some of these guys they left behind.”
“This afternoon.”
“This afternoon? They aren’t going to wake up until then, not a one of them?”
“Smith said the stuff they used on them, whatever it might be, would keep them out for near a day,” explained the sheriff. “Shucks, might not be until late tonight, then, now I calculate it.”
Shifting his raincoat to the opposite arm, Early said, “If they took the ships, that means they were going some distance. Some place they could reach by air.”
Sheriff Brown said, “I don’t think they’re going to get far.”
“How come?”
“Reports I been getting in my car,” said the sheriff, “there’s a big sand storm blowing across a good part of this area. May even reach us here before long. Nobody’s going to do much flying in weather like that, no matter what kind of fancy plane they got.”
“Then maybe I still have a chance,” said Early, brightening.
An agent in a dark suit and hat brought a coffee cup over to the poolside table where Early was sitting. “Try this, sir,” he said, placing the cup in front of the young agent.
“Anybody should be able to make coffee, Collins,” said Early.
“You haven’t seen the machine they have here. It’s for making five gallons at a time,” said Collins. “On top of that, they don’t use real coffee. This is a substitute made out of beans and dandelion greens.”
Early’s lips puckered as he took a sip. “Not bad.”
“Taste, you know, is partly mental. If you pretend—”
“That’s enough. Get back to work.” Early leaned back in the sunchair. It was daylight now. The sand storm had never reached this far. The last reports indicated it had died over most of the desert a half-hour ago. “Awful,” muttered Early, trying a little more of the coffee.
Another agent in a dark suit, this one taller and leaner than the other one, came hurrying across to Early’s table. “Something’s come up, sir.”
“What is it, Reisberson?”
“We just got a report relayed to our Manzana office by the Air Corps,” said Reisberson. “They spotted a chariot.”
Early got up. “Where?”
“It’s down, that’s the important part, down in the desert about thirty miles from here.”
“Have they landed, taken a look at the thing?”
“Not yet. They wanted to hear what you want to do.”
Early said, “Air Corps is mellowing, giving me first crack. Tell them I’m on my way. You have the exact location?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m getting ahead of them,” said Early. “It’s possible I’ll beat them.”
“What, sir?”
Early didn’t reply. He hurried off to arrange for transportation.
CHAPTER XXIII
Escapes
By the time Cole lifted the cockpit cover and scrambled out onto the pitted surface of the chariot, the low-flying Air Corps monoplane had ceased to circle. It was heading away from him.
He waved at its retreating tail. “Aren’t you chaps going to pay a call?”
The plane continued to grow smaller in the now clear morning sky.
Cole sat down. “They’ve obviously reported us to somebody,” he assumed. “So I can expect a rescue party of some description shortly.”
The wind had piled sand up against the right side of the ship, half burying it. Cole stepped down to a fresh dune and scanned his surroundings.
To his left, about a mile off, were some lopsided joshua trees. All else was sand. “Make a splendid beach.”
Cole judged, from the position of the already bright sun, that the time was about 9 A.M. He walked about a few yards from the downed craft.
“I wonder where everybody is? That storm must have prevented anyone from taking to the air. I doubt if even Richard—”
He heard another motor. An airplane was approaching.
“No shortage of rescuers, it seems. I’ll wager that’s Richard and Smitty now.”
The plane was coming from the wrong direction for that, though. Perhaps they’d been circling. You couldn’t be certain.
A biplane, a dark blue in color.
“This afternoon.”
“This afternoon? They aren’t going to wake up until then, not a one of them?”
“Smith said the stuff they used on them, whatever it might be, would keep them out for near a day,” explained the sheriff. “Shucks, might not be until late tonight, then, now I calculate it.”
Shifting his raincoat to the opposite arm, Early said, “If they took the ships, that means they were going some distance. Some place they could reach by air.”
Sheriff Brown said, “I don’t think they’re going to get far.”
“How come?”
“Reports I been getting in my car,” said the sheriff, “there’s a big sand storm blowing across a good part of this area. May even reach us here before long. Nobody’s going to do much flying in weather like that, no matter what kind of fancy plane they got.”
“Then maybe I still have a chance,” said Early, brightening.
An agent in a dark suit and hat brought a coffee cup over to the poolside table where Early was sitting. “Try this, sir,” he said, placing the cup in front of the young agent.
“Anybody should be able to make coffee, Collins,” said Early.
“You haven’t seen the machine they have here. It’s for making five gallons at a time,” said Collins. “On top of that, they don’t use real coffee. This is a substitute made out of beans and dandelion greens.”
Early’s lips puckered as he took a sip. “Not bad.”
“Taste, you know, is partly mental. If you pretend—”
“That’s enough. Get back to work.” Early leaned back in the sunchair. It was daylight now. The sand storm had never reached this far. The last reports indicated it had died over most of the desert a half-hour ago. “Awful,” muttered Early, trying a little more of the coffee.
Another agent in a dark suit, this one taller and leaner than the other one, came hurrying across to Early’s table. “Something’s come up, sir.”
“What is it, Reisberson?”
“We just got a report relayed to our Manzana office by the Air Corps,” said Reisberson. “They spotted a chariot.”
Early got up. “Where?”
“It’s down, that’s the important part, down in the desert about thirty miles from here.”
“Have they landed, taken a look at the thing?”
“Not yet. They wanted to hear what you want to do.”
Early said, “Air Corps is mellowing, giving me first crack. Tell them I’m on my way. You have the exact location?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m getting ahead of them,” said Early. “It’s possible I’ll beat them.”
“What, sir?”
Early didn’t reply. He hurried off to arrange for transportation.
CHAPTER XXIII
Escapes
By the time Cole lifted the cockpit cover and scrambled out onto the pitted surface of the chariot, the low-flying Air Corps monoplane had ceased to circle. It was heading away from him.
He waved at its retreating tail. “Aren’t you chaps going to pay a call?”
The plane continued to grow smaller in the now clear morning sky.
Cole sat down. “They’ve obviously reported us to somebody,” he assumed. “So I can expect a rescue party of some description shortly.”
The wind had piled sand up against the right side of the ship, half burying it. Cole stepped down to a fresh dune and scanned his surroundings.
To his left, about a mile off, were some lopsided joshua trees. All else was sand. “Make a splendid beach.”
Cole judged, from the position of the already bright sun, that the time was about 9 A.M. He walked about a few yards from the downed craft.
“I wonder where everybody is? That storm must have prevented anyone from taking to the air. I doubt if even Richard—”
He heard another motor. An airplane was approaching.
“No shortage of rescuers, it seems. I’ll wager that’s Richard and Smitty now.”
The plane was coming from the wrong direction for that, though. Perhaps they’d been circling. You couldn’t be certain.
A biplane, a dark blue in color.
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