Kitabı oku: «The Border Boys on the Trail», sayfa 9

CHAPTER XVII.
THE TALE OF A MULE

"Jee-hos-o-phat, a grizzly!" yelled Pete, as he gazed at the quarter of a ton of angry bruin, "and we've not got even a bean shooter."

"That's what Maud was scared at," was the ridiculous thought, considering the circumstances, that came into Jack's mind. That Pete had thought the same thing was evidenced the next instant.

"Say, if we'd only paid attention to Maud," he began, "we'd – "

But a sudden interruption cut him short. The big log they had been trying to dislodge was, as has been said, very delicately balanced. Already by placing their hands on it and rocking it testingly they had disturbed its equilibrium. Now Pete, in his agitation, had placed a foot on it. Both feet, in fact, as he jumped backward at the sight of the huge bear.

This was too much for the trunk. With a crash and a roar, and accompanied by a mighty cascade of dust and rocks, it rolled down the steep, shaly bank.

A few moments before both Pete and Jack had longed above everything else to see the trunk spanning the break in the trail. Now, however, when it landed fair and square in the position desired, with its two ends resting on solid ground, the natural bridge it formed was the last thing in the world they wanted to see.

With the trail still open – that is, with the break still in existence – they might have saved themselves from the bear, for it was extremely unlikely that the creature could have found a foot-hold on the loose shaly bank. Now that the bridge was in existence, however, things were altered, the bear could cross to them at will, even if they took refuge on their own side of the gap.

"Make for those trees," shouted Pete, pointing to a small clump of scrubby firs that grew out of a pile of rock just above where Maud had been tethered.

Without a word Jack turned and made the best of his speed along the steep, slippery incline to the spot indicated by the cow-puncher. Pete was close behind him.

"Now climb," ordered Pete; "it's our only chance."

As he spoke the grizzly, which had hesitated for a moment when the bridge came tumbling down, had perceived the easy means it afforded him of reaching his prey, and was cautiously testing it with his foot.

"Wish the thing would give way and roll him down to kingdom come," gritted out Pete, savagely.

Both Pete and Jack in their haste had found refuge in the same tree, a small sapling fir, which bent perilously under their weight. From this insecure perch they watched bruin testing the bridge cautiously. Finally having made up his mind it was safe the immense brute started to lumber across it.

"B-b-but," stammered Jack, "he'll get us in this tree, Pete. Grizzlies can climb."

The boy was horribly frightened, and small blame can attach to him therefor. Jack, as we have seen, was far from being a coward, but even the bravest of men might be pardoned for feeling alarm when caught weaponless by a grizzly bear – one of the most savage, merciless foes of man in the Western Hemisphere.

"He can climb, all right," rejoined Pete, "but a grizzly is the most cautious brute there is. He's quite smart enough to see that this tree overhangs a steep slope that ends in a precipice, and he knows, too, that if too much weight is put on it we'll all go down together. Maybe he won't try to dislodge us. That's our only hope."

"But even if he doesn't climb it he's liable to sit below till we come down from hunger or drop from fatigue."

"Well, that's a chance we've got to take," grunted Pete grimly.

The grizzly seemed in no particular hurry to proceed. Having crossed the bridge he leisurely sniffed about, only from time to time glancing up out of his little red eyes at the two figures in the flimsy fir tree.

All this time Maud had been plunging about like a wild thing, but her rope held tight and she could not escape.

"Poor critter," said Pete, as he watched her. "If we'd only taken her warning we might have been out of here by now."

"If we ever get out of this, I'll believe anything a mule tells me," chimed in Jack miserably.

The grizzly apparently made up his mind suddenly that it was time that all delays were over. With the peculiar lumbering gait of these huge, but active, creatures, he rapidly made his way to the foot of the little fir and placed his fore paws on it. As Jack gazed downward at the huge paws, armed with enormous claws, each as big and sharp as a chilled steel chisel, he could not restrain a cry.

"Steady, kid, steady," groaned Pete. "Oh, if only I had a rifle for you, me haughty beauty, wouldn't I drill a nice hole in you."

He shook his fist at the bear, which growled savagely back. But having tested the tree, the bear, as Pete had expected, declined to risk his weight on it. Instead he shook it a little in a vain attempt to dislodge the two clinging occupants. Both man and boy hung on with grim desperation, while a dreadful fear that the roots might give way gnawed at the heart of each.

