”

This move was decided upon at once.

Harding directed the course of the air-ship. Darkness was fast coming on, and after drifting for a time over the mountain peaks Frank decided that it would be better to wait for the light of another day.

Harding declared that the cavern was now not more than twenty miles distant.

“We will make that in very quick time in the morning,” declared Frank. “Certainly we can do little in this gloom.”

The sky was cloudy and the darkness which settled down was most intense.

But upon the bow of the air-ship was an electric searchlight.

With this Frank illumined the face of the country below.

He selected what he believed would be a good spot.

It was an open spot in a valley high up in the lofty Andes.

Here the air-ship was allowed to descend and rest upon the ground.

Pomp set about getting the evening meal.

The darky was a comical coon and could play the banjo and sing in genuine plantation style.

Barney, on the other hand, was a genuine type of the Hibernian, and was a master with the violin.

He could play all manner of Irish jigs and songs.

To get the two characters together, with their fund of music and comical jokes, was as good as a variety show.

While they were the warmest of friends, Barney and Pomp were always wrangling in a facetious way and playing jokes upon each other.

Upon the present night Barney had it in for Pomp.

The latter had put a live electric wire into the Celt’s bed the night before, and when he retired had given him a shock which literally lifted him out of the bunk.

The Celt had sworn vengeance with a large V, and he proceeded to formulate a plan to get square with the darky.

When Barney played a joke upon any one it was generally a huge and unvarnished one, with hard knots all over it.

Now the Celt knew the weaknesses of the darky well.

If there is one thing in his world that the negro fears it is a disembodied spirit, or rather the thoughts of such.

Knowing this well, Barney chuckled to himself and proceeded to elaborate his little scheme.

Pomp was an unsuspecting party.

He busied himself about the evening meal and rendered up a repast which was delicious and appetizing.

Then, after the meal was over, all repaired to the deck to enjoy the balmy evening air.

Frank Reade, Jr., and Harding sat by the rail enjoying a social chat and some good cigars.

It was a fiendish plot which Barney had laid.

CHAPTER III.
BARNEY GETS SQUARE WITH POMP.

The Celt was firm in his purpose to give Pomp a soaking which he would not soon forget.

He was smarting himself from the effects of the experience with the live wire. His bones were yet sore.

“Begorra, I’ll make the naygur wish he’d niver tackled me!” he declared. “Share, I’ll fix him neat.”

Barney had procured from the chemical stores some phosphorus.

He procured a couple of sheets, and thoroughly treated them to a solution of this.

In the dark the sheets gave forth a luminous blue light, which was very like the sulphurous fires supposed to exist in Hades.

The Celt dressed himself up in these in the most ghostly fashion.

He had among his effects a hideous mask, which he whitened with a solution of common whitewash.

Then he placed plumpers in his cheeks to change the tone of his voice. He was now all ready for fun.

He chuckled as he surveyed himself in a glass.

“Be me sowl, I’ll scare the loife out av that naygur!” he muttered, jubilantly. “He’ll think fer shure that the divil has come fer him!”

Pomp was aft, engaged in polishing some brass-work on the binnacle lamp.

The light from the electric globe shone full upon his black visage as he worked away industriously and hummed a song at the same time.

Barney crept along in the gloom, and truly he was a sight well calculated to inspire terror.

The phosphoric gleam from his white garments was almost ghostly, and savoring of graveyards and ghouls.

Nearer he crept to the unsuspecting darky.

He was now directly behind him.

Pomp never dreamed of the ghostly visitor so near him.

Barney drew himself up and uttered a deep and dismal groan.

In a moment Pomp turned.

The effect was comical beyond all powers of description.

The darky let out a yell which might have awakened the dead, and dropped upon his knees.

“Massy sakes, golly fo’ glory, sakes alibe!” he gasped. “Bress de Lor’, sabe mah haht! de ghosteses hab come fo’ Pomp fo’ suah. Please, Mr. Ghosteses, don’ harm dis chile, an’ he do anyfing yo’ say.”

Barney waved his spectral arm and let out another groan.

Pomp doubled up and cried:

“Don’ hurt dis po’ brack chile, Mistah Ghosteses, ah beg ob yo’. I do anyfing yo’ say if yo’ don’ hurt dis chile.”

“Stand on yer head,” said Barney, in a dismal voice.

In a twinkling Pomp obeyed.

“Walk on yer hands!”

This was done.

But Barney, the inexorable persecutor, was not yet satisfied.

Near by was a pail of salt water, which had been used in washing the deck. The pseudo ghost pointed to this.

“Drink!” he said.

Pomp hesitated.

“Drink!” thundered the specter.

“But, Mistah Ghosteses——”

“Drink, I say!” roared Barney.

He took a step forward. Pomp at once succumbed.

He took up the pail of water and took a mouthful. It was villainous stuff, and nigh choked him to death.

He dropped the pail and began to retch violently. The ghost took a step forward.

At once Pomp essayed a mouthful more.

“Please, Mistah Ghosteses, don’ make me drink no moh ob dat stuff,” he cried, beseechingly.

“Drink!” roared Barney.

“Mistah Ghosteses——”

For a moment Barney forgot his personality and said, in his rich brogue:

“Begorra, av yez don’t dhrink the whole av it I’ll break the neck av yez!”

The mask was off.

In an instant Pomp’s fears were dispelled and he understood the whole game.

“Huh!” he yelled, straightening himself up. “I ain’t afraid ob no ‘count I’ish ghosteses, no way, you kin jes’ bet! Look out dar!”

Lowering his head, Pomp made a dash for his persecutor.

Barney was not quick enough to get out of the way.

The darky’s head struck him full in the stomach.

“Wow-ow-ough!” yelled Barney, with pain and anger. “Be me sowl, yez have kilt me for shure!”

“I teach yo’ to play such tricks on me, yo’ no ‘count I’shman!” yelled the darky, furiously making another rush.

Barney was not quick enough to get out of the way, and this time Pomp butted him clean over the rail of the air-ship.

The distance to the ground was not ten feet, and Barney was not hurt by the fall.

But the disclosure that the fall made was a startling one.

Barney felt some yielding form beneath him, and a sharp yell went up.

The Celt rolled over and was upon his feet instantly, but only in time to find himself surrounded by dark forms.

In the gloom he could not see who these were. But instinctively the thought of an enemy came to him.

“Whurroo!” he yelled, making a break through the throng, “Phwat the divil has broke loose? Get out av me way, yez omadhouns!”