Kitabı oku: «Jack Ranger's Gun Club: or, From Schoolroom to Camp and Trail», sayfa 8
CHAPTER XIX
A PERILOUS SLIDE
For a few seconds after Jack’s announcement Nat stared at his chum.
“Lost?” he repeated.
“That’s what I said, Nat. Long Gun was right, and so was Tanker Ike. It’s a heap sight easier to get lost in here than I thought. Why, every one of these peaks looks just like the one next to it. I don’t believe we’ve been over the same bit of ground twice.”
“I know how we can tell.”
“How?”
“Make a mark on one of these peaks, and then walk around and see if we get back to it.”
“That’s a good way, but in which direction shall we go?”
Nat shrugged his shoulders.
“You’ve got me,” he admitted. “But, say, didn’t we come into this bad section from the east when we were after the deer?”
“Yes,” said Jack after a little thought, “I believe we did. I know when we were eating lunch I noted the sun. We sure did come in from the east. But what of that?”
“Why, if we want to go back we must walk toward the east. That is, have the sun at our backs. Instead of that we’ve been walking with the sun in our faces most of the time. Let’s try it.”
“All right, but first let’s make a mark on one of these peaks.”
They did so by digging out a hollow with their hunting knives, and placing some stones in it. This accomplished, they started off again.
“What about the deer you shot?” asked Nat.
“We’ll not try to get back to that. Make for camp is what I say. Long Gun will probably be able to find the deer.”
It was getting quite late now, and the sun was barely visible from over the peaks of the bad lands. But turning their backs to it they started off. They did not know how far they went, but it was getting dusk rapidly, and they saw no indication that they were getting nearer to the edge of the curious region in which they were lost.
“Well?” asked Nat dejectedly as he sat down on a stone. “How about it?”
“We don’t seem to be getting any closer to camp,” admitted Jack. “Say!” he exclaimed, “why didn’t we think of it before? We ought to yell.”
“Yes, and fire our rifles,” added Nat. “That’s what Long Gun told us to do if we got lost. Queer we didn’t think of it long ago. Well, here goes!”
He raised his voice in a loud shout, and Jack joined in. They called several times, but the echoes seemed to be their only answer.
“Now let’s fire a few shots,” proposed Jack, and they discharged their weapons together, making a terrible din, and causing so many echoes that it seemed as if a thunderstorm was in progress.
“I believe those echoes will confuse them,” said Nat. “I know they would me.”
“I guess Long Gun can tell where we are if he hears ’em at all,” replied Jack. “But I think we’re quite a way from camp. I wish we’d stuck together.”
“Too late for that now. Fire again.”
They did so, and also shouted a number of times, moving about in the interval.
“Well,” said Nat at length as he noted the shadows growing longer and longer, “I guess we’re in for the night; and it’s getting colder, too.”
“You’re right, there,” answered Jack, turning up the collar of his coat. “Still there’s one consolation.”
“What’s that?”
“We haven’t gone in a circle. We haven’t seen anything of that peak we marked.”
“No; but it will soon be so dark we can’t see anything.”
The two lads gazed at each other. Their plight was a serious one, for they were in no condition to remain out in the cold night without shelter.
All at once, from somewhere off to the left, there came a curious noise. It startled the lads, and Nat exclaimed:
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know,” answered Jack. “Some sort of an animal,” and in spite of himself he felt the cold chills running down his spine.
“Maybe it’s a bear,” suggested Nat. “I wish – ”
The noise came again, louder than before, and closer.
Jack burst into a laugh.
“Aren’t we the ninnies?” he exclaimed. “Those are our horses whinnying, and the echoes made their calls sound strange. Now we’re all right, Nat. We’ll find the horses and ride right to camp.”
“My! but that’s good news!” responded his companion.
Once more came the whinnying, and following the direction of the sound, the lads soon came to their horses, but, to their surprise, the steeds were standing in among the sawtooth peaks of the bad lands.
“Didn’t we leave them outside, on the edge of this pestiferous region?” asked Nat in some doubt.
“We sure did,” replied Jack, “but they’ve pulled up the tether pegs and followed us in. Never mind, they can probably find their way out. We’ll mount them and let them take us back to camp.”
With hearts very much lighter, the two lads leaped into the saddle, and calling to the horses, let the reins lie lightly on their necks, trusting to the superior intelligence of the beasts to extricate them from their plight.
As if only waiting for their masters, the horses started off. It was almost dark now, and one or two early stars could be seen.
“Ho! for camp, and a good, hot supper!” exclaimed Jack.
