Kitabı oku: «The Motor Rangers Through the Sierras», sayfa 10
CHAPTER XXII
A DASH THROUGH THE FLAMES
The object thus indicated by Cal was in fact about as alarming a thing as they could have encountered. It was nothing more or less than the smoking summit of a big tree a few hundred feet ahead of them. As they gazed it broke into flame, the resinous leaves igniting with a succession of sharp cracks like pistol shots. In a second the tree was transformed into the semblance of an immense torch. Driven by the wind the flames went leaping and rioting among its neighbors till all above the Motor Rangers was a fiery curtain stretched between them and the sky.
To make matters worse, the smoke, as acrid and pungent as chemical vapor, was driven in Nat's eyes, and he could hardly see to drive. His throat, too, felt hot and parched, and his gloves were singed and smoking in half a dozen places.
"Get out that big bucket and fill it from the tank," he ordered as he drove blindly onward.
"Guess it's about time," muttered Cal as he, guessing the rest of Nat's order, dashed the water right and left over the party, "we'd have bin on fire ourselves in a few seconds."
Nat drove as fast as he dared, but the fire seemed to travel faster. The roar now resembled the voice of a mighty waterfall, and occasionally the sharp cracks of bursting trunks or falling branches filled the air.
"The whole forest is going," bawled Cal, "put on more steam Nat."
The boy did as he was directed and the beleaguered auto forged forward a little more swiftly. Suddenly, however, a happening that bade fair to put a dead stop to their progress occurred. Directly in front of them the chaparral had blazed about a tree, till it had eaten into the trunk. Weakened, the monster trembled for a moment and then plunged downward.
"Lo-ok ou-t!"
Cal bellowed the warning, and just in time. Nat, half blinded as he was, had not seen the imminent danger.
With a crash like the subsidence of a big building, the tree toppled over and fell across the track, blazing fiercely, and with a shower of sparks and embers flying upward from it.
A new peril now threatened the already danger-surrounded lads, and their Western companion. The tree lay across their path, an apparently insurmountable object. A glance behind showed that the flames had already closed in, the fire, by some freak of the wind, having been driven back from their temporary resting place. But they knew that the respite was only momentary.
Suddenly, the car surged forward, and before one of the party even realized that Nat had made up his mind they were rushing full tilt for the blazing log.
"Wow!" yelled Cal carried away by excitement, as he sensed Nat's daring purpose, "he's going ter jump it – by thunder!"
Even as he spoke the auto was upon the log and its front wheels struck the glowing, blazing barrier with a terrific thud. Had they not been prepared for the shock the Motor Rangers would have scattered out of the car like so many loose attachments.
As if it had been a leaping, hunting horse, the big car bounced and jolted over the log, which was fully six feet in diameter. It came down again beyond it with a jounce that almost shook the teeth out of their heads, but the lads broke into a cheer in which Herr Muller's and Cal's voices joined, as they realized that Nat's daring had saved the day for them.
Behind them lay the fiercely blazing forest, but in front the road was clear, although the resinous smell of the blaze and the smoke pall lay heavily above them still. A short distance further a fresh surprise greeted them. A number of deer, going like the wind, crossed the road, fleeing in what their instinct told them was a safe direction. They were followed by numerous wolves, foxes and other smaller animals.
As they went onward they came upon a big burned-out patch in which an ember must have fallen, carried by some freak of the capricious wind. In the midst of it, squirming in slimy, scaly knots, were a hundred or more snakes of half a dozen kinds, all scorched and writhing in their death agonies. The boys were glad to leave the repulsive sight behind them. At last, after ascending a steep bit of grade they were able to gaze back.
It was a soul-stirring sight, and one of unpassable grandeur. Below them the fire was leaping and raging on its way eastward. Behind it lay a smoking, desolate waste, with here and there a charred trunk standing upright in its midst. Already the blaze had swept across the trail, stripping it bare on either side. The lads shuddered as they thought that but for good fortune and Nat's plucky management of the car, they might have been among the ashes and débris.
