THE WRESTLING MATCH
For a second, Pete Colliver stared blankly at Dave, whose usually
good-natured and smiling visage wore an expression which he had never
seen upon it before.
Dick Travers was quick to take advantage of the opportunity. An
energetic shove broke the lumberjack's hold, and he stepped aside.
"Wal, wal, fat un! An' what has you got ter say 'bout it, hey?" howled
Pete.
"Nothing, now," answered Dave, calmly.
"Oh, ye ain't; but mebbe some one else has, hey? Ye can't bluff me
none, feller."
"Quit it, Colliver!" commanded Jim Reynolds, sternly.
"Leave Pete alone, Jim," growled Smull.
"I'll show ye how I quit it, Big Jim," cried Pete, trembling with
excitement. His right hand flew around, knocking Dave Brandon's
sombrero into the bushes.
The Ramblers sprang forward. But Buck James interposed his big form.
"Git back, boys," he ordered, sharply. "Ye ain't got no call ter stop a
squar', stan' up wrestlin' match. I'll see fair play."
"But we--" began Bob.
"Don't bother about me."
Dave spoke as quietly as though there was no one present but himself
and his friends.
The boys looked at the literary youth in astonishment. All knew that
Dave Brandon had plenty of courage, but they had never seen his easy,
indolent air fall away from him more completely. He stood erect and
alert, his eye keenly measuring his heavily-built antagonist.
Dave was inches taller than Pete, but the wide shoulders of the
lumberjack indicated unusual strength. Pete's red face expressed all
the joy and satisfaction he felt at having at last forced one of the
boys to wrestle with him.
"I'll show ye plum quick, big un!" he cried, springing to the attack.
Dave was ready. He nimbly dodged the flail-like arms, and warily
circled away, eluding another clumsy effort to seize him by the waist.
[Illustration: HE NIMBLY DODGED]
"Yer skeered ter stan' up ter me," scoffed Pete, "but I'll git ye good
an' hard in a minute, feller."
"He's a-turnin' pale," said Griffin, with a hoarse laugh.
"His legs is weak a'ready, Pete," chimed in Tom Smull.
Dave was moving his arms like a skilled boxer, and, by nimble footwork,
continually evaded Pete's bull-like rushes.
"He must think the movin' pictur' fellers are takin' a crack at the
show, an' want him ter draw it out," commented Buck James. "Move in
close, you Pete. Watch yerself, now--ah!"
Pete had at last succeeded in getting a hold, and the two were at it in
deadly earnest, kicking up the turf, as they struggled back and forth
over the clearing.
The boys shouted encouragement to Dave, while Smull and Griffin, highly
excited, crowded so close to the contestants that Buck James felt
called upon to interfere.
"Give 'em room!" he commanded. "Ah! Sarves ye jist right, Tom Smull!"
Dave, by a tremendous effort, had broken Pete's hold, and sent him
spinning back, to bring up with great force against Tom Smull. The
latter, swept off his balance, uttered a howl of anger, and fell in a
heap upon the ground.
Pete Colliver had never dreamed of such resistance. It began to dawn
upon him that his antagonist was of a different kind from any he had
ever met in the lumber camp.
With a yell of rage, he dashed headlong toward Dave, intending to end
the contest by one supreme effort.
Pete managed to plant an elbow under the stout boy's chin, forcing his
head back. Then, putting forth all the power of his muscular body, he
followed up the advantage.
A groan came from the Ramblers as they saw Dave yielding.
"Ye've got 'im a-goin' sure, Pete," yelled Smull, whose feelings had
been considerably damaged by his tumble.
"Don't crowd 'em!" again warned Buck James, his flabby face shining
with pleasure. "I didn't expect to see no sich a go as this 'n."
"Get out! Fatty only needs nuff room ter fall in," piped Jimmy of
Sellade, hilariously. "Oh!"
By a dexterous twist, Dave had wriggled out of danger again, and
dropped on all fours, with his opponent clinging to his back.
