"What do yo' expec' deyll do?" asked the colored lad at last.

"Well, you can't tell. Injuns are puzzles. When they steal they steal in the dark. When they fight they fight at daybreak."

"What do yo' suggest?"

"To tell the truth, son," answered Buck, "there ain't much to do but keep yer eyes open and pop it to the first red horse thief ye see crawlin' around in the night."

"Hadn't we better light our signal fires?" asked Elmer.

"There won't be any signal fires to-night," replied Buck, slowly, "if you want my advice. It's one thing for a bluffin' Ute to walk up in the daylight when you've got a fair chance to give him as good as he sends, and its another thing for him to get a bead on you a sittin' in the light o' yer camp fire—him in the dark."

Elmer saw and understood.

So night fell in silence with Buck and Elmer keyed up and ready to meet any possible attack.

Nothing happened until several hours had passed. Neither Elmer nor Buck were any the less alert, however. The old scout was pacing up and down in front of the barricade and perhaps a hundred feet from it. Elmer could just hear his soft footfalls in the sand. Suddenly these ceased. Almost at the same moment there was the crack of Buck's rifle, a groan and a moment later the scout was inside the barricade.

"I guess I got him all right," he whispered, "he was makin' too much noise."

This was the shot Ned heard miles away in the Cibola.

Again for some minutes there was no sound and then, suddenly and from the left, came a spit of flame in the dark. Almost before Elmer heard the explosion Buck's gun had spoken in reply. Both bullets went wild, but Buck explained that it was necessary to give shot for shot, "and right at 'em," said Buck, "as it takes a little o' the ginger out o' them."

But the besiegers had undoubtedly widened out. The next signs of them were two shots, almost together. Elmer's rifle made quick reply, but, to the boy's surprise, Buck failed to fire in return. The scout had disappeared from his companion's side. Before Elmer could call out he heard a rush at the end of the barricade, and then two explosions almost together and not ten feet away. He could not describe the sound that followed, but he knew that it meant the convulsions of human beings in agony. He whispered his companion's name, but there was no answer—only a gasp.

In the black darkness the colored boy, revolver in hand, crawled forward. At the end of the barricade Buck's body was lying. As the boy's hand fell on the old man's breast he knew that it was blood he felt.

"Buck," he whispered, "Buck! Is yo' hurt?"

He put his arm under his friend's head. For a moment the unconscious form yielded and then convulsively straightened. Elmer knew that his companion and protector was dead.

With strength that he did not know he had Elmer laid Buck's dead body behind the little wall of freight boxes.

Then, as if by intuition, he sprang forward and found what he suspected—the unmoving form of an Indian. Unable to see, Elmer quickly felt over the adjacent ground with his hands and discovered the dead Ute's rifle. The revolver was gone. In the same manner he recovered both Buck's rifle and revolver, and then prepared to do his duty—to protect his employer's goods so long as he could.

He was scarcely entrenched again, with the three magazine rifles laid on the barricade before him, when his straining ears heard a new sound. Far away and faint, but meaning only one thing, the soft chugging of a motor. The Cibola! There could be no doubt of it. The instant feeling of relief was shattered even as it gave Elmer new courage; to attempt to light the signal fires would probably mean instant death. And without them how would his friends know his position or peril? But one thing he could do; and even knowing that it would mean an answering shot from the skulking horse thieves he discharged his revolver into the air.

Then the sound of the motor died away and the long minutes dragged by. When it began again, and more softly, the sound was nearer. Nearer, and nearer it came and then the circle of light fell on the wagon and was gone. "At least they know where I am," thought Elmer to himself, and settled down courageously for renewed attack, determined to hold out to the last. At this moment came the shot that put out the Cibola's light.

The nervy boy had been tempted to abandon the wagon and follow the light, but his second judgment was against this. "If they can, the boys will come back," he argued, "and I'll only get out of this when I have to."

To Elmer's surprise the attackers had been strangely silent for some time. With more experience he would have known that this meant even greater danger, but he only hoped it was due to the distracting and mysterious flying light. Then the sepulchral green light burst out in its funnel-like volume. It was coming back. It flared, went out, shot over the distant sands again like a searching' eye and then began moving straight up the river bank towards the wagon. Then came the earth rending explosion. Nor could the besieged boy know even then that Ned's well-aimed bomb had sent five Utes to their last sleep.

When the sound of the explosion had died away and Elmer had recovered himself—for the shock had thrown him forward on the barricade—the whirr of the Cibola's motor was again far away. But it was directly above him!

As if the attackers had been paralyzed by the explosion, the long interval continued without a shot. Then suddenly, from the right and left and front, the real attack began. One shot sounded as a signal, and then from a half circle before him half a dozen bullets tore their way towards the boy and his barricade. Most of them went wild. Two hit the boxes and half stunned the lone guardian behind them. The assailants did not know that one of the two white men was dead, and Elmer, in hopes temporarily to deceive them, fired two of the rifles at the same moment.

But his enemies were closing in; the half circle was growing smaller and the crash of the bullets in the wagon above him and in the barricade in front told the boy that the end could not be far away. To the right in the direction of the explosion there was a gap in the fast closing circle. It was folly to delay longer. If escape were possible, it was in that direction. He would make one desperate attempt. One shot remained in his rifles. Putting it where he thought it would do the most good, and catching up the two yet full revolvers, the colored boy crawled under the wagon and crept hastily along the river bank.

And yet he did not dare to attempt to pass the end of the Indian semi-circle. It was one chance in a thousand. Throwing himself on the ground, he waited. "Crack!" It was the rifle of an Indian, not fifty feet away and coming nearer. The stealthy footfalls told Elmer that his foe was heading straight for the river bank and that he was in the Ute's path. Then he could hear the Indian's deep breathing. Detection was inevitable.

One last thing remained to be done—to kill the Indian and make a dash forward down the river bank. And he must act before his foe discovered him. Elmer's revolver flashed fire and he saw his foe of the red and yellow face bound into the air and then topple forward with a cry of anguish.

The boy turned, but too late. Directly in front he heard the sudden shouts of other Indians. The river at his back! Flight down its cement-like bank was impossible. He might plunge forward and pray that the water was beneath.

The death cry of the man he had shot and the echoing yells of the Indians behind him had been taken up by others. He knew the determined savages were making a final rush. Indian cries seemed to come from the very ground at his feet. He hesitated no lodger.

As he turned to the river a sudden and strange wave of cool air struck down on him from above. Without reasoning he paused. That pause saved his life. In that swift moment he heard the low creak of something straining. His eyes pierced the black about him. Was it a shadow? Something was brushing by him like a great bird asleep on the wing. Then it was on him.

"Ned?" It was only a whisper but it was enough.

"Elmer, here, quick!"

Even the whisper had brought an instant shot, but the colored boy had hurled himself toward the voice and an instant later a strong young arm was about the besieged lad.

It was Ned Napier on the swaying ladder of the Cibola.

"Cut away," came the low quick order and before even the nearby besiegers could locate the sound Bob Russell, high above, had slashed the lashings of a bag of ballast. The big balloon sprang forward, Elmer dangling in the air, and then settled again to the earth as the desperate colored boy found the last rung of the ladder and clung fast opposite his rescuer.

"Another, another," called Ned springing up the fragile length of the doubly laden ladder.

A thud on the ground told where another bag of ballast had fallen. The crash of the fallen fifty-pound bag of sand probably saved the Cibola. Shot after shot poured in the direction of the sound, although the Cibola, dragging forward, yet refused to rise. Elmer, at the bottom of the ladder, was helping the car onward in low bounds by touching the ground with one foot.

Then the air craft settled again. Elmer's weight was too much. A mad thought came into the boy's brain. The Indians had located the new invader and yells nearby told that hot pursuit was already being made. Then the spit, spit, of new shots showed the risk the boys had taken. Elmer realized it. Should he hang on and endanger the lives of his friends, or should he let go?

There seemed no time to think, but the boy's hand had already loosened when out of the black came the hot breath of the foremost pursuer. As the savage sprang forward Elmer's free arm gave him a blow full in the face. At the same instant the Cibola sprang upward like a bullet. A volley of shots rang out below, but they were too late. The balloon had saved Elmer's life, and even before the lad had made his way up the swaying ladder into the cabin it was a thousand feet in the air.



CHATER XXIII

CAMP EAGLE IN THE MOUNTAINS

It seemed too wonderful to be true. But words were proof enough that Ned Napier and Alan Hope had found a new use for dirigible balloons. Faithful Buck's death was more than the loss of a companion. In the short time the boys had known him he had shown that under his rough frontier bearing he was a brave and honest man.

