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CHAPTER XV
FOLLOWING THE AERIAL TRAIL
Shouting and laughing, the entire party raced down the hill and up the other side to view the result of Lieutenant Wingate’s shot. They found the buck lying dead where it had fallen, with a bullet hole through its head.
“Can my Uncle Hip shoot? Well, I reckon he can,” declared Stacy pompously. “Cleverness runs in our family,” boasted Stacy.
“That quality must have exhausted itself before you joined the family,” retorted Emma.
Stacy admitted that he had lost some of it after becoming a member of the Overland Riders, which, he said, was undoubtedly due to association with inferior intellects, to which Emma had no reply to make, other than characteristically elevating her nose and turning her back on the fat boy.
“Come, come,” urged Hippy. “Stacy, you and Tom will have to help me dress this beast if you want meat. It is certain that we shall not starve today.”
The job of dressing the buck was accomplished clumsily, the Overland girls being interested spectators and offering frequent suggestions on the subject, of which they knew nothing.
That night the Riders enjoyed a great spread. Following it, such of the meat as they wished to carry with them they spitted on sharp sticks in the smoke of the camp-fire. This was the beginning of the curing process required to put the meat in condition to keep, so that they might carry it along, for the party did not dare trust to the chance of finding other game farther on, fearing that they again might be caught foodless. One experience of the kind was enough.
Lieutenant Wingate and his companions had learned a lesson in observation from the guide, and Hippy began to understand that a hunter, when after game, must put out of his mind every object in the landscape except the particular thing for which he is looking. He tried out that idea that same day by looking for various objects, one at a time, and was amazed at the result. Under this method, objects that he had not before observed at all now stood out with great prominence. Hippy then recalled what an old hunter, then sniping Germans, had told him in France: “Let your eyes sweep quickly over the landscape but pay no attention to the more prominent objects, and you will be amazed at the quickness with which you will discover that for which you are looking.”
The method worked out just as Hippy’s informant had said it would, and Hippy determined never again to be caught napping. However, his respect for the guide had increased considerably, and especially for the keenness of Woo Smith’s eyes.
With all the venison they could carry packed in their kits, the party set out early on the following morning and soon found themselves on the brink of another box-canyon, which they reached without mishap, then made their way up the side of another mountain, and on over a series of rugged elevations that would tax the sure-footedness of a mountain goat.
“This up and down progress reminds me of a wild ride that I once had on a scenic railway at Coney Island,” declared Elfreda Briggs as they finally halted for a rest. Elfreda’s face was red from exertion and excitement, and her hair had become the plaything of the mountain breezes.
“Don’t wolly till to-mollow,” chuckled Stacy.
“Stacy, you’re right,” nodded Tom Gray. “But it is now time we were moving. See that ridge to the right of us?”
“Surely we do not have to cross that, do we?” begged Emma.
“Yes. We shall have to ride its entire length in order to reach the high mountain peak that you see still farther on. Either we must start now or wait until tomorrow,” averred Tom.
“It never will do to be caught on the top of that ridge in the darkness,” agreed Hippy.
The ridge referred to lay slightly higher than their present position, but there was plainly a safe trail leading to it. Orders to move were given by Hippy. The Overland Riders were quickly in their saddles, and the party slowly mounted the ridge, but halted as they came to the top of it. For once the girls experienced a case of “nerves.”
“We never shall be able to ride over this awful trail,” cried Elfreda Briggs.
“Oh, let’s go back,” begged Emma.
“Impossible!” answered Hippy. “This is the trail that we shall have to follow to reach the high peak of the Sierras.”
“If the horses behave and no one loses her head we ought to be able to cross safely,” averred Grace.
“My head is swimming already,” moaned Nora.
“Why don’t you turn it over and let it float for a few minutes?” suggested Chunky.