Pete Colliver, with disheveled hair wildly tossing in the breeze,
paused, puffing heavily. A curious, dumfounded look, which all the
rough shouts of encouragement flung toward him failed to remove, had
settled over his brick-red face.
"Pete's lost his nerve," cried Jack.
"He couldn't throw you in a hundred years," shouted Tim, gleefully.
Dave unexpectedly fell flat on his face, his surprised opponent
sprawling across his prostrate form. Then, with a swift movement of
tremendous power, Dave began turning over, and a roar came from the
boys when they saw Pete's shoulder rising high in the air.
The latter wildly attempted to loosen his hold--and succeeded. But
the impetus of Dave Brandon's push kept him rolling over, and, like a
flash, the stout boy had turned and pounced upon him.
The astounded Pete, frantically struggling to arise, found himself
thrown backward with a force that fairly took his breath away. He
struck the turf sideways, and, by the aid of a bush, pulled himself
over on his stomach.
"None o' that, Colliver!" roared Buck James. "Ye ain't wrestlin'
bushes. Next time ye do it I'll disqualify ye."
"Much you've got ter say 'bout it," puffed Pete.
"Don't waste no breath in talkin', Pete," counseled Jimmy, in worried
tones. "Keep yer peepers open; he's a-layin' fur ye."
"An' I know whar he'll be layin' in another minute," snarled Pete,
slowly rising.
Any one less stout-hearted than Dave Brandon might have quailed
before the fierce looks and threatening attitude of the lumberjack.
Pete's eyes blazed with fury. His big hands were opening and closing
convulsively, and his massive chest heaved with physical and mental
stress. He had counted upon an easy victory, and, so far, the advantage
was all on the other side.
Only fitful gusts of wind and stamping of horses' hoofs broke the tense
silence, as the two boys faced each other again.
Like boxers sparring for openings, they circled about, each wary and
determined. Pete's reputation was at stake, while Dave, thoroughly
aroused, felt that he, too, must prove his mettle. He quickly ducked
and danced away as Colliver's arm swung toward him.
"You'd best take it on the run, feller," fumed Pete.
He had now thrown aside all caution. Spurred on by Tom Smull's loud
yells, he hurled himself recklessly toward his cooler opponent.
It was a chance for which Dave had been waiting. Taking swift advantage
of Pete's awkward lunge, he secured an arm and leg hold, jerking
him around with a force that brought a shout from the excited boys.
Even Pete Colliver's muscular shoulders were powerless to resist the
fierceness of Dave Brandon's counter attack.
With the veins in his forehead bulging out, the Rambler, calling every
ounce of strength to his aid, bore Pete backward, threw him heavily to
the ground, and fell across his prostrate form.
Colliver tried in vain to squirm and twist away. Slowly, inexorably,
his shoulders were forced back to the ground, and while a chorus of
shouts from the boys swelled into a storm of applause, Pete was pinned
down hard and fast--conquered.
The abrupt and decisive ending of the contest was viewed by the
lumbermen almost in silence; their astonishment seemed too great for
words. Jimmy, Alf Griffin and Tom Smull stood staring blankly, as
though they were unable to believe that the heretofore invincible Pete
was lying before their eyes vanquished at last, and by a mild-looking
stout boy. Dismay was written on their bronzed faces, but there were
gleams of satisfaction, however, on some of the others.
"Mebbe it won't stop that yawp o' hisn," remarked Buck James,
complacently.
"Wal, I swan!" exclaimed Jimmy, violently. "If this hyar ain't a go!
Bet five cents the big un dasn't try it ag'in."
"Five real cents! Oh, you reckless boy!" gurgled Jack.
Deeply crestfallen, Pete Colliver rose to his feet. The violence of his
fall had taken all the fight out of him for the moment.
"I didn't have a fair chancet," he snarled. "Jist wait, feller; I
ain't done with ye yit."
"Don't have any hard feelings, Pete." Dave, breathing hard, extended
his hand. "Shake!"
"The only thin' that'll git shook is you, fat un; an' it'll be afore
long, too."