"We can't go back now," explained Ned, "and we can't afford to land and wait for day. We can't all stay in the Cibola, and those of us who are landed must be left in a safe place. Our work," he continued turning to Bob, "is in the Tunit Chas Mountains, thirty miles west of here. It seems as if you had to know it. We'll go there to-night and land, if we can, on some isolated and inaccessible plateau. We'll make that our new relief camp and you and Elmer must take charge of it. To-morrow Alan and I will return in the Cibola to our abandoned wagon, bury Buck and bring away such of our stores as may be left. It's going to be a great loss, for I suppose the Indians have stolen everything. If the gasoline is gone it will cut short our work in the mountains."

"I don't think it will be lost," said Elmer, quietly. "We tried to save it. We rolled it into the river."

"But it will float away," exclaimed Alan.

"Unless de tins caught on in de drift in de bend jes' below," answered Elmer. "I seen four ob de eight tins dar befo' dark."

"That's what I call genius," exclaimed Ned. "Elmer, you're a brick! And now our course is due east at half speed. By daybreak we'll be over the Tunit Chas. Until then, the rest of you turn in. I'll run the ship."

Fifteen minutes later, despite the nerve-racking experiences of the momentous day, Alan, Bob and Elmer were wrapped in their blankets and sound asleep on the bridge deck of the Cibola.

The night passed slowly, but Captain Ned stood the long trick at the wheel, happy and content. To feel the Cibola, the product of his youthful genius, at last moving forward in obedience to his slightest touch drove all thought of fatigue and sleep from him.

But, above all, the early light of the coming day was to reveal to him a sight of the land of his hopes. There, before him, were the Tunit Chas; peaks and chasms of unsolved mystery wherein the centuries had held close their secret. Many trials had blocked his way. Was he now about to reap the reward of his labors? Did the hidden city of Cibola lie somewhere below him? Or were the Palace of the Pueblos and the Turquoise Temple but empty myths?

The young aeronaut's present plans were simple enough. The Cibola had now been afloat twelve hours and nearly half her gasoline was exhausted. More than once in the night Ned had noticed that the balloon was settling lower and he had been forced to maintain his level by casting over ballast. It was apparent that they were already losing gas.

In boyish impulse and sympathy they had made Bob Russell, the young reporter, a third and unexpected passenger, and accident had forced them to add Elmer Grissom, their colored friend and servant. And these extra occupants of the car must be landed at the earliest opportunity.

This became imperative now because, the relief and supply station on the Chusco river having been destroyed, the Cibola must add enough ballast and gasoline to make its exploring tour in the mountains in one journey. The original plan had been to make quick dashes to the camp on the Chusco for gasoline and then return to the mountains. To provide for this new weight the two new passengers and a good portion of the air ship's stores must be landed. And the most feasible plan seemed to be to set up a new emergency camp in the heart of the mountains.

Many things might happen to the now perfectly working balloon. And, even if cast away in the mountains, it was no part of Ned and Alan's plan to cease searching for the temple of treasure until dire necessity drove them from it. In case wreck and privation came it would be comforting to know that somewhere in the same wilderness food and friends awaited them.

The first glow of the sun painted for the ever watchful pilot a picture beyond the possibilities of brush and canvas. Here and there out of the blackness below sprang rosy points, the sun-tinted peaks of the Tunit Chas. Down the mountain sides, like rivers of silver pink, fell the sun's light. Then the valleys began to open out of the chasm of night-dark canyons wrought in the wilderness of the mountain sides. Here and there, oases left by the devastating hand of time, rose high plateaus, tree-crowned and verdant. And then, higher up among the white peaks, sentinel-like, stood giant tables whose brown tops and precipitous sides told of inaccessible and arid wastes. "And somewhere," said Ned to himself, "in this Titanic chaos lies the object of our search."

Starting at half speed, Ned had soon reduced the engine to quarter speed. When he aroused his sleeping companions Wilson's peak, their chief landmark, was just in sight far behind. His calculations placed the present location of the Cibola thirty miles from the Chusco river and just over the eastern Tunit Chas Mountains.

"All hands turn to," shouted Ned cheerily, "and stand by to make a landing."

There was a scramble, a rubbing of yet sleepy eyes and then an outburst of admiring wonder. The Cibola had sailed over two broken ridges enclosing an irregular, broken valley and was now looking down on a shelf-like plateau abutting on the second ridge and west of it. On three sides the plateau dropped precipitately into a lower rock-strewn, valley. On its eastern side it joined the still higher ridge. A pine forest crowned the top of the shelf-like mountain side and then ran up to the higher slopes until the carpet of green faded into the brown wastes of the timber line. In the very center of the wilderness of trees glistened a little lake of mountain water. From it the silver thread of a rivulet wormed its way for a mile or more among the trees and then trickled over the side of the cliff in a vapory waterfall.

Ned had swung the Cibola into a wide curve and the balloon and car were soon directly over the mountain creek. He threw the aeroplane guides downward and the slowly moving car drifted lower until it was but four hundred feet above the water and the overhanging pines. Then, following the water course beneath, the air ship floated back into the woods and the little lake widened out beneath them. Two deer, at the water's edge, stood unalarmed. On the south of the lake a grassy opening indicated Ned's destination.

"Here," he explained, "we can make a safe landing. It is an ideal place for a camp, with plenty of firewood and water."

"And meat, too," interrupted Alan, pointing to the deer.

"Venison and bear meat too, no doubt," laughed Ned.

From the top of a dead pine tree an eagle rose and soared lazily away.

"It's like the camping out places you read about," exclaimed Bob. "That eagle nest completes the picture."

"It does," interrupted Ned, "and I hope you won't forget the picture. That high, barren tree is your landmark. Some day you may need it. Remember; from the valley below your camp can be found by locating the little waterfall on the cliff. From the timber line above you will know it when you see the eagle's nest. And now let go the anchor. We have no gas to spare, and can't afford to open the valve."

To make a landing in a balloon without throwing open a valve and wasting precious gas is almost impossible. The craft could only be kept near the ground by keeping it in motion or by causing the propeller fans to depress currents of air on the aeroplanes. Therefore, as soon as the engine stopped, the Cibola would mount higher. But resourceful Ned had long since thought out this problem.

The engine's speed was reduced and the anchor was quickly lowered until it caught hard and fast in a strong pine tree. The contact shook the fragile car and sent the bag bounding, but when it was seen that the iron had fixed itself firmly three of the boys, pulling on the anchor rope, gradually drew the great buoyant car down until it floated just above the tree top. To drag it lower was, impossible, for one sharp branch might injure the bag beyond repair.

When the ship was safely anchored just above the tree, the twenty-five foot landing ladder was lowered and Ned himself made his way down its fragile rungs into the tree. .

"Hold on tight," he continued, "I'm getting off."

As he did so and found footing in the tree branches the Cibola tugged to free itself, as if, overjoyed to be rid of Ned's one hundred and forty-five pounds of weight. As soon as the young commander was safely on the ground he ordered the other boys to pay out the anchor rope and again the Cibola rose in the air.

"Now," ordered Ned, "start your engine and head the car over the opening."

While Ned stood below directing, with hands to his mouth, trumpet-wise, the Cibola strained at her anchor rope and then, obeying her rudder, moved directly over the open space, her nose pointing skyward at an angle of forty-five degrees.

"Hold her," yelled Ned, "and haul back."

The boys again strained at the taut anchor rope until the car stood just clear of the trees and some two hundred feet in the air.

"Now lower your drag rope and an empty ballast bag," called Ned.

While this was being done the navigator of the Cibola was busy carrying chunks of broken rock from the margin of the little lake, and in a short time the boys above were hauling away on the rope and lifting aboard new ballast. With each bag of it the Cibola sank lower and lower, until finally, when it was almost balanced in the air, Ned easily drew the balloon to the ground.

But the landing was not yet finished. Not a passenger in the craft could step ashore until Ned had added more stone. But when enough of this had been lifted up to the hands above, and Elmer could alight, the two willing workers on the ground soon made it possible for the other boys to spring overboard. Then the four of them loaded enough more rock on the bridge to take the place of the stores to be landed.

There were not many things that could be left: water, and half the provisions and, preserved goods; a few cooking utensils; blankets, an extra compass, two revolvers, a hatchet and saw; a light silk tent; matches and candles, a medicine case, ammunition, and, to make way for the gasoline that it was hoped might be recovered, all the extra oil on board—for the reservoirs yet contained an ample supply to make the trip back to the scene of Elmer's attack.