After directing Woo to proceed on ahead, the journey was resumed, and the ponies stepped out over the knife-edge top of the ridge. This ridge, not more than a dozen feet wide along the top, formed a natural bridge connecting two mountain ranges. Here and there the sides of the ridge fell away sheer for hundreds of feet, and at others, smooth granite rocks sloped away to the canyon below.
Ahead of the Riders, Woo Smith was picking his way unconcernedly, singing blithely. The girls of the party sought to look equally unconcerned, but not with very much success, for each one was feeling the effect of the great height and their peril on the narrow path. Emma Dean finally slipped from her saddle, and passing the bridle-rein over one arm, proceeded to pick her way on foot.
“Cold feet, eh?” scoffed Stacy.
“No. I’m scared, that’s all,” replied Emma. “I don’t care who knows it, either.”
Grace glanced at the faces of her companions, and then, at the rapidly narrowing trail.
“While I believe that we shall be in less peril on our ponies than on foot, I suggest that we all walk,” she said, dismounting. “With your feet on the ground you will be less nervous.”
Grace’s companions lost no time in following her example, but they dismounted cautiously. It was a relief to feel the solid ground under their feet. A laugh further relieved the strain when Hippy Wingate finally dismounted. The girls teased him unmercifully, though all knew that a man who had fought the Germans in the clouds was not likely to be disturbed by great heights. A few moments later Stacy dismounted, but Tom remained on his pony and appeared to be enjoying the novel experience of riding along this unusual aerial trail.
Miss Kitty, the lazy pack-horse, as usual, brought up the rear of the line and was dragging farther and farther behind. Her actions were observed with keen interest by the Overlanders, there being no certainty as to what the white pack mare might or might not do. She proved the wisdom of their lack of confidence in her when, weaving from side to side to avoid stepping over projecting rocks or boulders, she stepped off the trail with one hind foot.
“Quick, Hippy!” cried Nora excitedly. “She will fall over!”
Lieutenant Wingate sprang forward and gave the mare a quick slap on her flank. The mare jumped, then down she fell on her side with hindquarters hanging partly over the brink, and there she lay groaning dismally, the picture of misery and fear. The faces of the Overland girls paled, for each knew that the slightest struggle on the part of the white mare would send her sliding to the bottom of the canyon fully a thousand feet below.
CHAPTER XVI
GOING TO BED IN THE CLOUDS
“Oh, Hippy, you have done it this time!” cried Nora.
“Keep quiet! Don’t frighten her!” cried Grace, snatching the lariat from her saddle and handing it to Hippy. “Slip the loop over one of her hind legs, but for goodness sake do not make any sudden moves.”
“Wait! I’ll get a derrick,” shouted Stacy.
“Keep quiet!” commanded Tom sternly, at the same time taking a rope from the pommel of his own saddle and hurrying to Lieutenant Wingate’s assistance. While Grace, was patting the head of the fallen animal, trying to soothe her, Tom slipped the rope over her neck, Hippy having dropped the loop over one hind foot.
“Oh, Tom, you surely will choke Kitty to death if you pull on the neck rope,” warned Grace.
“Serve her right if I did,” growled Tom. “She is a perpetual nuisance. What next, Lieutenant?”
“We must haul her up, that’s all. Keep your rope taut, but don’t put too much strength on it,” directed Hippy, as he began to pull on the rope about the white mare’s hind leg. He failed to budge her.
“It is the pack,” said Elfreda. “Don’t you see that Kitty’s pack is pressing right against the rocks?”
“That’s right,” agreed Tom Gray. “We must unload the beast before we can do a thing with her. Confound her!”
“Now, Tom,” admonished Grace Harlowe.
“Stacy! Get that pack off and be careful about it too,” ordered Lieutenant Wingate.
Stacy could not manage the pack alone, so Grace and Elfreda assisted him in removing it. This undertaking, perilous as it was, was accomplished after more than two hours had been lost through Kitty’s clumsiness. It was then discovered that the white mare had gone lame, but Hippy found that she had suffered nothing more serious than a bruised hip.
