Airplane Boys at Platinum River

“I say, Buddy, my esophagus feels as if my pharynx is severed,” Robert Caldwell remarked very soberly to his step-brother, Jim Caldwell, as the pair made their way among the gay crowd attending the Spanish-Peruvian fiesta near Cuzco.

“That’s right serious, old man. Think somebody shot an arrow into the air while you were asleep with your mouth open and it dropped in?” the older boy inquired with equal gravity.

“Is that any way to treat a fellow who is empty to his boot tips and just when I am beginning to discard vulgar slang for something real cultured in the way of language?” Bob demanded.

“Oh! Do you perchance happen to be trying to convey the idea that you are hungry? Why don’t you say so in good old Texas, long may she reign, talk!”

“Well, when do we tank up?”

“Looks to me as if Carlos de Castro is going to be late. He said that he might, so we may as well make a landing and take on fuel,” Jim agreed cheerfully. They proceeded toward the section where a number of tables were set up in stalls beside rows of tropical plants growing in tubs, but it appeared that Bob was not the only person who was anxious to get something to eat, for everyplace they saw was occupied.

“A table, Senors?” inquired a deferential waiter, who bowed with great politeness, then led the way to the further end of the serving space. He dragged a pair of kegs into the shelter of the foliage, swung a wide board over the top of them, produced a cloth from under his coat and with a great flourish smoothed it out. Two chairs appeared from behind a pile of boxes. “Presto,” he smiled widely.

“Pronto,” Bob replied. Placing one hand over his belt buckle, he bowed deeply. “Before me, esteemed brother.”

“If I were behind you there is no telling what I’d do to you,” Jim answered. “Why this reversion to days when knighthood was budding?” He took one of the seats and Caldwell the other.

“I’m letting Spanish manners get under my skin—”

“Looks more like wood-ticks—” Austin interrupted. “They make a horse skid around just that way.”

“And I want to impress Mom when we get home, old man. Have you forgotten that we take the air at crack of dawn to-morrow and our bird is to set us down on the K-A ranch before the sun’s evening rays can reach the peak of Cap Rock?”

“Sure I know.” Jim’s eyes glistened. “It’ll be great to sail through space like that and so high that no one will see us, but just the same, me Flying Buddy, if you go acting like that around your mother, she’ll think that something is the matter with you, and it will be a dose of oil for yours.” At that the two laughed heartily, but their merriment was cut short by the appearance of the waiter with huge platters of mighty good-looking food, so they proceeded to do it justice.

“The meals in Peru are almost as good as in Texas,” Bob remarked after he had helped himself and made his first attack.

“Right-O, but it will be grand to get home,” Jim declared. They did not talk any more but gave their undivided attention to the meal, and while it was in process, they noted indifferently that two men had been ushered to the table the other side of the artificial hedge and a bit forward of their own. That place too had been put up roughly to accommodate the extra crowd and was a bit apart from the others. Jim, who was facing the festival, had the better view of the occupants and through the branches he could see the rather stout, stooped shoulders of one’s back, and occasionally caught a glimpse of the other’s face. He was a slender, dark man whose bearing was quite military, and about his lips played a smile that was more like a sneer than an indication of a cheerful disposition.

“Wall—I’m here,” the heavier man announced with surliness, and Bob turned cautiously at the sound of that voice but couldn’t see the faces of either men.

“So it is. You have a difficult time had,” the first speaker began. “We will of refreshments partake, my good sir, then we can talk in this so exclusive little corner without fear—without undue fear,” he added as he took the precaution to glance around. Jim bent his head low over his plate and it did not seem to occur to the man that another couple might have been placed so far beyond the dining space. “You had an accident and have been in the hospital.”

“Yah. I sent you word from the hospital, didn’t I?”

“That is true. It was grievous that your accident should have come at such an inopportune moment; when there was work for you,” the other remarked, and there was an odd insinuation in his voice.

“If you, or your boss thinks I cracked up because I wanted to, you have got another think coming—see! I wasn’t even piloting the plane when she came down—” There was anger in the tone and Jim saw the man’s shoulders straighten and lean forward a trifle.

“Control your temper, my friend. I merely remarked it was too bad for you—”

“Oh, you did—well—maybe you got another guess coming on that too,” the other answered. The waiter brought them wine, which they sipped in silence until the man was well out of ear-shot.

“Another guess, you say?”

“That’s what I said.” Bob, who had been leaning so that he could hear every word easily, glanced questioningly at Jim.

“Know them?” his lips formed, and Jim shook his head that he didn’t.

“Do you?” he asked softly.

“One, I think. Listen!” They attended to their own food as quietly as possible but every faculty was alert. Aside from noticing that the two men seemed an ill-assorted pair Jim had not been greatly interested, but now that Bob thought he recognized one of them, he was anxious to learn more. The Flying Buddies had managed to get into so many adventures since the summer months when they had dropped Her Highness down in Canada almost at the feet of a Royal Mounty and had offered to help the patrol man capture border-runners, that caution was a fixed habit with both of them. They had found that it paid.

“Now, look here,” the stout man began aggressively, “I ain’t a part of your outfit—see!”

“I observe, but you have worked—not too successfully—with us.”

“Yah. I went into that fool Don business with Lilly Boome.”

“Why broadcast?”

“Well, I did, and it wasn’t my fault it didn’t come out so good.”

“That has been admitted by the chief himself. The Don is a very clever man.”

“Yah, he is. I went there like I owned the place, and he put it all over us, like a crab-net, see? Now, I’m told you’re wanting me to get work in this new power works down here—”

“It will not be difficult—”

“You haul in your horns. If it’s so easy why don’t you do it yourself? Now listen, I told you I don’t belong to your outfit and I ain’t taking orders from your chief—not me. See? I heard on good authority that there are some of the Don’s own tribe in that works—and I’m not buttin’ in against any of them. That’s flat and final,” he declared emphatically.

Then, into Jim’s mind dashed the recollection of the evening he and Bob had dined with Don Haurea at the Box Z ranch, which adjoined the K-A along Cap Rock in Texas. They were so well entertained by their new friend that they failed to note the passage of the hours and it was quite late when an automobile brought a former housekeeper of the ranch, a lawyer with a brief-case full of legal documents, and a man whom they claimed was a son of Don Haurea’s father. The Don had made short work of them, and now, Jim was sure that he recognized the broad back of Ollie, who had posed as the son. Even to the boys the scheme had seemed too stupid for anyone with a grain of sense to take part in or try to put over, but later the Don had explained that it was an attempt to get him and his property tied up by law. While there could be no possible doubt as to the outcome of the suit if the matter ever got as far as that, the rogues expected to have an uninterrupted opportunity to ferret out ancient secrets and perhaps find great wealth which they thought was concealed somewhere about the Box-Z Ranch. The Flying Buddies exchanged surprised glances, but neither moved nor spoke as they sat listening.

“You should not be afraid—” the man sneered.

“Afraid, that’s good! Well, big boy, maybe I am afraid, but I’m not touchin’ the job, see! I got something myself that ain’t such little potatoes as blowing up a power-plant or putting a crimp in the works. That’s my answer.”

“In your answer I am interested.”