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CHAPTER XIX
A STORM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES
Long after dark that same evening the two lads came limping into camp to the no small relief of the anxious watchers, who had built a roaring fire to guide them back. After a fine supper they told the story of their day’s adventures which, as may be imagined, caused no small astonishment among their hearers. The fact that they had recognized the pony on which the wild-looking man rode, together with their description of the man himself, served quite sufficiently to identify him as the same fellow who had been seen by Ralph on the two former occasions. But so far as solving his identity was concerned, they were as far off as ever.
After a late sleep the next day, a visit was paid to the hole down which poor White-eye had terminated his career, thereby causing Harry Ware and young Simmons so much trouble. The carcass of the bear lay there, and although tracks showed that animals – foxes and wolves in all probability – had been sniffing around it, the body had not been molested. When Mountain Jim had skinned it, they had a fine “silver tipped” grizzly’s skin to take back with them.
Harry had remained in camp during this expedition so as to rest his sprained ankle as much as possible. Mountain Jim had collected various herbs and pounded them into a paste which, when laid on the injured member, did it more good than all the liniments in the professor’s medicine chest. But it was still painful, for the exertions he had made in getting back to camp on the previous evening had not improved it.
After a consultation it was decided that the party could not well continue to the bow of the Columbia River without getting two more ponies to replace the dead and stolen animals. Mountain Jim said that he knew of a ranch not more than fifteen miles off across the mountains, at which he could purchase the needed animals cheaply. It was decided, therefore, that he and Ralph should leave early the next day for the ranch and bring back two ponies with them. The others would have liked to go along; but in view of the apparent hostility of the mysterious man it was decided best to leave a strong guard in camp.
Bright and early the next morning the camp was astir. But Mountain Jim was hardly out of his blankets before he gave an angry exclamation and pointed to where the stores had been piled under a canvas.
The cover had been raised during the night, and by the disorder that prevailed among the supplies it was plain that several articles had been taken. But who or what could have done the rifling?
Bears were the culprits, according to Mountain Jim’s first declaration, but he revised his opinion when Ralph’s quick eyes detected the print of a foot in the soft ground near by. A slight, misty rain had fallen in the night and the ground showed plainly the impression of a human foot, or rather of what was, apparently, a very old and broken pair of boots.
“Humph!” grunted Mountain Jim, “I guess it’s your friend that’s been and done this, Master Ralph. Yes, by hooky! there’s the hoof print of the pony he stole. I’d know it among a dozen. See here, that off fore shoe is broken.”
“Well, of all the nerve!” gasped Ralph. “To visit our camp on a thieving expedition mounted on a stolen pony from our pack train; can you beat it?”
“You can’t,” chorused the boys.
“Can’t even tie it,” commented Percy Simmons, standing with his hands in his pockets and legs far apart, surveying the scene of vandalism.
An investigation showed that some flour, beans, and a big hunk of bacon had been taken, besides canned goods.
“Say, I’d like to get my hands on that fellow for just about five minutes,” declared Mountain Jim angrily. “The skunk’s broken every law of the woods. If he had been hungry and asked for grub he’d have been welcome, but not to sneak it off this way. I’d just like to get hold of him.”
“Couldn’t we notify the Northwest Mounted Police?” asked the professor mildly.
“There ain’t no station closer than MacLean’s,” was the reply, “an’ that’s a good sixty miles off the other way. Besides that, we don’t go much on police in matters of this kind.”
Mountain Jim’s face took on a grim look. It was just as well for that mysterious individual that he was not within reach of those clenched and knotted fists right then. However, even with the draught that had been made on their stock of provisions, they still had a large enough supply to last them to the Big Bend, where Mountain Jim assured them they could get anything they wanted “from a pin to a threshing machine” at a store kept by a French-Canadian.
However, as they all felt a desire to push onward, they did not waste much time discussing the visit of the thief in the night. Instead, Mountain Jim and Ralph busied themselves with preparations for their start, and soon after breakfast they jogged off to an accompaniment of a chorus of good-wishes and farewells. Their road lay down the little valley in which they had camped, and before long an elbow of craggy cliff shut out the little canvas settlement from view.
The road was level for a short distance and they made good time, the ponies loping along as if they enjoyed it. Soon Mountain Jim consulted his compass and declared that the time had come for climbing a ridge and making “across country” for the ranch where he hoped to get the ponies.