"Wall, boys," said Cal, turning to them, "you've seen a forest fire. What do you think of it?"
"I think," said Nat, "that it is the most terrible agent of destruction I have ever seen."
"I t-t-t-think we need a w-w-w-ash," stuttered Ding-dong.
They burst into a laugh as they looked at one another and recognized the truth of their whimsical comrade's words. With faces blackened and blistered by their fiery ordeal and with their clothes scorched and singed in a hundred places, they were indeed a vagabond looking crew.
"I'll bet if old Colonel Morello could see us now we'd scare him away," laughed Joe, although it pained his blistered lips to indulge in merriment.
"Wall, there's a stream a little way down in that hollow," said Cal, pointing, "we'll have a good wash when we reach it."
"And maybe I won't be glad, too," laughed Nat, setting the brakes for the hill ahead of them.
Suddenly Ding-dong piped up.
"S-s-s-s-say, m-m-m-may I m-m-m-make a remark?"
"Certainly, boy, half a dozen of them," said Cal.
"It's a go-g-g-g-good thing we lost Bismark," grinned Ding-dong, in which sage observation they all perforce acquiesced.
"I've got something to say myself," observed Joe suddenly, "maybe you other fellows have noticed it? This seat is getting awfully hot."
"By ginger, so it is," cried Cal suddenly, springing up from the easy posture he had assumed.
"L-l-l-ook, there is s-s-s-smoke c-c-c-coming out from back of the car!" cried Ding-dong alarmedly.
As he spoke a volume of smoke rolled out from behind them.
"Good gracious, the car's on fire!" yelled Nat, "throw some water on it quick!"
"Can't," exclaimed Cal, "we used it all up coming through the flames yonder."
"We'll burn up!" yelled Joe despairingly.
Indeed it seemed like it. Smoke was now rolling out in prodigious quantities from beneath the tonneau and to make the possibilities more alarming still, the reserve tank full of gasolene was located there.
The tonneau had now grown so hot that they could not sit down.
"Get out, everybody," yelled Joe, as badly scared as he had ever been in his life.
"Yep, let us out, Nat," begged Cal. The Westerner was no coward, but he did not fancy the idea of being blown sky high on top of an explosion of gasolene any more than the rest.
"Good thing I haven't got on my Sunday pants," the irrepressible Westerner remarked. "Hey, Nat," he yelled the next minute, as no diminution of speed was perceptible, "ain't you going ter stop?"
"Not on your life," hurled back Nat, without so much as turning his head.
He evidently had some plan, but what it was they could not for the life of them tell. Their hearts beat quickly and fast with a lively sensation of danger as the burning auto plunged on down the rough slope.
All at once Joe gave a shout of astonishment.
"I see what he's going to do now!" he exclaimed.
So fast was the auto travelling that hardly had the words left his lips before they were fairly upon the little rivulet or creek Cal's acute eyes had spied from the summit of the hill.
The next instant they were in it, the water coming up to the hubs. Clouds of white steam arose about the car and a great sound of hissing filled the air as the burning portion encountered the chill of the water.
"Wall, that beats a fire department," exclaimed Cal, as, after remaining immersed for a short time, Nat drove the car up the opposite bank which, luckily, had a gentle slope.
As Cal had remarked, it did indeed beat a fire department, for the water had put out the flames effectually. An investigation showed that beyond having charred and blistered the woodwork and paint that the fire had fortunately done no damage. It would take some little time to set things to rights, though, after the ordeal they had all gone through, and so it was decided that they would camp for a time at the edge of the river.
"Hullo, what's all that going on over there?" wondered Joe, as he pointed to a cloud of dust in the distance.
Cal rapidly shinned up a tree, and shading his eyes with his hand, gazed for some moments in the direction of the cloud.
"Sheep!" he announced as he slid down again, "consarn thet Jeb Scantling, now I know who set thet fire."
The boys looked puzzled till Cal went on to explain.
"You know I told you fellows that cattlemen was dead sore at sheepmen," he said, "and that's the reason."
