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Straight and true it sped to its mark. The lion hadalready crouched for a spring when Nat's missile was discharged.
--Page 18.]
THE MOTOR RANGERS THROUGH THE SIERRAS
BY
MARVIN WEST AUTHOR OF "THE MOTOR RANGERS' LOST MINE," ETC.
NEW YORK HURST & COMPANY PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1911, BY HURST & COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE I. INTO THE SIERRAS 5 II. BETWEEN TWO FIRES 17 III. IN A RUNAWAY AUTO 31 IV. MOTOR RANGERS TO THE RESCUE 43 V. AN APPOINTMENT ON THE TRAIL 55 VI. SOME RASCALS GET A SCARE 66 VII. A PHOTOGRAPHER IN TROUBLE 77 VIII. LOST IN A PETRIFIED FOREST 87 IX. THE MIDNIGHT ALARM 99 X. ALONG THE TRAIL 110 XI. TREED! TWO HUNDRED FEET UP 125 XII. NAT'S LUCKY ESCAPE 135 XIII. THE VOLLEY IN THE CANYON 147 XIV. A "LOONITACKER" HORSE 159 XV. THE MOTOR RANGERS' PERIL 170 XVI. THE HORNS OF A DILEMMA 181 XVII. IN COLONEL MORELLO'S FORTRESS 191 XVIII. A RIDE FOR LIFE 201 XIX. OUTWITTING HIS ENEMIES 211 XX. HERR MULLER GETS A CHILLY BATH 220 XXI. THE FIRE IN THE FOREST 232 XXII. A DASH THROUGH THE FLAMES 242 XXIII. THE HUT IN THE MOUNTAINS 258 XXIV. FACING THEIR FOES 272 XXV. THROUGH THE FLUME 285
The Motor Rangers Through the Sierras
CHAPTER I.
INTO THE SIERRAS.
"Say Nat, I thought that this was to be a pleasure trip?"
Joe Hartley, the perspiration beading his round, good-naturedcountenance, pushed back his sombrero and looked up whimsically fromthe punctured tire over which he was laboring.
"Well, isn't half the pleasure of running an auto finding out how manythings you don't know about it?" laughingly rejoined Nat Trevor, theeldest and most experienced of the young Motor Rangers, as they hadcome to be called.
"V-v-v-variety is the s-s-spice----" sputtered our old friend William,otherwise Ding-dong Bell.
"Oh, whistle it, Ding-dong," interjected Joe impatiently.
"_Phwit!_" musically chirruped the stuttering lad. "Variety is thespice of life," he concluded, his hesitating manner of speech leavinghim, as usual, following the puckering of his lips and the resultantmusic.
"That's no reason why we should be peppered with troubles," grumbledJoe, giving the "jack" a vicious twist and raising the rear axle stillhigher. "Here it is, only three days since we left Santa Barbara andI'm certain that I've fixed at least four punctures already."
"Well, you'll be a model of punctuality when----" grinned Nataggravatingly, but Joe had sprung from his crouching posture and madefor him threateningly.
"Nat Trevor, if you dare to pun, I'll--I'll--bust your spark plug."
"Meaning my head, I suppose," taunted Nat from a safe distance, namely,a rock at the side of the dusty road. "'Lay on, Macduff.'"
"Oh, I've more important things to go," concluded Joe, with as muchdignity as he could muster, turning once more to his tools.
While he is struggling with the puncture let us look about a little andsee where the Motor Rangers, whom we left in Lower California, are nowlocated. As readers of "The Motor Rangers' Lost Mine" know, the threebright lads with a companion, oddly named Sandrock Smith, had visitedthe sun-smitten peninsula to investigate some mysterious thefts oflumber from a dye-wood property belonging to Mr. Pomery, "The LumberKing," Nat's employer. While in that country, which they only reachedafter a series of exciting and sometimes dangerous incidents, theystumbled across a gold mine in which Nat's father had, years before,been heavily interested.
