A NOTE OF WARNING AT THE SPRING HOLE
"Pull up, Bob; I sure glimpsed something moving, out there in the sage
brush!"
Both horses came to an immediate stop as the bridles were drawn taut.
"Which way, Frank?" asked the Kentucky lad, eagerly, as he threw back
his shock of black hair, and waited to see where the finger of his
companion would point.
"Whatever it was disappeared behind that spur of the low foot hills
yonder. I just caught a peep of the last of it. Here, Bob, take the
glasses, and wait to see if it shows up again on the other side of the
rise," and Frank thrust the binoculars into the hand of his chum.
"Think it could have been a prowling coyote; or perhaps a bunch of
antelope feeding on the sweet grass around some spring hole, as you
were telling me they do?" asked Bob, holding himself in readiness.
"Well," returned Frank, quickly, "the sun was in my eyes some, you see,
and so I wouldn't like to be too sure; but somehow, Bob, I just have a
notion that it was a horse."
"With a rider on it, of course!" exclaimed the other lad, as he raised
the glasses to his eyes, training them on the further end of the squat
elevation that stood up in the midst of the sage level like a great
hump on a camel.
"There, looks like I was right, Bob!" ejaculated Frank, a minute or so
later, as something came out from behind the low hill, moving steadily
onward.
"Indians! as sure as anything!" fell from the lips of the one who held
the field glasses to his eyes.
"One--two--three--a heap of the reds in that bunch, I reckon," muttered
Frank, watching with his naked eye; although the distance, separating
them from the spot where the figures were passing steadily into view,
was considerable.
"Say, these glasses are jim-dandy ones, all right!" remarked Bob,
presently, as he turned to offer them to his chum, who immediately
clapped them to his own eyes.
"Huh!" grunted Frank a moment later, "squaws along; each cayuse
dragging poles on which they heap their lodges, blankets and such;
reckon there's no war party about that, Bob."
"I should think not, if what you've told me about the Indians is a
fact, Frank. But look here, what d'ye suppose they're doing so far
away from their reservation?" and Bob gripped his quirt, which hung, as
usual, from his wrist, in cowboy fashion; and with a nervous slash cut
off the tops of the rattlesnake weed within reach.
"That's where you've got me, Bob," replied the one who had been brought
up on a ranch, and who was supposed to know considerable about the life
of the plains; "unless they've just got desperate for a good old hunt,
and broke loose. Pretty soon the pony soldiers will come galloping
along, round 'em up, and chase the lot back to their quarters. Uncle
Sam is kind, and winks at a heap; but he won't stand for the Injuns
skipping out just when the notion takes 'em."
They sat there in their saddles a while longer, watching the long
procession pass out beyond the low hill, and track along the plain
through the scented purple sage.
"Navajos, ain't they?" asked Bob, who, of course, depended on his
comrade for all such information, since one Indian was as much like
another as two peas to him.
"Sure thing," replied the other, carelessly. "Tell 'em as far as I can
glimpse the beggars. And I just reckon now that's old Wolf Killer
himself, ridin' at the head of the line, with his gay blanket wrapped
around him. Wonder what he'd say if he knew Frank Haywood was here, so
far away from the home ranch?" and Frank chuckled as though amused.
"Do you know the old chief, then?" asked Bob.
"Say, do I?" replied Frank, with a laugh. "Remember me telling you how
the boys on our place caught a Navajo trying to run away with one of
our saddle herds about three years ago, when I was hardly more'n a kid?
Well, I chased him with the rest of the outfit, and saw old Hank throw
his rope over his shoulders. He snaked the fellow over the ground and
through the short buffalo grass like a coyote, 'till he was punished
enough; and then my dad made 'em let him go. But you just ought to
have seen the way he folded his arms, stared at each of us, and, never
saying a single word, walked away. I've often wondered if he didn't
mean to come back some day, and try to get his revenge."
"And that was the chief himself?" asked Bob.
"Just who it was," Frank went on. "He'd left the reservation, and got
too much fire-water aboard, they said; so he thought the good old days
had come back, when a Navajo always tried to get away with any horses
he ran across. They say Wolf Killer used to rustle cattle long ago,
till Uncle Sam put his hand down heavy on his tribe, and shut the lot
up."
"Then, if he has reason to remember everybody connected with Circle
Ranch in that way, I reckon it's just as well we don't try to let him
know we're here," remarked Bob, uneasily. "We didn't come out on this
little picnic for trouble with the reds. There they go, pushing
through the sage brush, Frank. So-long, Navajo, and good luck to you
on your hunt," waving a hand after the departing string of distant
figures.
"Our way lies yonder, along the foot of the mountains," said Frank, as
he turned his head to look toward the grim range that stood out boldly
against the skyline.
"Yes," observed his companion, as he allowed his black horse his head,
once more advancing in a Southerly direction, "and, unless all signs
fail, that's Thunder Mountain towering above the rest of the peaks."
"You're right, Bob, that's what it is; and we're going to camp at its
foot unless something goes wrong," and as he spoke Frank urged Buckskin
on again.
The yellow bronco was a true range pony. He had been taught many of
the clever tricks for which his kind are noted. A stranger would have
had a hard time keeping his seat on the back of the animal, such was
his dislike for unknown parties. He could dance almost as well as a
circus horse; and when Frank had tended the saddle herd at night, as
horse-wrangler, he was accustomed to depend on Buckskin to give ample
warning of trouble, whether in the shape of a storm, a threatened
stampede, or the presence of cattle-rustlers.
