A CALL FOR HELP
"Oh! what shall we do, Nick?" cried Peg.
His voice was now quivering with fear. Evidently whatever little
courage the fellow possessed, or the grit which had caused him to start
upon this mission of attempting to discover the cause of the mystery
connected with Thunder Mountain, had suddenly disappeared.
"Nawthin' 'cept stick it out, I reckons," replied Nick Jennings.
The superstitious cowboy was more or less anxious, himself. Frank,
eagerly listening, could tell this from the way in which the fellow
spoke. But Nick did not mean to fall into a panic. To try and rush
down the precipitous side of that mountain in the dark would be
madness. And with all his faults Nick was at least smart enough to
understand what it meant by "jumping from the frying pan into the fire."
Another roar, louder than any that had yet broken forth, interrupted
the excited conversation between the son of the mining millionaire and
his guide. The whole mountain quivered. Bob himself was much
impressed, and began to wonder more than ever what it could mean.
The noise died away, just as thunder generally does, growing fainter,
until silence once more brooded over that wonderful mountain. Then
again the two crouching lads caught the complaining voice of Peg.
Bully that he was under ordinary conditions, he now showed his true
colors. That awful sound, coming from the heart of the rocky mountain,
as it seemed, had terrified Peg.
But Frank was not surprised, for he had all along believed that a
fellow who could lift his hand to strike a small girl must be a coward
at heart, no matter how much he might bluster and brag.
"This is terrible, Nick!" exclaimed Peg. "Can't you think of some way
we might get out of this? Oh! I'd give a thousand dollars right now
if only I was safe down on the plains again! What a fool I was to come
here!"
"Well," drawled Nick, possibly with a touch of real envy in his voice,
"I'd like right smart to 'arn that thousand, sure I would, Peg. But
hang me if I kin see how it's agoin' to be done. We can't slide down;
walkin's a risky business, and likely to take hours; an' right now I
don't feel any wings asproutin' out of my shoulders, even if you do."
"Oh stop joking, Nick, and talk sense," complained Peg. "We've just
got to do something. Why, the old mountain might take a notion to
slide, and carry us along with it."
"I sure hopes not, at least right now," replied Nick, uneasily. "But I
do reckons as how we're agoin' to git that storm afore mornin'."
"But see here, Nick," Peg went on, anxiously; "didn't you notice
anything when you were leading me up here like a lamb to the slaughter?
I mean, you ought to have seen whether this side of the old mountain
was more likely to drop off than any other."
"Ye never kin tell nawthin' about such things," returned the cowboy.
"Reckons all we kin do is to root around, an' see if we might find some
sorter cave, where we'd be safe from the rain, if so be she comes arter
a while."
"A cave!" echoed the other, as though startled. "What under the sun do
we want to get inside the mountain for? Don't you understand that all
that noise is coming _out_ of this old thing? I tell you, I believe it
is a volcano, just as they told me, and perhaps she's going to break
loose this very night!"
"Hey! what ye a sayin' that for?" demanded Nick. "Supposin' she is
what ye tell, that ain't any reason the explosion's got to come this
particular night, is it? She's kept on a growling for a hundred year
now, an' nawthin's happened. Reckons it ain't agoin' to come off jest
acause we pilgrims happens to be up here."
"But you said we ought to find a cave, and go in, Nick," continued the
youth. "Suppose we do, and the sulphur fumes suffocate us? They must
be just awful inside the mountain. This is a nice pickle for me to get
into! If I stay out here I'm in danger of being drowned, or swept away
by a landslide; if I go inside there's all the chance in the world that
I'll be soaking in poisonous sulphur gas till I keel over. I'm up
against it good and hard."
"We're all in the same boat, remember, Peg," declared the cowboy.
"But you knew more about this thing than I did, Nick. Why'd you let me
come? It was all a fool business, and you're most to blame," protested
Peg.
"Aw! let up on that kind of talk, will ye?" growled the cowboy, who was
himself losing his respect for his employer, owing to the presence of
those things which he did not understand, and the nearness of which
aroused his own fears.
"I will, Nick; only get me out of this hole safe and sound, and I give
you my word I'll pay you that thousand dollars. But where do you
suppose Joe can be all this time? Has he run away, or dropped over
into one of those pits we saw on the way up here? I wish he'd show up.