“We must be on our way,” he urged.
“As it is, we shall not get across this ridge before dark,” declared Elfreda, glancing at the lowering sun.
“Oh, don’t say that,” begged Nora. “We must.”
Tom Gray shook his head.
“To make haste would be dangerous,” he warned.
As soon as the white mare was again in proper shape the party started ahead, determined to get as far on their way as possible before night, but darkness was settling over the canyons on either side of them when Lieutenant Wingate finally called a halt.
“We must make camp while we can see to do so,” he directed.
“What, here?” cried Emma.
“It is the best we have,” answered Lieutenant Wingate in a doubtful tone.
The trail had been steadily narrowing as they proceeded, and ahead of them it appeared to be almost impassable, at least for horses. It was decided to stake the ponies down in single file, which the three men finally succeeded in doing to their satisfaction. It was not an ideal tethering place, but most of the animals were used to sleeping in ticklish places, and, in fact, if necessary could sleep standing up.
Packs were removed and stored in safe places, but Woo, who had been sent out to locate a spring, returned with the information that he could find none. This, however, did not disturb the Overlanders, for their bottles held sufficient water for supper and breakfast, provided they were economical in its use, so a small cook-fire was built, and in a few moments the kettle was singing merrily and the odors of coffee and venison were in the air, to the accompaniment of Woo Smith’s “Hi-lee, hi-lo.” It was an unusual supper for the Overland Riders, sitting there with their food served on an army blanket laid on the ground, with empty space and sombre canyons on either side of them now filled with inky blackness.
While they were eating, Woo gathered stems of bushes and piled them ready for making a larger fire to light up the camp after supper.
“I should like to know where we are going to sleep,” reminded Nora as they finished the meal.
Tom said he would make up their beds very shortly, whereat the Overlanders laughed, but with not much mirth in their voices.
“If you don’t make haste you won’t be able to find beds to make up,” averred Emma. “Don’t you see the fog rolling in? We shall soon be enveloped in it.”
“Fog!” Hippy laughed heartily. “Why, child, that isn’t fog – it is clouds. We are above them, but I think they will rise and take us in. When it gets a little darker here, you will see a sight that will interest you.”
Hippy’s prediction was fulfilled. The moon rose full at about nine o’clock that evening, and exclamations of wonder were uttered by the girls of the party, as its beams lighted up the slowly moving clouds that now had risen almost level with the top of the ridge itself. Here and there sharp peaks thrust themselves through the cloud seas, which were dark and menacing to the eyes of the observers.
“How beautiful,” murmured Elfreda Briggs.
“It is indeed,” breathed Grace. “The scene reminds me of the one that we looked down upon when we were riding the Old Apache Trail, except that this is infinitely more beautiful. Hippy, does not this remind you of France, when you were flying above the clouds?”
“In a way, yes. Many is the time that I have gone to sleep on a cloud for a few seconds. Tom, what is our altitude here?” he asked, turning to his companion.
“According to my aneroid, about eight thousand feet.”
“We are surely getting up in the world,” chuckled Emma.
“Don’t congratulate yourself too soon, Miss Dean. We may be going the other way before morning,” reminded Stacy Brown. “What about starting a conflagration, Captain Gray?”
“Woo, stir up the campfire and let’s have some light and warmth,” directed Tom.
“Oh, it is too bad to destroy this wonderful view. If you build a fire we shan’t be able to see the full cloud effect,” protested Grace.
“You will,” answered Hippy. “We soon shall be enveloped in clouds, and we are going to feel the cold, too.”
There was a biting chill in the air already and, to the amazement of the campers, mosquitoes were numerous and very active.
Tom, after a survey of their surroundings, said he would make up the beds, and called to Woo to bring the pick-axe.
“Make up the beds with a pick?” exclaimed Emma.
“Yes. By the way, where do we sleep tonight?” asked Miss Briggs in a slightly worried tone.
