CHAPTER IV
LOST IN THE CLOUDS
The fact that he had lost his little all in the core-boring venture didnot trouble Tom Connor in the least; the money was gone, and as worryingabout it would not bring it back, Tom decided not to worry. The samething had happened to him many a time before, for his system of life wasto work in the mines until he had accumulated a respectable sum, andthen go off prospecting till such time as the imminence of starvationdrove him back again to regular work.
It was so in this case; and being known all over the district as askilful miner, his specialty being timber-work, he very soon got a goodjob on the Pelican as boss timberman on a section of that importantmine.
One effect of Tom's getting work on the Pelican was that he secured forJoe and me an order for lagging--small poles used in the mines to holdup the ore and waste--and our potato-crop being gathered and marketed,my father gave us permission to go off and earn some extra money forourselves by filling the order which Tom's kindly thoughtfulness hadsecured for us.
The place we had chosen as the scene of our operations was on thenorthern slope of Elkhorn Mountain, which lay next south of MountLincoln, and one bright morning in the late fall Joe and I packed ourbedding and provisions into a wagon borrowed from my father and set out.
We had chosen this spot, after making a preliminary survey for thepurpose, partly because the growth of timber was--as it nearly alwaysis--much thicker on the northern slopes of Elkhorn than on the southside of Lincoln, and also because, being a rather long haul, it had notyet been encroached upon by the timber-cutters of Sulphide.
On a little branch creek of the stream which ran through Sulphide weselected a favorable spot and went to work. It was rather high up, andthe country being steep and rocky, we had to make our camp about a milebelow our working-ground, snaking out the poles as we cut them. This, ofcourse, was a rather slow process, but it had its compensation in thefact that from the foot of the mountain nearly all the way to Sulphideour course lay across the Second Mesa, which was fairly smooth going,and as it was down hill for the whole distance we could haul a very bigload when we did start. In due time we filled our contract and receivedour pay, after which, by advice of Tom Connor, we branched out onanother line of the same business.
Being unable to get a second contract, and being, in fact, afraid totake one if we could get it on account of the lateness of theseason--for the snow might come at any moment and prevent our carryingit out--we consulted Tom, who suggested that we put in the rest of thefine weather cutting big timbers, hauling them to town, and storing themon a vacant lot, or, what would be better, in somebody's back yard.
"For," said he, "though the Pelican and most of the other mines havetheir supplies for the winter on hand or contracted for, it is alwayslikely they may want a few more stulls or other big timbers than theythink. I'll keep you in mind, and if I hear of any such I'll try andmake a deal for you, either for the whole stick or cut in lengths toorder."
As this seemed like good sense to us, we at once went off to find astorage place, a quest in which we were successful at the first attempt.
Among my father's customers was the widow Appleby, who conducted a smallgrocery store on a side street in town. She was accustomed to buy herpotatoes from us, and my father, knowing that she had a hard struggle tomake both ends meet, had always been very easy with her in the matter ofpayment, giving her all the time she needed.
This act of consideration had its effect, for, when we went to her andsuggested that she rent us her back yard for storage purposes, shereadily assented, and not only refused to take any rent, but gave us aswell the use of an old stable which stood empty on the back of her lot.
This was very convenient for us, for though a twenty-foot pole,measuring twelve inches at the butt is not the sort of thing that athief would pick up and run away with, it was less likely that he wouldattempt it from an enclosed back yard than if the poles were stored inan open lot. Besides this, a stable rent-free for our mules, and a loftabove it rent-free for ourselves to sleep in was a great accommodation.
Returning to the Elkhorn, therefore, we went to work in a new place,a place where some time previously a fire had swept through a stripof the woods, killing the trees, but leaving them standing, stark andbare, but still sound as nuts--just the thing we wanted. Our chiefdifficulty this time was in getting the felled timbers out from amidsttheir fellows--for the dead trees were very thick and the mountain-sidevery steep--but by taking great care we accomplished this withoutaccident. The loading of these big "sticks" would have been an awkwardtask, too, had we not fortunately found a cut bank alongside of which weran our wagon, and having snaked the logs into place upon the bank wekidded them across the gap into the wagon without much difficulty.
