Silently the little band—the rescuers and the rescued ones—filed past the temple. They had to cross in front of it to take the path which led to where the airship was anchored, but they thought there would be little danger, on account of the important ceremonies going on.
“You take the lead, Jerry,” advised Jim Nestor in a low voice. “I’ll guard the rear. Have your guns handy. No telling what may happen, but it looks as if we were going to make a quiet getaway.”
Alas for their hopes! They were at the temple entrance now, when there suddenly emerged one of the medicine men. He was the same one who had been given the lizard to destroy.
For a moment the Indian, after reaching the door, stared about him. He was evidently searching for the reptile he had carelessly laid down. Possibly he had been reproved for his hasty action, in throwing the reptile away, and been sent back to finish the work. But the flying lizard was not to be seen, and good reason, for, at that moment it was in the professor’s green box.
The medicine man, not seeing it, stepped from the threshold of the council house. His eyes roved over the ground, that was illuminated by distant blazes, which were brighter, now that the rain had somewhat ceased. Then the Indian looked up, and caught sight of the figures moving past the temple. At first he must have taken them for some of his fellows, but at that moment the lizard which the professor had placed alive in his specimen box, uttered a sort of curious squeak. There was no mistaking it, and the medicine man’s sharp ears told him from whence the sound came. He must have suspected something, for, though the captives, like the rescuers, were dressed in skin disguises, the Indian sprang at them, and caught hold of one—a woman.
Instantly there was confusion. The Indian set up a yell which at once stopped the weird chant inside the temple. Then the lone medicine man began to drag the escaping woman toward the big building. Jerry and Ned drew their revolvers.
“We’ve got to fight!” exclaimed the tall lad.
The Indian was dragging the woman from the restraining grasp of her companions. Jim Nestor stepped up to him.
“That will be about all from you!” exclaimed the miner. His fist shot out, and the Indian dropped like a log. Nor did he shout any longer. He had been knocked unconscious. “That’s better than using a gun,” explained Nestor. “Now scoot for it—everybody!”
They needed no urging. The pursuit would begin any moment. Already several of the Indians were running from the temple in response to the call from the medicine man, and the ceremonies had evidently been brought to an abrupt end.
“Come on!” cried Jerry. “I only hope we can stand them off until we reach the airship. Are all your friends here, Mr. Deering?”
“All that are left of us,” was the sad reply.
The captives and their rescuers hastened on. By good luck they were now beyond the gleams cast by the nearest fires and the crowd of Indians that poured from the temple could not at first discover the reason for the imperative summons given by their medicine man. But they soon learned the cause, for the prostrate one, recovering from Nestor’s blow, excitedly told what had happened, that their prisoners were escaping. There was a rush of feet and voices called one to the other. Then came a gleam as of torches being torn from their places in the temple.
“Here they come!” exclaimed Ned, grimly.
“Do the best you can,” advised Jerry.
The three women of the party were placed in the middle, with the men grouped around them. Jerry and Ned were in the lead, while Nestor, with Professor Snodgrass, and one of the younger men of the prisoners, brought up the rear.
Suddenly there was a hissing sound in the air, and something seemed to fly over the heads of the escaping ones.
“Arrows!” exclaimed Mr. Deering. “They are shooting arrows at us. Few of the Indians have guns, but those few may use them.”
His fear proved correct a little later, when the darkness of the night was cut by slivers of flame, and bullets sang over the heads of our friends, and those they were trying to save.
“If they don’t shoot any better than that we have little to fear,” said Jerry.
“Wow!” exclaimed Ned, ducking as something sang over his head. “That was closer. I’m going to fire, Jerry!”
As he spoke he leveled his revolver at the black mass of pursuing Indians, and fired. Jerry did the same. It was the only thing to do to save their lives and protect the prisoners. Jim Nestor now opened fire, and the professor, anxious to protect the flying lizard he had so unexpectedly secured, plucked up courage to use the extra revolver, which the miner had thrust into his hand. Jerry, Ned and Nestor each had two, fully loaded.
The fight was now on in earnest, the Indians battling desperately, for they wanted to keep their prisoners, punish those who had dared interrupt the sacred rites, and they wanted to secure the flying lizard. With howls and yells they came on, now sending a flight of arrows and again using their guns. Fortunately none of our friends were hurt, but occasional cries of pain from the Indians told that some had been struck. The battle went on in the rain and darkness, the four rescuers seeking to get the prisoners to the airship. On they rushed, firing and being fired upon. The ceremonial lights were less frequent now, and the fugitives were better protected by darkness.
“Aren’t we near the airship?” panted the professor, as he fired the last shot in his revolver. None of the bullets could have found a mark, as he aimed the weapon high in the air.
“We’re almost there,” answered Jerry. “Are they coming any nearer, Jim?”
“They’re pressing us close,” replied the miner.
Suddenly, as the little band, running for their lives, turned a huge rock in the path toward the upper end of the valley where the airship was, they saw coming toward them several persons. In the darkness Jerry took them for a party of Indians that had gotten ahead of them to cut off their escape. He was about to fire, when a voice called out:
“Are you there?”
“Yes! Yes, Chunky!” cried the tall lad. “But why did you leave the ship?”
“To come to your rescue,” answered Bob. “We heard the firing, and couldn’t stand it any longer!”