CHAPTER X
THE LOSS OF THE PACK TRAIN
"Feels good to be in the saddle again, doesn't it, Walt?"
"Yes, Ned. At least it's better than falling over a cliff. How do youfeel, Chunky?"
"Shoulder aches where the gun kicked me. I didn't think a gun couldhit so hard from both ends at the same time."
Stacy Brown worked his right arm up and down like a pump-handle,making a wry face as he did so.
The boys had completed their first target practice, in which Tad andNed had carried off even honors, with Walter Perkins a close second,while Stacy Brown had hit pretty much everything within range exceptthe target itself.
About the best they had been able to do with him was to induce him tokeep his eyes open, at least, until the first finger of his right handhad begun to exert a gentle pressure on the trigger. Then, he wouldpinch his eyelids so tightly together as to compress his forehead intoa series of small ridges.
Their practice had lasted some two hours, and now they were once morepicking their way over the rough mountain trail, headed for BaldMountain, and discussing the happenings of the night and morning.
Considerable amusement was afforded them when, on the journey, oldBobtail, as they had named the Professor's cob, stumbled and threw itsrider over its head.
Fortunately, Professor Zepplin was not injured. He explained that hehad had too many similar disasters while an officer in the Germanarmy, and that he did not mind a slight mishap like that at all. Hedeclared that it reminded him so much of his younger days that hereally enjoyed the sensation of falling off.
This caused the Pony Riders to shout with laughter, and Ned confidedto Tad, by whose side he was riding, that he never knew the Professorwas such a real sport.
From then on the afternoon passed quickly. Although the sun wasshining brightly, the air was cool and invigorating, and a gentlebreeze fanned their cheeks when the riders reached the higher places.
At such times the boys would break into exclamations of wonder at thegorgeous panorama which unfolded itself before them.
"Makes a fellow feel as if he were walking on air, doesn't it?"bubbled Stacy Brown.
"You will be in a minute, if you don't watch out where you are going,"warned Ned, observing that the boy had unconsciously pulled his horsetoo near the outer edge of the trail. "Walt tried that last night, andyou know what happened to him."
"Yes, but Chunky would not come out of it quite so well," spoke upTad.
"I reckon he'd break a rock or two on the way down," grinned NedRector, clucking to his pony.
About four o'clock that afternoon Lige announced that they had arrivedat their destination. Yet not a sign of Jose and the pack train couldthey find. He had not arrived.
The faces of the Pony Riders grew long at this, for the ride had giventhem an appetite that would not bear trifling with.
"What do you suppose has happened to the pack train, Mr. Thomas?"asked Tad.
"Probably been delayed by a pack slipping off. But don't youworry. Jose will be along in good time," smiled Lige.
However, in his own mind the guide believed that, while this might bepossible, it was more likely that the cook had missed his way, and wasnow wandering about the mountains. It was too late to go in search ofthe missing outfit that day, so there was nothing to do but to waituntil morning, then to start out after it, in case the straggler hadnot come in by then.
Lige told the boys to stake down their live stock and make themselvesat home while he went out for an observation. In the meantime the boysalso took the opportunity to look about them.
Their new location they found to be a sightly one. The wild and ruggedreaches of the Rockies stretched away at their feet as far as the eyecould see, the hills and low mountains rising in sheer slopes, brokenby cliffs and riven by deeply cut and gloomy gorges.
The Pony Riders gazed upon the scene in awe--at least three of themdid.
"Splendid, is it not?" breathed Tad, his eyes growing large withwonder.
"Oh, I don't know. It isn't so much," replied Chunky lightly. "I'veseen better. We've got bigger mountains in Massachusetts."
"Humph!" grunted Ned Rector, resuming his study of the scene, itsbeauties intensified by the colors in which the low-lying sun hadbathed them.
A shot sounded off somewhere in front of and below them.
"What's that?" exclaimed Chunky, now aroused to sudden interest.
No one was able to answer him.
Soon two more shots followed, and Chunky; was sure that he heard abullet sing by his head.
Professor Zepplin laughed, saying it was no doubt some one hunting,and that what the boy had imagined was a bullet was merely an echo.
"You no doubt will hear many shots while you are in themountains. This is a place where people make a business of shooting,and even yourselves will be doing some of it within a few days, if allgoes well. Perhaps the shot you heard was from Lige, trying his skillon some bird or animal."