At a safe distance from the balloon Elmer had returned to his favorite occupation. He got a fire going and while the other boys replaced the rocks on board with bags of sand from the margin of the lake the colored lad made hot coffee and broiled some bacon. It was a luxury after the cold, dry food of the long night.

"When you come back this evening," exclaimed Bob jovially, "I'll try to have a juicy venison steak."

"An' hot biscuits," chimed in Elmer.

"And a good bed of balsam boughs," added Bob, "and a fine camp fire, and we can sit wound it and talk it all over."

"And if we don't get back to-night you'd better have your camp fire anyway," said Ned,

"Ain't you goin' to git back to-night?" ruefully interrupted Elmer, as he poured the smoking coffee.

"You never know what you are going to do in a balloon," answered Ned. "If we can we will. If we can't we won't. If we are not back to-night we may not be here for several days. We've got work ahead now, and plenty of it."

"We'll be here when you come," replied Bob earnestly, with a smoking bit of bacon in his fingers, "whenever that is."

"No," replied Ned, "if we are not here in six days you must make your way out to civilization. You have food enough but you can't wait longer than that. As for directions, all I can say is that from this ridge back of us you can see across the half desert valley to the higher range of mountains. Should you cross the valley bearing almost due east and be able to get over or through that second ridge you will be able to see the top of Mount Wilson, thirty miles further east. From Mount Wilson it is fifteen miles southeast to the camp Elmer made. There you should pick up the trail of Buck's wagon back to the railroad eighty-five miles south."

Bob's eyes opened.

"Is it as bad as that?" he said half laughing. "We'll certainly have to get busy if the Cibola breaks down."

"Or," went on Ned, "any strewn in the valley below here flows finally into the San Juan River to the north. If you can make your way to this river and then succeed in following its banks eastward until you reach the plains, some time or other you'll find a frontier settlement."

"Or Utes," interrupted Alan.

"Gib me de mountain road," exclaimed Elmer quickly. "Nomo'Utesfo'me!"

"Yes," added Ned, "that's the trouble. The route to the San Juan is not only through a barren, broken mountain region, but it gets you finally right into the Southern Ute reservation. And, remember, too, that this is Navajo land. Your safety with them, should you be discovered, will be in diplomacy. And now good-bye—until we meet again."

"And if we don't," replied Bob, huskily, taking the hands of the two boys in turn, "I just want to say again that you boys have done for me what I can't forget and what I can't repay. I don't know why you are here, and I don't want to know. What I've seen will never be revealed, when I get back to Kansas City and the Comet, until you tell me I am free to tell it. And you'd know what that means to me if you knew what a cracking good yarn my experience has given me already. Good-bye and good luck!"

Ned and Alan clambered aboard; the rocks were cast overboard, and as the Cibola shot skyward the boys could hear Elmer calling:

"Member, boys—we all'll be at Camp Eagle an' supper will be awaitin'."



CHAPTER XXIV

A GRAVE IN THE DESERT

But Ned and Alan did not eat with their friends that night, nor for some days to come. And when they saw each other again one of Elmer's juicy venison steaks would have seemed to all of them the sweetest morsel ever eaten by man.

Ned only waited to help inflate the balloonet in the big balloon with the little hand blower for the Cibola showed quite perceptibly the loss of gas after her twenty hours of inflation. Then, the course having been laid, he left the wheel and engine to Alan's care and turned in for his long needed rest.

Alan had determined on a record flight. He allowed the Cibola to rise higher than it had yet flown, about 5,000 feet, and then setting the aeroplanes on a slight incline he headed the car on a down slant for Mount Wilson's just visible peak, thirty miles away.

There was no economy in half speed, for time and the utilization of their gas were more precious than gasoline. "We can always float without gasoline," the boys had said to themselves, "but we can't move without gas." Therefore the Cibola was soon at its maximum and the enthusiastic Alan knew that Ned would have a short sleep.

In an hour and twenty-one minutes the swift dirigible was abreast of the peak of Mount Wilson, and then, without slackening speed, Alan altered her course southeast toward the scene of the previous night's hair-raising experience. Long before he reached the place he was able to make the juncture of the two rivers his landmark, and the ship pointed her course as straight as a railroad train. After thirty minutes sailing from Mount Wilson, Buck's rendezvous could be made out, three miles beyond.

One glance told the whole sad story. Two dead horses alone marked the spot where their freight wagon had stood. Alan aroused Ned, and as the Cibola sailed low over the place the boys saw that the thieving Utes had gone—with the wagon, horses, freight and their dead companions.

Poor Buck's body was lying where the brave escort had fallen.

"We can't make two landings," suggested Ned. "We'll find the gasoline and then come back and bury our friend."

Disappointed, although they had really in their hearts expected nothing less, the young navigators turned the Cibola and sailed slowly down the river in the hope that the gasoline would be found where Elmer had described it as lying.

They were as richly rewarded here as they had been previously disappointed. The drift, a tangled jumble of small mountain wood, had caught and preserved seven of their eight tins of gasoline.

It was now noon, and broiling hot, but luncheon was not thought of and the difficult work of recovering the heavy packages was begun. This presented a new difficulty, for again the boys were determined not to lose any gas in making a landing.

The drift was too light to hold their anchor although two trials at this were made. Not a bush or tree was to be found nearby. In despair at last, Alan was about to suggest opening the valve—for it was imperative that they secure the gasoline—when Ned turned the bow of the craft down stream.

"Perhaps we can find anchorage further down," he explained.

"But if will be pretty hard work carrying these tins," Alan began.

"They floated where they are, didn't they?" smiled Ned. "What's the matter with letting them float a little further?"

His hope was realized. But the solution was fully a mile away. On a sandy bar, half buried in the sand, the stout end of a cottonwood trunk, the flotsam of some extraordinary freshet, had come into view. The experience of the morning was repeated, but on a smaller scale, for here were no dangerous tree limbs to threaten their delicate silken bag. After two trials and much pulling and hauling the car of the Cibola was tied fast to the snag, half over the shallow water and half over the sand.

Then, naked as when they were born, and suffering not a little from the pitiless sun, the boys started afresh. Alan made his way back up the river and began to prod out the stranded tin casks. All were soon bobbing along in the slow current, with Alan behind them like a lumber driver of the northwest dislodging logs left in the shallows. Ned below soon had all of them in shallow water.

By means of a coil of the drag rope, looped in turn about the tins of recovered fuel, Ned lifting below and Alan pulling above soon transferred the gasoline to the bobbing Cibola. As each cask ascended, a portion of the extra ballast was dumped overboard.

Then, dressing themselves and improvising what tools they could, the boys made their way sorrowfully to the scene of the previous night's tragedy. Buck's body was carefully removed and decently buried. A mound of boulders was made over the grave to designate the spot, and with the hope that some day they might return and suitably mark the desert tomb the boys took a mournful farewell.



CHAPTER XXV

BARTERING STORES A MILE IN THE AIR

"And now," said Alan, "it's ho, for Camp Eagle and our search at last."

"I don't know about all that sentiment," answered Ned, thoughtfully. "I've been—"

But he was interrupted. The boys, aboard the Cibola again, were just about to cast off when Alan cut short Ned's remark with an exclamation.

"Isn't that a balloon?" he exclaimed pointing to an orange-like object high in the heavens toward the west.

Ned caught up the binoculars and had a quick look at the rapidly moving ball which was rushing toward them from over the distant Tunit Chas Mountains.

"No question about it," answered Ned, handing Alan the glasses; "a balloon, and a big one."

"And out here, too!" commented Alan in surprise. "I guess the world is pretty small after all."

"Everything ready?" asked Ned eagerly. And then as the retaining rope was untied from the frame of the car and slipped down and out from under the cottonwood snag the Cibola shot upward.

"I have an idea," continued Ned, "and please don't object until you think it over. Let's make a little social call on the stranger!"

"A call!" exclaimed Alan, plainly showing his astonishment; "a call on a balloon five thousand feet in the air?"

"Certainly. We are going that high anyway. And we have the means of going where we like. If we go up until we strike the same, stratum of air the stranger is moving in we have our propeller and aeroplanes to check and guide ourselves. When it passes we can easily run alongside!"

"Well, if that isn't the limit!" laughed Alan. "And I suppose we'll exchange greetings and messages like ships long at sea."

"And," added Ned, "we can send some word to Major Honeywell. You can see our fast flying friend isn't going to stop around here."

The Cibola was rising fast and the two air craft were coming closer and closer. As the dirigible reached the altitude at which the free balloon was sailing Ned put the aeroplane in operation, stopped the ascent of the Cibola and then, sweeping his own car into the same direction with the other balloon he reversed the propeller and held his own craft against the breeze until the stranger swept by.