Accordingly, they spurred up a steep mountain side covered with dark and somber pines and tamarack, among which the wind sighed dismally. The going was much the same as Ralph was already getting accustomed to in that rugged, little-traveled country. Rocks, fallen trees and deep crevasses crossed their paths in every direction, causing frequent detours.
Hour after hour they traveled through this sort of country, making but slow progress. At noon they stopped for a bite of lunch, and tethering the ponies in some scant grass which grew in a rocky clearing, they seated themselves on a log for their meal. Their canteens of water came in refreshingly, for they had not passed any streams or springs.
So engrossed had they been in making their way over the difficult country that they had been traversing, that up to this time they had not paid any attention to the weather. They now saw that great black clouds were rolling up beyond the snow-covered summits to the northwest of them.
As they ate, the clouds spread out as if a sable blanket had been drawn across the sky by unseen hands. Before long the sun was blotted out and the forest grew unspeakably gloomy.
“Reckon we’re in for a change in the weather,” said Mountain Jim dryly, looking up.
“It seems that way,” was Ralph’s reply; “it’s getting as dark as twilight. Hadn’t we better be getting along?”
Mountain Jim nodded.
“I’d like to get across the bed of the valley yonder before that hits in,” he said. “It looks like it’s going to be a hummer, and in that case the water will rise in the creek bed below, uncommon sudden.”
They finished their meal hastily and remounted. Before them lay the steep mountain side, at the bottom of which was the creek of which Mountain Jim had spoken. At that time of year it was probably dry, but if the storm proved to be a bad one it might fill with great suddenness, and for a short time be transformed into a roaring torrent, next to impossible to cross.
As they rode down the shaly mountain side, their ponies slipping and sliding and scrambling desperately to keep a footing, there came a low, distant rumble of thunder. The sky to the northwest turned from black to a sort of purplish green. Through this ugly cloud blanket a shaft of lightning zipped with a livid glare. The thunder rolled and rumbled among the mountains, reminding Ralph of Rip Van Winkle’s experiences in the far-off Catskills.
“She’ll hit in most almighty quick,” opined Mountain Jim; “wish we’d brought slickers with us.”
“I don’t mind a wetting,” rejoined Ralph stoutly.
“It’s worse than a wetting you’ll get, if it’s bad; half a drowning is more like it,” grunted Mountain Jim. “Geddap, Baldy, shake a foot.”
But hasten as they would, before they had gone more than a few hundred yards further the rain began to fall in huge globules; drops they could not be called, they were too large. The thunder roared closer and a sudden chill struck into the air. The dark woods were lit up in uncanny fashion by the blinding blue glare of the lightning.
Suddenly, there was a flash of brilliant intensity and simultaneously a ripping crash of thunder, followed by a sound like some mighty mass crashing earthward.
“Tree hit yonder,” said Mountain Jim laconically, “reckon we’d better be looking for shelter. We came close enough to getting hit in that brulee.”
Ralph agreed with him. But where were they to go to get from under the lofty trees that invited the lightning to pass through their columnular trunks earthward? Suddenly Mountain Jim gave a shout:
“There we are yonder. The Hotel de Bothwell,” he cried with a grin.
Ralph looked and saw a small opening under some rocks not far distant. It was only a small cave seemingly, but at least, in case anything in their vicinity was struck, it would keep them out of harm’s way.
Amidst incessant flashes of lightning and peals of thunder they made for the place.
“Have to hitch the ponies outside,” said Mountain Jim. “Too bad there ain’t room to take ’em in, too; but it can’t be helped.”
However, the space in front of the cave mouth was fairly open and free from trees, so that it was not as bad as if they had had to tie their mounts in the dense forest. In the downpour the mountaineer and the boy made the terrified ponies fast, and then made a dash for the dark mouth of the cave. It appeared to be little more than a recess formed by the piling of a mass of huge rocks one on top of another, reminding one of a giant’s game of blocks. Had the professor been there, he would have ascribed the presence of the Titanic rock pile to glacial action; but to Mountain Jim and Ralph, the place stood for nothing more than a welcome means of shelter.
They were just about to enter it when a low moaning groan came from the back of the place and a huge, tawny body flashed past them, almost knocking Ralph over.