He jerked one brown thumb backward to indicate that "that" was the fire.
"Do you mean to say that Jeb Scantling started it?" gasped Nat. The idea was a new one to him.
"Wall, I'd hate to accuse any one of doing sich a thing," rejoined Cal non-committally, "but," he added with a meaning emphasis, "I've heard of sheepmen setting tracts on fire afore this."
"But whatever for?" inquired Joe in a puzzled tone.
"So's to burn the brush away and hev nice green grass in the spring," responded Cal.
"Well, that's a nice idea," exclaimed Nat, "so they burn up a whole section of country to get feed for a few old sheep."
"Yep," nodded Cal, "and that's what is at the bottom of most of the sheep and cattlemen's wars you read about."
At first the boys felt inclined to chase up Jeb, but they concluded that it would be impracticable, so, allowing the sheepman to take his distant way off into the lonelier fastnesses of the Sierras, they hastened to the stream and began splashing about, enjoying the sensation hugely. Suddenly a voice on the bank above hailed them. Somewhat startled they all turned quickly and burst into a roar of laughter as they saw Herr Muller, who had slipped quietly from among them "holding them up" with a camera.
"Lookd idt breddy, blease," he grinned, "a picdgure I take idt."
Click!
And there the whole crew were transferred to a picture for future development.
"I guess we won't be very proud of that picture," laughed Nat, turning to his ablutions once more.
"No, we must answer in the negative," punned Joe. But the next minute he paid the penalty as Cal leaped upon him and bore him struggling to the earth. Over and over they rolled, Cal attempting to stuff a handful of soapsuds in the punning youth's mouth.
"Help! Nat!" yelled Joe.
"Not me," grinned Nat, enjoying the rough sport, "you deserve your fate."
Soon after order was restored and they sat down to a meal to which they were fully prepared to do ample justice.
"Say," remarked Cal suddenly, with his mouth full of canned plum pudding, "this stream and those sheep back yonder put me in mind of a story I once heard."
"What was it?" came the chorus.
"Wall, children, sit right quiet an' I'll tell yer. Oncet upon a time thar was a sheepman in these hills – "
"Sing ho, the sheepman in the hills!" hummed Joe.
"Thar was a sheepman in these hills," went on Cal, disdaining the interruption, "who got in trouble with some cattlemen, the same way as this one will if they git him. Wall, this sheepman had a pal and the two of them decided one day that ef they didn't want ter act as reliable imitations of porous plasters they'd better be gitting. So they gabbled and got. Wall, the cattlemen behind 'em pressed em pretty dern close, an' one night they come ter a creek purty much like this one.
"Wall, they was in a hurry ter git across as you may suppose, but the problem was ter git ther sheep over. You see they didn't want ter leave 'em as they was about all the worldly goods they had. But the sheep was inclined to mutiny."
"Muttony, you mean, don't you?" grinned Joe, dodging to safe distance. When quiet was restored, Cal resumed.
"As I said, the sheep was inclined ter argify" – this with a baleful glance at Joe – "and so they decided that they'd pick up each sheep in ther arms and carry them over till they got the hull three thousand sheep across ther crick. You see it wuz ther only thing ter do."
The boys nodded interestedly.
"Wall, one of ther fellows he picks up a sheep and takes it across and comes back fer another, and then ther other feller he does the same and in the meantime ther first feller had got his other across and come back fer more and ther second was on his way over and – "
"Say, Cal," suggested Nat quietly, "let's suppose the whole bunch is across. You see – "
"Say, who's tellin' this?" inquired Cal indignantly.
"You are, but – "
"Wall, let me go ahead in my own way," protested the Westerner. "Let's see where I was; I – oh yes, wall, and then ther other feller he dumped down his sheep and come back fer another and – Say, how many does that make, got across?"
"Search me," said Joe.
Nat shook his head.
"I d-d-d-d-on't know," stuttered Ding-dong Bell.
"Diss iss foolishness-ness," protested Herr Muller indignantly.
