THREATS OF TROUBLE
"Splash!"
Hardly had Frank ventured upon his prediction before it came true. The
stout cloth of which Peg's garments were composed might have sustained
his weight indefinitely, and had it depended on his trousers giving
way, his friends above must have been compelled to use their ropes in
order to release him from so unfortunate a predicament.
But the roots of the little stunted cedar were soon torn from their
hold. And when this came about, of course the unfortunate Peg
continued his roll down the balance of that steep slope, clawing at
every object which he thought might stay his progress.
He certainly did drop into the pool with a tremendous splash that sent
the water flying in every direction.
At first he vanished entirely from view. Then his head emerged, and it
could be seen that he was swimming furiously to keep afloat. Somehow
his awkward movements made Bob Archer think of a hippopotamus he had
once seen in a tank.
Peg must have had his mouth open when he struck. Perhaps he was trying
to shout for somebody to stop him, and in this manner he swallowed a
quantity of water. At any rate he spouted forth quite a little fluid
as he floundered about, kicking and beating with feet and hands, as
though he were being run by an engine that had gone wild.
Both of the saddle boys grinned. They could not help it, the thing
looked so laughable. Had it been a dear friend, instead of an enemy,
they must have enjoyed the sight just the same.
Twice Peg bobbed under, to come up again, paddling for all the world
like a puppy that was having its first swim. His face had taken on a
look of terror.
"Help! Can't keep up much longer! Something pulling me down!" he
spluttered.
Frank and Bob exchanged a quick glance. Of course this put quite
another face on the matter. If Peg was really in danger they had no
business to stand there, laughing. It might seem funny to them, but to
Peg the matter was not at all comical.
"I don't believe the critter knows how to swim, Bob!" exclaimed Frank.
"That's what," answered the other, seriously. "He's just keeping up
because he's crazy with fright. We've got to get him out of there,
Frank."
"We sure have; come along," echoed the western boy.
Fortunately Frank was possessed of a quick mind. He never wasted any
time in wondering what methods he should use in order to accomplish
things.
The pool was of considerable width, and even though he bent over its
border he would not be able to come within five feet of the struggling
Peg.
Without hesitation he stepped into the water, holding his gun. Two
feet from the bank and it was to his knees. But he believed he had now
reached a point where he could hold out his rifle and touch Peg.
"Take hold, and I'll pull you out!" he called, as he extended the gun.
It was laughable to see how eagerly the other seized upon the chance.
And, when Peg had fastened himself to the other end of the rifle Frank
easily drew him shoreward.
The bully came out, dripping wet, and in anything but an angelic
temper. It was bad enough, in his eyes, to have fallen into the pool;
but to be rescued by a fellow he hated, as he did Frank Haywood, added
to the aggravation.
After spluttering for a minute or two, so that he could get rid of the
balance of the water he had swallowed, Peg faced the two chums.
Strange to say he did not seem to consider that Frank had placed him
under any obligations in the least when he dragged him out of the water.
"See what you did," Peg exclaimed, now spluttering with burning anger.
"What d'ye mean pointing your old gun up at me, and making as if you
meant to shoot?"
"Oh!" remarked Bob, elevating his eyebrows; "was that what forced you
to take that header down the slope? Well, now, we had an idea you were
so glad to see us that you just couldn't wait to walk down, but wanted
to fly! But, if I was to blame at all for your trouble, I'm sure I'm
sorry. But you see, we didn't know whether we were going to be held up
by rustlers or Indians. That's what comes from hiding, Peg."
"Bah! guess I'll do just whatever I want," spluttered the other, wiping
his dripping face on his sleeve without doing either much good,
however. "And do you know what I think?"
"Well, no, I must say I don't happen to be a mind reader, Peg. Suppose
you tell me," replied the unruffled Bob, who had taken the measure of
the other, and knew he might be set down as a great boaster, but one
not particularly dangerous when it came to a show-down.
"I believe you just did that on purpose, that's what," Peg went on,
hotly. "You've got it in for me ever since that time we had our little
affair, when I laid a hand on the Mexican girl who sassed me. You just
knew I'd jump up in a hurry if you made out you was going to shoot; and
I bet you even remembered this lake at the bottom of the slope. Oh! it
worked all right; but don't you forget; my time will come. I'm going
to pay you back in full! I've got friends who'll stick by me, all
right. Bah! what're you two fellers doing here on Thunder Mountain,
anyhow?"