Then, throwing on the propeller again at full speed, Ned made the Cibola bound after the other craft, and in a few minutes, aided by the favoring wind, they were within hailing distance.

Ned was on the bridge, his face flushed with the novelty of the race. A mile above the earth, the two air ships came closer until, as if running on parallel tracks, they were nearly together and abreast.

"Balloon ahoy!" exclaimed Ned at last and in true maritime style.

"The Arrow of Los Angeles, bound across the continent," came the sharp answer.

"The Cibola from Clarkeville, New Mexico," called Ned in reply, "exploring. Please report us over Mount Wilson."

Then the two ships of the sky came closer. The boys could see that the Arrow was well equipped for its purpose. Two determined looking aeronauts were leaning from the heavily laden car.

"Need anything?" shouted the Arrow cordially.

"In good shape," answered Ned, "but a little short on provisions."

"Plenty here," came quickly from the Arrow, "glad to exchange fifty-pound emergency rations for ballast."

"All right," responded Ned, "stand by to make a line fast."

Alan, at the engine, brought the air ship up as skillfully as a pilot might a vessel, and as the two cars almost touched Ned passed the end of his drag rope, and the occupants of the Arrow with a quick turn made her basket fast to the bridge of the Cibola. There were handshakes, mutual congratulations and quick explanations. The Arrow, the property of a wealthy amateur balloonist, was attempting to sail, from the Pacific to the Atlantic and was, so far, beating the best calculation of her owner. In reaching the desired height that morning, however, much ballast had been used and the possibility of a renewed supply was jumped at.

"These extra provisions were packed with the idea of possibly using them as ballast and we don't really need them. And, so," they explained to the boys, "if you do you had better take them and give us sand."

The exchange was quickly made, and then, having stored their new food supply safely on the bridge, they said hasty farewells.

Ned had scribbled this note on a page from his note book: "Major Baldwin Honeywell, Annex, Chicago. By courtesy of Balloon Arrow. Bourke, escort, killed by Indians. Search begins at once. Camp established on plateau, second range Tunit Chas Mountains, thirty miles due east Wilson's Peak. Greetings. Written 5,600 feet above San Juan River, New Mexico. Ned Napier and Alan Hope."

The case of provisions weighed a trifle more than the ballast given in exchange, and as the line holding the two cars together was cast off the Cibola sank slowly below the level of the Arrow. Then, as the Cibola's engines began to push the car ahead in a wide turning circle, Ned called up to the disappearing Arrow:

"Great country, this New Mexico, where you can buy food with sand. Good-bye and success to you!"

The answer was lost in space as the ships parted.

"And now," said Ned, after lashing the now case of provisions to the bridge netting, "we've wasted some more precious time. Do you still think we had better lose a night at Camp Eagle? We have all the fuel we can carry."

Alan saw what was in the wind.

"We have extra provisions, water and gasoline. My own judgment is we had better make at once for our starting point."

"I guess you are right," answered Alan after long thought; "I don't know what is to be gained by the trouble of a landing at the camp by the lake."

"Nothing but that hot supper," smiled Ned, "and we'll have to put that off a few days, I think."

"All right," agreed Alan, "set your course and with luck we'll do a little treasure hunting before dark."

This being settled, the prow of the Cibola was pointed a little west of northwest, and, dropping to a lower stratum to escape the lively eastern breeze at the higher altitude, the boys started at last directly for the and arid broken mountains of Northwestern Arizona.

This region, bordering on the great sand dunes lying beyond the Chelly River, was to be the beginning point of their arduous and momentous search. From that place to a point nearly one hundred miles to the southeast lay the secret fastnesses of mountain, canyon and mesa wherein, somewhere, according to the Spanish soldier's record, was the secret city of a dead race and the treasure that had brought Ned and Alan half way across a continent.

What such a search meant one glance at the monotonous and unending rock easily told. On foot, only the compass could lead a man forward in such wilderness of abrupt heights and winding chasms. As the boys meant to manage it, the attempt had possibilities, but it might mean days of drifting, of watching, of doubling back and forth over every possible site. And that was now their task.

So far as they could, Ned and Alan meant to begin at the extreme northern end of this unknown land and, sailing back and forth from east to west, cover every foot of exposed ground with their powerful glasses.

Both boys had long since agreed in this conclusion: the "city" meant no more than one large structure similar to but on a larger scale than those found in the Chaco Canyon at the extreme southern end of the Tunit Chas Mountains. This would be indicated now by nothing more than rectangular lines of wall stones, probably in piles, outlining the shape of the "city" or palace. Prominent among these ruins should be the more elevated temple, the object of their search. And beneath this should be found the underground "khivas" or religious chambers.

That this "city" was secret or hidden was proof to Ned and Alan and Major Honeywell that it would not occupy a prominent place such as an exposed plateau or a high level mesa. Only one other location was left, the abutting shelf of some canyon. And the young navigators had pictured to themselves that, if this should prove to be the location, the shelf would be so elevated as not to be visible from the front or below and that it would be concealed from above by an extended and overhanging cliff.

"Look for it as you would look for a bird's nest in the cliff," suggested Ned. And that was the plan of search.

It was nearly three o'clock when the boys had bade farewell to the Arrow and about half past five when the Cibola sailed over the second ridge of the Tunit Chas. But the course was far to the north and there was naturally no sign of the waterfall plateau or Camp Eagle. For a time they thought of passing over the camp and dropping a message, but this pleasant idea was given up.

"Although," as Alan expressed it, "one of Elmer's hot suppers and a soft bed of balsam boughs to-night wouldn't be bad."

Ned thought of the four nights of hard floor and agreed, but he said:

"You'll have to forget soft beds if we're ever going to find Cibola. We'll come down to-night, though, and make a camp of our own with a fire and a pot of coffee, and at daybreak we'll be off."

The boys had taken a light luncheon just after starting on the return trip, and now, soaring over the Tunit Chas again, they began to be anxious for night and supper.

At seven o'clock the peaks and ridges below them had begun to drop into foothills and as the great sandy deserts of distant Utah and nearer by Arizona came before their eyes the boys decided that it was time to anchor for the night. They were sailing over the eastern slope of the last low ranges of hills, barren of trees or vegetation. The aeroplanes being given the proper depression, the Cibola shot earthward and then, the propeller coming to a pause, floated gently along above the jumble of rocks. Making fast the anchor in a ragged pile of these the boys soon drew the Cibola to the ground and lashed her fore and aft to heavy boulders.

The firm ground felt delicious to the tired boys and they refreshed themselves with a brisk race over the open space between the rock piles. Then came Alan's camp fire, a hot supper and preparations for a good night's rest. There were no pine needles of balsam boughs, but fatigue made a fine mattress, and it was not long before the tired boys, rolled up in their blankets, were fast asleep on the soft sand.

"I hope," said Ned drowsily as they were dropping off to sleep, "that we won't have any Jack Jellups or thieving Utes to-night. My nerves need rest."

Then the boys got eight good hours of health and strength giving sleep in the tonic air of the Arizona Mountains.



CHAPTER XXVI

THE SECRET TUNNEL IN THE MESA

At five o'clock Ned and Alan were astir. With regrets that they were not at Camp Eagle for a plunge in the cool mountain lake, they prepared another hot meal, ate it, and boarded the Cibola.

The balloon had now been inflated thirty-eight hours and was noticeably showing the loss of its gas. While the top of the bag was yet round and firm in the heat of the sun the lower sides had become a trifle flabby as the cool evening had come on. Up to this time all records for balloon flight had been broken a fact due to the renewed buoyancy caused each day by the hot, Southwestern Sun. And, exploration in and quick ascent from the canyons before them would before long call for the use of ballast. The boys agreed that the time had arrived to utilize their liquid hydrogen. The shrinkage that night had been quite perceptible.

They regretted that but two-thirds of this remained—about eleven cubic feet. This when reconverted meant nearly twelve thousand cubic feet of new gas at their present altitude. As the work of converting the gas involved care, preparation for it was made before the Cibola was cut loose.

The reconverter, a reduced inversion of the apparatus used in making liquid air, was made ready. When the muffled explosions and the heat of the tubes told the boys that the reconverter was working perfectly and pumping new and needed gas into the shrunken Cibola's long bag, the lashings were loosed and once more the faithful dirigible mounted skyward.

With Major Honeywell's map of the region spread out on the deck of the bridge and the binoculars in hand Ned began the long anticipated search for the lost city.

