CHAPTER IX.
THE HOME OF A VANISHED RACE.
The meal disposed of, the cow-punchers and the boys, all of whom werepretty well tired out by their exertions of the morning, lounged about awhile. Then preparations for the return to the ranch began. A guard wasto be left over the cattle, however, as they were still restless and illat ease, and the boys begged hard to be allowed to form a part of it. Atfirst Mr. Harkness would not hear of it.
"Why, dad, the boys are out here to get experience," protested Harry,"and what better training could they have in ranch life than by standinga night watch over restive cattle?"
"That's all very well," rejoined his father, "but you must remember thatI am in a measure responsible for the safety of these young men, andyou boys have, up to date, displayed quite a capacity for getting intomischief."
"And getting out of it again," put in the irrepressible Tubby. And thevictory was won, as many another victory has been, by a burst oflaughter. Soon after, the boys loped to the top of a nearby knoll, andwaved good-by to the ranch-bound party. Then they turned their poniesand cantered back to the cow-punchers' huts at a smart pace. Besides theboys, the three Simmons brothers, Frank and Charlie Price and Jeb Cottonwere to share the Scouts' watch, Mr. Harkness having promised to 'phoneto their various homes explaining their absences. In charge of the fourpunchers was Blinky, who had also been given orders by Mr. Harkness tokeep the boys out of mischief. The cattle, however, grew so restiveduring the afternoon that the attention of the punchers was fullyoccupied in "riding them." It seemed to soothe the bovines to have theirguardians constantly near them.
"The brutes smell Injuns, just as sure as my name is Blinky Small,"declared Blinky emphatically.
The boys, after riding a few rounds with the punchers, began to findthis occupation growing monotonous, and looked about for some othermeans of diversion.
"I know," shouted Tubby suddenly.
"Tubby's got an idea," laughed Merritt.
"Tell him to hold it. He may never get another," jeered Rob.
"Let's play ball," went on the stout youth, absolutely unperturbed bythe laughter Rob's comment aroused.
"Fine," came sarcastically from one of the boys. "Where's the bat?"
"Where's the ball?"
"Where are the mitts?"
"Oh, where's the earth?" interrupted Tubby impatiently, stemming thetide of objections. "Say, can't you fellows play ball without a bigleague collection of stuff?"
"Well, here's a bit of board I can trim down a bit and make a bat of,"said Jeb Cotton.
"Good for you, Jeb. You are a young man of resource and ingenuity.You'll make a good scout. How's this for a ball?"
The stout youth held up a rounded bowlder, which must have weighed atleast four pounds.
"Oh, rats! Say, what do you want to do--brain us?"
"Couldn't," responded Tubby enigmatically.
"Couldn't what?"
"Brain you."
"Why?"
"Haven't got any."
"Any what?"
"B-r-a-i-n-s, brains!" yelled Tubby, retreating to a safe distance.
"I have it!" exclaimed Rob suddenly.
"What, the pip?"
"No, an idea," responded the boy recklessly, forgetting his own commentson Tubby's inspiration.
"Ho! ho! ho!" howled the stout youth delightedly. "Step up, ladies andgentlemen, and see the eighth--or ninth wonder of the world--Rob Blakehas an idea. Step up lively now, before the little creature gets away."
"We can borrow some potatoes from Soapy Sam," said Rob, when some of thelaughter at his expense had subsided.
"Borrow them?" exclaimed Bill Simmons. "I guess it will mean givingthem. What I couldn't do to a potato with this bat----"
He flourished the piece of lumber Jeb Cotton had shaped, as he spoke.However, Rob's suggestion was tried; but even as Bill Simmons hadprophesied, the borrowed potatoes did not prove a success as baseballs.One after another, they were scattered into tiny fragments, and SoapySam, on being requisitioned for more, threatened to evict the entireparty from his premises.
"Oh, pshaw!" exclaimed Tubby petulantly. "What'll we do?"
"Go swimming," laughed Merritt.
"I have it," exclaimed Rob suddenly.
"He's got it again--a relapse of ideas," grinned Tubby.
"What's the matter with climbing that cliff and exploring those old cavedwellings?"
"Great!" was the unanimous verdict. Privately, one or two of the boyswho had heard the ghost legend, were not quite as eager as they seemedto be, to traverse the mysterious passages and tomb-like dwellings of avanished race, but they didn't say so.
"It's about three hours to sundown. We'll have to shake a leg to get upthere and back," said Frank Price.
Acting on this advice, no time was lost in making a start.
"Have we all got revolvers?" asked Rob suddenly.
"Sure," responded Jeb Cotton. "I brought mine when I heard that it was astampede we were called out on."
The others had done likewise.
"Say," put in Tubby gloomily, as they set out, "what's the good oftaking guns with us?"
"Why, you never know what you'll run into in a cave," said BillSimmons.
"Huh, I never heard of guns being any good against ghosts," chillilyremarked the fat youth.
"Well, you're a nice cheerful soul, you are," burst out Rob. "Are youscared?"
"Oh, no; I'm not. Go ahead and rout your ghosts out. Stir 'em up, andmake 'em jump through the hoops and back again. Fine!" exploded Tubby.
"Whatever is the matter with him?" asked Merritt, looking about for ananswer.
"That idea he had a while back has gone to his head," laughed Harry.
And such was the general opinion.
