THE VOICE OF THE MOUNTAIN
"Hey! take care there, Bob!" shouted Frank, starting up from beside his
little cooking fire in something of a panic; for that alarm signal is
apt to send the blood bounding through the veins like mad, whenever
heard.
"Don't bother!" came the reassuring reply of the unseen Bob, from a
point near by; "I think I've got the beggar located, all right. Say,
don't he sing though, to beat all creation? He's mad clean through,
all right. I'm looking for a stick, so as to knock him on the head."
"Go slow, and keep your eye out for a second one," advised Frank,
uneasily; "because they generally hunt in couples. That isn't a measly
little prairie rattler either; but a fellow that's come down from
Thunder Mountain."
"Nice warm reception for visitors, I should remark," laughed Bob,
immediately adding: "there, I've found just the stick I want. Now, old
chap, look out for yourself! I'm going to have that rattle of yours to
take home, unless you give me the slip."
"No danger of that," remarked Frank; "because a rattler seldom runs
away, once he shakes his old box, and gives warning. Hit him just back
of the head, and let it be a good smart blow too, so that you break his
neck."
Then came a swishing sound, twice repeated. The thrilling rattle
immediately subsided.
"Get him?" demanded Frank, ready to take up his task once more, upon
receiving a favorable reply from his friend.
"He's squirming some, but helpless," returned Bob, composedly. "I'll
cut his head off, so that he can't turn around and jab me while I'm
getting that rattle box of his."
Two minutes later he came back into camp, carrying the coffee pot,
which he proceeded to place upon the fire Frank had started. The
latter noticed that his chum was trembling a little, and could give a
shrewd guess that Bob had been more startled than he had thus far
admitted.
"Perhaps I'll get used to it in time," Bob remarked, presently; "but it
sure does give a fellow a nasty shock to hear that sound burst out
close by your feet, knowing as you do what a bite from those fangs
means."
"Then it was a narrow squeak, was it?" asked Frank.
"I guess I never want to be closer to a diamond-back than that," Bob
admitted, with a shake of his head.
Soon a delightful aroma began to steal through the air in the immediate
vicinity of the little camp near the foot of the towering, mysterious
mountain; as some bacon sizzled in the pan, and the crushed berry from
Java boiled and bubbled most cheerily.
Besides, upon some splinters of wood Frank had thrust small pieces of
venison, the last fresh meat they had brought from the ranch. As the
heat from the red coals began to turn these to a crisp brown, Bob
sniffed the added fragrance in the air after the manner of a hungry
range-rider, or a boy with a healthy appetite.
"Seems to be plenty of game around here," he remarked. "I jumped two
rabbits near the spring, and they went up the rise, as usual."
"Yes," remarked the cook, "the place looks good for game, and you'd
wonder why those Injuns passed it by, only I happen to know. Ten to
one there's a deer in that thicket of wild plum over there. And you
can just believe an old grizzly wouldn't want a better hang-out than up
yonder among the cliffs and crags of the mountain side."
"But to return to our mutton, which after all is antelope meat, when do
we start operations? I'm nearly wild, with all these smells, and never
a bite. The water just drips from my tongue, I give you my word,
Frank."
For answer the other picked up the coffee pot, and set it aside for a
minute, to let the contents settle.
"Grub's ready, Bob," he said, laughingly; "and I reckon we'll not
bother banging on the frying pan with a big spoon to-night, range
fashion. Sit down, and get your pannikin ready for some of this bacon
and meat. How does that coffee look?"
"Say, it's got the color, all right, and if it only tastes half as fine
as it looks you'll hear no kick coming from me," replied Bob, as he
poured his tin cup full of the liquid.
As the boys ate they chatted on various topics, most of which talk had
of course some connection with the big cattle ranch they had so
recently left.
"I'd give a heap to know if Peg Grant meant business when he said we
were riding to a fall if we thought we were the only pebbles on the
beach," Bob remarked.