We had made three loads, and the fine weather still holding, we had goneback for a fourth and last one, when, having got our logs in place onthe cut bank all ready to load, Joe and I, after due consultation,decided that we would take a day off and climb up to the saddle whichconnected the two mountains. We had never been up there before, and wewere curious to see what the country was like on the other side.
Knowing that it would be a long and hard climb, we started aboutsunrise, taking a rifle with us; not that we expected to use it, butbecause it is not good to be entirely defenseless in those wild,out-of-the-way places. Following at first our little creek, we went onup and up, taking it slowly, until presently the pines began to thinout, the weather-beaten trees, gnarled, twisted and stunted, becomingfew and far between, and pretty soon we left even these behind andemerged upon the bare rocks above timber-line. Here, too, we left behindour little creek.
For another thousand feet we scrambled up the rocks, clambering overgreat boulders, picking our way along the edges of little precipices,until at last we stood upon the summit of the saddle.
To right and left were the two great peaks, still three thousand feetabove us, but westward the view was clear. As far as we could see--andthat, I expect, was near two hundred miles--were ranges and masses ofmountains, some of them already capped with snow, a magnificent sight.
"That is fine!" cried Joe, enthusiastically. "It's well worth thetrouble of the climb. I only wish we had a map so that we could tellwhich range is which."
"Yes, it's a great sight," said I. "And the view eastward is about asfine, I think. Look! That cloud of smoke, due east about ten miles away,comes from the smelters of San Remo, and that other smoke a little tothe left of it is where the coal-mines are. There's the ranch, too, thatgreen spot in the mesa; you wouldn't think it was nearly a mile square,would you?"
"That's Sulphide down there, of course," remarked Joe, pointing offtowards the right. "But what are those other, smaller, clouds of smoke?"
"Those are three other little mining-camps, all tributary to thesmelters at San Remo, and all producing refractory ores like the minesof Sulphide. My! Joe!" I exclaimed, as my thoughts reverted to TomConnor and his late core-boring failure. "What a great thing a good veinof lead ore would be! Better than a gold mine!"
"I expect it would. Poor old Tom! He bears his disappointment prettywell, doesn't he?"
"He certainly does. He says, now, that he's going to stick tostraightforward mining and leave prospecting alone; but he's said thatevery year for the past ten years at least, and if there's anythingcertain about Tom it is that when spring comes and he finds himself oncemore with money in his pocket, he'll be off again hunting for hislead-mine."
"Sure to. Well, Phil, let's sit down somewhere and eat our lunch. Wemustn't stay here too long."
"All right. Here's a good place behind this big rock. It will shelter usfrom the east wind, which has a decided edge to it up here."
For half an hour we sat comfortably in the sun eating our lunch, allaround us space and silence, when Joe, rising to his feet, gave vent toa soft whistle.
"Phil," said he, "we must be off. No time to waste. Look eastward."
I jumped up. A wonderful change had taken place
. The view of the plainswas completely cut off by masses of soft cloud, which, coming from theeast, struck the mountain-side about two thousand feet below us and wereswiftly and softly drifting up to where we stood.
"Yes, we must be off," said I. "It won't do to be caught up here in theclouds: it would be dangerous getting down over the rocks. And besidesthat, it might turn cold and come on to snow. Let us be off at once."
It was fortunate we did so, for, though we traveled as fast as we dared,the cloud, coming at first in thin whisps and then in dense masses,enveloped us before we reached timber-line, and the difficulty weexperienced in covering the small intervening space showed us how riskyit would have been had the cloud caught us while we were still on thesummit of the ridge.
As it was, we lost our bearings immediately, for the chilly mist filledall the spaces between the trees, so that we could not see more thantwenty yards in any direction. As to our proper course, we could tellnothing about it, so that the only thing left for us to do was to keepon going down hill. We expected every moment to see or hear our littlecreek, but we must have missed it somehow, for, though we ought to havereached it long before, we had been picking our way over loose rocks andfallen trees for two hours before we came upon a stream--whether theright or the wrong one we could not tell. Right or wrong, however, wewere glad to see it, for by following it we should sooner or later reachthe foot of the mountain and get below the cloud.