"Wall, that ends it," said Cal tragically, "I can't go on."
"Why not?" came an indignant chorus.
"Wall, you fellers lost count of ther sheep and there ain't no way of going on till we get 'em all over. You see there's three thousand and – "
This time they caught a merry twinkle in Cal's eye, and with wild yells they arose and fell upon him. It was a ruffled Cal who got up and resumed a sandy bit of canned plum pudding.
"You fellers don't appreciate realism one bit," grumbled Cal.
"Not three thousand sheep-power realism," retorted Nat with a laugh.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE HUT IN THE MOUNTAINS
The next morning they were off once more. As may be imagined each one of the party was anxious to reach the canyon in which Cal's mine was located. There they would be in touch with civilization and in a position to retaliate upon the band of Col. Morello if they dared to attack them.
On the evening of the second day they found themselves not far from the place, according to Cal's calculations. But they were in a rugged country through which it would be impossible to proceed by night, so it was determined to make camp as soon as a suitable spot could be found.
As it so happened, one was not far distant. A gentle slope comparatively free from rocks and stones, and affording a good view in either direction, was in the immediate vicinity. The auto, therefore, was run up there and brought to a halt, and the Motor Rangers at once set about looking for a spring. They had plenty of water in the tank, but preferred, if they could get it, to drink the fresh product. Water that has been carried a day or two in a tank is not nearly as nice as the fresh, sparkling article right out of the ground.
"Look," cried Joe, as they scattered in search of a suitable spot, "there's a little hut up there."
"M-m-m-maybe a h-h-h-hermit l-l-lives there," suggested Ding-dong in rather a quavering voice.
"Nonsense," put in Nat, "that hut has been deserted for many years. See the ridge pole is broken, and the roof is all sagging in. Let's go and explore it."
With a whoop they set out across the slope for the ruined hut, which stood back in a small clearing cut out of the forest. Blackened stumps stood about it but it was long since the ground had been cultivated. A few mouldering corn stalks, however, remained to show that the place had once been inhabited.
As for the hut itself, it was a primitive shelter of rough logs, the roof of which had been formed out of "slabs" split from the logs direct. A stone chimney was crumbling away at one end, but it was many a year since any cheerful wreaths of smoke had wound upward from it.
The boys were alone, Cal and Herr Muller having remained to attend to the auto and build a fire. Somehow, in the fading evening light, this ruined human habitation on the edge of the dark Sierran forest had an uncanny effect on the boys. The stillness was profound. And half consciously the lads sank their voices to whispers as they drew closer.
"S-s-s-s-say hadn't we b-b-b-better go back and g-g-g-get a g-gun?" suggested Ding-dong in an awe-struck tone.
"What for," rejoined Joe, whose voice was also sunk to a low pitch, "not scared, are you?"
"N-n-n-no, but it seems kind of creepy somehow."
"Nonsense," said Nat crisply, "come on, let's see what's inside."
By this time they were pretty close to the place, and a few strides brought Nat to the rotting door. It was locked apparently, for, as he gave it a vigorous shake, it did not respond but remained closed.
"Come on, fellows. Bring your shoulders to bear," cried Nat, "now then all together!"
Three strong young bodies battered the door with their shoulders with all their might, and at the first assault the clumsy portal went crashing off its hinges, falling inward with a startling "bang."
"Look out!" yelled Nat as it subsided, and it was well he gave the warning.
Before his sharp cry had died out a dark form about the size of a small rabbit came leaping out with a squeak like the sound made by a slate pencil. Before the boy could recover from his involuntary recoil the creature was followed by a perfect swarm of his companions. Squeaking and showing their teeth the creatures came pouring forth, their thousands of little eyes glowing like tiny coals.
"Timber rats!" shouted Nat, taking to his heels, but not before some of the little animals had made a show of attacking him. Nat was too prudent a lad to try conclusions with the ferocious rodents, which can be savage as wild cats, when cornered. Deeming discretion the better part of valor he sped down the hillside after Ding-dong and Joe, who had started back for the camp at the first appearance of the torrent of timber rats.
