The saddle boys on the plains

“A balloon—yes, that’s what it must be, Bob!” exclaimed the prairie boy, who had doubtless never before set eyes on such an object as now dawned upon his startled vision.

“Sure it is, Frank; I’ve seen ’em lots of times at the country fairs in Kentucky,” Bob went on, almost breathlessly, as he reached the side of his chum.

The two stood watching with wide eyes the approach of the bulky, unwieldly object, that nearly dragged along the ground at times, since it was in a partly collapsed state.

“He seems to be waving his arms at us, Bob!” declared Frank, whose eyes were nearly as keen as those of a hawk.

“Yes, he is trying to tell us something, Frank,” replied the other.

“Perhaps he’s in a peck of trouble,” suggested the other.

“I’m most sure of that, for the old gas-bag is half empty; but the wind carries it along, you see,” Bob remarked, as the balloon continued to head directly for the spot where they stood.

“Perhaps he’s afraid it’ll hit the trees?” cried Frank.

“Huh! I’d rather think he’s afraid it won’t do that same!” Bob ventured. “For it looks to me as if that man would give just anything to be safe on the ground again. See how wild he is getting, Frank!”

“We must do something for him!” declared Bob’s chum.

With his eye he gauged the coming on the runaway balloon. Then he started to run rapidly forward, turning a little to the left.

“Think it’s going to come here?” questioned Bob, who had obediently trailed along at the heels of his chum; for Bob knew that as a rule Frank could be depended upon to do the right thing.

“Unless there’s a sudden shift of the wind he’s bound to; and I don’t expect that to happen,” came the reply.

Indeed, Bob could himself see that the chances were as ten to one that they now stood directly in the path of the coming balloon. It had considerable momentum, and there was a question as to whether two boys would be able to curb the rush of the big gas-bag.

When Bob thought this he failed to give his comrade full credit for his sagacity. Frank had anticipated just that thing. And more than that, he was prepared to meet the emergency.

Frank was so constituted that he could apply such practices as came into his daily life to the needs of the hour. For one thing, he had noticed that a long and apparently stout rope was trailing down on the ground. Perhaps it had once had an anchor of some sort attached; but if so, this had long since been torn away.

Bob was nerving himself for a tug of war when the two of them threw their combined weight on that rope. He was therefore greatly astonished to hear his chum suddenly exclaim:

“Leave it to me, Bob; but stand by to help, if I call on you!”

With the words Frank jumped forward. The balloon had bobbed up again in one of its queer movements, and passed over their heads. They could hear the bare-headed man in the broken basket shouting at the top of his voice:

“Grab that rope! Hold her, till I can drop out!”

Then Frank made a dive, and the rope was in his hands. Another quick movement that fairly dazzled Bob, and he saw the prairie boy whip the end three times around the butt of a small but fairly stout tree that lay within reach. The boy, who was accustomed to roping cattle had used the sapling as a “snubbing post.”

There was a shock, as the rope came taut. The tree bent far over, and Bob half expected to see it torn up by the roots, or else break in two. Neither of these catastrophes came to pass, for that sapling was made of stern stuff. It bent, but did not give way. And the mad journey of the runaway balloon seemed to have been brought to a successful termination, there, close to the little patch of timber that grew along the stream near which the saddle boys had started to make their lone camp.

It was almost ludicrous to see how quickly the man in the basket started to get over the edge, and slide down that rope to the ground.

“He’s badly hurt!” exclaimed Bob, seeing the air-voyager tumble in a heap, as though unable to stand upon his legs.

Both boys were at his side in another second. They had thought the aeronaut must have swooned because of his injuries, or the sudden sensation of relief after expecting the worst that could befall him; but on their arrival he made a movement as though trying to get up.

“I guess I’m in a bad way, boys,” he groaned. “Feels like one of my legs has been fractured. The balloon smashed against a rock as I came over the top of the ridge away over yonder. That was what broke the basket. It nearly sent me out, and ever since I seem to have lost my head.”

“Well, you’re safe on the ground now,” said Frank, as he bent over the injured man.