But to follow it was by no means easy: the country was so unexpectedlyrough--a fact which convinced us that we had struck the wrong creek. Aswe progressed, we presently found ourselves upon the edge of a littlecanyon which, being too steep to descend, obliged us to diverge to theleft, and not only so, but compelled us to go up hill to get around it,which did not suit us at all.
After a time, however, we began to go down once more, but though we keptedging to the right we could not find our creek again. The fog, too, hadbecome more dense than ever, and whether our faces were turned north,south or east we had no idea.
We were going on side by side, when suddenly we were astonished to heara dog bark, somewhere close by; but though we shouted and whistled therewas no reply.
"It must be a prospector's dog," said Joe, "and the man himself must beunderground and can't hear us."
"Perhaps that's it," I replied. "Well, let's take the direction of thesound--if we can. It seemed to me to be that way," pointing with myhand. "I wish the dog would bark again."
The dog, however, did not bark again, but instead there happened anothersurprising thing. We were walking near together, carefully picking ourway, when suddenly a big raven, coming from we knew not where, flewbetween us, so close that we felt the flap of his wings and heard theirsoft _fluff-fluff_ in the moisture-laden air, and disappeared again intothe fog before us with a single croak.
It was rather startling, but beyond that we thought nothing of it, andon we went again, until Joe stopped short, exclaiming:
"Phil, I smell smoke!"
I stopped, too, and gave a sniff. "So do I," I said; "and there'ssomething queer about it. It isn't plain wood-smoke. What is it?"
"Sulphur," replied Joe.
"Sulphur! So it is. What can any one be burning sulphur up here for?Anyhow, sulphur or no sulphur, some one must have lighted the fire, solet us follow the smoke."
We had not gone far when we perceived the light of a fire glowing redlythrough the fog, and hurried on, expecting to find some man beside it.
But not only was there nobody about, which was surprising enough, butthe fire itself was something to arouse our curiosity. Beneath a large,flat stone, supported at the corners by four other stones, was a hot bedof "coals," while upon the stone itself was spread a thin layer of blacksand. It was from these grains of sand, apparently, that the smell ofsulphur came; though what they were or why they should be there we couldnot guess.
We were standing there, wondering, when, suddenly, close behind us, thedog barked again. Round we whirled. There was no dog there! Instead,perched upon the stump of a dead tree, sat a big black raven, who eyedus as though enjoying our bewilderment. Bewildered we certainly were,and still more so when the bird, after staring us out of countenance fora few seconds, cocked his head on one side and said in a hoarse voice:
"Gim'me a chew of tobacco!"
And then, throwing back his head, he produced such a perfect imitationof the howl of a coyote, that a real coyote, somewhere up on themountain, howled in reply.
All this--the talking raven, the mysterious fire, the encompassingshroud of fog--made us wonder whether we were awake or asleep, when wewere still more startled by a voice behind us saying, genially:
"Good-evening, boys."
Round we whirled once more, to find standing beside us a man, a tall,bony, bearded man, about fifty years old, carrying in his hand a long,old-fashioned muzzle-loading rifle. He was dressed all in buckskin,while the moccasins on his feet explained how it was he had been able toslip up on us so silently.
Naturally, we were somewhat taken aback by the sudden appearance of thiswild-looking specimen of humanity, when, thinking that he had alarmedus, perhaps, the man asked, pleasantly: "Lost, boys?"
"Yes," I replied, reassured by his kindly manner. "We have been up tothe saddle and got caught in the clouds. We don't know where we are. Weare trying to get back to our camp on a branch of Sulphide creek."
"Ah! You are the two boys I've seen cutting timbers down there, are you?Well, your troubles are over: I can put you on the road to your camp inan hour or so; I know every foot of these mountains."
"But come in," he continued. "I suppose you are hungry, and a littlesomething to eat won't be amiss."