Colliver's face reflected all the angry passions which surged within
him, and his fists were clenched, as he stalked to and fro.
It was not in Dave's nature to crow over a victory. With a wave of his
hand he stilled the comments of his enthusiastic friends.
Pete spoke again:
"Think nobody won't have none o' that gold mine but yerselves, do yer?"
he sneered.
"Cut it out, Pete," stormed Jim Reynolds. "Boys," he added, turning
toward the Ramblers, "as yer champeen wrastler says," he smiled in a
conciliatory fashion--"we don't want no hard feelin's."
"That's a plum sure thing," agreed Bart Reeder.
"Now, we're a-wantin' to do the squar' thing by ye. If thar's a gold
mine 'bout, 'tain't no more yourn 'n ours--see the p'int?"
"Of course it ain't," growled Alf Griffin.
"An' so, why not be frien'ly-like, an' jine in with us?" Jim spoke
persuasively. "Eh, what d'ye say?"
"It'll save ye a heap o' trouble, I'm a-thinkin'; an' don't forgit it,"
mumbled Tom Smull, ominously, scratching his scratched-up face.
"Listen to reason, boys," pleaded Buck James.
"Well, this is a good one!" burst out Jack Conroy, hotly. "Here you
fellows have been doggin' us like so many cats, sneakin' an' spyin'
about our camp--an' now! Why, thunder, it beats the Dutch--never heard
o' such nerve."
"Of course we won't do it!" cried Dick.
"Eh?" snarled Tom Smull, with a threatening gesture. "Ye'd best not get
too chipper, young un."
"If ye don't--" began Alf Griffin.
"See here!" A snort from Jim Reynolds stopped him. "You fellers are
sp'ilin' the hull business." Then, his voice becoming pleasant, he
went on: "I feel sure the boys'll agree to our plan. Why not stay with
us a spell, an' talk it over?"
"No, Jim; it wouldn't be a bit of use," answered Bob Somers, quietly.
"We haven't the slightest intention of joining in with any one; so
we'll say good-bye!"
Smull's eyes were blazing.
"Are ye a-goin' ter be sassed an' stood off by a parcel o' kids?" he
demanded. "Ain't ye man nuff ter say to 'em, 'See here, you young
shrimps, ye've simply got ter do what I tells ye,' hey?"
"Easy--easy," counseled Buck James.
"Yes; quit it," interposed Dan Woodle.
"That's right--everybody had better quit it!" Jack Conroy's voice
drowned all others. "I can just tell you this: you chaps can't scare
us; an' you might as well turn about, an' steer your way back to Cap
Slater's lumber camp, where you belong."
"Well, I swan!" Jimmy stared at the speaker in open-mouthed wonder.
"Sich talk--bust it!" howled Pete, still choking with anger. "I'm ready
fur wengeance, now; bust it! Look out!"
Turning, he made a sudden spring toward Dave Brandon.
Bob Somers, however, stepped between them.
"That will do, Pete," he said, quietly.
"I won't stan' no more o' sich nonsense, Colliver," added Jim Reynolds.
"Git back!"
His huge hand grabbed Pete by the shoulder, and the stocky lad was
hurled aside.
Bob and his companions seized the opportunity to take their departure,
a proceeding to which Griffin and Smull voiced loud objections, while
Jim Reynolds called out:
"Don't go 'way riled, boys; can't we talk over this thing a bit?"
"No!" answered Bob, firmly; "the last word's been said."
Sending a chorus of good-byes over their shoulders, they made toward
their bronchos.
The seven quickly mounted, and rode out into the open. Quirts cracked,
and the riders found themselves being carried down a gentle slope.
None drew rein until rise after rise had been passed, and the line of
timber left far behind.
"Well, Dick Travers, what have you to say for yourself?" said Bob
Somers, severely, as they finally halted. "Don't you know you took an
awful risk in hanging around that camp?"
"You mean hanging on to a tree, I guess," grinned Dick.
"Tell us all about it."
The boys listened attentively to his story.