Readers of that volume will also recall that Hale Bradford, the Easternmillionaire, and his unscrupulous associates had made a lot of troublefor Nat and his companions after the discovery. The exciting escapeof Nat in a motor boat across the waters of the Gulf of Californiawill also be called to mind, as well as the story of how matterswere finally adjusted and Nat became, if not a millionaire, at leasta very well-to-do young man. The gift of the auto in which they werenow touring was likewise explained. The splendid vehicle, with itsnumerous contrivances for comfortable touring, had been the present ofMr. Pomery to the lads, as a token of his esteem and gratitude for theconclusion to which they had brought the dishonest dealings of DiegoVelasco, a Mexican employed by Mr. Pomery.
On their return to California proper, the lads had spent a brief timewith their parents, and Nat had seen his mother ensconced in a prettyhouse on the outskirts of Santa Barbara. It had been a great delight tothe lady to leave the tiny cottage in which straitened circumstancesfollowing the death of Nat's father, had compelled them to live. JoeHartley, we know, was the son of a department store keeper of SantaBarbara, and Ding-dong Bell was the only child of a well-to-do widow.So much for our introductions.
Inactivity had soon palled on the active minds of the Motor Rangers,and they had, with the consent of their parents, planned another trip.This time, however, it was to be for pleasure. As Nat had said, "We hadenough adventures in Lower California to last us a lifetime." But ofwhat lay ahead of them not one of the boys dreamed, when, three daysbefore, they had started from Santa Barbara for a tour of the Sierras.Nat was desirous of showing that it was feasible to hunt and fish andtour the mountains in an automobile just as well as on horseback. Thecar, therefore, carried rifles and shot guns as well as fishing rodsand paraphernalia for camping. We shall not give an inventory of itnow. Suffice it to say that it was completely outfitted, and as thedetails of the car itself have been told in the previous volume weshall content ourselves with introducing each as occasion arises.
The particular puncture which Joe was repairing when this volume opens,occurred just as the lads were bowling over a rather rough road intoAntelope Valley, a narrow, wind-swept canyon between two steep rangesof mountains. The valley is in the heart of the Sierras, and thoughtoo insignificant to be noted on any but the largest maps, forms aportion of the range well known to mountaineers. It is a few miles fromthe Tehachapi Pass, at which, geographers are agreed, the true SierraNevadas begin.
"Say, fellows," exclaimed Nat suddenly, looking about him at thesky which from being slightly overcast had now become black andthreatening, "we're going to have a storm of some sort. If you're readythere, Joe, we'll be jogging along. We ought to be under shelter whenit hits."
"Yes," agreed Joe, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, "it willgo whooping through this narrow valley like the mischief."
As he spoke he lowered the "jack," and put the finishing touches onhis repair. The auto carried plenty of extra tires, but naturally theboys wished to be sparing of their new ones while the others offered anopportunity for a patch.
As the first heavy rain drops fell, sending up little spurts of dustfrom the dry road and the dusty chaparral bordering it, Nat startedthe motor, and the car was soon whizzing forward at a good speed.Thanks to its finely-tempered springs and the shock absorbers withwhich it was equipped, the roughness of the road had little effect onthe comfort of the riders.
"This is going to be a hummer," shouted Joe suddenly, "we'd better getup the shelter hood."
Nat agreed, and soon the contrivance referred to, which was like a low"top" of waterproof khaki, was stretched on its collapsible fr
ames. Itfitted all round the auto, enclosing it like a snug waterproof tent. Infront was a window of mica through which the driver could see the road.The erection of the shelter took but a few seconds and presently thecar was once more chugging forward.
But as the storm increased in violence, the wind rose, till it fairlyscreamed through the narrow funnel of the rocky-walled valley. Throughhis window Nat could see trees being bent as if they were buggy whips.
"If this gets much worse we'll have to find cover," he thought, "orelse lose our shelter hood."