“We were just making camp when he sighted you,” said Bob. “And if you say the word we’ll get you over to the place, and do all we can to help you.”

“Oh! thank you, boys,” the other said, eagerly; “it’s very kind of you. Perhaps with your help I might hobble along in some fashion. But I can’t get to see a doctor any too soon to suit me.”

The two boys exchanged glances. How in the wide world they were going to get the wounded man to a town, where his broken leg could be attended before serious complications set in, neither of them could even guess.

But they helped him get on his feet, and foot by foot make for the spot on the bank of the small river where the tent was standing. He groaned frequently, as though suffering great pain; but in the end they managed to half carry him to the camp.

Here, on one of the blankets, he was made as comfortable as possible. While the daylight still lasted Frank took a look at his limb; leaving to his chum the task of preparing supper.

“It’s broken, you find?” asked the man, with great concern.

“Yes, sir, I’m afraid it is; and pretty badly fractured at that,” Frank answered. “We’ll try and make you as comfortable as we can to-night. In the morning perhaps some way for getting you to a doctor may be found.”

At the time Frank did not know in the slightest degree just how such a thing could be accomplished. But he was not one to cross a bridge before coming to it. There were a good many hours between supper time and morning; and surely one of them would be able to think of some remedy.

As they had been sent off on a very important errand to Cherry Blossom Mine, where it was suspected that strange things were in progress, it was hardly to be expected that they could spare the time needed to take this stranger to the nearest town, some twenty miles down the river.

Still, both boys were tender-hearted, and apt to strain a point rather than appear cruel toward a fellow human being.

“Is there any way to save the balloon?” asked Frank, wishing to divert the attention of the groaning aeronaut from his own pains, to some other object in which he might take an interest.

“Hang the balloon!” the man said, angrily. “I never want to set eyes on one again. I was a fool to believe I could play the part of an aeronaut. It’s nearly been the death of me; and all for nothing; all for nothing!”

Frank, of course, could not imagine what the man meant by those words. He seemed to be deeply moved, as though some pet scheme which he had been trying to carry out had proven a dead failure. Perhaps he was an explorer, and had hoped to investigate the secrets of those gaunt mountains which had never been climbed, and which might be rich in precious ores!

Frank bathed the injured limb as soon as he could get some warm water. There was really nothing else he could do, not being a surgeon. Of course many cowboys can perform rude operations, when stern necessity requires; and Frank had before now, set a broken bone fairly well. But in this case it was a compound fracture, and splinters of bone would have to be taken away before the process of healing could begin.

Bob, meanwhile, managed to get supper ready. He announced the meal even as Frank finished his labors in connection with the wounded aeronaut.

“Perhaps you might be able to eat a little; or at least have a cup of coffee,” Frank remarked, after he had propped the other up against a tree.

Somehow the man looked a little more cheerful. His leg did not hurt so badly, for the numb stage had set in; and so long as he could remain quiet it would not be so bad.

“This is mighty nice of you two boys,” he declared, showing that he felt he owed them more than common gratitude. “Yes, I haven’t eaten a bite for many hours, and that coffee certainly smells good. I will try a little. I’m beginning to pick up hopes that after all I may be able to pull through.”

So Bob poured out a cup of the fragrant Java, and brought it over to where the wounded aeronaut lay.

“How will you have it, Professor?” he asked, “with condensed milk, or plain black?”

“A little of the milk, please, my boy; and as I was just saying to your comrade, I owe you both a heavy debt. After all, a man’s life is worth more than anything else. But don’t call me Professor, for I’m not anything of the sort. Jared Scott is the name I answer to; and I’m from Iowa, though long out in the wild and woolly West. May I ask your name, and that of the fine fellow who made me so comfortable?”

“My name is Bob Archer,” readily responded the other; “and my home used to be in Kentucky. My chum has always lived here in the cow and mining country. His father owns a big ranch; and we’re right now on the way to the Cherry Blossom Mine on business. His name is Haywood—Frank Haywood.”

Bob heard the man give a low cry, and saw him staring, as though the mention of that name had given him a great shock!