All day the process of turning the liquid hydrogen back into buoyant gas went on. And all day the Cibola wound her devious course over the peaks and chasms beneath. By night half the hydrogen jars were empty and Ned and Alan saw the evening close in on them without a sign of the object of their search. When darkness stopped further work the balloon was brought to earth and camp made again.

The following day, as uneventful as the first, gave no indication of the secret city. The rest of the liquid hydrogen was transformed into gas. The sun seemed to enfold the craft in a fiery embrace. When camp was made again that night the Cibola had been afloat eighty hours.

"I think she is good for another forty-eight hours," said Ned that night. "If we find nothing in two more days we'll have our choice of going out on foot or of quitting in time to pick up Elmer and Bob and make a dash to civilization. What do you say?"

"I don't know," replied Alan, "I'd hate to give up as long as we can fly. I think the boys can care for themselves. Let's stick to it. We have provisions and there is water in some places."

"Well," answered Ned, "we'll have two more days time in which to decide."

The next morning the Cibola showed plainly that her gas was rapidly escaping. New life was given to the balloon by casting overboard some empty hydrogen casks. The fourth day broke hotter than ever. In all the wilderness examined by the tired and strained eyes of the searchers, not a human being had been seen—not even a wandering Navajo. This day they began the search with renewed vigor, but with the same monotonous result—miles of hopelessly desert rock and sand beneath them, with a little vegetation now and then, but so sign of Indian remains.

At noon Ned said:

"If we were not in a balloon with a compass and sextant I should say we were lost. And if Indians ever lived and died hereabouts they certainly left so signs of their bones."

By six O'clock, with the sun gratefully low, Alan expressed discouragement.

"To-morrow at this time," he said, "if we see no indication of the old palace or city or whatever it was—if it ever was—I think I'll vote to try to find Camp Eagle and get out."

"We'll see to-morrow," answered Ned stoutly.

That night at dark, a landing was made on the ledge of a point of land ending in a rounded cliff pointing south, selected because the place was open to the breeze and cool. The Cibola had approached the height from the west, and the boys believed that the promontory projected from yet higher ground beyond. On those portions of the cliff that they could see there was neither shelf nor projection of any kind. The walls rose almost like cut stone and were apparently about three hundred feet high. As the Cibola was about to descend, Alan, who was taking a last survey from the bridge, called Ned's attention to the fact that even the far side of the supposed promontory was separated from the mountains beyond, and that a chasm at least a half mile wide separated the two heights.

"It's a mesa," replied Ned with renewed enthusiasm, "and it will be a good thing to look over it to-morrow. These high and almost unapproachable islands of rock were favorite dwelling places for the Indians."

"But a temple up here wouldn't be a secret very long," replied Alan. "We've seen this point all afternoon. It's prominent enough."

"That's so," answered Ned, "but we are here, so let's make a landing and eat, and dream over it."

The balloon had now lost so much gas that a landing was easy, and, tired with four days' profitless search and its strain, the young aeronauts were soon beyond even dreams.

It was with no small alarm that the boys saw, when they awoke with the first rays of the sun, that the car of the Cibola, which had been anchored fore and aft to heaped up rocks during the night, was now resting on the ground. Gas, was rapidly escaping. But fortunately the aeroplanes and propeller had been left properly in a horizontal position and no damage had been done.

The boys knew that by throwing over enough ballast and stores the Cibola could be made good for one more flight, but that probably it would be the last. Therefore, the inevitable seemed forced upon them. They would fortify themselves with a good breakfast, look over the mesa, make one more circling flight and then attempt to find Camp Eagle. While Alan made haste to prepare breakfast, Ned determined first on an examination of the mesa point by daylight.

The rock had a top area of perhaps forty or fifty acres. It had a rolling surface and was coated with a carpet of dusty sand, except in the northwest corner. The northern end of the mesa, Ned could see, widened and ended in a sharp rise almost wall-like in form. At the western end this wall-like elevation turned the corner and extended south a short distance, finally dropping down to the general level of the mesa. In this protected comer grew a strange grove of gnarled and twisted pines, ill nourished and apparently very old. Between this comer of the mesa and the sharper promontory whereon the Cibola had come to anchor, was a wide, sandy, barren depression.

The narrow portion of the rocky island where the boys had made camp drew in abruptly to make the point that marked the southern end of the mesa. Ned turned first toward the point.

When he had advanced, making his way slightly upward all the time, to where the narrow mesa was not over four hundred feet wide, the lad was astounded to suddenly discover a deep and narrow fissure or chasm. It was dark, with sides as abrupt as the cliffs of the mesa, and too wide to jump across. A cold air was already rising from the opening into the warmer atmosphere above.

In his astonishment Ned called to his chum.

"What surprises me," exclaimed Ned, "is the character of the opening. If it extended from cliff to cliff I should say that the same freak of nature that made this solitary island of rock also split off this end at some time. But it is closed at each end."

Alan hastened to the end of the fissure, near the side of the mesa.

"It looks to me," he said, "as if it had extended entirely across at some time and the ends walled up later."

The boys made a closer examination.

"You're right," said Ned when he discovered that each end of the rift had been filled with closely fitted rock, "and human hands did it."

Alan sprang up in excitement.

"That's the first sign we've had," he exclaimed. "Do you suppose it means anything?"

The edge of the cliff was so abrupt that the boys had to lie down to look over in safety.

"It does," Ned answered. "The reason you can't see that chasm from below or from in front is because the face of it is walled up. And it is walled so skillfully that you can't detect it from even a short distance."

"That's to hide something," quickly replied Alan, "but I don't see— "

Ned was standing on top of the short filled-in portion of the chasm.

"Look!" he exclaimed, suddenly interrupting his friend. "These stones are steps, and, they are worn!"



CHAPTER XXVII

THE TURQUOISE TEMPLE DISCOVERED

In another moment he had sprung forward and was quickly descending into the narrow, dark pit, with Alan close behind. A cave-like smell and a rapidly, cooling air greeted them. They were soon in almost complete darkness. When the walls had narrowed to but a few feet, a thin ribbon of blue sky was all that could be seen above.

The steps had come to an end. An ascending elevation began just in front of them. This they made out by the light of a match, which flickered uncertainly in the bad air. Bats dashed against the walls and every movement was followed by a cloud of dust.

"Do you feel anything?" suddenly exclaimed Alan. "Seems to me like a current of air on my feet."

Ned lit another match.

Before them they again made out an ascending slant such as they had come down. But the base of it was hollowed out in the form of a small cave. As the light went out both boys stooped to look further into this opening.

"Light!" they exclaimed almost together.

They were looking through a tunnel made, as they afterward found, in the base of the filled-in portion of the chasm. Reptiles, bats and dust were forgotten now. Plunging forward on their hands and knees, the two boys advanced without difficulty to the distant mouth of the tunnel.

It ended abruptly in the face of the mesa cliff, one hundred feet above the valley below. There was not the slightest ledge below it and the side of the mesa dropped so precipitately that access to the tunnel mouth from without seemed impossible. The possibility of a climb to that entrance to reach the mesa above was out of the question.

The boys, panting for breath, lay on the floor of the tunnel with their heads just out of the opening.

"Some one has used this place, but how did they ever get up here?" asked Alan.

"I don't know and I don't care," said Ned with excitement. "But I do know that this entrance is concealed. Why, you couldn't even see it from below—it's so small. And it was made that way for a purpose. That must mean Cibola. Let's get busy."

There were one hundred and thirty-five steps to mount, and each was about a foot and a half high. When Ned and Alan were on top of the mesa again they were out of breath and their clothes were white with dust. They were also choked, thirsty and hungry.

"Eat heartily," laughed Ned, when they began breakfast over again; "we are going to have a busy day, I hope."

"What is your theory?"

"That our treasure is right here if it is anywhere," exclaimed Ned.

Alan laughed. "The place is barren as a barn floor," he said; "I don't see any very large palace or temple hereabouts."

"I don't either. That's why I'm going to look for it—and look hard."

"And our gas slipping away at a lively rate!" interrupted Alan again.

"Let it all go," said Ned. "We know how we can get down within a hundred feet of the ground, anyway. That's some consolation."'

"First we will make a circuit of the north end," continued Ned, after breakfast, "and if nothing comes of that—no unseen hollows or new crevices—we'll try this sandy hollow, even if it is smooth as a plain."

The circuit of a fifty-acre area requires time and it was an hour before the boys had traversed the edge of the precipitous cliff. At every few yards they examined the face of the mesa for gaps or shelves, but there seemed hardly a resting place for a bird.