CHAPTER XX
PRISONERS!
“W-w-w-what under the canopy was that?” stammered Ralph as soon as he had recovered himself somewhat from his surprise.
“Mountain lion, cougar, some calls ’em. Lucky she didn’t claw you, boy,” responded Mountain Jim. “If she hadn’t dived off so quick I’d have shot her. But hullo, what’s that?”
From the back of the cave came a plaintive sound of mewing, as if there were a litter of kittens concealed there.
“Young ones, by the Blue Bells of Scotland!” exclaimed Mountain Jim. “Say, we’re mighty lucky that the old lioness didn’t attack us.”
“Why didn’t she?” asked Ralph.
“Dunno. There’s no accountin’ for the freaks of wild things. At one time they’d attack a battleship, at another time they’ll run like cotton-tails. But I reckon this old lioness is off looking for her mate.”
“And they will come back and attack us?”
“That ain’t worryin’ me. We’ve got good rifles, and cougars are mostly dumb cowards anyhow.”
“I hope these are,” said Ralph fervently, “although I’d like a shot at one, all right.”
They went to the back of the cave to look at the kittens. There were four of them, pretty little fluffy, fawn-colored creatures, whose eyes had apparently only just opened. They blinked as the lightning flashed and the thunder roared outside the cave.
But the two did not bend over the litter of lion cubs for long. The stench of decaying meat around the den was terrible. The carcasses of at least a dozen deer lay there, besides the bones of smaller creatures.
“The old man goes hunting and brings all that truck back,” said Mountain Jim as they sought the front of the cave where the air was fresher.
“I’d like to get one of those cubs and tame it,” said Ralph.
“What for? He’d get so savage when you raised him that you couldn’t do much with him ’cept shoot him. Puts me in mind of a fellow that used to live back of Bear Mountain long time ago, and trained a grizzly so that he could ride him. Like to hear the yarn?”
There was a twinkle in Mountain Jim’s eye as he spoke that warned Ralph to prepare for a wonderful tale of some sort; but anything would serve to pass the time, so as Jim drew out his old brier and lighted up, the boy nodded.
“Well, this here fellow, Abe Brown his name was, Abe J. Brown, caught this grizzly young and trained him so as he was most as good as a saddle horse. Abe and his bear was known all over the country thereabouts, and was accounted no common wonder.”
“I should think not. Do you mean to say that this fellow actually rode his bear just like a horse?”
“The very same identical way – Wow, what a flash! – Well, as I was sayin, Abe, he’d ride this bear all about, huntin’, fishin’, and all. Well, sir, one day Abe goes up on the mountain after a deer. The mountain was a famous place for grizzlies in them days, and what does Abe do but ride plumbbango right into the middle of a convention of sixteen of them that was discussing bear business.
“Well, Abe and his bear got mixed up right away, and Abe’s bear got killed in the scrap, being sort of soft from having been raised a pet.”
“But what happened to Abe?” asked Ralph.
“He wasn’t no ways what you might call communicative about what happened in that canyon on the mountain, Abe wasn’t,” went on Mountain Jim, fixing Ralph with his eye as if to challenge any doubt in his story, “but the next day Abe come into Baxter’s cross-roads riding one of them wild bears, and with sixteen skins, includin’ that of his tame beast, tied on behind. He was some hunter, Abe was.”
“And some story teller, too,” laughed Ralph. “Do you believe that, Jim?”
“I ain’t sayin’ no and I ain’t sayin’ yes. I’m jes’ relatin’ the facts as they was told to me,” said Jim, with a twinkle in his eye.
Ralph had half a mind to tell Mountain Jim some of the staggering yarns he had heard along the southwestern border during his experiences in that country of tall men and tall stories; but at that instant something happened that quite put everything else out of his head.
Just above the entrance to the cave there was a huge rock which appeared, either from constant frost and thaw or from some other cause, to have slipped from its position among the other giant boulders, for it was now perilously poised just above the small entrance to the cavern. The boy had noticed this rock when they slipped into the cave, but with the excitement of the cougar and the roar and crash of the storm, which was now at its height, he had quite forgotten it.