When Lige returned, some little time after, the boys did not observethat he left his rifle in the bushes at the edge of the camp.
"Was that you shooting just now?" asked Tad.
Instead of answering the question, however, the guide called the boysto him.
"I'm going to teach you how to make beds in the mountains," hesaid. "We have not tried to make any like them yet----"
"Beds? I don't see any beds to make," objected Chunky. "Where arethey?"
"Get your hatchets and I'll show you," grinned Lige. "We have todiscover a good many things when we are roughing it, you know."
Fetching their hatchets from the saddle bags, the boys cut greatarmfuls of pine boughs, all hands making two trips to camp and back inorder to carry enough for the purpose. But, even then, they weremystified as to exactly what Thomas intended to do or how he would goabout it to make a bed out of the stuff they had gathered.
Professor Zepplin watched the preparations with interest, finding muchthat was new to him in the resourceful operations of the mountainguide.
Having heaped up a great pile of fragrant green stuff, Lige lookedabout him to fix upon the best locations for the beds he was about tomake.
"Oh, I know," exclaimed Ned. "You are going to lay the stuff intopiles so we can sleep on them."
"Not quite," grinned Lige. "Watch me."
Carefully selecting the branches that he wanted, he stuck one afteranother of them into the ground, stem down, until he had outlined afairly good bed. This done, he continued setting more of the greenlimbs, pushing each firmly into the ground until the mass became sothick and matted that it resembled a green hedge.
"There," he announced. "One bed is ready for you."
"Call that a bed?" sniffed Stacy. "Why, that wouldn't hold ababy. He'd fall through the slats."
"Try it. Lie down on it," smiled Lige.
Chunky did so, gingerly, then little by little a sheepish smile creptover his countenance.
"Why, it does hold me up."
"Of course it does."
"Say, fellows, this is great. It's softer than any feather bed I everslept in. But it wouldn't be half so funny if a fellow made a mistakeand got a branch off a thorn bush; would it, now?"
One after the other, the boys took turns in trying the new bed, andeach was enthusiastic over it.
"I'll never sleep on any other kind as long as I live," decidedNed. "I'll have a tent in the back yard and a pine bed under it. Whatdo you say, fellows?"
"I have an idea," smiled the Professor, "that you will get all youwant of the experience this summer. Some other trips have beenplanned for you, and you no doubt will spend many nights in the openair before you return to your homes this fall. I'll say no more onthe subject at present."
And Professor Zepplin steadfastly stuck to his word, leaving to theiryouthful imaginations the solution of the problem that he hadpresented.
"Get busy for firewood," called Lige.
"Why, it's almost dark," exclaime
d Ned. "Where is that pack train?What are we going to do, Professor?"
"Ask the guide. He knows everything. He's the original wizard,"laughed the German. "What do you think about it, Lige?"
"I might as well tell you all now--the pack train undoubtedly islost in the mountains. We probably shall see nothing of Jose nor thepack train until some time to-morrow."
"Yes; but what are we going to do?" demanded Walter. "Here we are,without a thing to eat, or a place to sleep."
"We have the pine beds," answered Tad. "That's a place to sleep,anyway."
"But we can't eat the beds," jeered Chunky.
"If you young gentlemen will build a fire, I'll see what I can doabout getting you some supper," advised Lige. "You know, we have toget used to difficulties in the mountains. In a short time you shouldbe well able to take care of yourselves without any of my help."
Lige disappeared in the bushes, returning a few moments later,carrying a brace of some sort of animal by the hind legs.
"What's that?" demanded Stacy Brown, his eyes growing large.
"Jack-rabbits," answered the guide. "There are two of them. I shotthem, and now we'll eat them. I was providing a supper for you whenyou heard those shots."
The boys set up a cheer. Now that the wholesome air of the mountainshad in reality taken possession of their beings, they found themselvesable to arouse enthusiasm over almost any subject.
Lige skilfully skinned the rabbits and dressed them. By the time hehad accomplished this the fire was burning high, and out of it hescraped a bed of red hot coals, about which he built an oven of stones.
"Get two sharp sticks," he directed.
On these he spit the rabbits, thrusting them over the coals to cook,while the boys looked on wonderingly.
"You see," said the Professor, "it is possible for a man to findsustenance in almost any place--that is, if he knows how."