“I will show you,” replied Tom, beginning to dig a trench in the thin layer of soil that covered the ridge.
“If you can transmigrate a real bed, I wish you would make it two so that I may have one,” called Stacy.
Tom made no reply, but, after digging the trench, he had the guide and Hippy place stones on either side of it as an added protection against rolling out of bed.
“Stacy, get in here and see if this hole fits your ample proportions,” directed Tom.
Stacy hesitated.
“I don’t like to be buried so soon after supper,” he complained. “Is this some new game that you are trying to play on me?”
“Yes. It is a game to keep you from falling out of bed and making a mess of yourself,” replied Tom tersely.
CHAPTER XVII
IN THE LAND OF PINK SNOWS
“I – I think I should prefer to sleep downstairs,” stammered Stacy.
“If that is the way you feel, you have only to roll over and you will be downstairs for keeps,” promised Lieutenant Wingate.
“All right, I’ll sleep in the hole in the ground, but don’t you dare throw dirt on me,” warned Stacy, crawling into the trench and cautiously disposing of himself to see if his bed fitted. “This isn’t even half a bed, Tom. How am I going to turn over?”
“Don’t,” laughed Grace.
“Yes, please do,” urged Emma.
“Wow!” muttered Chunky sitting up and peering over the edge of his bed at the cloud-sea rolling slowly along just below the camp. “Wouldn’t it be a terrible catastrophe if I were to be transmigrated out of bed?”
“That depends upon the point of view,” suggested Emma.
The Overlanders were startled at this juncture by a shout from the Chinaman, accompanied by a series of bangs.
“Somebody knocked over the kitchen table!” cried Chunky.
“Me savvy piecee kettle go ’way,” wailed Woo, who, in emptying out some dishes, had let them fall over the side of the ridge so that the utensils were then on their way to the bottom of the canyon, a thousand feet below.
“He has lost the kettle,” groaned Nora. “At this rate we shall soon be without anything.”
“Except our appetites,” finished Chunky.
“What a tragedy,” observed Emma.
“Don’t wolly till to-mollow,” advised the guide. “Hi-lee, hi-lo!” Nothing could disturb the equanimity of Woo Smith for very long, and he immediately resumed his duties. The loss of a few utensils was not a thing to be greatly disturbed about – at least he so reasoned the matter out.
It was late in the evening when the Overlanders finally got into their trenches and dropped off to sleep, but their sleep was brief. First, Stacy had a nightmare and set up such a howling that all hands awakened in alarm. The next disturbance came when a sudden mountain wind-storm sprang up. The Overlanders were aroused just in time to see their campfire lifted into the air and hurled out over the clouds in which the embers and sparks quickly disappeared.
“Oh, this is terrible! We shall surely be blown off the ridge,” cried Emma.
“Lie down in your trenches and let the blooming storm blow itself out!” shouted Hippy. “No wind-storm up here can harm you so long as you keep down.”
The girls of the party rather reluctantly lay down again, and found that, in that position, the wind barely touched them, and, from that time on, peace reigned in the Overland camp until morning. The morning, however, brought with it fresh troubles. Every member of the party awakened shivering. Stacy declared that his feet were frozen, which Emma asserted was a chronic condition with him.
The Overlanders dragged themselves from the trenches, shoulders hunched forward, hands thrust into their pockets, their faces blue and pinched. The limit of their endurance was reached, however, when the familiar voice of Woo Smith assailed their ears.
“Hi-lee, hi-lo! Don’t wolly till to-mollow,” sang the guide.
“Smith!” shouted Tom Gray.
“He – he thi – thi – thinks he’s a bird,” chattered Stacy. “I hope he tries to fly.”
“Smith, please cut out the singing and prepare hot coffee as quickly as possible,” directed Tom.
“Me savvy coffee. Me savvy nicee piecee day. You savvy nicee day?” bubbled the guide.
“Oh, let him have his way, Tom,” urged Grace laughingly. “We should be glad that we have such a cheerful guide.”