"How long will he stay there, do you think?" asked Jack, as the grizzly, grumbling angrily to himself, sat down at the foot of the tree, for all the world like a huge cat patiently watching a mouse hole.

"Dunno," grumbled Pete; "longer than we'll stay here, I guess."

Suddenly the bear seemed to tire of inactivity. With a savage roar he sprang at the tree, which bent like a sapling under his tremendous weight. To Pete's horror he distinctly felt the trunk crack.

"It's all off," he groaned aloud; "one more jump like that will finish us."

"When the tree hits the ground you run," whispered Pete to Jack. The boy nodded his head. He little dreamed what was in Pete's mind.

The acute mind of the grizzly soon perceived that his attack on the tree had been effectual. Roaring with dreadful note that sent a chill to Jack's heart, he charged once more.

There came a dreadful crashing, crackling, rending sound, and the small sapling gave way.

Like a stone from a catapult Jack felt himself strike the ground violently.

"Run, Jack, run!"

It was the voice of Pete, but it came to Jack like a voice in a dream. Mingling with it came the triumphant roar of the grizzly.

Bruised and shaken by his fall, the boy managed somehow to get to his feet and began running stumblingly forward. Suddenly he stopped. What had become of Pete?

In the same instant his friend's unselfish bravery flashed across him. Pete meant to stay behind and deliberately sacrifice himself while Jack got a chance to escape.

Jack turned and began to run back.

"Pete, Pete, you shan't do it!" he cried desperately.

But even as he yelled he gave a shrill cry of mortal terror. The huge black form was upon the cow-puncher, and all Jack could see was its huge, hairy arms as they shot out to envelope Pete in their grip. Over and over rolled the two, as the bear missed its footing on the treacherous hillside and began toppling down toward the trail. In this predicament it still gripped tight to its prey, however.

Suddenly Jack gave another yell – a cry of exultation. An extraordinary thing had happened.

In its rolling plunge down the slope the bear had come within the radius of Maud's iron-shod hind hoofs. With a scream of mingled fear and mulelike defiance, those formidable weapons drove out as if impelled by steel springs.

Ker-flo-p-p-p!

Both of those terrible heels struck the grizzly fair and square in the top of his ferocious head. With a howl of agony he dropped the man from his deadly grip, and with the blood streaming from the deadly wound went tumbling and clawing in his death agony down the slope.

Faster and faster he crashed downward, tearing out small bushes and trees as he went under his huge weight. At last everything grew silent, and Jack looked over the edge of the gulch.

At the bottom, half hidden among the avalanche of brush he had brought with him, lay the carcass of the huge grizzly – quite dead, it seemed, for when Jack hurled down a stone he never moved.

At the same instant Pete sat up, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Am I dead?" he inquired.

"No, thanks to old Maud!" shouted Jack, joyously flinging his arms about Pete and doing a war dance of exultation. "She's the best one-eared mule in the world!"

"That's right," agreed Pete solemnly, after he had been made acquainted with the happenings of the last few moments, for he had lost consciousness in the bear's mighty hug.

"And say, Pete," said Jack in a choky voice, "I understand what you did, old man, and – "

His voice broke, and tears came into his eyes as he thought of Pete's act of self-sacrifice.

"Aw blazes," said Pete, with a bit of a quaver in his own tones, "that's all right. But look at Maud, will you?"

That intelligent animal, with her one ear cocked erect as if in triumph, had thrown back her head and opened her mouth.

"Is she going to have a fit?" asked Jack.

"Naw, she's going ter sing. Mules don't speak often, but when they do, they do it about something worth while. Hark!"

He-haw-he-haw-he-haw-he-haw!

Maud's song of triumph, as Pete had described it, went echoing up and down the cañon in the most discordant series of sounds known to the ear of man. But if there had been a hundred Mexicans in earshot, neither of the two fugitives would have grudged Maud her vocal exercise, nor have attempted to cut it short.

As it was, however, the mule's pean of victory had evidently reached other ears than those of Jack Merrill and Coyote Pete. They were still petting her and wishing for lumps of sugar and gold head stalls and all sorts of equine delicacies when both were startled by a gruff voice addressing them.

"Hullo, strangers!"

"Hullo yourself!" rejoined Pete, considerably surprised, and peering about him keenly.

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE TREASURE OF THE MISSION

The effect of their first sudden immersion into the total blackness of the tunnel was paralyzing to Ralph, the professor, and Walt Phelps. The air, too, was still oppressive and musty with the accumulation of ages.