A new suspicion had apparently seized upon Peg. He viewed their
presence as a personal insult; just as though they might have plotted
to forestall him in the glorious adventure he had planned to carry out.
"Well, if the old mountain belongs to you," spoke up Frank, thinking it
time he took a hand in the talk, "we'll ask you to excuse us, and back
out. But I don't think you have any claim on it; so we'll hang around
as long as we see fit. And remember this, Peg, we're going to mind our
own business; but we don't stand for any bother from you, or those with
you. Understand that?"
Peg looked at him long and steadily. The eyes of Frank never wavered
in the slightest degree.
"All right," said Peg, finally, as his own eyes dropped. "You wait and
see; that's what! This thing's been hanging fire a long time now; and
some day we're bound to have it out, Frank Haywood. My dad's after
yours with a sharp stick; and perhaps the trouble is going to come down
to the next generation. You'll get yours good and plenty when the
right time comes!"
He turned away, and, limping to where the slope could be reached by
skirting the edge of the pool, laboriously commenced to climb,
following the tracks of the three horses.
"There's one of his guides up yonder, Frank," remarked Bob; "sitting on
the top of the bank. Looks to me like he was grinning to beat the
band."
"Yes, that's Nick Jennings," replied Frank. "Used to work on the
Circle Ranch, but he got his walking papers because he was caught
stealing from the other men. He's got a grudge against me because I'm
a Haywood. But Nick likes a joke as well as any cowboy; and who could
keep a straight face after seeing what happened here? Look a little
farther on, and you'll just glimpse the colored handkerchief Spanish
Joe wears on his head."
"I see him peeping at us from behind the bushes," returned Bob. "And
say, he's handling that gun of his just like he'd be glad to use it if
anybody gave him the dare. I reckon Spanish Joe is some ugly customer,
Frank."
"That's just what he is; but let's be moving on. If Peg takes another
flop and splashes in this puddle again, he'll have to swim for it, or
else depend on his own guides to yank him out. No more for me. I'm
wet to the knees; and did you hear him thank me for it? He's sure the
limit."
So the two boys went on.
They were not interfered with, which pleased Frank not a little.
Knowing the nature of Spanish Joe, and the revengeful character of Nick
Jennings, he would not have been much surprised had they attacked him
and Bob, and carried things with a high hand.
Presently a turn in the canyon shut out the scene of their late
adventure. The last glimpse they had of Peg Grant, he had nearly
arrived at the top of the slope, and it seemed possible that he would
not make a slip that might cause him to repeat his recent circus act.
"Why do you think they left the trail, and made their horses climb up?"
asked Bob, presently.
"Well, they might have talked it over just as we did, and chosen to
leave the horses so they could look around on foot," Frank replied.
"But you suspect they might have another reason, too?" Bob insisted.
"That's a fact," replied his chum, seriously. "For all we know they
may have run across some sign of the rustlers, and thought it best to
get out of the beaten rut here before they got caught."
"Then you don't believe that little Lopez had anything to do with it,
Frank?"
"What, that Mex boy? Oh! he's out of the business long ago," replied
the other.
"In what way? Didn't he come along this trail ahead of us?" asked Bob.
"Sure thing," Frank went on. "But you see I've missed the marks of
that burro's little hoofs for nearly twenty minutes. I made up my mind
Lopez had some slick way of climbing out of the _barranca_ a ways back,
without leaving much of any trail. I told you he was a sly one, and I
say the same now, no matter whether he's a brother to the girl you
defended against Peg, or the girl herself."
"All right, Frank. Get us out of this as soon as you can," Bob
remarked, looking ahead, as though he did not much fancy the appearance
of things there.
Ten minutes later Frank drew rein sharply.
"What's doing?" asked Bob, nervously, as he half raised his rifle,
which he had insisted on holding in his hand all the time since that
meeting with Peg. "Think you see signs of trouble from Peg and his
bunch; or is it something else?"
"Something else this time," remarked Frank. "Fact is, our chance has
come to get up out of here with the nags!"