THE PONIES STAMPEDE
Next morning the camp was stirring as the first gray streaks appeared
on the eastern horizon.
Each saddle bag was quickly packed with hard tack, coffee and other
necessaries which might be easily carried, the rest of the space being
taken up with cartridges and the like. Blankets were rolled, ready to
be strapped behind the saddles on the ponies' backs.
The luggage was to be reduced to the absolute needs of the party, but
with the possibility of having to remain out over night, their
requirements were greater than if they had intended to return the same
evening.
Before they had finished their hurried breakfast, Ben Tackers
appeared, accompanied by two vicious looking hounds, whose red eyes
and beetle brows made the boys hesitate to approach them at first.
However, after the Pony Riders had tossed small chunks of cooked bear
meat to them, the animals, by wagging their tails, showed that nothing
need be feared from them.
No sooner were the guns brought out than the dogs, beginning to
understand what was in the air, bounded from one to another of the
lads, barking and yelping with keen delight.
All was activity in the camp. Ponies were quickly rubbed down, saddled
and bridled, blankets strapped on, and, at a command from Tad Butler,
the young hunters fairly threw themselves into their saddles. The
party moved off, with the enthusiastic riders waving their hats and
shouting farewells to those who had been left behind.
Jose swung a dishpan, grinning broadly, while the Professor smiled and
nodded at the departing horsemen. In a few moments the voices of the
boys had become only a distant murmur.
"Come into my tent a moment, Mr. Tackers," invited the Professor.
The old mountaineer accepted the invitation apparently somewhat
grudgingly.
"I hear considerable about gold being found in this neighborhood,
occasionally, Mr. Tackers. What has been your experience, may I ask?"
"There's some as has found pay dirt," answered Ben. "But I reckon Ben
Tackers don't bother his head about it."
"Hm-m-m-m," mused the Professor. "What is the nearest railroad station
to this place?"
"Eagle Pass. 'Bout twenty miles from here, due east."
"How long would it take you to make the trip there and back?"
"Wouldn't make it again. Just been there. Haven't any horse."
"I have a horse, Mr. Tackers, and I should very much like to have you
make this trip for me," announced the Professor, coming directly to
the point. "I will pay you well for your trouble, but with the
understanding that you say nothing of it to anyoue. The errand on
which I am asking you to go is a confidential one. You will not
mention it even to Lige Thomas. And, of course, it goes without saying
that I do not wish the boys to know about it, either."
Ben peered at the Professor from behind his bushy eyebrows, with
suspicion plainly written in his beady eyes.
"What for?" he grunted.
"That I cannot tell you--in fact it is not necessary for you to
know. When you get there, all you will be required to do will be to
hand two packages to the express agent there, with instructions to
forward them at once to their destination, which will be Denver."
"What'll you give?"
"How much will you charge?" asked the Professor.
Ben considered for a moment.
"'Bout fifty cents, I reckon," he answered hesitatingly, as if
thinking the amount named would be too much.
"I'll give you five times that," announced the Professor promptly.
"No; fifty cents 'll be 'bout right."
"How soon can you start?"
"Now, I reckon."
"Be ready in an hour, and I will have the packages for you. When will
you return?"
"To-night."
"Good. Now be off and get yourself ready. You know where my horse
is. And, by the way, I shall want you to make the trip again no later
than the day after to-morrow, as I shall expect an answer to my
message by that time. For that service I shall be glad to pay you the
same."
"No; fifty cents will cover it all."
"Have it your own way."
Ben, understanding that the interview was at an end, rose and left the
tent. Professor Zepplin then took one of the ore specimens from his
pocket and packed it carefully in a small pasteboard box, wrapping and
tying the package with great care.
Next, he wrote industriously for some twenty minutes. The letter he
sealed in a large, tough envelope, after which he leaned back, lost
in thought.
"Things couldn't be better," he muttered. Ben, upon his return,
received the packages which he was to express, and a few moments later
had ridden from camp on old Bobtail, headed for Eagle Pass.
"I rather think I have turned a trick that will surprise some people,"
chuckled the Professor. "Perhaps I'll even surprise myself."
Later in the morning he strolled up to the cave entrance, hammer in
hand, breaking off a bit of rock here and there, all of which he
dropped into a little leathern bag that he carried attached to his
belt. Yet the Professor wisely concluded not to take the chance of
entering the cave alone, much as he wished to do so.
The young hunters, in the meantime, were plodding along on their
ponies on their way to the hunting grounds, which lay some ten miles
to the northward of their camp. They found rough traveling. Instead of
following the ridges, they were now moving at right angles to them,
which carried the boys over mountains, down through gulches and
ravines, over narrow, dangerous passes and rocky slopes that they
would not have believed it was possible for either man or horse to
scale.
"Regular goats, these ponies," said Tad proudly. "Regular trick
ponies, all of them."
"They have to be or break their necks," replied Walter.
"Or ours," added Ned Rector.
"I don't see any wild beasts, but I feel hungry," declared Stacy.
"My stomach tells me it's time for the 'chuck wagon,' as Lige Thomas
calls it, to drive up."
"Tighten your belt--tighten your belt," jeered Ned. "Cheer up!
You'll be hungrier bye-and-bye."
The boys munched their hard tack in the saddle, the guide being
anxious to get, before nightfall, to the grounds where Tackers had
advised him the bob-cats were plentiful. Already the dogs were lolling
with tongues protruding from their mouths, not being used to running
the trail in such warm weather. Now and then they would plunge into a
cool mountain stream, immersing themselves to the tips of their noses
where the water was deep enough, and sending up a shower of glistening
spray as they shook themselves free of the water after springing to
the bank again.
It was close to the hour of sunset when the guide finally gave the
word to halt. Lige prepared the supper while the boys bathed and
rubbed down their ponies, after which they busied themselves cutting
boughs for their beds, which they now were well able to make without
assistance from their guide.
Bronzed almost to a copper color, the lads were teeming with health
and spirits. Even Walter Perkins, for the first time in his life, felt
the red blood coursing healthfully through his veins, for he was fast
hardening himself to the rough life of the mountains.
All were tired enough to seek their beds early. Wrapping themselves in
their blankets, they were soon asleep.
Midnight came, and the camp fire slowly died away to a dull, lurid
pile of red hot coals that shed a flicker of light now and then, as
some charred stick flamed up and was consumed. A long, weird, wailing
cry, as of some human being in dire distress, broke on the stillness
of the night.
The boys awoke with a start.
"What's that?" whispered Chunky, shivering in his bed.
"Nothing," growled Ned. "What did you wake me up for?"
Once more the thrilling cry woke the echoes, wailing from rock to
rock, and gathering volume, until it seemed as if there were many
voices instead of only one.
The ponies sprang to their feet with snorts of fear, while the boys,
little less startled, leaped from their beds with blanching faces.
The guide was already on his feet, rifle in hand.
Again the cry was repeated, this time seeming to come from directly
over their heads, somewhere up the rocky side of the gulch in which
they were encamped.
Even horses trained to mountain work had been known to stampede under
less provocation. The frightened ponies suddenly settled back on their
haunches. There was a sound of breaking leather, as the straps with
which they were tethered parted, and the little animals were free.
"Stop them! Stop them! Jump for them!" roared the guide.
But his warning command had come to late. With neighs of terror, the
animals dashed straight through the camp, some leaping over the boys'
cots as they went.
"Catch them!" thundered Lige. "It's a cougar stampeding them so he can
catch them himself."