ONCE MORE AT CIRCLE RANCH--CONCLUSION
After all, it was not a very great task, getting the two saddle boys up
from the friendly shelf. Old Hank lowered his lariat; and after Bob
had slipped the loop under his arms, he was pulled to safety. Then
Frank followed.
They found that Hank had half a dozen cowboys with him, some of the
most daring connected with Circle Ranch. Overtaken by the storm while
at the base of the mountain, they had waited for daylight, and then
started afoot to make the ascent. The presence of the new river in the
bed of the long empty _barranca_ astonished these cowmen exceedingly.
And when they heard all that the boys had to tell they were almost of
the opinion that they must have been dreaming.
But there was the evidence before their very eyes, and nobody could
deny that the old-time river, that had been bottled up underground for
so long, had finally found a way to break forth once more, aided by the
geyser that for a century had beaten that tremendous tattoo every
little while against the inner walls of the rocky mountain.
"Then there won't be no more racket, will there?" old Hank asked, as he
lay there, looking down at the rushing current of the new stream that
would no doubt readily follow its long abandoned course, until it
reached the distant Colorado, somewhere along the Grand Canyon.
"The chances are against it," replied Frank.
"But let's try and find our horses," Bob suggested, after he had
finished eating what food the newcomers had taken the pains to prepare
for the lost ones.
"Yes, I'm anxious myself to find out how Buckskin's weathered the
gale," Frank put in.
The two horses were found in good shape, but glad to once more see
their masters, if the whinnies that greeted the coming of Frank and Bob
might be looked upon as evidence of this.
And then another difficult task awaited them. To get the animals down
to the level plain, now that the canyon was out of commission, taxed
the ingenuity of even so expert a plainsman as Hank Coombs; but it was
finally accomplished.
Then the horses of the cowboys were found, and the entire party started
for the distant ranch, expecting to complete their jaunt before sundown.
Old Hank was deeply interested in what the boys had to tell about the
band of rustlers passing, with all the led horses.
"Didn't git 'em from our ranch," he declared; "an' I reckons the
X-bar-X must 'a suffered; or it might be the Arrowhead, over on the
creek, was the one. But if so be Pedro Mendoza has been usin' that
canyon to cross over the range with his stolen cattle an' horses, he'll
hev to go further away now to do the same, 'cause his road's a rushin'
river."
"We sure have had a great time of it," declared Bob, as they came in
sight of the buildings of the ranch, and heard the loud calls of the
cowboys who were driving some of the stock in from the range, to get it
ready for shipment later.
"Yes, and think what we found out," Frank pursued. "First of all the
mystery of Thunder Mountain is known, and from this time on those
roaring sounds will never again be heard."
"And the Indians will be wondering why the Great Spirit is angry with
his red children, so that he refuses to speak to them," Bob continued.
"And then there is that little affair about Lopez," Frank remarked,
smiling at the recollection. "We have learned who Lopez is, and what
his grandfather, Lemuel Smith, was doing in that cave. Think of Peg
and his two guides getting out of the region without finding out a
thing!"
"Say won't they be just as mad as hops, though, when they learn about
what we saw and heard," chuckled Bob. "It's been a great time, all
right. And Frank, we'll never again have anything like the fun we had
in that old _barranca_. It makes my blood just jump through my veins
to think of it."
"You're right," said Frank, "I don't believe we ever will!"
But like many other persons who cannot look ahead even one hour, and
know what the future holds for them, both the saddle boys were very
much mistaken. There were plenty of stirring adventures awaiting them
ere many weeks had passed, some of which will be related in the next
volume of this series, called "The Saddle Boys in the Grand Canyon; Or,
The Hermit of the Cave." And those of our boy friends who have found
more or less interest in the present story of life in the far
Southwest, will doubtless be glad to read more of the doings of Frank
Haywood and his brave Kentucky chum, Bob Archer.
That Peg and his guides reached home safely Frank knew shortly, when he
happened to meet the bully on the trail. Peg was eager to hear at
first hand all that had happened, and made friendly overtures with that
design in view; but this did not deceive Frank in the least. He
realized that Peg was more bitter than ever, and believed that if the
opportunity ever came the bully would not hesitate to do anything that
he thought would annoy the chums.
Frank had also found that the prospector, Smith, and his little Mexican
granddaughter, had reached home in safety. The successful lode hunter
purchased a ranch; and when Frank met him some time later he was riding
around the country in a fine automobile, buying stock. Inez was with
him, and never again would the brave little girl have to dress as a boy
in order to carry supplies up into the canyons of the mountains.
Thunder Mountain never again uttered a sound of warning. The Indians
marveled much, and consulted their greatest medicine men as to why the
voice of Manitou called no more. But the whites knew; and a load was
thereby taken from the mind of many a superstitious cowboy, who, when
watching his charges through the vigils of the night, could look toward
the rocky height without that feeling of uneasiness that had always
been present when he believed the mountain to be haunted.
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The Saddle Boys of the Rockies, by James Carson