“Jumping Johnniecakes! but you’re right!” cried Nat with something of his old enthusiasm. “I don’t believe I ever was so hungry.”
The horses walked at a fast pace, and seemed to have no hesitation in making their way out of the bad lands.
“Next time I’ll ride my horse in,” said Jack. “I didn’t think it was good footing, or I’d have done it to-day.”
They rode on for some time longer, and then Nat remarked:
“Seems to me it’s taking quite a long while to get out of this place. The horses must have come in quite a distance.”
“Maybe they did,” agreed Jack, “or maybe they’re taking us out on the other side. I don’t know as it makes much difference.”
“Well, we’re going up hill, anyhow,” went on Nat. “It’s quite a grade.”
It certainly was, and the horses were having no easy task. But they kept on, as if they knew just where they were going.
The boys were beginning to get a bit anxious again, wondering if, after all, the horses were taking them right, when the bad lands came to a sudden end. There were no more of the sawtooth peaks.
“Hurrah, we’re out of ’em!” cried Jack.
“Yes, and look where we are,” said Jack. “Nowhere near camp.”
They were on the shoulder of a steep mountain, while below them, wrapped in the fast approaching night, was a great valley. Then something else caught the eyes of the boys.
“There’s a fire!” called Nat, pointing to a blaze at the foot of the mountain.
“I’ll wager it’s our camp,” declared Jack. “Here goes for a hail.”
He shouted and fired his gun. In a few seconds there came an answering call, and a firebrand was waved in the air.
“That’s Bony’s voice,” cried Nat. “I can almost hear him cracking his knuckle bones.”
“Yes, but how are we to get down?” asked Jack. “I don’t see the sign of a trail.”
The next instant his horse answered the question for him by starting right down the side of the mountain, which at that point was composed of shaling stones, and quite smooth.
“Where you going?” cried Nat.
“I don’t know,” answered Jack. “My horse seems to want to take a slide.”
Then Nat’s steed followed the other, and a moment later the two lads, on the backs of their animals, were sliding, stumbling and slipping down the precipitous slope of the mountain.
CHAPTER XX
LONG GUN IS AFRAID
From below them Jack and Nat could hear cries of alarm, and they could see several waving firebrands and note ghostly figures circling about the camp blaze.
“Can you stop your horse, Jack?” called Nat.
“I’m not going to try,” was the reply. “I’ve got all I can do to hold on. How about you?”
“I’m in the same boat. I hope we don’t strike anything, for if we do I’ll shoot over his head and land I don’t know where. This is fierce!”
“Hold on tight!”
“That’s what I’m doing!”
The horses reached a place that was not quite so steep, and managed to stop sliding, running for a short distance. Then the slipping began again, but both animals were like cats on their feet, and seemed to take it all as a matter of course.
“We’re almost there!” cried Jack as he saw the camp fire more plainly, and could distinguish Sam’s and Bony’s voices calling to them.
“I’m – glad – of – that,” replied Ned brokenly, for he was bounding up and down in the saddle.
A minute later and the horses had come to a stop on the level ground where the camp was pitched.
“’Sanyoneurt?” asked Budge anxiously.
“No, I guess neither of us is hurt,” answered Jack, “though we’re some shaken up.”
“Where in the world have you been?” asked Bony.
“What did you come down that way for?” was Sam’s question.
“Were you lost?” inquired Budge.
“Heap long time gone,” was Long Gun’s contribution.
“Say, if you’ll give us a chance we’ll tell you,” said Jack. “I wonder if the horses are hurt, though? I never expected to get down with them alive.”
“Horses plenty much all right,” announced the Indian after a short examination. “They do that afore. Slide down mountain many times. Know how – easy.”
“Well, I’m glad they knew how,” spoke Nat. “I thought it was an accident.”
Then Jack told of the shooting of the deer, how they were lost in the bad lands, and how they found the horses and slid down to the camp fire.
Long Gun, in his broken English, explained that the horses which they had were often used by hunters, who thought nothing of sliding down a favorable place in the side of the mountain on the backs of their steeds. Jack’s and Nat’s animals had probably thought that their riders desired to come down that way, as it was the shortest route to camp and supper.
“Well, you certainly had us worried,” said Sam as the two wanderers were seated before the fire, eating a late meal. “We could hear your guns, but the echoes confused us. Long Gun said you’d be all right, but if you hadn’t come pretty soon Bony and I were going after you.”
“Say, what about our deer, that you shot, Jack?” asked Nat a little later. “Can’t we go get it?”