"Oh!" replied Frank, "I reckon he's going to make a try to solve that
Thunder Mountain puzzle. But just think of a tenderfoot like Peg let
loose on that fierce slope up yonder; will you?"
"Perhaps he's here already," suggested Bob.
"Wouldn't be one bit surprised," Frank continued, readily enough, as
though he considered that a foregone conclusion anyway. "He and his
cronies had time enough, unless Peg changed his mind. He might be
wondering what happened to you, and thinking how the X-bar-X ranch
would be safer, in case some of our boys chased after him to give him
the tar and feathers he deserves for playing such a mean trick."
"But supposing they did come," said Bob; "Peg and Spanish Joe, and that
other treacherous cowboy you told me about; we're pretty apt to meet up
with them if we go prowling around here for the next few days."
"Just so, and we'll try to mind our business all the time," remarked
Frank; and then his eyes flashed a little as he continued: "but if they
try any of their ugly little tricks on us, Bob, they're likely to get
hurt."
"I'm with you there, Frank," the other added, shutting his teeth in a
determined way. "I can stand a certain amount of fun, and, I hope,
take it the right way. Your cow punchers said that when they hazed me,
you know. But I certainly do object to any such rough-house business
as fastening a poisoned thorn under a fellow's saddle."
"That game has cost more than a few people their lives," Frank declared
vehemently. "Cowmen draw the line at it. You noticed how angry old
Hank became when he heard about that same thing. But your horse seems
to be getting on all right, Bob."
"Sure he does. That ointment made by old Hank's like magic. Domino
won't suffer much from that jab. But that was a bully good supper all
right, and I don't care how soon we repeat it," he concluded with a
laugh.
Finally both lads lay down to secure such rest as they needed after a
long and tiresome day.
The drowsy chirp of crickets, and shrill voices of katydids in the lush
grass near by, told of the summer night. Many times had Frank listened
to this same chorus as he lay in his blanket on the open prairie,
playing the part of night-wrangler to the herd of saddle horses
belonging to the round-up party of cow-punchers.
He could hear some lurking rabbit slinking through the hazel bushes
over at one side. Somewhere off on the level, where the sage grew so
heavily, there must have been a prairie dog village; for the sound of
the peculiar barking of these queer little animals frequently floated
to his ears as the breeze changed.
The two horses were still feeding at the time Frank dropped off into a
sound and refreshing sleep, but doubtless they would soon lie down.
Bob was already breathing heavily, which would indicate that he had
passed beyond the open door to slumber-land.
The minutes passed, and several hours must have gone.
Frank was dreaming of the excitement attending some of the many dashing
gallops he had lately enjoyed in company with his chum, looking up
stray cattle, helping to brand mavericks, watching the cowmen mill
stampeding herds, or chasing fleet-footed antelopes just to give the
horses a run.
He was suddenly aroused by a strange sound that seemed to cause the
very earth under him to tremble. The trample of a thousand hoofs would
make such a noise; if one of those old-time mighty herds of bison could
have come back to earth again; or a stampede of an immense herd of
long-horns might cause a similar vibration.
But Frank Haywood knew that neither of these explanations could be the
true one, even as he thus sat upright on his blanket to listen. The
ominous, growling, grumbling noise was more in the nature of
approaching thunder, just as though one of those furious summer storms,
tropical in their nature, and often encountered in this country where
plains and mountains sharply meet, had crept upon them as they calmly
slept.
And yet, strange to say, neither of the two boys jumped quickly to
their feet in wild dismay, seeking to prepare for the rain that might
soon burst upon them. On the contrary they continued to sit there,
straining their ears to catch the rumbling reverberations that kept
coming, with little respites between.
"Say, now, what d'ye think of that, Bob?" asked Frank, when silence
again held sway for a brief period. "Nary a cloud as big as your hand
in the sky; and yet all that grumbling oozing out of old Thunder
Mountain! Looks like we might have the biggest job of our lives
finding out the secret of that pile of rocks. There she starts in
again, harder than ever. Listen, Bob, for all you're worth!"