"Has any one got a match?" was the professor's first inquiry.

"Don't know," rejoined Walt Phelps, "I most generally have, but them greasers went through me pretty thoroughly. Hold on, though; wait! Hooray! I had a hole in my pocket, and some slipped through into the lining of my coat."

"Light up," said Ralph eagerly, "and let's see what sort of a horrible hole we are in."

A sputter, a crackle, and then a blessed flood of light, as Walt Phelps lit one of the precious matches of which he had found three or four.

"Now, see how much you can take in in one match-length," urged the red-headed ranch boy, as he held the match high in the air.

Its radiance showed them that they were in a narrow, walled tunnel, into which the steps from the trap-door above had led them. Right ahead stretched blackness, behind was blackness, only in the little illuminated circle in which they stood in fact, was there any relief from the gloom. The professor uttered a sudden gleeful exclamation, and at the same instant Walt dropped the match with a loud exclamation of:

"Ouch!"

He had held on to it so long he had burned his fingers.

"Never mind," consoled the professor; "that match, Walter, has shown us one important thing."

"And what is that?" asked Ralph.

"That there is an opening to this passage somewhere."

"Why, how – "

"Simple enough. The flame flickered, as Walter held the match up. That shows there must be a draught, and where there is a draught there must be an opening."

"Then, for goodness sake, let's make for it," exclaimed Ralph, stumbling forward in the darkness "I can't stand this blackness much longer."

With his hands spread in front of him the boy started off, the others following. Walter would have lighted another match, but this the professor vetoed. He argued that, not knowing what lay ahead of them, they had better reserve their store for a real emergency. The boys agreed to this readily.

They had gone about two hundred yards when Ralph, whose hands were feeling along the walls as he went, gave a sudden exclamation. Up to this point the passage had been about six feet in height, and four or more in width. Now, however, it contracted until they had to double up, and could only just squeeze through. It grew unendurably hot, too, and as the floor had steadily declined as they went, they argued that they must have reached a considerable depth.

Ralph's exclamation had been caused by a peculiar substance with which his fingers had suddenly come in contact. Heretofore the walls had been rough, and in places rocky. Suddenly, however, his fingers encountered a rounded, smooth surface.

"What's the matter?" asked the professor, who was behind.

"I don't know. There's something odd imbedded in the wall right here. Can we spare a match?"

"I think under the circumstances we might," said the professor.

Walter accordingly kindled a fresh lucifer.

As its rays shone out, every one of the party shrank back with a cry of horror.

From the wall a grinning skull was gazing at them.

The ranch boy dropped his match with a cry of terror and startled alarm. Even the professor's nerves were shaken by this sudden apparition.

"F-f-for g-g-goodness' sake, strike another!" stuttered Ralph.

With trembling hands Walt struck another light, and this time they nerved themselves to examine the wall more carefully. The skull was imbedded in the rock, and by its side they now perceived was a skeleton hand, pointing down the tunnel. The professor also noted some marks at its side. There were five of them – short, straight lines, scratched in the wall.

"Why, boys," he said, as the match died out, "there is nothing to be alarmed at. The skull is placed there as some sort of a pointer, or indicator, as I take it. That hand shows the direction in which the treasure lies, and the five scratches mean either five feet, or five yards, in this direction."

This simple explanation nerved the boys wonderfully, and they carefully paced off five feet.

"Another match, Walter," ordered the professor.

"The last but one," said the boy, as he struck it.

Hastily they gazed about them, but not a sign could they perceive of any break in the wall or floor, which might serve as a hiding-place for the treasure indicated in the miner's invisible writing.

"Shall we try at five yards?" asked Ralph.

"We will put it to a popular vote," rejoined the professor. "It will mean burning up our last match, but on the other hand – "

"I'm willing to use it – how about you, Walt?" came from Ralph.

"Sure," responded the ranch boy.

The professor made rapid mental calculations, and then paced off the additional distance necessary to make up the five yards from the original starting-place.

"Now," he said, coming to a halt.

How carefully Walt Phelps nursed that tiny yellow flame, as it burst into being. How eagerly they glanced about them, greedy of every morsel of its light.

Suddenly the professor gave a cry.

"Look!" he sputtered out.

He was pointing downward excitedly. Almost at his feet was a mildewed iron ring. As the light died out, he grasped it.

"Never mind the darkness, now; I've got it!" he cried exultingly.