Tired and hot, the sun being now high above them, the young aeronauts finally reached the north-eastern corner of the mesa without finding a sign or suggestion of Indians, or even of animal remains.

Alan had thrown himself on the ground at this point for a rest, when with an exclamation Ned darted from his side. As Alan's eyes followed him he saw the cause of the exclamation. From where they stood—directly east from the ancient grove—they could see for the first time that the trees stood in a wide double semi-circle, and, directly in the center, perhaps fifteen feet in height, arose a column of masonry. It was snow white in color and glistened like glass.

There was no question about it.

The fabled Temple of Turquoise, its deep blue glaze lost in the whitening sun of three centuries, stood before them. Almost overcome with the emotion of success the two boys stood as if transfixed. Then cautiously, as if afraid the wonderful pile might dissolve itself into a dream, they moved forward.

In this protected corner of the mesa where the winds of ages had gradually deposited a thin sandy soil, the hand of man had planted two almost complete circles of trees. Therein, and generally agreeing with the record of the long dead Vasquez, were the plain outlines of a stone structure. At places, where the walls crossed, and at some of the corners, the masonry yet rose to the height of a man. And again, it fell into long irregular piles of jumbled blocks. Sifted sand filled each corner and crevice.

In the center of the ruins rose the turquoise column. From this, and in a line with the true east to where the boys stood, extended an open approach. Almost reverently Ned and Alan advanced up this walk.

It was easily seen that the structure had contained a maze of rooms—over three hundred, they afterwards discovered—and that the white column stood in a hollow square.

"It's white," almost whispered Alan.

"Yes," answered Ned; "it ought to be blue."

They were now at the foot of the column. Directly in front stood an opening or door. Bordering this was a framework of brick-like squares or tiles, black, and ornamented with white figures.

"Just like pottery," said Alan, noticing the true geometrical design and the still cruder outlines of animals.

"Look," exclaimed Ned, pointing to the top of the door.

Here, the small tiles were replaced with a large square of black tile, in the center of which shone a dull yellow radiating design.

"A symbol of the sun," explained Alan, "and of gold!" he added excitedly.

"Then it certainly is our secret city," said Ned.

As he said this he was busy with his knife, digging at the glistening white bits with which the column was coated. Finally one came off. It fell into his hand and the back of it came into view.

The two boys broke out in an exclamation of delight. The protected portion of the piece was a deep sky blue.

"The Turquoise Temple!" they both cried together. "Hurrah!"

When night came again Ned and Alan were almost too excited for rest or sleep. Nor did they taste food again until the dust of the ruins warned them temporarily to abandon their search. To walk into a treasure house that the daring adventurers of two races had overlooked for three hundred years was enough to turn the heads of any two boys.

The "Doorway of the Sun" as Alan called it, led into a chamber about fifteen feet square. The walls of this were lined with smooth clay squares of black tile, undecorated. Eight feet above the floor, which was also of clay tile and half buried under sand, rose a ceiling of arched stones. There was no opening in this, but steps on the outside of the temple and in the rear led to a chamber above, in the front of which, and also facing the sun, was another opening about two feet from the floor. In front of this window was a stone bench or altar. The meaning of it the boys did not know. This room was barren of either decoration or utensil and it was half full of the debris of what had apparently been another arched stone roof. Only the front or eastern side of the structure was coated with the precious turquoise; the other sides of the column were of plain, fairly well fitted, mortarless stone blocks.



CHAPTER XXVIII

THE COLLAPSE OF THE CIBOLA

An opening in the paved court in the rear of the Temple, half filled with drifted sand, led into a "khiva" or secret religious council chamber beneath. Herein the young adventurers discovered their wonderland and the reward for all their labors.

Hastily returning to the balloon, they procured candles and improvised scoops out of the sides of the tin emergency ration case obtained from the Arrow. Major Honeywell had warned the boys that the floors of all closed chambers of this sort were covered with the accumulated dust of ages.

The first examination of the "khiva" resulted in disappointment. The immediate impression that the boys received was one of cave-like barrenness. In the half-light only a gray monotony met the eye. Yet under this ghostlike pall, forms soon began to appear. In the center of the chamber stood what was apparently an altar. In spite of its burden of dust an elevation could be seen about eight inches high and seven feet in diameter, on which was a boxlike structure about three feet square and four feet high. On top of this was a dust-covered figure. Beyond, in the deepest gloom, the mouths of four radiating tunnels leading still further into the ground could be seen. The roof was supported by irregular round columns, apparently of wood, arranged in two circles.

Before beginning an exploration of the chamber the boys decided to ascertain the depth of the dust covering the floor, into which they had already sunk over their shoe tops. This was stifling work, for the soft powder ran back as fast as it was dug away. A half hour at least was consumed in reaching the bard surface beneath. The coating of dust was nearly three feet deep.

As Ned climbed out of the little excavation Alan held the candle down. To the astonishment of the boys a beautiful blue sheen met their gaze.

"Turquoise flooring!" shouted Ned.

It was true. The entire "khiva," so far as the boys subsequently uncovered its floor, was a crude mosaic of the most perfect turquoise, the pieces, varying in size, being laid in a lime-like cement.

A general survey of the room and its connecting tunnels showed that each radiating arm led, with about twenty feet of passageway, into a smaller room. In each of these rooms were nine column placed in a rectangle. The main chamber was circular in form, forty-eight feet in diameter, and the smaller apartments were twenty-four feet square.

Ned while at work examining the floor, suddenly ceased and rushed to one of the columns.

"You remember," he exclaimed, "the Spaniard said these columns were of gold and silver."

But in this the ancient record was wrong. The inner six supports were painted a faded yellow and the second row, twelve in number, was colored red, as the boys discovered later when they brushed and cleaned some of them. Around each of the inner columns, however, there were two metal bands about two inches wide and thirty inches apart. The lower ones were six feet from the floor. They were of heavy gold with loops or hooks extending from each side, as if festoons or connecting bands had once extended from pillar to pillar.

"Not a bad substitute!" exclaimed Ned.

The second line of twelve columns had similar rings of silver, as the boys discovered in good time. The movable contents of the room were not easily examined, as each object on the floor was buried under a mound of heavy, suffocating dust. Bats had made the place an undisturbed refuge, and the repulsive flutter of these creatures was disconcerting.

A preliminary examination of the four lateral passages and the rooms at their far end showed that these were probably store rooms, excepting the one on the east side. Here, on shelves, fixed on columns or posts similar to the colored supports in the principal chamber, were eight oblong forms. Even the dust and refuse could not disguise the nature of these—they were unmistakably mummies, the embalmed bodies of either chiefs or priests. At the head and foot of each were various dust covered receptacles and utensils.

The afternoon was too short for the boys to accomplish the removal of anything.

"I feel like a grave robber," panted Alan, soberly, as the two boys clambered out into the fresh air, finding, to their surprise, that it was already night.

"Well, I don't," said Ned. "These things are so old that they seem to belong to Time itself. I feel more like a gold miner who has at last struck a rich vein—and it's our vein."

But, as so often happens, ill luck came close on good fortune. The first glance of the young aeronauts at the camp and the Cibola was enough to chill their new happiness. The big gas bag had settled so low that it half concealed the car, which was resting flat on the ground. The buoyancy of the air ship was gone. Without more gas the Cibola could not make another flight. It was a severe blow to Ned and Alan; but they met the issue squarely.

"There is no use in worrying," said Ned, finally, when they realized the exact situation, "and we've got to make the best of it. Besides," he said, laughing, "we are not ready to go."

"That's right," replied Alan, thinking of the yet unexamined contents of the Treasure Temple, "and when we are ready I guess we'll be no worse off than Bob and Elmer. I suppose we can manage the one hundred foot descent some way."

Ned pointed to the hundreds of yards of net cordage.

"Right," exclaimed Alan, "that'll be easy—a rope ladder."

It was almost dark and the boys were covered with the penetrating grime of the long undisturbed "khiva." A meager wash up and supper and rest were in order. But Ned said:

"By morning the Cibola will be in collapse. It is a valuable machine, and it ought not be left out here on this point unprotected from the seasons. We shall probably never see it again, but while we can move it let's tow it over in front of the temple and put the bag and engine and instruments in the protected room."

It was not a difficult task. With no great effort the car was half carried and half dragged down the slope and then to the clearing in the pine grove where the boys soon made a new camp. To complete their work the big bag of the balloon was untied from the car and drawn, half inflated, into the pathway leading to the temple door. Then, with no small regret, the boys opened the escape valve, and in a few minutes the collapsed Cibola was stretched like the cast off skin of a snake along the sandy pathway, ready to be rolled up and compactly stored away.