"I'd starve to death if I were turned loose up here," said Chunky.
"Of course you would; and I probably should share the same fate. Theonly mountain subject with which I am familiar is geology," said theProfessor.
"And you can't eat rocks," grinned Ned.
"Just so."
"Now, boys, if you will go to my saddle bags you will find salt andpepper and some hard tack. Bring it all over here, fill your foldingcups with water, and then I think we'll be ready for supper,"announced the guide, after the rabbits had been done to a rich brown.
"Pardon me, sir, but I'm curious to know what we're going to do forplates, knives and forks," asked Tad.
"Do?
"Why, my young friend, we shall do without them. If you'll watchme carefully you will learn how."
By Lige's direction, the boys squatted down about a flat rock, afterwhich the guide proceeded to carve the rabbits with his hunting-knife,seasoning the pieces with salt and pepper, yet doing all withtantalizing deliberation.
The boys looked on expectantly.
"Much as I need money, I wouldn't take four dollars and a half for myappetite at this very moment," declared Ned Rector, earnestly.
"It can't beat mine, fellows," laughed Walter. "I tell you, there'snothing like falling off a mountain to give a chap a full-grownhankering for real food."
"I should imagine it would shake one down a bit," agreed Tad. "What doyou think about it, Chunky?"
But Chunky's reply was not clear to them, for the greater part of hisface was buried in a flank of jack-rabbit, and he was able to talkwith his eyes alone, which at that moment were large and expressive.
Never had a meal seemed to taste so good to these boys as did thiscrude repast, served on a rock several thousand feet in the air andwith only such conveniences for eating it as nature had provided. Butgood humor prevailed and everybody was happy.
Chunky at last paused from his labor long enough to go to the springfor a cup of water.
"While you are up you might fetch some for the rest of us," suggestedNed.
So Chunky gathered up the cups and plodded to the spring, chewingvigorously as he went. However, finding it inconvenient to carry allthe cups at one time, he left his own at the spring, returning withthose of the others, filled with cool, sparkling water.
The boys were profuse in their thanks, to which Stacy bowed with greatceremony and returned to the spring for more water.
For the moment, in the conversation that followed, they forgot Clunkyentirely. But he was recalled sharply to their minds a few minuteslater.
"Pussy, pussy, pussy!"
Ned and Tad turned inquiringly at the sound. Lige and the Professor,being engaged in earnest conversation at the time, had not heard StacyBrown's plaintive call off behind the rocks yonder.
The Pony Riders looked at each other and roared.
"Well, what do you think of that?" laughed Ned. "That kid has gone andpicked up a cat. Who would ever think of finding a cat up here?"
"What's that?" demanded Lige sharply, turning to them.
"Why, Chunky's found a----"
"Pussy, pussy, pussy! Nice pussy. Come here, pussy. That's a goodkittie. Puss, puss, puss," continued the soothing voice of the boy.
Had Lige Thomas been projected from a huge bow-gun he probably wouldnot have leaped forward with much greater quickness than he did inthis instance, bowling over the Professor as he sprang by him, andmaking for the spring in mighty strides.
"Leave him alone!" he roared.
The guide had heard and understood. He was hurrying to the rescue.
Those by the camp fire heard two sharp, quick explosions from theguide's revolver, followed by a squall of rage and pain and a greatfloundering about in the bushes. Then the guide appeared around thecorner of a large rock, leading Chunky by one ear, the latter takingas long strides as his short legs would permit, to relieve the strainon the aforesaid ear.
"Wha--what----" stammered the Professor.
The boys had sprung to their feet in alarm at the crack of the pistol,and stood, amazement written on their faces, as Lige and Chunky cametoward them.
"What's the row?" asked Ned Rector in as firm a voice as he couldmuster.
"I got a pussy and he tried to shoot it," wailed Chunky.
"Pussy! Huh! He got a bob-cat and he was trying to catch the brute,"growled the guide. "Lucky I got there when I did."
Stacy's eyes opened wide and his face blanched.
"A--a bob-cat?" they gasped.
"Yes; I put a shot into him, but it did not kill kill him! Hear himsquall?" the guide made answer.
"Well of all the idiotic things I ever heard of!" exclaimed Ned,gazing at Chunky in bewilderment.
"Yes; it was all of that," grinned Lige.