“Not to-night,” replied Jack. “I wouldn’t venture in among those peaks in the dark for ten deer. We’ll get it in the morning.”
“Hu! Mebby none left,” grunted the Indian.
“None left? What do you mean?”
“Plenty things eat um. Bears, rats, foxes, mebby.”
“Well, we’ll have to shoot another, that’s all,” said Jack. “But did you fellows have any luck?”
“Bony shot a jack-rabbit,” replied Sam, “but the rest of us didn’t get anything, though I fired at a big sheep.”
“Too far off,” explained Long Gun.
It was getting colder, and there was a promise of snow in the air, which, the Indian explained, would make it all the better for tracking game. The boys were glad to wrap themselves up well when they went to their beds, which consisted of heavy blankets spread over hemlock boughs, placed inside the tent on the ground. A big camp fire was kept going, with enough wood at hand, so that if any one awakened in the night and found it low the fuel could easily be thrown on.
The whole party, with Long Gun included, left after breakfast to bring in the deer Jack had shot. They found it without any trouble under Long Gun’s guidance, but the carcass had been so torn by other beasts that it was not fit for food.
“Rambunctious ram’s horns!” exclaimed Nat. “I was counting on some nice venison steaks, too.”
“Well, we’ll try again,” suggested Jack, and the whole party, on horseback, started off to hunt.
This time they did not go into the region of the bad lands, but to an easy slope of the mountain, well wooded, yet with rocky precipices here and there, with bare spots where, the Indian said, the big-horn sheep might be found.
On Long Gun’s advice the party separated, Jack, Nat and Budge going off to one side, and the others in a different direction. As there was a plain trail back to camp, and plenty of landmarks, there was no danger of any one getting lost.
Jack, Nat and Budge rode along, watching for signs of game, but all they saw were numbers of jack-rabbits.
“ShallIshoot’em?” asked Budge, as a particularly large one dashed by.
“If you want to,” replied Jack. “But I’m going to wait for bigger game. A buck or a ram for mine, eh, Nat?”
“That’s what.”
But the bucks and the rams did not seem to be on view that day, and after riding about all the morning the three boys stopped to rest near a spring and eat their lunch.
“I tell you what we’ll do,” suggested Jack as they prepared to resume their journey. “Let’s leave the horses here and work up that mountain,” and he pointed to the steep sides of a towering peak, at the foot of which they had halted.
“I’m with you,” agreed Nat.
“’Stoomuchwork,” announced Budge as he turned over on his back and began chewing some fresh gum. “I’ll stay here until you come back.”
They tried to get him to come with them, but he would not, so Jack and Nat started off alone. They had not gone more than a mile before Jack, who was slightly in advance, came to a sudden halt and motioned to Nat to make no noise.
“There he is,” whispered Jack, when Nat had joined him, and he pointed to a distant boulder that jutted out from the side of the mountain, a short distance away.
Nat looked, and saw something that made the blood leap in his veins. It was a big mountain ram, with a massive pair of horns – a fine specimen. The animal’s back was toward them, and it seemed to be viewing the valley spread out below it.
“You shoot first, and if you miss I’ll take him,” directed Jack in a whisper, wishing to give his chum the first chance.
Fixing his eyes on the ram, Nat brought forward his gun, cocked it, and aimed. Then for some unaccountable reason his hand began to tremble. It was his first shot at big game, and he was nervous.
“I – I can’t shoot,” he whispered, lowering his rifle.
“Nonsense! You’ve got to,” said Jack sternly, and this brought Nat to himself. Once more he raised his weapon. Jack was in readiness with his in case his chum should miss.
There was a moment of breathless suspense, and then Nat fired. Instantly the ram wheeled about and stood facing the spot where the two lads were. He must have seen them, for the floating cloud of smoke drew his gaze.
“I’ve missed! You fire!” exclaimed Nat.
And, indeed, he had missed the ram cleanly. Jack threw his gun to his shoulder, and instantly it cracked out.
“You hit him! I saw him jump!” cried Nat excitedly. “Come on! We’ll get him!”
Without a word Jack pumped another cartridge into the chamber, and fired again. But just as he did so the ram gave a leap and disappeared from the rock.
“We’ve got him! We’ve got him!” yelled Nat excitedly. “Come on!”
“No use,” said Jack quietly, placing a restraining hand on Nat’s arm.
“No use? Why?”
Jack pointed to a bare spot below the rock and some distance to the right. Along it the ram was running at full speed.