CHAPTER XXIX

THE GOLDEN EAGLE OF THE AZTECS

In the morning the boys went at their task with renewed vigor. Inventory was first taken of the stores and provisions. There was enough food for about six days, if used with care. Of water there was a supply apparently for a little longer period. But the choking dust of the "khiva" made bathing almost a necessity, and, used in this way, even sparingly, the supply would not last over two days.

"No more baths until we go down into the valley," ordered Ned. "Cleanliness would be a comfort, but we'll have to be uncomfortable."

Permanent camp was made in the cabin of the dirigible. In arranging this all the machinery, the engine, the blower, the dynamo, the reconverter and the aeroplanes, the rudder and the propeller were unmounted, and the smaller articles made ready for storing in the temple entrance. There were four casks of gasoline left unused. As these were being carried to the temple Ned suddenly exclaimed:

"Why not rig up the engine and dynamo and use an electric light down in our cave of Mystery."

"Good," answered Alan, "and while we are at it, why not hook up the balloonet blower with the engine and get fresh air?"

The stowing away of the machinery, the packing of the gas bag and the setting up of the engine and dynamo and blower afforded plenty of work until noon; and then, while the trusty little engine was pumping volumes of good sweet air into the hot, almost suffocating chamber below ground, the boys had luncheon.

Then began the real exhumation of the long buried articles in the secret religious chamber of the almost forgotten race. As revelation succeeded revelation in the next two days the paralyzing wonder that first came to Ned and Alan was succeeded by the dullness of fatigue. At intervals of not more than an hour they came above ground for fresh air. The absence of water soon converted them into bronze-like human statues. They could feel that their lungs were becoming clogged with the almost impalpable dust. But they persevered. The prize was too rich to be abandoned because of mere physical discomfort.

By means of the wired drag rope the powerful incandescent light was carried to all the chambers. And one after another, as the blower gave the boys air and helped sweep away the clouds of dust, the remains which had lain buried for over three centuries were uncovered and brought above ground.

Of the pottery itself, vases, jars, and religious ceremonial utensils, perfect in shape and displaying ornamentation that would have delighted Major Honeywell, the excavators could take little note. After removing the twelve gold hoops or bands from the supporting columns and twenty similar silver rings from the second row of pillars, the boys penetrated the elevation in the center of the "khiva."

As the end of the blower pipe was directed against this square column, the sediment of centuries disappeared. Then the brilliantly penetrating glare of the reflected electric light fell on the elevation and both boys burst out in an exclamation of amazement.

On what had been a ceremonial dais stood the treasure of the secret city of Cibola—an image of the sacred Golden Eagle of the Aztecs. The revered bird of the Aztecs stood upright, its extended head peering east. The body of this aboriginal work of art, crude in form, was of massive silver. And to it were attached overlapping plates of gold in the similitude of feathers. The unfolded wings were also of gold. The head, beak and talons were of gold, and the eyes were two polished bits of quartz. The idol, for such no doubt it was, stood forty inches in height and weighed about three hundred pounds.

The base on which the precious eagle stood was completely covered with the deepest blue turquoise. At its foot and covering the dais were the crumbled traces of many articles of cloth, feathers, bits of wood and pottery, and the like, all, no doubt, fragments of priestly utensils of worship. The most ornate and best preserved of these was a large flat bowl covered on the inside with skillfully cut mother-of-pearl. This was still iridescently beautiful, and the more striking because its milk white exterior was unmarked by decoration.

Each mummy, when hauled into the open air and examined, gave more positive proof of the riches that had been collected in this sacred retreat. The funeral bowls placed at the feet of the bodies varied in form and material. Some of these were of plain black and white pottery, others were coated with gold, silver, or mother-of-pearl. The bowls apparently had once contained food. In all there were two golden bowls, four of silver, one of pearl and one of pottery.

Each mummy was wound with as much care as was ever bestowed on the Egyptian royal dead. The woven wrappings were coated with pitch and beneath them were colored cotton cloths, affording proof of a high civilization. The richest treasures of the dead were the breastplates and necklaces found on each. These astounded the young investigators.

These plates and beads had been strung on deer sinews, which, not having been protected by pitch, were now only lines of dust. But, lying on the breast of each there was invariably a "body scraper," (as Major Honeywell afterwards termed them) of gold, silver or mother-of-pearl. Mother-of-pearl discs were the commonest neck decoration. Of these the boys discovered four.

On three of the bodies were pierced pearl bead necklaces. On the most elaborately wrapped figure, that of a head priest or high chief, came the crowning discovery. This was a necklace of pierced amethysts. And on the breast of this figure was a flat plate of gold with sixteen radiating points, each of these terminating in a large luminous unpierced and polished amethyst.

About the waist of this shriveled figure were the remains of a jeweled belt. The foundation or back of this had dissolved into dust, but careful unwrapping of the cerements revealed the priceless ornamentation. This decoration was of alternating squares of mother-of-pearl, in each of which glistened a perfect amethyst, and of matchless turquoise squares set with great pearls.



CHAPTER XXX

A QUARTER OF A TON OF TREASURE

It was impossible for the boys even to venture an estimate on the value of the immense mine of turquoise, although they realized that the increasing scarcity of the jewel made the beautiful and unique specimens everywhere about them worth a great deal of money. Nor had they any idea of the value of the mother-of-pearl bowls, nor of the hundreds of beautiful and unique ceremonial and funeral urns and vases. Least of all, could they put even an approximate price on the amethyst and pearl necklaces. Even their most sanguine hopes of discovering the hidden city of Cibola had not led the adventurers to investigate the current prices of precious stones.

Knowing, however, what the prices of gold and silver were, they could form some estimate of the worth of this part of the treasure.

By comparison with the known weights of certain articles in the car the two boys made the following list of metal pieces discovered:

GOLD POUNDS

Twelve bands. Weight each 2 lbs. I oz. 26 Two bowls. Weight each 6 lbs 12 Two "body-scrapers." Weight each 9 oz 1 1/2 Wings, head and talons of Sacred Eagle 82 Breastplate 3 Radiating sun over entrance 12

Total, 136 1/2, or 1,638 ounces.

SILVER POUNDS

Twenty-four bands. Weight each I lb. 8 oz 40 Four bowls. Weight each 5 lbs 20 Four "body-scrapers." Weight 10 oz.. 3 1/3 Body of Sacred Eagle. Weight 218 Ninety-six miscellaneous rings, bands, anklets and wristlets, many set with mother-of-pearl and turquoise 16 1/3

Total, 297 2/3, or 3,580 ounces.

The market value of these precious metals was easily computed. The silver at sixty cents an ounce was worth $2,148. The more valuable gold, at twenty dollars an ounce, was worth $32,760. Together, the 484 pounds were worth $34,908.

"And one-third of that," said Ned with a smile—almost discernible beneath his dust—begrimed face, "is nearly $12,000. And that is $6,000 for each of us."

"But how about the amethysts and pearls?" said Alan.

"I suppose," answered Ned, "that they are worth a great deal more, but I don't know. I should think that those that have no holes in them would be very valuable."

All this figuring was intensely interesting, but the boys, as the revelation progressed, knew that they were now facing a new problem. They could not possibly carry that gold and silver, to say nothing of even a portion of the exquisite mother-of-pearl bowls or the finest samples of the turquoise. When, in the end, nearly a quarter of a ton of the metal treasure alone lay in a heap in the corner of the temple vestibule they could come to but one conclusion.

This portion of the treasure would have to be removed at another time.

"It has lain here undisturbed for over three hundred years," said Ned hopefully, though sadly, "and we'll have to take a chance that it can be left a while longer."

Sorrowfully enough Alan agreed. It was to be no easy work getting out of the wilderness, and food must be carried. That might be more precious to them than gold before they saw a railroad again. The boys agreed to take at noon the next day the exact latitude and longitude of the mesa. The latitude, on one slip of paper, was to be carried by one boy and the longitude, on another piece, was to be in the possession of the other. This was a precaution against accidental revelation of the treasure mesa.

The set jewels were removed. There were two hundred and ninety-four pierced pearls and ninety-eight pierced amethysts. Among the whole gems, eighteen magnificent pearls were extracted from the jeweled belt. Eighteen unpierced amethysts were also taken from the alternating turquoise squares of the belt and sixteen magnificent amethysts from the gold breastplate.

It was then that the sewing kit supplied by Alan's sister Mary came into service. A small piece of aluminum waterproof silk cabin covering was converted into two flat bags and in these the stones, equally divided, were enclosed and concealed under the clothing and beneath the right arm of each lad. In addition, each boy took half of the mother-of-pearl and turquoise belt plates as the finest specimens of each material.

