ON THE MOUNTAIN TOP
The next morning all of the former Oak Hall chums were up by sunrise. As
Dave had said, they wanted to make the most of their time.
“It’s a beautiful location,” was Phil’s comment, as he stood out on the
edge of the camp and surveyed the surroundings.
On one side were the tall mountains and on the other the broad valley,
with the little winding river shimmering like a thread of silver in the
sunlight.
“Nice place to erect a bungalow,” added Ben.
“What are you thinking of, Ben—erecting bungalows and selling off town
lots?” queried Roger slyly.
“Oh, I didn’t get as far as that,” laughed the son of the Crumville real
estate dealer. “Just the same, after your railroad gets into operation
somebody might start a summer colony here.”
The visitors were shown around the camp, and at the ringing of the
breakfast bell were led by Roger and Dave into the building where the
meals were served. And there all did full justice to the cooking of Jeff
and his assistant.
The youths had talked the matter over the evening before, and it had
been decided to take an all-day trip on horseback along the line of the
proposed railroad.
“We’ll show you just what we are trying to do,” Roger had said. “Then
you’ll get some idea of what laying out a new railroad in a country like
this means.”
“I wish I could have gone down to the Rio Grande when Ben went down,”
remarked Phil. “I would like to have seen that new Catalco Bridge your
company put up there.”
“It certainly was a fine bit of engineering work!” cried Ben. He turned
to Dave. “You don’t expect to put up any bridge like that here, do you?”
“Not just like that, Ben. Here we are going to put up fifteen or twenty
bridges. None of them, however, will be nearly as long as the Catalco
Bridge. But some of them will be considerably higher. In one place we
expect to erect a bridge three hundred feet long which, at one point,
will be over four hundred feet high.”
A substantial lunch had been packed up for them by the cook, and with
this stowed safely away in some saddlebags, the five youths set out from
the construction camp, Dave, with Phil at his side, leading the way, and
the others following closely.
Every one felt in tiptop spirits, and consequently the talk was of the
liveliest kind, with many a joke and hearty laugh. Shadow Hamilton was
allowed full sway, and told a story whenever the least opportunity
presented itself.
“Some mountains around here, and no mistake,” observed Phil, after they
had climbed to the top of one stretch of the winding trail and there
come to a halt to rest the horses.
“That climb would be a pretty hard one for an auto,” observed Ben. “It’s
worse than some of the climbs we had to take when we were making that
tour through the Adirondacks to Bear Camp.”
“Oh, say! Speaking of climbing a hill in an auto puts me in mind of a
story!” burst out Shadow eagerly. “A man got a new automobile of which
he was very proud, and took out one of his friends, a rather nervous
individual, to show him what the auto could do. They rode quite a
distance, and then the man started to go up a steep hill. He had a
terrible time reaching the top, the auto almost refusing to make it. But
at last, when he did get up, he turned to his friend and said: ‘Some
hill, eh? But we took it just the same.’ To this the nervous man
answered: ‘I was afraid you wouldn’t make it. If I hadn’t put on the
hand-brake good and hard, you would have slipped back sure.’” And at
this little joke the others smiled.
Having rested, the party proceeded on the way once more, and Dave and
Roger pointed out what had been done toward surveying the new line and
where the bridges and culverts were to be constructed; and they even
drew little diagrams on a pad Dave carried, to show how some of the
bridges were going to be erected.
“It certainly is a great business,” was Phil’s comment. “I should think
it would be pretty hard to learn.”
“It is hard, Phil. But we are bound to do it,” answered Dave. “We are
going to learn all about surveying and draughtsmanship, and in the
meantime we are brushing up on geometry and trigonometry, and half a
dozen other things that pertain to civil engineering. We’ve got a great
many things to learn yet, before we’ll be able to tackle a job on our
own hook,” he added, with a little smile.
From time to time the youths talked about the days spent at Oak Hall and
of what had become of numerous schoolfellows. The visitors discussed the
doings of Nick Jasniff in that vicinity, and they wondered what that
rascal would do next.
“Like the proverbial bad penny, he’ll be sure to turn up again sooner or
later,” was Phil’s comment.
“I’m afraid you’re right,” sighed Dave.
Thinking that they might possibly spot a bobcat or some other wild
animal, Dave had brought a double-barreled shotgun along, and Roger
carried old Hixon’s rifle. The others were armed with small automatic
pistols, purchased especially to be carried on the trip to Star Ranch.
“But I don’t suppose we’ll sight anything worth shooting now we’re
armed,” remarked our hero. “That’s the way it usually is.”
Noon found the chums in the very heart of the mountains. They had been
told by Hixon where they could find a fine camping-spot close to a
spring of pure, cold water; and there they tethered their horses and
proceeded to make themselves at home. They had brought along some coffee
and a pot to make it in, and presently they started a small fire for
that purpose.
“A fellow could certainly camp out here and have a dandy time,” remarked
Ben, when the odor of the coffee permeated the camp. “There must be
plenty of game somewhere in these mountains and plenty of fish in the
streams.”