From a safe distance the lads watched the exodus. For ten minutes or more the creatures came rushing forth in a solid stream. But at last the stampede began to dwindle, and presently the last old gray fellow joined his comrades in the woods.
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Joe, "did you ever see such a sight?"
"Well, I've heard of places in which the rats gathered in immense numbers, but I never knew before that such a thing as we have seen was possible," replied Nat; "there must have been thousands."
"Mum-m-m-m-millions," stuttered Ding-dong, his eyes still round with astonishment.
"I suppose some supplies were left in there," suggested Nat, "and that the rats gathered there and made a regular nesting place of it after the owner departed."
"Well, now that they have all cleared out, let's go and have a look," said Joe.
"Might as well," agreed Nat, "it's a good thing those creatures didn't take it into their heads to attack us, as I have read they have done to miners. They might have picked our bones clean."
They entered the hut with feelings of intense curiosity. It was well that they trod gingerly as they crossed the threshold, for the floor was so honeycombed with the holes of the timber rats that walking was difficult and even dangerous. The creatures had evidently gnawed through the sill beams supporting the floor, for the hearthstone in front of the open fireplace had subsided and sagged through into the foundations, leaving a big open space. The boys determined to explore this later but in the meantime other things in the hut attracted their attention.
There was a rough board table with a cracker box to serve as chair drawn up close to it. But both the table and the box had been almost gnawed to pieces by the ravenous rats. Some tin utensils stood upon the table but all trace of what they might have contained had, of course, vanished. Even pictures from illustrated magazines which had once been pasted on the walls had been devoured, leaving only traces to show what they had been.
Nat, while the others had been investigating at large, had made his way to the corner of the hut where a rude bunk had been built. As he gazed into its dark recesses he shrank back with a startled cry.
"Fellows! Oh, fellows! Come here!"
The other two hastened to his side and were scarcely less shocked than he at what they saw. Within the bunk, the bed clothing of which had been devoured wholesale, lay a heap of whitened bones. A skull at the head of the rude bed-place told all too clearly that the owner had either been killed or had died in the lonely place and had been devoured by the rats. The grisly evidences were only too plain.
The boys were almost unnerved by this discovery, and it was some time before any one of them spoke. Then Nat said in a low tone, almost a whisper: —
"I wonder who he was?"
"There's a tin box," said Joe, pointing to a receptacle beneath the bunk, "maybe there's something in that to tell."
"Perhaps," said Nat, picking the article up. It was a much battered case of the type known as "despatch box." The marks of the rats' teeth showed upon it, but it had not been opened. A rusty hammer with the handle half gnawed off lay a short distance away. With one sharp blow of this tool Nat knocked the lock off the despatch box. He gave a cry of triumph as he opened it. Within, yellow and faded, were several papers.
"Let's get into the open air and examine these," suggested Nat, who was finding the ratty odor of the place almost overpowering. The others gladly followed him. Squatting down outside the hut in the fading light, they opened the first paper. It seemed to be a will of some sort and was signed Elias Goodale. Putting it aside for further perusal, Nat, in turn, opened and glanced at a packet of faded letters in a woman's handwriting, a folded paper containing a lock of hair, seemingly that of an infant, and at last a paper that seemed fresher than the others. This ink, instead of being a faded brown, was black and clear. The paper seemed to have been torn from a blank book.
"Read it out," begged Joe.
"All right," said Nat, "there doesn't seem to be much of it, so I will."
Holding the paper close to his eyes in the waning day, the boy read as follows: —
"I am writing this with what I fear is my last conscious effort. It will go with the other papers in the box, and some day perhaps may reach my friends. I hope and pray so. It has been snowing for weeks and weeks. In my solitude it is dreadful, but no more of that. I was took down ill three days ago and have been steadily getting worse. It is hard to die like this on the eve of my triumph, but if it is to be it must be. The sapphires – for I found them at last – are hid under the hearthstone. I pray whoever finds this to see that they are restored to my folks whom I wronged much in my life before I came out here.