"And to show that there is gold too," suggested Alan, "we might as well take along, these gold 'scrapers,' which won't bother us much," So these two pieces were strung on cords and suspended about the necks of the young treasure seekers.

"And to-morrow," exclaimed Ned joyfully when all this was done, "we'll get down from here and get a bath."

"Amen," added Alan earnestly.

Until it was twelve o'clock, the time to take their observation, the boys spent the next morning in last preparations and making everything shipshape. The framework of the car was left intact, but weighted by stones to prevent injury by the wind. Everything movable was stored in the entrance room of the temple, including three and one-half cans of gasoline. The engine was oiled and covered with blankets. Underneath the smoothly folded balloon, in the folds of which dry sand had been liberally sprinkled to prevent possible adhesions of the varnish, lay nearly thirty-five thousand dollars' worth of curiously wrought gold and silver. This was first completely covered with sand.

The two provision packs for the retreat to civilization had been carefully arranged. How long the journey might take the, could not estimate. They had decided to their way east, in hope of falling in with Elmer and Bob, and this meant the crossing of at least two mountain ranges and thirty miles of barren foothills to Mount Wilson. Then, if they turned south, they would traverse eighty-five miles of sandy plain in which water was infrequent.

Their own provisions were exhausted. What they now depended on was the emergency case secured from the Arrow. This supply was intended to be enough for two men for two weeks.

"It certainly ought not take us that long,"' complained Alan. "Why not leave half the supply and take a little gold?"

But Ned was obdurate. He explained that they might fall in with the other boys, and that if they did Elmer and Bob might be wholly out of supplies.

"We can come back if we get out in good shape," explained Ned, "and if we don't get out what'll be the use of a back load of gold?"

That settled it. The food packs were made up of the following supplies: Flour, 12 lbs; corn meal, 5 lbs; beans, 5 lbs; bacon, 7 1/2 lbs; rice, 5 lbs; oatmeal, 2 lbs; baking powder, 1/2 lb; coffee, I lb; tea, 1/2 lb; sugar, 5 lbs; lard, 2 1/2 lbs; salt, 1/2 lb; pepper, 1/8 lb. Each provision pack weighed twenty-one pounds. In addition there was an aluminum frying pan, a coffee pot and two aluminum plates. A water canteen, a blanket, a revolver and belt of ammunition and a knife apiece completed the equipment. Alan carried in addition the "snake bite" case, the compass and small hatchet, and Ned the money belt containing over five hundred dollars in gold.

The sealed glass tubes of matches were divided between the two boys and then, as it was noon, the sextant that Ned had been so careful to bring with them was used for the first and last time. The observation made and noted, and the record of it divided as planned, Ned and Alan were ready to begin their attempt to make their way out of the rock-bound wilderness. With provisions, water, blanket and arms each lad was carrying about thirty-five pounds.

"Would you still like a few pounds of Aztec treasure?" laughed Ned as they stood with packs adjusted.

"I should say not," retorted Alan; "I'm satisfied."

The method of lowering themselves from the hole in the face of the cliff to the ground, one hundred feet beneath, had been worked out in detail and the apparatus made in the evenings by the light of their camp fire. And early that morning Alan had carried the long rope ladder down the chasm and to the mouth of the tunnel. Now, in addition to their packs, the two boys carried between them a section of one of the pine trees, about six feet long.

As they stood, ready to leave, Ned raised his cap.

"Good bye, old Cibola," he said with moisture in his eyes, "until we meet again, if ever."

"If ever?" added Alan quickly with as much gaiety as he could summon. "You don't think we'll ever let anyone else lift that little pile?" and he pointed to the well filled entrance room of the temple.

"No," answered Ned, soberly, "if we have as good luck on the land as we had in the air."

Ned and Alan meant to reach the earth by means of a rope ladder. This they had constructed from the stout Italian hemp suspension cords of the Cibola. These ropes, each thirty feet in length, were knotted and then doubled to insure strength. For the last twenty-five feet at the bottom the landing ladder of the balloon was used. The rungs, two feet apart, were of pine from a felled tree, and were thirty-eight in number.

For anchorage, the six-foot length of tree was dragged to the mouth of the tunnel and, five feet from the opening, wedged between the floor and roof of the tunnel, slightly inclined forward. The strain on the bottom would thus only fix the supporting section more firmly in place. From the bottom of the pine shaft a loop of four of the suspension cords reached just out of the tunnel opening. To this loop the top rang of the ladder was tied, with a separate hundred-foot length of cord. After the ladder had been made firm with a running slip knot the hundred-foot length of cord was dropped to the ground.

This arrangement had been provided in order that the rope ladder might be removed after the descent. By a jerk of the cord the slip knot would be loosened and the ladder, released, would fall of its own weight. Another length of rope had been prepared, this one somewhat over a hundred feet long and also doubled for strength. This was for the lowering of the packs and other articles by one of the boys after the other had descended. To insure its free running and to prevent its wearing through on the edge of the cliff, a six inch section of the pine tree had been prepared, flattened on one side and having a wide smooth groove in the top. This, attached to a short length of rope, which was made fast with the ladder loop to the upright shaft in the tunnel, was fixed on the verge of the opening.

Finally everything had been arranged and made fast. Each of the two boys insisted that he should go down first. To solve the dispute, they cast lots and the risk of testing the rope fell to Ned. Slipping off his shoes and socks, which he hung about his neck, he sprang to the ladder. Alan hung over the edge and watched him with apprehension, but Ned, feeling his way carefully, was soon on the ground.

His shout was the signal to begin the work of lowering the packs. And down they came, one after another; provisions, revolvers, blankets, water bottles, and even the money belt, for Ned had made himself as light as possible for his descent.

At last it was Alan's turn. The last load had descended, the lowering line had been released, drawn up and stowed away. The slip knot was examined anew and then Alan followed Ned down the slender, fragile swaying rope ladder. When he had reached the ground by Ned's side and the strain was over, the boys shook hands jubilantly.

"—And now," shouted Ned with a laugh, "last chance! If you want to go back for a new load say so before it is too late."

Alan, exhausted with the climb, shook his head.

"Then stand from under," cried Ned.

As he jerked the slip knot cord the boys sprang aside and the long ladder, wriggling, crashed at their feet.

The only means of reaching the towering elevation had been removed and the only visible sign of their brief occupancy of the secret mesa had been destroyed.



CHAPTER XXXI

AN ADVENTURE WITH THE NAVAJOS

Three days later, Ned Napier and Alan Hope, worn and almost exhausted with the steady climb and descent of countless rocky heights, made their camp for the night at the foot of a rugged slope. Their shoes were torn so that a protection of rags was necessary. The hot and pitiless sun had seemingly dried up their boyish spirits. Silent with fatigue, having plodded steadily forward since sunrise, they threw themselves on the sand.

The young adventurers were headed straight for the east. And still the last range of mountains was beyond them. Led by the compass, they held to their course, sometimes passing miles out of their path to avoid some inaccessible mesa, but more often scaling ragged and tiresome heights.

Eating had now become a matter of form and necessity. There was no longer the keen joy in making camp. During the three days the boys had seen no living object except birds, rabbits, many deer and two bears, all of which they had left unmolested in their eagerness to press forward. But at noon on this day Alan, having occasion to glance backwards, was positive that he saw a human head. Whether white man or Indian he could not determine. The incident gave the lads no little, concern, but as no further sign of a human being was seen that day they finally forgot the matter.

That night, after making tea and taking a little more pains than usual with their supper in an effort to revive their spirits as well as their tired bodies, Ned and Alan spread their blankets at the edge of a pine grove. Almost before it was dark they were both sound asleep.

Some hours later Alan awoke with the instant consciousness of an unusual sound. Motionless and straining his ears, he heard deep breathing just behind him. A new moon was just sinking below the buttes on the far side of the little valley in which they had stopped for rest, but under the pines the shadows were deep. He knew that danger was near and he did not move. In another moment he felt a soft hand on his waist, as swift and as silent as a snake, and he knew that the hand was extracting his revolver.

Then, from his half-opened eyes, he saw a figure crouching over his chum just opposite. Some one no doubt was also removing Ned's weapon. Then there was the pressure of stealthy footsteps on the pine needles and Alan moved his head until he could see two indistinct forms moving from the shadows of the timber across the open space to the dying embers of their little fire. There he could easily discern five or six figures. He was about to put his hand on Ned's face to awaken him gently when he saw the entire group coming directly toward their sleeping place. Their movements now revealed plainly that they were Indians.