Three would be better than two; and perhaps Joe might have a plan for
us to get out of this."
Again did the low grumbling sound begin again, and silenced the
conversation between Peg Grant and his cowboy guide, every word of
which had come distinctly to the ears of the crouching saddle boys near
by.
The rumble grew rapidly in volume, until once more the whole great
mountain seemed to tremble. Bob was shivering partly from the
excitement, and because he felt a touch of alarm.
But he could not help noticing the actions of his chum. When the
thunderous roar was about at its height Frank had thrown himself flat
on the ground. Bob could not see what he was doing, but his groping
hand came in contact with the head of his comrade; and he discovered
that it rested on the ground, with one ear pressed to the rock.
Frank was listening!
He knew how the ground carried sounds more distinctly than the air, and
evidently he hoped to discover something concerning the thunder by this
method of wireless telegraphy.
Then, as the volume of sound gradually decreased, just as a lion's roar
dies away, Bob discovered that Peg and Nick were undoubtedly moving
off. He supposed that Nick had made up his mind to hunt for an
outcropping ledge, or some friendly opening, where he could be
sheltered from the storm; and as Peg dared not stay alone, he was
compelled to accompany his guide. The complaining voice of the rich
man's son could be heard for a minute or so. Then even that ceased.
"They're gone, Frank!" exclaimed Bob.
"Yes, I know it," replied the other, as he arose from his position flat
on the rocks. "And Peg is badly rattled, too. Say, I always told you
he lacked real grit, and this proves it. He's scared at that noise.
Think of him wanting to fly down to the plain! I reckon he's had about
all of the exploring he wants. It's 'take me back to my daddy!' now
with Peg."
"Well," remarked Bob, with a sigh, "I don't blame him so very much,
Frank. I tell you what, that noise is enough to give anybody fits.
I'm all of a tremble myself, and I'm honest enough to admit it."
"That's all right, Bob," replied his chum, quickly; "but are you ready
to give the game up here and now?"
"Who, me?" answered the Kentucky boy, instantly; "well, I should say
not--not by a long sight! No matter what comes, I'm ready to stick it
out on this line if it takes all summer!"
"Just what I thought," chuckled Frank. "That's what makes all the
difference between a brave fellow and a coward. Why, to tell you the
truth, Bob, I'm shaking all over right now myself; but it isn't with
fear. I'm excited, curious, and worked up; so are you. When you say
you don't want to back out it tells the story that you're not afraid."
"But it wouldn't make any difference, Frank, seeing that we couldn't
get away from here, even if we wanted to just now," remarked Bob.
"That's so," returned his chum; "just as Nick said; we're here, and
we've just got to stick it out, no matter what comes."
"But do you take any stock in what Peg said about an avalanche?" asked
Bob.
"Mighty little," Frank replied. "This mountain is made up mostly of
solid rock. That's what makes lots of people believe in the volcano
idea. A slide would be hard to start here, and it just couldn't carry
much along with It. Where mountains have sides made up of earth and
loose rocks, that happens sometimes."
"I'm glad to hear that," remarked the other. "But there comes another
shake. Whew! feel how she trembles, Frank! Whatever sort of power can
it be that makes this noise and shivering sensation?"
Frank waited until the convulsion had passed before replying.
"I've got a strong suspicion, Bob," He said, finally; "and it's
something that came into my mind since _feeling_ the sound, for that's
the only way I can express it. Now, what does it make you think of,
most of all?"
"I did think it was thunder," declared Bob; "but now it seems to me the
only thing I can compare it to is the beating of the terrible billows
against the coast away up in Maine, when a fierce northeast storm is
blowing. They seemed to make the rocks quiver just as this does now."
If Frank had intended to reply to this remark he was prevented by
something unexpected that happened just then. This time it was not the
furious roar of the unknown force within the mountain that disturbed
him; but a cry that rang out shrilly.
"Help! Help!"
Bob clutched his companion's arm.
"Something has happened to Peg!" he exclaimed. "Perhaps the guide has
thrown him over, and he's lost, and scared nearly to death!"
But Frank was more accustomed to reading voices in the open than was
his chum.
"No, you're wrong there!" he cried, "that's Spanish Joe yelping; and he
must be in a bad hole to call for his companions. Come on, Bob, we've
just got to see what we can do to help him. Rascal that he is, he's
human. Follow me!"