"Of course," concluded Dick, "I wasn't going to come away without
my gun, and didn't dare go back for the longest time. Besides," he
confessed, whimsically, "I forgot the number of the tree and couldn't
find it till early morning. I got a glimpse of you from the woods, and
walked right out, like a little major."
"Whew! You took a long chance," exclaimed Jack. "It's a mighty lucky
thing you didn't stop a load of buckshot skulkin' 'round their camp in
spooky hours."
"Or something worse," added Tom, with a shiver.
"Anyway it all turned out for the best," quoth Bob. "We know now what
we have to buck up against. Dave Brandon," he added, "you're a positive
wonder."
"Isn't he, though?" chirped Tim. "Great Scott! When Pete flopped over
on his back I could hardly believe it--greatest sight I ever saw. Did
me a lot of good, I can tell you."
"Let me echo that remark," laughed Sam. "Say, fellows, I got a chance
to chin a bit with Jimmy; he told me how those men got their horses."
"Let's hear 'bout it; an' talk fast," said Jack.
"Buck James is a horse dealer at Rawdon, so they let him in on the
thing provided he would supply the ponies. Pete and Jimmy traveled on
foot--took them nearly all night--but they managed to reach Wild Oak,
where they encountered Slater's men. And do you know--"
"What?" asked Tim, impatiently.
"They actually made Buck James pony up with a pair of ponies."
"Whew! There's nerve for you," commented Tim.
"Yes; and Jimmy was boasting about it to beat the band--said that Pete
threatened to blow the whole thing to people in Rawdon, an' that scared
'em. They thought everybody in town 'ud be tagging at their heels."
"Well, I'm glad Pete got taken down a peg or two," growled Jack.
"Say, Dick, did you find out why they brought our packhorse back?"
asked Tom, abruptly.
"That's an easy one, son; the jacks knew well enough that we had to
have grub--thought perhaps we might get discouraged and skip back, if
packy didn't turn up; see?"
"Guess that's the idea. Shows how much they have to depend 'pon
following us."
"Sure thing, Tom."
"Well, Dick, you and Dave have had a lively time, all right," remarked
Bob, reflectively. "Now, we have to think of a way to throw those
fellows off the track; it won't be so easy. Smull and Griffin are
pretty desperate men. Suppose we do as much traveling by night as we
can, eh?"
"Bully idea," agreed Dick. "Cæsar, but this is an exciting life. Don't
let's waste a minute."
The seven looked carefully around; but the country appeared absolutely
deserted. There were many ridges and clumps of trees, however, which
could easily have concealed their trackers.
By noon the gray expanse of cloud was rapidly sweeping away, and shafts
of sunlight blazed through the openings. The boys took but little time
to eat, pushing rapidly on toward the hills, and at sundown the rolling
swells of the valley had been crossed and they were encamped in the
midst of a wild-looking range.
A small fire was built in the shadow of an enormous boulder, and when
dusk fell the glowing embers were stamped out. The group sat about in
utter darkness, listening to the dismal howls of a pack of coyotes
and the mysterious sounds from a near-by wood, strangely clear in the
silence of the night.
With Bob Somers on guard, the others finally turned in and slept until
the moon was rising above the hills. Then, aroused, they quickly
saddled their ponies and vaulted upon their backs.
A clear, silvery radiance enveloped the landscape, but shadows in
ravines were deep and gloomy. They soon reached a dreary, marshy
stretch lying between two hills. Tall, tangled grasses and stagnant
pools sent their rank odor floating over the air, while the clear,
brilliant moon was mirrored in sharp, metallic dashes upon ooze and
water. As they passed through, a long-legged water-bird rose before
them with a startled cry.
On hard ground again, the travelers allowed the bronchos to choose
their own pace.
"Hold up, thar!"
This startling command fell upon the boys' ears with a sharpness that
fairly took their breath away. One moment they seemed to be absolutely
alone, and the next found themselves facing two horsemen who had dashed
from a thicket close by.
The summons came again:
"Hold up, thar!"