He glanced apprehensively at the steel supports of the shelter, whichwere bending and bowing under the stress put upon them. As Nat hadremarked to himself, they would not stand much more pressure.
"Say, the rain is coming in here," began Joe suddenly, as a tinytrickle began to pour into the tonneau. It came through a crack in thekhaki top which had been wrenched apart by the violence of the wind.
"It's g-g-g-gone d-d-d-own the bab-b-b-back of my n-n-n-neck,"sputtered Ding-dong Bell protestingly.
"Never mind, Ding-dong," comforted Joe, "maybe it will wash your partsof speech out straight."
"I'm going to head for that cave yonder," exclaimed Nat, after runninga few more minutes.
He had spied a dark opening in the rocks to his right, while the othershad been talking, and had guessed that it was the mouth of a cave ofsome sort. And so it proved.
The auto was turned off the road, or rather track, and after bumpingover rocks and brush rolled into the shelter of the cavern. It seemedquite an abrupt change from the warring of the elements outside to thedarkness and quiet of the chamber in the rocks, and the Motor Rangerslost no time in lowering the hood and looking about to find out in whatsort of a place they had landed.
So far as they could see, after they had all climbed out of the car,the cave was a large one. It ran back and its limits were lost indarkness. The mouth, however, was quite a big opening, being more thantwenty feet across at the base. It narrowed into a sharp-topped arch atthe summit, from which greenery hung down.
"Let's see where we are," remarked Nat, taking off his heavy drivinggloves and throwing them upon the driver's seat.
"You'd have to be a cat to do that," laughed Joe Hartley, gazing backinto the dense blackness of the cavern.
"That's soon fixed," added Nat, and removing one of the lights of thecar from its socket he pressed a little button. A sharp click resulted,and a flood of brilliant white radiance poured from the lamp. It was animproved carbide contrivance, the illuminant which made the gas beingcarried in its socket.
The boy turned its rays backward into the cave, flooding the rough,rocky walls, stained here and there with patches of dampness and moss,with a blaze of light.
"Say," cried Joe suddenly, as the rays fell far back into the cave butstill did not seem to reach its terminus, "what is that back there?"
As he spoke he seized Nat's sleeve in a nervous, alarmed way.
"What?" demanded Nat, holding the light high above his head in hiseffort to pierce the uttermost shadows.
"Why that--don't you see it?" cried Joe.
"I do now," exclaimed Nat in a startled voice, "it's----"
"T-t-t-two g-g-glaring eyes!" fizzed Ding-dong Bell.
As he spoke, from behind the boys, came a low, menacing growl. Theyfaced about abruptly to see what this new source of alarm might be.
As they all turned in the direction from which the growl hadproceeded--namely the mouth of the cave--a cry of dismay was forcedfrom the lips of the three lads. Stealthily approaching them, withcat-like caution, was a low, long-bodied animal of a tawny color. Itsblack-tipped tail was lashing the ground angrily, and its two immenseeyes were glaring with a green light, in the gloom of the cave.
"A mountain lion!" cried Nat, recognizing their treacherous foe in aninstant.
"And its mate's back there in the cave," called Joe, still morealarmedly.
"G-g-g-g-get the g-g-g-guns!" sputtered Ding-dong.
This was far more easy to recommend than to accomplish, however. Thelads, never dreaming that they would want their weapons, had left themin the automobile. The car, as will be recalled, had been left near themouth of the cave. The mountain lion advancing toward them had alreadypassed the auto and was now between them and the place in which theirweapons were reposing.
The mountain lion, or cougar, ordinarily not dangerous unless it getsits foe at an absolute disadvantage, becomes, during the mating season,a vindictive, savage brute, if separated from its mate. That this wasnow the case was evident. There was no room to doubt that the two greeneyes glaring from the remote blackness of the cave were the optics ofanother "lion."
The young Motor Rangers were fairly trapped. Without weapons or anymeans of protecting themselves but their bare hands, they were inimminent peril of a nasty conclusion to their sudden encounter.