“Yes, the streams are full of fish,” answered Roger. “But about the
game, I am not so sure. There are plenty of birds and other small
things, but big game, like deer, bear, and mountain lions are growing
scarcer and scarcer every year, so Hixon says. He thinks that every time
a gun is fired it drives the big game farther and farther back from the
trails.”
The youths brought out their lunch from the saddlebags, and when the
coffee was ready they sat down to enjoy their midday repast. The long
horseback ride of the morning had whetted their appetites, and with
little to do, they took their time over the meal.
“Let’s take a walk around this neighborhood before we continue the
ride,” said Roger, when they were repacking their things. “I’m a bit
tired of sitting in the saddle, and had just as lief do some walking.”
Seeing to it that their horses could not get away, the five youths
started to climb up the rocks to where the summit of the mountain along
which they had been traveling would afford a better view of their
surroundings. It was hard work, and they frequently had to help each
other along.
“Be careful, Shadow, or you may get a nasty tumble,” cautioned Dave,
just before the summit was gained.
“Don’t worry about me, Dave,” panted the former story-teller of Oak
Hall. “I know enough to hang on when I’m climbing in a place like this.
I’m not like the fellow in the story who let go to spit on his hands.”
From the summit of the mountain they could see for many miles in every
direction, and here Ben, who had brought along a pocket camera, insisted
upon taking a number of views—two with the others seated on several of
the nearby rocks. Then Dave made Ben pose and took two more pictures.
“It’s too bad we can’t take a picture of Ben shooting a bear or a
wildcat,” remarked Roger. “That would be a great one to take home and
show the folks.”
“I’d rather have a picture of you and Dave building one of those big
bridges you spoke about,” answered the other youth. “Then we could have
a couple of copies framed and shipped to Jessie and Laura;” and at this
dig Ben had to dodge, for both Dave and Roger picked up bits of rock to
shy at him.
“Let’s walk across the summit of this mountain and see what it looks
like on the other side,” suggested Shadow. “I suppose we’ve got time
enough, haven’t we?”
“We’ve got all the time there is, Shadow,” answered Dave. “It won’t make
any difference how late it is when we get back to camp.”
One after another they trudged along through the underbrush and among
the loose stones on the mountain summit, which was a hundred yards or
more in diameter. In some places they had to pick their way with care,
for there were numerous cracks and hollows.
“A fellow doesn’t want to go down into one of those cracks,” remarked
Phil, after leaping over an opening which was several feet wide and
probably fifteen or twenty feet in depth.
“He’d get a nasty tumble if he did,” answered Roger.
“And he’d have a fine time of it getting out if he chanced to be alone!”
broke in our hero.
With the sun shining brightly and not a cloud obscuring the sky, the
five chums presently reached the other side of the mountain. Looking
down, they saw a heavy wilderness of trees sloping gently down to the
hollow below them and then up on the side of the mountain beyond.
“Isn’t that perfectly grand!” murmured Ben. “Just think of the thousands
upon thousands of feet of timber in that patch!”
“Yes. And think of all the masts for ships!” added Phil, with a little
laugh.
“And flagpoles!” exclaimed Dave. “I guess there would be enough
flagpoles in that patch to plant a pole in front of every schoolhouse in
the United States.”
“Well, every schoolhouse ought to have a flagpole, and ought to have Old
Glory on it, too!” cried Roger. “My father says that people generally
don’t make half enough display of our flag.”
The youths walked along the edge of the summit for quite a distance,
looking off to the northward and southward. Then, after Ben had taken a
few more pictures, they started back for where they had left the horses.
“Come on, let’s have a race!” cried Ben suddenly. “First fellow to reach
the horses wins the prize!”
“And what’s the prize?” queried Phil.
“Won’t tell it to you till you win it!” broke in Dave.
With merry shouts, all of the chums started on a run for where they
supposed the horses had been left. They soon found themselves in the
midst of the underbrush and many loose rocks, around which they had to
make their way. Some thought the horses were in one direction and some
another, and as a consequence they soon became separated, although still
within calling distance.
“Hi! Be careful that you don’t go down in some hole and break a leg,”
cautioned Dave.
“That’s right!” sang out Roger, who was some distance off. “Some of
these rocks are mighty treacherous.”
Forward went the crowd, and in about ten minutes Dave and Roger found
themselves in sight of the former camping spot. Phil and Ben were also
coming on from around some rocks on the left, and each of the crowd put
on an extra burst of speed to reach the horses first.
“I win!” cried Roger, as he caught hold of one of the saddles.
At the same moment, Phil touched another of the animals, and a few
seconds later Dave and Ben did the same.
“Pretty close race for all of us!” cried Ben; and then, of a sudden, he
looked around. “Where is Shadow?”
The four who had reached the horses looked back toward the brushwood and
the rocks around which they had made their way. They waited for several
seconds, expecting each instant that the former story-teller of Oak Hall
would show himself. But Shadow failed to appear.
“Hello, Shadow! Hello! Where are you?” sang out Dave, at the top of his
lungs.
No answer came to this call, and one after another the others also
summoned their missing chum. They listened intently, but not a sound of
any kind broke the quietness of the mountain top.
“Something has happened to him, that’s sure,” remarked Roger, his face
growing grave.
“I guess we had better go back and look for him,” announced Dave.