As has been said, the cliff, at the summit of which were the cavedwellings, lay about half a mile back from the huts of the Far Pasturecow-punchers. The cliff was in itself a remarkable formation. It toweredsheer up and down like the wall of a house. It was just as if a giantcheese-knife had shaved a neat slab off the face of the mountain--a slabsome four hundred or more feet in height, and a mile or more wide at thebase.
From where the boys were, however, they could perceive an old cattletrail winding up the mountainside, off beyond one edge of the smoothcliff. It traced its way among the scrub growth and stunted treesalmost--so far as they could judge--to a point near the summit, andafforded an easy way of reaching the top of the cliff.
An hour or more of tough climbing brought them to the top of themountain--or high hill--which formed a sort of plateau. No time was lostin making for the edge of the cliff, in the face of which, some twentyfeet or more from the top, were bored the entrances to thecave-dwellers' mysterious homes.
"Well," said Tubby triumphantly, as he gazed over the dizzy precipice"no cave man's home for us."
It looked as if the stout youth was right. A narrow ledge, forming asort of pathway against the naked side of the cliff, ran below the cavedwellings as a shelf is seen to extend sometimes below a row of pigeonholes. But from the summit of the cliff to the ledge was, as has beensaid, all of twenty feet, and there seemed to be no way of bridging thedistance.
"Those cave men must have been way ahead of the times," mused Tubby.
"How do you make that out?" inquired Jack Simmons, Bill's youngerbrother.
"Why, they must have had air ships. They couldn't have rung their frontdoor bells any other way."
"Nonsense they must have had some way of getting down," interposed Rob,who was looking about carefully--"Hooray, fellows! I've got it," heexclaimed suddenly, "look!"
He pushed aside a clump of brush and exposed to view a flight of stepscut in the face of the rock. So filled with dust were they, however,that they had not been visible to any but the sharp eyes of the BoyScout leader.
"What are you going to do?" asked Merritt, as Rob made for the lip ofthe cliff.
"Going down there, of course," rejoined Rob.
Merritt, as he gazed ove
r the brink and viewed the sheer drop, downwhich one false step would have sent its maker plunging like a loosenedstone, was about to utter a warning. He checked himself, however, and,with the rest, eagerly watched Rob, as the boy made his way down theprecipitous steps, or rather niches, cut in the face of the rock.
It was breath-catching work. The descending boy was compelled to clingto the surface of the cliff like a fly to a window-pane. Between him andthe ground, four hundred feet under his shoe soles, nothing interposedbut the narrow ledge of rock outside the cliff-dwellers' "front doors."
Rob made the descent in safety, and presently stood in triumph on theledge. One after another, the Boy Scouts of the Range Patrol followedhim, and presently they all stood side by side on the narrow shelf.
"Say, I hope the underpinnings of this don't give way," said Tubby, ashe joined them, his round cheeks even ruddier than usual from theexertion of his climb.
"You ought to have been an undertaker, Tubby," exclaimed Merritt. "Allyou can think of is death and disaster and ghosts."
"Well, if you feel so good about it, you can have the first chance atgoing into one of those holes," parried Tubby.
"Very well, I will," rejoined Merritt, flushing. He privately did notmuch relish the idea of being the first to enter those long-untrodpassageways. They looked dark and mysterious. An oppressive silence,too, hung about the boys, and half-unconsciously they had dropped theirvoices to a whisper, as they stood on the threshold of a civilizationlong passed to ashes.
"Go ahead," said Rob, coming to Merritt's side. Together the two boys,followed by the remainder of the newly recruited Boy Scouts, entered therocky portal of the first of the dwellings.
A faint, musty smell puffed out in their faces.
"Smells like grandpa's cellar in the country," remarked Tubby, sniffingit.
"Where you used to swipe milk and apples, I suppose," laughed Merritt.Hollow echoes of his merriment went gurgling off down the dark passage,almost as if distant voices had taken them up and were repeating thejoke over and over, till it died away in a tiny tinkle of a laugh, likethe ghost of a baby's whisper.
"Ugh, I guess I won't laugh again," remarked Merritt.
"Say, Rob, how about a light?" asked Jeb Cotton suddenly.
"I've got a bit of candle here in my pocket," rejoined Rob. "I put itthere the other night when Harry was developing some pictures. By theway, I wish you'd brought your camera, Harry."
"So do I. This would make a dandy flashlight in here."
The boys gazed about them admiringly, as Rob struck a match from hiswaterproof match-safe and lit the candle. They had penetrated fully ahundred feet into the cliff by this time, and the walls about them weremarked with curious paintings and carvings, the work of thelong-vanished cave-dwellers.
Under their feet was a thick, choking dust, that entered their eyes,ears and noses as they breathed, almost suffocating them. But not one ofthem was inclined to notice this, when there was so much to take up hisattention elsewhere.
"I wonder what the cave-dwellers ate----" began Tubby, when his wordswere fairly taken out of his mouth by a startling occurrence.
A sudden puff of wind, chill as the breath of a tomb, blew toward themdown the tunnel, and at the same instant Rob's candle was blown out. Itwas all the boys could do to keep from shouting aloud with alarm as theystood plunged into sudden blackness.
The next instant there came an appalling sound, an onrush like the voiceof a hundred waterfalls. The wind puffed in their faces in sharp blasts,and something swept by them in the darkness with a strange, muffledshriek.