"Pull it up," urged Ralph, all else forgotten in the mystic spell of hidden treasure.

"Yes, pull," urged Walt.

"I – ugh – ugh!" grunted the professor, putting all his strength into it, but the ring never budged an inch.

"Here, give me a hand, boys!" he cried.

"How are we to find you?" asked Ralph.

"Here, extend your hands. Ah, that's it," went on the scientist, seizing hold of the boys' wrists and guiding them down to the ring.

"Now, all together," he said; "pull!"

With all their strength the three adventurers tugged with a mighty heave at the iron. At first it seemed that it was going to prove obdurate even to their combined efforts, but continued tugging resulted in a slight quiver of whatever the iron ring was fastened to.

"Now, once more – he-a-ve!"

There was a sudden give on the part of the iron ring, and its foundation gave way with a rush.

A strange, pungent odor filled the air!

"I – I – I'm choking," gasped Walt, gripping his collar with both hands and tearing it open, to relieve the terrible congestion that had suddenly seized upon his throat.

"Run, boys; run for your lives!" shouted the professor. "There's something deadly in there!"

They needed no second invitation. Forward they plunged, gasping and choking, in the grip of the unseen, destructive agent they had liberated.

The professor, as he sprang forward, felt his foot slip, and realized that he was falling backward. As he fell into what he knew must be the pit they had opened, and from which the noxious fumes were pouring, he grasped at something – it was Walt's leg.

"Hey, leggo my leg!" howled the red-headed youth, half-crazy with fear. To his excited imagination, it seemed that in the darkness some pulling arm had reached up from the pit and seized him.

"Walt! Walt!" gasped the professor. "Save me!"

The boy, in agony as he was from the horrible gases, pluckily reached round and felt about. Presently he felt the professor's bony hand grip his. A second later, the scientist had been hauled out of danger. But the suffocating fumes still filled the passage. They were choking, blinding and killing the adventurers.

"Forward, forward! It's our only chance!" cried the professor.

Suddenly he felt Walt, who was just ahead of him in the panic-stricken flight, collapse. Seizing the fainting boy in his arms, the professor bravely struggled on. In the meantime Ralph had hastened on ahead, and knew nothing of what had occurred behind him.

Rapidly he ran from the unseen peril, covering the ground swiftly. Stumbling blindly forward, he all at once felt the air grow fresh and sweet, and at the same time a sort of glow penetrated the stygian darkness of the tunnel.

The boy glanced upward and gave a cry of delight. Above him, at the mouth of a circular shaft, he saw the kindly stars blinking. Never had the sight of the sky looked so sweet to him. But even as he was congratulating himself, he looked about for his companions.

They were not there!

"Hullo, Walt – professor! Hurry," he called back into the blackness and the foul danger he had left behind him.

To his dismay, his voice echoed hollowly upon the rocks, and went booming mysteriously down the tunnel. But human reply to his call, there was none.

With a sinking heart, Ralph realized in an instant what had happened. The professor and his companion had been overcome, by whatever it was that had emanated from the trapdoor in the tunnel.

A sort of panic seized on the boy.

He shouted and shouted, again and again, regardless of his voice being heard above. But only the mockery of the echo to his frightened cries came back to him.

It is no disparagement to Ralph to say that it required some effort on his part to nerve himself for what he did then. Summoning every ounce of resolution in his body, he threw himself on his hands and knees, with a vague recollection of having heard somewhere, that deadly gases were less deadly near to the ground.

Thus extended, the Eastern boy, with a beating heart and a dread sense of disaster oppressing him, crawled back into the danger-filled darkness from which he had just emerged.

As he proceeded, the air grew more and more unbearable. His skin seemed to be on fire, and his eyes were filled with an aching, burning, smart that was maddening. But the boy kept repeating over and over to himself the words he had uttered as he plunged back over the path of danger.

"I must get them out. I must get them out!"

In the pitchy darkness, with mind and body burning, he painfully wriggled on.

"I can't keep this up much longer," was his thought; "where are they, oh, where are they?"

Suddenly he bumped into something soft. It was a human body.

"Professor!" gasped the boy in a voice which he knew must be his own, but which sounded strangely like that of another person.

A faint groan answered him.

"You must come with me. I must get you out. I must get you out," gasped Ralph. He seized the other's clothes and made a brave effort to drag him forward. But as he did so, everything seemed to race round and round in his head in a mad whirligig, and the boy collapsed in a senseless heap beside the two he had come to save.