THE SILENCE AT CHERRY BLOSSOM
Buckskin had done it!
Some new and entirely unexpected trick had caught that clever and
alarmed horse-thief napping. Torn from his hold, he found himself
hurled over the head of the animal. Bob could hear the heavy thud as
he struck the ground.
“Wow! that hurt some, I tell you, Frank?” he cried.
“Watch!” said the other, tersely.
There was about one chance in three that the man who had been so
violently dislodged from his seat might have broken his neck. This
fellow was either agile, or lucky enough to avoid such a happening.
They saw him roll over several times, and then scramble to his knees.
The yellow pony gave a savage little squeal. Evidently Buckskin was
not satisfied with having simply gotten rid of the unpleasant burden
he had been carrying. The insult rankled deep, and hence he made for
the spot where the now alarmed wretch was struggling to his feet,
with the desire to escape holding chief place in his mind.
There arose a series of yells and angry squeals and snorts. Buckskin
could be seen taking furious nips at the man, who was trying to beat
him off as well as he was able, and all the while yelling lustily for
help.
Teeth and hoofs were giving the rascal all he could manage; and
unless something soon came to pass to change matters, there was no
telling what would happen to one venturesome horse thief who, as Bob
expressed it, had “bitten off more than he could chew.”
Frank was only waiting until he thought that the fellow had been
sufficiently punished, when he expected to call the animal off. It
was of course a question whether the enraged Buckskin would obey the
call; and in case he refused, some other means must be taken to save
the life of the fellow who was dodging, lighting, and howling with
all his might.
“Frank, he’ll kill him!” exclaimed Bob, who could hardly move,
so deeply interested had he been by this strange happening that
had taken place before them, as though the performance had been
especially arranged for their benefit.
Apparently the other must have just come to the same conclusion.
“Here, hold my gun, Bob!” he remarked; and when the transfer had
been accomplished Frank put his fingers to his lips.
A shrill whistle pealed forth. Buckskin ceased his astonishing
actions, and, with a whinny, started rapidly toward the spot where
his master waited.
Once the yellow horse paused, and turned half around, as though
strongly tempted to disobey, and go back for another dance with the
horse thief; who, taking advantage of the opening, was limping away
in a hurry.
Frank sent out another whistle; and this settled matters. Buckskin
dared not disobey. Possibly he had in a measure satisfied his desire
for revenge, and felt that he could afford to let the thief get away
in a crippled condition.
“Good old chap!” said Frank, as he fondled the muzzle of the
intelligent pony. “The rustler that gets you will have to be a better
man than that one you just nibbled at!”
“Isn’t he a wonder, though!” declared the admiring Bob. “I never
would have believed that a horse could be so smart. And if you hadn’t
called him off, Frank, ten chances to one that fellow would have paid
dearly for wanting to get our mounts.”
“I rather think he has paid dearly for it, right now,” laughed the
other. “Just feel of these teeth, and tell me how you’d like to have
them taking hold of your shoulder. And if the pony managed to strike
him a few times with his forefeet, they’d leave black and blue marks.”
“Think they’ll come back to try it on again?” asked Bob, though he
himself never had the slightest belief of that.
Frank laughed scornfully.
“Say,” he remarked. “I don’t believe you could hire either of those
fellows to take a look in at our little camp again, for love or
money. That last one knows when he’s got enough, anyhow. There he’s
found his own horse, and is kicking his heels into his sides. All
he wants is to put a few miles between his own back and the little
buckskin pony.”
“What will we do now?” asked Bob.
“Oh! well, the first thing for me to do is to patch up my rope again,
because, you see, that rustler sliced it off short. Then I’ll stake
the pony out. After that, me to crawl under the tent once more. It’s
a great thing to be able to sleep, while your horse keeps watch, Bob.”
“Wonder what Domino thought of it all; and if he’ll take pattern by
it?” remarked the Kentucky boy. “You see, he’s got a heap to learn,
just like his master; but I have hopes that both of us will climb up
out of the tenderfoot class right soon now.”
“You’re both getting there,” laughed Frank, as he walked over to
where he would find the main part of his lariat.
This he managed to fix in a temporary manner that would do until he
could get at it by daylight. And Buckskin acted quite as though proud
of what he had done. He started to nibble at the grass near by; but
Bob noticed, with more or less amusement, that the pony kept raising
his head, and looking eagerly around, every half minute or so.
“He’s hoping that another of the same kind will come, and try it on,
Frank,” Bob declared, with a merry laugh.
“Well, then, he’s going to be badly disappointed,” the other replied;
“because those fellows are miles away by now, and still going
licketty-split to get out of this section. It’s some warm here for
their breed. Even the horses are hungry to take a grab at ’em.”
Accordingly both boys crawled under the little shelter, which Frank
called a “dog tent,” from having seen the regulars of the army
fashion just such a rain-proof from a couple of rubber ponchos, under
which two soldiers could keep the upper parts of their bodies from
much of the moisture.
It took Bob a long time to get to sleep again. He was not used to
such exciting sessions in the night; and, despite his determination
to forget, he tossed and turned for almost an hour before slumbering.