He now noticed that all around this rock the water from the hillside above was pouring in a perfect torrent. The rain was coming down so hard that it fairly hissed on the ground as it fell. Under these conditions the whole steep hillside was a roaring sheet of water, but just above the pile of rocks under which they crouched was a small gully which, of course, attracted more water than any part of the hillside in the vicinity.
“That water’s coming down in a pretty considerable waterspout,” remarked Mountain Jim, as he followed the direction of Ralph’s eyes and noticed the cascade of rain water that was pouring like a veil in front of the cave mouth.
“Yes, Jim, and I’ve noticed something else, too. See that rock up there?”
“Yes, what of it? The water’s coming against it and it is dividing the cataract so that it doesn’t splash back in here.”
“Not only that; but it’s doing something else; something that may make trouble for us.”
“How do you mean?”
“Why, I’m certain that I saw the rock move.”
“Great Blue Bells of Scotland, you’re dreamin’, boy. That rock is as solid as the etarnal hills.”
“I’m not so sure. I’m sure I saw it quiver a minute back, when that roll of thunder shook the ground.”
“Guess you’re mistaken, boy. Jumpin’ Jehosophat! Come back here! Quick!”
Ralph had stepped forward to gaze up at the big poised rock. As he did so, there had come a brilliant flash and an earth-shaking peal of thunder.
The ground quivered and shook, and as it did so the great stone gave a lurch forward. The next instant it crashed downward right upon the spot where Ralph had been standing. But the boy had been snatched back by Jim’s muscular arm.
“Safe! Thank the Lord!” gasped out Mountain Jim fervently.
“But look at the rock, Jim! It has blocked the entrance to this place! We’re prisoners!”
It was only too true. The big stone was lodged in front of the small cave mouth, shutting out the light and almost excluding the air except for a small space at the top. To all intents and purposes they were as much captives as if a jailer had clanged a steel gate upon them and locked it securely.
CHAPTER XXI
INDIANS
“Well, this is a fine fix!”
“About as bad as it could be.”
“What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. But we’ll find a way out somehow.”
Mountain Jim spoke with his accustomed confidence; but it was easy to tell by his puckered brow and anxious eyes that he was by no means quite so certain of finding a way out of their unexpected trouble as he would have it appear.
An examination of the rock showed that it was a huge and heavy boulder that by ill luck happened almost exactly to fit the opening of the cave. Only the crack at the top, which was narrow and irregular admitted light and air.
“Well, we’re in a snug enough place now,” declared Mountain Jim, with a rueful grin, as he completed his examination, “the only objection is that we’re too blamed snug. I could do with a thinner door, for my part.”
Ralph agreed with him. The boy’s spirits were considerably dashed by this misfortune which, indeed, appeared to portend serious, even fatal results if some way could not be found out of their quandary.
They tried shoving the great rock, but their efforts were of no more avail than if they had been a couple of puny babes.
“That settles that,” grunted Mountain Jim, wiping the sweat off his face as they concluded their efforts. “‘No admittance,’ that’s the sign we ought to have hung outside.”
“‘No exit,’ would be more like it,” retorted Ralph, “I don’t see why anyone would want to get in here.”
He spoke sharply and Mountain Jim looked at him with a quizzical look.
“Now don’t blow up, youngster,” he said, “things might be a lot worse. For instance, you might be under that rock at this blessed minute.”
“By Jove! That’s so, and I owe it to you that I’m not,” spoke Ralph quickly, flushing shame-facedly over his exhibition of temper.
“That part of it is all right,” responded Mountain Jim easily, “but the point is that I’ve been in a heap tighter places than this and got out with a whole skin. Let’s form ourselves into a Committee of Ways and Means – of getting out of here.”
“All right. You start off. Any suggestions?”
“Yep. I’ve got one right hot off the griddle.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, the storm seems to have died down a bit now, and you can go outside and take a look and then report back on what you find.”
“But how in the world am I going to get out?”
“See that crack at the top there?”
“Yes; but – ”
“Hold on. You never know what a narrow place you can squeeze through till you try. It’s my opinion that you can slip through that crack as easy as a bit of thread through the eye of a darning needle.”
Ralph eyed the crack between the top of the stone and the roof of the cave dubiously.
“I’ll try it,” he said, “but first I’ll take off my coat. That’ll make me thinner.”