When the man said, "Come in," we naturally glanced about us to see wherehis house was, but none being visible we concluded it must be somedistance off in the mist. In this, however, we were mistaken. The sideof the mountain just here was covered with enormous rocks--a whole cliffmust have tumbled down at once--and between two of these our guide ledthe way. In a few steps the passage widened out, when we saw before us,neatly fitted in between three of these immense blocks of stone--one oneither side and one behind--a little log cabin, with chimney, door andwindow all complete; while just to one side was another, a smaller one,which was doubtless a storehouse. Past his front door ran a small streamof water which evidently fell from a cliff near by, for, though we couldnot see the waterfall we could hear it plainly enough.
"Well!" I exclaimed. "Whoever would have thought there was a house inhere?"
"No one, I expect," replied the man. "At any rate, with one exception,you are the first strangers to cross the threshold; and yet I havelived here a good many years, too. Come in and make yourselves at home."
Though we wondered greatly who our host could be and were burning to askhim his name, there was something in his manner which warned us to holdour tongues. But whatever his name might be, there was little doubtabout his occupation. He was evidently a mighty hunter, for, coveringthe walls, the floor and his sleeping-place were skins innumerable,including foxes, wolves and bears, some of the last-named being ofremarkable size; while one magnificent elk-head and several heads ofmountain-sheep adorned the space over his fireplace.
Our host having lighted a fire, was busying himself preparing a simplemeal for us, when there came a gentle cough from the direction of thedoorway, and there on the threshold stood the raven as though waitingfor permission to enter.
The man turned, and seeing the bird standing there with its head on oneside, said, laughingly: "Ah, Sox, is that you? Come in, old fellow, andbe introduced. These gentlemen are friends of mine. Say 'Good-morning.'"
"'AH, SOX, IS THAT YOU?'"]
"Good-morning," repeated the raven; and having thus displayed his goodmanners, he half-opened his wings and danced a solemn jig up and downthe floor, finally throwing back his head and laughing so heartily thatwe could not help joining in.
"Clever fellow, isn't he?" said the man. "His proper name is Socrates,though I call him Sox
, for short. He is supposed to be getting on for ahundred years old, though as far as I can see he is just as young as hewas when I first got him, twenty years ago. Here,"--handing us each apiece of meat--"give him these and he will accept you as friends forlife."
Whether he accepted us as friends remained to be seen, but he certainlyaccepted our offerings, bolting each piece at a single gulp; after whichhe hopped up on to a peg driven into the wall, evidently his own privateperch, and announced in a self-satisfied tone: "First in war, first inpeace," ending up with a modest cough, as though he would have usbelieve that he knew the rest well enough but was not going to troubleus with any such threadbare quotation.
This solemn display of learning set us laughing again, upon whichSocrates, seemingly offended, sank his head between his shoulders andpretended to go to sleep; though, that it was only pretense was evident,for, do what he would, he could not refrain from occasionally openingone eye to see what was going on.
Having presently finished the meal provided for us, we suggested that weought to be moving on, so, bidding adieu to Socrates, and receiving noresponse from that sulky philosopher, we followed our host into theopen.
That he had not exaggerated when he said he knew every foot of thesemountains, seemed to be borne out by the facts. He went straight away,regardless of the fog, up hill and down, without an instant'shesitation, we trotting at his heels, until, in about an hour we foundourselves once more below the clouds, and could see not far away our twomules quietly feeding.
"Now," said our guide, "I'll leave you. If ever you come my way again Ishall be glad to see you; though I expect it would puzzle you to find mydwelling unless you should come upon it by accident. Good-bye."
"Good-bye," we repeated, "and many thanks for your kindness. If we cando anything in return at any time we shall be glad of the chance. Welive in Crawford's Basin."
"Oh, do you?" said our friend. "You are Mr. Crawford's boys, then, areyou? Well, many thanks. I'll remember. And now, good-bye to you."
With that, this strange man turned round and walked up into the cloudsagain. In two minutes he had vanished.
"Well, that was a queer adventure," remarked Joe. "I wonder who he is,and why he chooses to live all by himself like that."
"Yes. It's a miserable sort of existence for such a man; for he seemslike a sociable, good-hearted fellow. It isn't every one, for instance,who would walk three or four miles over these rough mountains just tohelp a couple of boys, whom he never saw before and may never see again.I wish we could make him some return."
"Well, perhaps we may, some day," Joe replied.
Whether we did or not will be seen later.