"As I write this I feel myself growing weaker. The timber rats – those terrible creatures – have grown quite bold now. They openly invade the hut and steal my stores. Even if I recover I shall hardly have enough to live out the winter. The Lord have mercy on me and bring this paper to the hands of honest men. They will find details in the other papers of my identity."
"Is that all?" asked Joe as Nat came to a stop.
"That's all," rejoined Nat in a sober voice. "What do you think of it?"
"That we'd better tell Cal and see what he advises."
"That's my idea, too. Come on, let's tell him about it."
The Motor Rangers lost no time in hastening back to the camp and Cal's face of amazement as he heard their story was a sight to behold. As for Herr Muller he tore his hair in despair at not having secured a photograph of the rats as they poured out of the ruined hut.
"I've heard of this Elias Goodale," said Cal as he looked over the papers. "He was an odd sort of recluse that used to come to Lariat twice a year for his grub. The fellows all thought he was crazy. He was always talking about finding sapphires and making the folks at home rich. I gathered that some time he had done 'em a great wrong of some kind and wanted to repair it the best way he could. Anyhow, he had a claim hereabouts that he used to work on all the time. The boys all told him that the Injuns had taken all the sapphires there ever was in this part of the hills out of 'em, but he kep' right on. I last heard of him about a year ago – poor chap."
"Was he old?" asked Nat.
"Wall, maybe not in years, but in appearance he was the oldest, saddest chap you ever set eyes on. The boys all thought he was loony, but to me it always appeared that he had some sort of a secret sorrow."
"Poor fellow," exclaimed Nat, "whatever wrong he may have done his death atoned for it."
They were silent for a minute or so, thinking of the last scenes in that lonely hut with the snow drifting silently about it and the dying man within cringing from the timber rats.
"Say!" exclaimed Joe suddenly, starting them out of this sad reverie, "what's the matter with finding out if he told the truth about those sapphires or if it was only a crazy dream?"
"You're on, boy," exclaimed Cal, "I think myself that he must hev found a lot of junk and figgered out in his crazy mind they wuz sapphires and hid 'em away."
"It's worth investigating, anyhow," said Nat, starting up followed by the others.
It took them but a few seconds to reach the hut. Having entered they all crowded eagerly about the hearthstone. Cal dropped into the hole with his revolver ready for any stray rats that might remain, but not a trace of one was to be seen. Suddenly he gave a shout and seized a rough wooden box with both hands.
"Ketch hold, boys," he cried, "it's so heavy I can't hardly heft it."
Willing hands soon drew the box up upon the crazy floor, and Nat produced the rusty hammer.
"Now to see if it was all a dream or reality," he cried, as he brought the tool down on the half rotten covering. The wood split with a rending sound and displayed within a number of dull-looking, half translucent rocks.
"Junk!" cried Cal, who had hoisted himself out of the hole by this time, "a lot of blame worthless old pyrites."
"Not py a chug ful," came an excited voice as Herr Muller pressed forward, "dem is der purest sapphires I haf effer seen."
"How do you know?" demanded Nat quickly.
"Pecos vunce py Amstertam I vork py a cheweller's. I know stones in der rough and dese is an almost priceless gollecdion."
"Hoorooh!" yelled Cal, "we'll all be rich."
He stepped quickly forward and prepared to scoop up a handful of the rough-looking stones, but Nat held him back.
"They're not ours, Cal," he said, "they belong to the folks named in that will."
"You're right, boy," said Cal abashed, "I let my enthoosiasm git away with me. But what are we going to do about it? Them folks don't live around here."
"We'll have to find them and – Hark!"
The boy gave an alarmed exclamation and looked behind him. He could have sworn that a dark shadow passed the window as they bent above the dully-gleaming stones. But although he darted to the door like a flash, nothing was to be seen outside.
"What's the matter?" asked Cal, curiously.
"Nothing," was the quiet rejoinder, "I thought I saw another timber rat, but I guess I was mistaken."