Frank, on the other hand, seemed to be asleep inside of five minutes
after his head rested on the pillow made of his saddlebags. Nor did
either of them show signs of uneasiness after Bob finally managed to
conquer his wakefulness, until the dawn came and aroused Frank.
“Hope we can make the mine by to-night,” remarked Bob, as they sat
there a little later, enjoying their breakfast, which consisted of
coffee and venison; and of course this fresh meat tasted all the
sweeter to Bob because it had fallen to his gun.
“With anything like decent luck we ought to show up there,” Frank
observed. “And the closer we get to the Cherry Blossom district the
more I find myself wondering what sort of trouble we’re going to find
ourselves up against.”
“You must remember that I’ve never visited the mine, Frank, even if
my father does hold a lot of the stock, and in conjunction with your
family controls the operation of the works. Who’s the foreman or
superintendent in charge?”
“A man by the name of Gustave Riley is superintendent, and he’s been
in charge for a long time now,” Frank replied.
“Your father trusts him, then?” pursued the other; for truth to
tell, Bob expected some day to become a lawyer, and he often showed
signs of the profession even now, by investigating, questioning, and
figuring out results.
“Well, he has all this while, and so far as I know Riley has played
a straight game,” Frank replied. “But dad told me to go slow, and be
sure of my ground before I either trusted anyone, or suspected them
of treachery. One thing seems sure, and that is the prospect of our
finding that there’s been some sort of rascality going on at the
Cherry Blossom.”
“The temptation is great, for one thing,” suggested Bob.
“Yes,” Frank went on, thoughtfully; “because of late the ore has been
richer than ever, so we hear.”
“And about that letter of warning, does your father have any
suspicion who wrote it?” Bob asked.
“He thought of a number of people who might have sent it, but in the
end admitted that he was all up in the air. You see, Bob, while it
didn’t go into details at all, it gave him to understand that the
writer chanced to know there was some bad business on foot, which
could only be nipped in the bud by prompt action. And it made dad so
provoked, to think that his game leg must keep him at the ranch just
when he was needed so badly in the other place.”
“I only hope we can fill the bill with credit,” sighed Bob.
“Well, we’re going to do our level best,” declared Frank, “and that’s
about all anybody could do. When I size matters up, I expect to
understand just who are loyal, and who have gone over to the other
side. Then there are going to be some wholesale discharges. I’ve got
all the authority needed, and I won’t be afraid to use it, either.”
“I like to hear you talk like that, Frank,” the other said.
“That’s the only way, Bob. We were given to understand by the
writer of the letter that was not signed by any name, that the
Cherry Blossom needed an overhauling, unless we were willing to let
unscrupulous parties profit at our expense. Just think how that
leaves me guessing, will you?”
“But Frank, we’ll know more in ten hours than we do now; and that’s a
heap of comfort,” Bob managed to remark, confidently.
“It sure is,” agreed the other.
“I saw you looking at that little packet the wrecked balloonist
handed over,” Bob went on to say. “Were you thinking of opening it
ahead of time, Frank?”
“Oh, I guess not,” replied the other. “How anxious you are to know
what’s in that envelope. Perhaps, after all, it doesn’t make a bit
of difference to us. Mr. Jared Scott may only have been thinking
about his own private affairs. How do we know but what he only wants
us to communicate with some of his people, after a certain time has
elapsed? Anyhow, it might as well lie there for six more days; but I
see that you’re going to give me little peace till then.”
“Now you’re rubbing it in on me,” remonstrated Bob. “Fact is, I only
feel curious because he looked so queerly at you when he heard your
name. Strikes me that perhaps what’s in the envelope might give us a
clue to what’s been going on over at the Cherry Blossom mine!”
Frank looked at him closely.
“That’s only a guess on your part, Bob; you don’t know anything to
point that way, do you?” he demanded.
“No, can’t say that I do,” admitted the Kentucky lad.
“Then we’ll just try to forget about it all for a while,” was Frank’s
concluding decision; and Bob urged him no more.
They got off to a flying start soon after, and left behind them the
high ridge that had come so near ending the career of the balloonist,
Mr. Scott. During the morning the two horses kept pretty steadily at
their work of putting the miles behind them. By two in the afternoon
they had reached the other chain of mountains, in the heart of which
the famous gold mine lay.
Both boys began to show signs of anxiety, the nearer they drew to the
scene of the trouble.
“We can make it all right, can’t we, Frank?” asked Bob, as they found
themselves surrounded on all sides by the wildest kind of rocky
scenery, through which the trail zigzagged, with gigantic walls
towering above their heads.
“No trouble about it,” replied the other. “Fact is, Bob, right now
I’m rather expecting to sight some of the boys above there. If the
wind was right we could see the smoke from the stamp mill and the ore
crusher. And that makes me remember how I heard the machinery working
sooner than this the last time father brought me over to the Cherry
Blossom.”
“But you don’t get the sound of the stamp mill or the crusher now?”
asked Bob.
“It’s all as silent as the grave,” replied Frank, looking into the
troubled eyes of his chum, with a set expression on his own face.
“That would seem to mean the mine is shut down. But look up there;
isn’t that a man waving his hat to us right now?”