“Cheerful idiot!” muttered Tom.
“Yes, Woo. We savvy,” called Grace, smiling over at the grinning face of the Chinaman. “Please make haste with the breakfast, though. Girls, get up and look out over the wonderful scene before you, and I will guarantee that you will instantly forget your troubles.”
With shaded eyes, they looked and did, for the moment, forget their chilled condition. The peaks were now in the full glare of the morning sun, while down in the canyons day had not yet fully dawned, and the dim shadows there were gray with the morning mist.
Another day of hard riding was before them, but before starting out Tom and Hippy announced that they would try to find a trail up the mountain that loomed in the sky some distance beyond. Upon reaching the end of the ridge that formed a natural bridge connecting two mountain ranges, Tom and Hippy came upon a sharp descent that led down into a broad, open valley, beyond which lay the mountain they were to climb.
“This looks promising,” nodded Tom, as they jogged down into the valley.
“It is more than that; it is wonderful,” cried Hippy as the two men found themselves in a field knee-deep with blue lupines that grew there in profusion. The odor of the flowers was almost overpowering. To the right and the left of the two explorers were bunches of tuft-grass, here and there groves of slender lodge-poles, and spindling pines and junipers. Tom and Hippy paused in admiring silence. It was more beautiful than anything that they had thought possible in this rugged country.
While they were hunting for a possible trail that would lead them up the mountain, Tom Gray declared that Nature had used this sweetly scented field for a dumping ground, after having completed the building of the mountain itself.
“Yes, and she protected her work mighty well when she erected that snow-capped peak,” answered Hippy. “I know that there must be a way out of this place to reach that mountain,” he added, getting up from a fall, very red of face, his jaw set stubbornly.
Despite their persistent efforts to find a trail out of the valley of the lupines, it was noon before they did discover a possible way out for their party. After marking it by tying a handkerchief to the bent-over top of a spindling pine, they started back to join their companions. The Overland party had some time since saddled and bridled their ponies and were ready to move when Tom and Hippy returned to them, and all were on their way soon after the arrival of the two men.
“You are going to see something that will gladden your heart, Brown Eyes,” declared Hippy as they started on. It was late in the afternoon when they finally rode into the valley below. The blue lupines, the grass, the pines and the junipers there presented a scene that brought cries of delighted amazement from the Overland girls.
“Oh, look at the pink ice cream!” cried Emma, pointing to the towering mountain which they were to try to climb.
“Why, Tom, we didn’t notice that coloring on the snow up there this morning,” exclaimed Lieutenant Wingate. “It must be a cloud reflection.” Tom Gray nodded and said that the pink shade probably would soon disappear.
“We must camp in the midst of these flowers,” cried Grace Harlowe. “It is finer than any place we have yet seen in these mountains.”
“I agree with you,” answered Elfreda. “It gives me fresh courage to go on. Why, Grace, I feel as if I could vault a six-foot fence.”
“Suppose you try to jump over the white mare,” suggested Grace, laughingly. “This high altitude has gone to my head, too.”
“No, thank you. I think that it might be best for a person of my years to keep her feet on the ground,” laughed Elfreda. “But the effect, as well as the view here, is wonderful. I do not believe there is anything like it anywhere else in the world.”
Camp was promptly made amid the flowers. Soon thereafter the clouds on the horizon rolled down behind the mountains as the sun sank out of sight, but as long as light remained on the mountain tops, the wonderful pink tint clung to the everlasting snows on the pinnacles, and the mosquitoes increased in numbers and ferociousness.
“The higher we go the worse they get,” complained Stacy Brown. “Isn’t it queer how that pink tint hangs on?”
“Say, girls,” bubbled Emma Dean, “what if it should prove to be ice cream in reality?”
“In that event I know someone who never would go home,” laughed Nora.
“Two someones,” reflected Stacy, with a far-away, longing look in his eyes.