He shed his stout hunting jacket and took the axe out of his belt. Then, aided by Mountain Jim, he clambered up and looked outside. The storm was rolling away to the southeast, and before long, as he could see, the sun would be shining once more. If only they could get out they could resume their journey without delay.
As Jim had foretold, it was not a hard matter for the lithe, slim boy to wriggle through the crack, narrow as it had appeared to be from below. Ralph stuck his head through and then drew the rest of his body up. In a minute he was on the outside of the cave and free.
“Oh, Jim,” he called back, “can’t you make it, too?”
“Not me. My two hundred pounds would never get through that mouse hole,” responded Jim with perfect good humor. “I guess I’ll have to stay here till I get thin enough to follow you.”
Ralph slid down the rough face of the rock and then fell to examining its base eagerly. It rested on a small terrace just in front of the cave, but it didn’t take him long to see that no ordinary means would dislodge it.
“How about you?” shouted Jim from within his rocky prison.
“I’m afraid there’s no hope, Jim,” was the disheartening reply. “It’s planted as solidly as Gibraltar, outside here. A giant couldn’t move it.”
“Well, as there’s no giants likely to happen along, that don’t much matter,” said Jim in his dry way, from within the cave.
“But,” he added, “if we had some giant powder, that would be a different thing.”
“You mean blasting powder?”
“Yep, ‘giant powder’ is what we call it up here.”
“If we can’t do anything else, I’d better ride to some settlement and try to get some.”
“Yes, unless any miner or prospector happens along and that’s not likely.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause this is in the Blood Indians’ reservation and the Bloods don’t take kindly to strangers roaming around on their property and hunting and prospectin’.”
“Are they bad Indians?”
“Well, not exactly. Just ugly, I reckon ’ud be about the name fer it. The guv’ment keeps fire water away from ’em all it can, but they sneak it in somehow and a Blood with whisky in him is a bad proposition. They’ll steal ponies, rob houses, do most anything.”
“Well, I don’t know that I’d mind seeing even a Blood Indian now,” said Ralph, “in spite of their ugly name. Maybe they could help us or at any rate ride for help.”
“Son, a Blood would just as soon shove you off a cliff if he saw you standing on the edge of one, as he would tell you you were in danger of a tumble. But say, get me a drink of water, will you? I’m as dry as an old crust after shoving at this bloomin’ rock.”
Ralph went toward the ponies, where the canteens hung to the saddle horns. But both were almost empty and as the creek was raging and roaring not far below him, he determined to go down to it and refill their water containers.
He found the creek much swollen by the rain, and racing and tumbling on its boulderous bed like a miniature torrent. But the water was clear and cold, and he took a long drink before refilling the canteens. This done, he pushed his way among the alders back toward the blocked-up cave.
All at once, off to the right, he heard the sound of hoofs and voices.
“Good enough,” thought the lad to himself, “here’s some one who can give us a hand to get out of this precious fix we’re in.”
He hurried forward, but the alders were thick and his hands were occupied so that his progress was slow. From time to time a whipping-back branch would slap him a stinging blow across the face, making it smart painfully.
So it was that he did not emerge into the clearing until the voices he had heard had grown quite close. In fact, the appearance of the boy with the canteens and the emergence of three horsemen into the clearing were simultaneous. But as Ralph beheld those horsemen his heart gave a quick, alarmed bound, and then sank into his boots.
They were Indians! Evidently they had just seen the tethered ponies of the white men and were discussing them with animation.
All three were mounted on wiry ponies. Two wore blankets and soft hats, with much patched trousers poking from under the folds of their gaudy wrappings. The third, who appeared to be some sort of a superior being, was garbed in an old frock coat, several sizes too large for him, and in his soft hat was stuck a long eagle feather, as if to symbolize his rank.
But in spite of their semi-civilized garb, all three had cruel, savage faces and eyed the tethered ponies with gluttonous eyes. As Ralph watched them, the one with the frock coat drew out a bottle and handed it in turn to his two companions.
“They’re Bloods and they’ve got hold of fire-water some place,” murmured Ralph. “We’re in for more trouble now, and I left my rifle in the cave!”
He crouched back among the alders, wondering if Jim was aware of what was going forward outside the blockaded cave. So far the Indians had not seen him, and Ralph was not particularly anxious that they should.