“Guess I only grazed him,” he said. “He isn’t hurt much when he can run like that.”
“Side-splitting sandpaper!” exclaimed Nat. “That’s tough luck. Why did I miss?”
“That’s nothing. I missed him, too. We can’t hit everything we aim at, or it wouldn’t be any fun – especially for the animals.”
“Let’s trail him,” proposed Nat.
“No, it’s too late. We’d better get back to camp.”
They found Budge with the horses, and the gum-chewing lad did not appear to have moved, but three big dead jack-rabbits at his side showed that he had not been idle.
“Well, you had some luck,” observed Jack.
“’Stooeasy – killin’ them,” remarked Budge. “They are almost tame.”
“Well, they’ll make good eating,” observed Nat. “I hope the others did better than we did.”
And when they were back at camp, which Long Gun, Sam and Bony reached shortly after they did, they found that Sam had killed a fine deer, and Bony a small sheep, which gave them plenty of fresh meat.
It was very dark that night, for it was cloudy, and the moon and stars were obscured. Outside the circle of light from the camp fire, there was blackness so deep that it seemed like a wall of ebony.
“I’d hate to be lost out there,” observed Bony, motioning toward the dark valley as he prepared to turn in with the others.
“Yes, it wouldn’t be very pleasant,” admitted Jack. “I wish we could – ”
He stopped suddenly. From the black void above them there came a peculiar sound. It was like the blowing of a wind, that sighs and moans in the pine trees, but there was no wind blowing. Then it was like the rush of some mighty wings, while there sounded a deep throbbing, and all in camp were conscious of some large object passing close over their heads, but they could see nothing.
The boys stared at each other in wonder, not unmixed with fright.
“Are there any big eagles around here?” asked Jack, quickly turning to Long Gun.
But the Indian did not seem to hear. He was staring up into the black sky.
The noise passed on, the throbbing becoming fainter.
Then Long Gun cried out:
“Great spirit! Danger come! Bad luck!”
With a howl that did more to frighten the boys than had the mysterious sound, the Indian made a dive for the tent, and hid himself under his blankets.
CHAPTER XXI
THE DEADLY GAS
Long Gun’s example and his fright were contagious, to a certain degree. Seeing him run, Bony and Sam turned also, for they thought the Indian heard or recognized some danger. Then, as the noise ceased, they stopped in their progress toward the tent.
“What in the world do you suppose that was?” asked Sam.
“You’ve got me,” was Bony’s answer, while, in his excitement, he cracked his knuckles on the double-quick. “What do you think it was, Jack?”
“Blessed if I know. It sounded like a big bird, or, maybe, a whole lot of them. But Long Gun wouldn’t be frightened of some birds, even if they were eagles.”
“Let’s ask him,” suggested Nat.
They went into the tent, which was illuminated by a couple of lanterns, and found Long Gun groveling among his blankets.
“What was that, Long Gun?” asked Jack.
The Indian murmured something in his own tongue.
“Were they birds?” went on Jack. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Long Gun ’fraid,” was the reply. “No like sound in dark night. Long Gun ’fraid.”
“But what sound was it?” persisted Jack.
“Dunno. Great Spirit, mebby. Bad sound. Trouble come.”
“That’s all nonsense,” said Jack, as he saw that his chums looked worried. “It was probably the wind.”
“But there isn’t any wind,” declared Nat. “It’s as still as can be.”
“Maybe there is a wind in the upper currents of air,” suggested Jack. “You must remember we’re among the mountains, and the air is different here.”
“It isn’t different enough to make a noise like that,” was Sam’s opinion.
“That’s right,” agreed Bony.
“Juthinkitwasacyclone?” asked Budge, all in one word.
“A cyclone?” repeated Jack. “They don’t have cyclones in the mountains. No, I think it was birds.”
“No birds,” declared Long Gun suddenly. “Birds not got wings go that way.”
“That’s right, it didn’t sound like birds’ wings,” said Nat.
They discussed the mysterious happening for some time further, but could arrive at no solution of it. Jack and Nat went out to look and listen, but they could see nothing, of course, and the night seemed very silent. As for Long Gun, he could not be induced to come outside the tent.
The boys passed rather an uneasy night, but fatigue finally made them sleep, in spite of their alarm, and they slumbered so soundly toward morning that no one awoke to replenish the camp fire, which went out.
“Well, we’re all here and alive, at any rate,” remarked Jack as he looked around on coming out of the tent for a wash.