Both boys were, of course, dressed pretty much as cowboys are when on
the ranch; leather "chaps" covering their corduroy trousers; with boots
that mounted spurs; flannel shirts; red handkerchiefs knotted around
their necks; and with their heads topped by felt hats, such as the men
of the range delight in.
Slung to their saddles were a couple of up-to-date guns of the
repeating type, which both lads knew how to use at least fairly well.
Of course both carried lariats slung from the pommels of their high
Mexican saddles. Frank was accustomed to throwing a rope; while Bob,
naturally, had much to learn in this particular.
"Say," remarked the latter, who had fallen a trifle behind his comrade,
"to see the way we're just loaded down with stuff makes me think of
moving day in the old Kentucky mountains. But no use talking, if a
fellow wants to be half way comfortable, he's just got to lug all sorts
of traps along."
"That's right, Bob," assented the other, laughing. "And that applies
in an extra way when he means to be out in the Rockies for perhaps a
week."
"No telling what he may run up against there, eh?" queried Bob.
"Well, if it isn't a grizzly, it may be an avalanche, or a
cloud-burst," remarked the boy who had spent his whole life in the open.
"Not to speak of Indians, or Mexican rustlers looking for a chance to
drop down on some peaceful ranch, and carry off a bunch of long horns;
eh, Frank?"
"Sure; and a lot more besides, Bob," was the reply. "But the sun's
getting kind of low, you notice."
"In other words, we'd better be looking around for a place to camp,
Frank?"
"You've hit the nail on the head," the other replied. "Suppose we hold
up here for a bit, and let me take another squint up yonder through the
glass."
"Meaning at old Thunder Mountain?" observed Bob, as his eye traveled
upward toward the bare crown of the great uplift, that had so long
remained a source of mystery to the entire community.
"Yes. Just look at the pinons growing up the sides like tufts, along
with the funny looking clumps of stunted cedars. Then you can see the
aspens and silver spruce next. And over the whole outfit is a silence
that beats the desert itself. Whew! the closer you examine the place
the more it impresses you."
Bob accepted the glasses after Frank had used them and focussed them on
the slope.
"So that's old Thunder Mountain, is it?" he remarked. "Well, I must
say it shows up right well. I've tried to picture the place from all
we've heard."
"But you don't feel disappointed, do you?" asked Frank.
"Not a bit, Frank," his companion continued. "I've seen some
mountains, even before I came out here to your Rockies; but there's
something about this thing that just staggers a fellow. Wow! but we'll
sure have our troubles climbing that wild slope."
"Never could make it if it wasn't for the canyons," Frank added. "They
all tell me that. Here, let me put the field-glasses away. Half an
hour's gallop, and we'll jump off. That ought to bring us to the foot
of the slope. Here you go, Buckskin; show us you're not tired after
your day's run. Whoop-la!"
Frank brought his hat down on the flank of the horse, accompanying the
action with a real cowboy yell. Instantly the spirited steed bounded
off, with Bob's Domino close behind, snorting, and giving signs of
astonishing animation.
So they sped along, with clanking sounds from the various packages
fastened behind the saddles; but after a few minutes both boys
gradually drew upon the lines, knowing full well that their mounts had
done a fair day's work already; and, besides, there was no possible
need of haste.
"How's this for a camping place?" asked Frank, as he suddenly brought
Buckskin upon his haunches in a quick stop.
"Suits me first rate," replied his chum, after giving a glance around.
"Let's see if I remember all you told me about what a fellow has to
look for when he expects to go into camp. Water handy, grass for the
horses, wood for a fire, and shelter from a hidden mountain storm.
What better could we ask, I'd like to know? Is it a go, Frank?"
For answer the shorter lad jumped from his seat. His first act was to
remove the saddle, and then, with a handful of dead grass, rub the
sweaty back of the mettlesome animal, as every true son of the plains
always does before he thinks of his own comfort.
Next he hobbled the animal, and drove the stake pin, to which the
lariat was attached, deeply into the ground. After that the bridle
came off; and Buckskin's first natural act was to drop to the ground,
and roll over several times.
Bob was following this procedure with Domino. The intelligent animals
seemed to understand just what the programme was to be; for after
rolling, they walked down to the little watercourse to slake their
thirst; and then set about eagerly nibbling the sweet grass that grew
all around.
The two chums went about preparing to spend a night under the bright
stars, with a readiness that told of long practice. Bob, of course,
knew less than his companion about such things, but Frank had often
accompanied the cowboys on his father's ranch on their expeditions, and
had even spent nights in the company of old Hank, when off on a hunt
for fresh meat; so that he knew pretty well what ought to be done to
add to their comfort.
It pleased him to show Bob some of the things he had learned. There
might be no real reason why he should start a cooking fire in a hole he
dug, rather than make a roaring blaze that could be seen a mile away;
but Bob was tremendously interested, and would never forget all that he
learned.
"Besides," Frank explained, after he had the small fire started, "it is
easier for cooking, once you get a bed of red ashes; because in this
warm country a fellow doesn't much like to get all heated up, standing
over a big blaze."
Bob had, meanwhile, opened some of the bundles. One of these contained
a small coffee pot, as well as the frying pan without which camping
would be a failure in the minds of most Western boys.
"Look out for rattlers," advised Frank, as his chum went to the spring
hole to fill the coffee pot. "They often come to such places in dry
season We haven't had rain for so long now, that, when it does come, I
expect a regular cloud-burst. That's often the way in this queer
country, along the foothills of the Rockies."
Hardly had he spoken than there sounded a sudden and angry whirr,
similar to the noise made by a locust, and which Frank knew only too
well meant a rattlesnake!