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Updated: June 16, 2025
"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.
The return to Clarkeville was made by easy stages in four days, and even Alan was nearly his old self when that town was reached. One night's rest in real beds, with fresh linen from the baggage they had left behind them, and baths, removed the traces of privation and suffering. There was little more to detain Ned and Alan.
This was preferably to be at the junction of the Amarilla and Chusco rivers, and that point lay just eighty-five miles to the north. Between Clarkeville and that spot there were no roads and, at this time of the year, perhaps, no water. With the best wagon and team they might be able to get, this trip over the desert would require not less than five days.
Half the boxes in the car were labeled 'balloon works' or 'motor works. It's a balloon show nothing else." "Where is the car going?" "They ain't consulted me," laughed Tom. A few moments later Bob was in the office of the division superintendent. When he left he knew that the Placida would be dropped on the only siding at the little town of Clarkeville in New Mexico.
At the time of the rain storm, two days before, Buck and his cavalcade were in camp on the bank of the dry Chusco, sixty miles north of Clarkeville. The experienced scout knew that a water supply was now assured, and he at once followed prearranged orders by instructing Bob to return with the smaller wagon.
Accompanied by an assistant, Alan Hope, and on board a special car packed with $50,000 worth of apparatus he will proceed to Clarkeville, an insignificant town in New Mexico, from which place he will make his hazardous flight over the mountains lying to the north. The aerial journey may possibly extended over the Sierra Nevadas as far as the Pacific Coast.
The only place in its winding course that is six days' journey from the mountains is where it joins the Amarilla. This is south and east of Wilson's Peak, which is our landmark." "Very good," exclaimed Ned, briskly. "Now, what is the nearest point in civilization?" "Clarkeville, Arizona." "Then that is my starting point. This is June twentieth. I shall be ready by the last day of July.
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