“Snapping sand-bars! but it’s cold!” cried Nat, rubbing his benumbed fingers and threshing his arms about. “Hi! Long Gun, are you so afraid of the mysterious noise that you can’t build a fire?”
“Hu!” grunted the Indian as he came from the tent, but he speedily had a genial blaze going, and breakfast in preparation.
“Well, now for some more hunting,” said Jack when the camp had been put in order. “Nat and I want to get that ram we missed yesterday.”
“And I want to land a big buck mule deer that I think I hit, but not hard enough,” said Sam.
They started off, and were gone all day, sometimes hunting together, and, again, separating for a few miles. But they had no luck, though Jack got an opportunity for a couple of fine shots, missing both of them. However, they did not much mind, as they had plenty of food in camp.
A day or so later, however, when Jack and Sam were out together, Jack got the very chance he wanted. They were walking along a rocky ridge, and, coming to the edge of a deep ravine, were debating whether to cross it or travel back, as they had seen no signs of game, and it looked as if a storm was brewing.
“I guess we’ll go back,” Sam remarked. “There doesn’t seem to be any – ”
He looked around to see what Jack was doing, and beheld his chum down on one knee, aiming at something on a distant rock. Sam looked and saw, outlined in the clear light, a big ram. He did not speak, fearing to disconcert Jack’s aim, and the next instant the rifle of his chum cracked.
The ram gave a convulsive leap into the air, turned partly around, and then plunged over the rock, and went rolling down the steep side of the mountain.
“You got him, Jack! You got him!” cried Sam.
“It looks so,” admitted Jack with a smile of triumph.
“And he’s a beaut!” went on Sam. “But how will we get him?”
“Oh, he’s just where we want him,” said Jack. “Come on down.”
It was no easy task scrambling down the slope, at the bottom of which they had left their horses, but they managed it, and then rode to the spot where the ram had fallen. They found the body in the bushes, and Sam saw that he had not misstated it when he called it a “beaut.” The ram’s head was graced with a fine pair of horns, which Jack at once announced he would take back East as a trophy.
“Put ’em in your room at Washington Hall,” suggested Sam.
“Sure,” replied his chum.
It was difficult to get the ram back to camp, but they managed it by constructing a sort of litter from saplings, and having the horses pull it with ropes, dragging it along behind them. They found on their arrival that the others had not yet reached camp, and sat down to wait for them.
Presently Long Gun, Nat and Bony came in.
“Where’s Budge?” asked Jack.
“Why, he went off shooting jack-rabbits,” explained Nat. “He said he’d be over near the river, down by the tall pine. He seems to like to pop over those rabbits better than going after big game.”
“I’ll take a walk down there and tell him to come in to supper,” said Jack. “Come on, Nat. I guess we had all the luck to-day, Sam.”
This was true, for Long Gun and the others had not been able to shoot anything.
As Jack and Nat advanced toward the river, which was about half a mile from camp, Nat suddenly called out:
“What’s that smell?”
“Whew! It isn’t very nice,” declared Jack as he took a long sniff. “No wonder they used to call this place Stinking Water before they named it the Shoshone.”
“What makes it smell so?” asked Nat.
“Well, I understand there are springs around here, the water of which is impregnated with sulphureted hydrogen.”
“That’s it. Sulphureted hydrogen! Humpty-doodle’s hydrangeas! I thought it smelled like the chemical laboratory at Washington Hall. Is it the river?”
“No, only some small springs, and some of them give off gases that kill animals. But there’s the tree where Budge ought to be. I s’pose he’s asleep.”
As they approached nearer the unpleasant odor became more pronounced. Then, as they topped a little mound, they looked down and saw their friend reclining on the ground near a dead cottonwood tree.
“Sure enough, he’s asleep,” remarked Jack. “Come on, we’ll wake him up. Get close, and then we’ll yell like wild Indians and scare him.”
They crept softly closer to the outstretched Budge. He did not stir. Then they united their voices in a terrorizing yell.
But instead of Budge sitting up suddenly he remained in the same position, his gun by his side, and a couple of dead rabbits at his feet.
“That’s queer,” remarked Jack. “He’s certainly sleeping sound.”
He tiptoed up to his chum, and bending over looked closely at him. He was struck by the paleness of his face and the fact that Budge did not seem to breathe.
“Nat!” called Jack quickly, “he’s dead! He’s fallen asleep and been killed by those poisonous gases!”
Nat ran up. It did seem as if Budge was dead.
“We must carry him away from here,” said Jack sadly.
“I – I begin to feel rather faint myself,” said Nat as he sat down on the ground.
