THE SUDDEN ALARM
Just before Lanky Wallace was struck by the rush of the stolen bronco
and knocked to the ground, he had let out the cowboy whoop for help.
It reached the ears of Hoptoad Atkins, the smallest rustler in the
Rockspur bunch, as he was emerging from the bunk-house to see what the
weather promised for the morning, he having a long gallop before him.
At the same moment he heard the racket over at the horse corral, and
sensing trouble of some sort sprang back into the house with a shout.
"Stampede of the ponies! Get out of here, everybody, with a rush!"
The cowboys came pouring out, and made for the corral in a string, the
longest-legged being in the fore. Lanky, they found bending anxiously
over Frank, who, having been knocked senseless, was just beginning to
show signs of returning consciousness.
"Thief got away with one of our mounts," hurriedly explained Lanky. "He
bowled both of us over when he came out of the corral like a tornado.
Little critter with the biggest head you ever saw--been prowling around
here at night, twice now. We tried to trap him in the circle, but he
was too quick on the get-away!"
"Which way did he lope, Lanky?" demanded Lige Smith, the wiry and
experienced foreman of the ranch.
"Reckon it was over west; but I'm a bit hazy after that knockout,"
returned the boy.
"I sure heard far-off hoofbeats in that quarter when I busted out of
the shack!" announced Zander Forbes emphatically.
"Git ther ponies," broke in old Jerry Brime, a veteran puncher with the
enthusiasm of a man half his age. "Mebbe we kin straddle him yet before
he gits to the Double Z outfit! Whoopee!"
A rush was made into the corral, and lively hustling followed as each
puncher picked out his special mount and roped him by the light of the
moon's bright rays.
"Good luck, boys!" bellowed the still excited Lanky, as the cowboys
galloped madly away. There was a little regret in his heart because he
could not leave Frank Allen and join in the mad chase.
By this time Frank had pretty well recovered after his painful
experience. He would feel a bit sore for some days, but could be
thankful his injuries were no more serious than a few bruises.
"We made a fine mess of it that time, Lanky," he observed, when it was
found that no bones had been broken by his nasty fall.
"Huh! didn't move quick enough! A matter of ten seconds; but that was
plenty to queer the game, all right."
"He meant to stampede the whole bunch of ponies, looked like to me,"
Frank Allen remarked. "I wish we knew just what his scheme was, hanging
around here and taking such big risks."
"I'm still thinking he wanted to have a try for that paper," affirmed
Lanky doggedly, "and when he found he hadn't a ghost of a chance to lay
his paws on the same, why, he got mad, and reckoned he'd have the laugh
on our outfit by stampeding the range ponies."
The two boys made their way to the house, followed by Charlie Gin
Sing. Here they found Mr. and Mrs. Wallace, as well as Minnie Cuthbert
and Paul Bird, up and partly dressed, they having been aroused by the
unusual clamor, and more than curious to understand what it all meant.
"No sleep for me with all this stuff going on," announced Lanky, as
he sat before the resurrected fire in the big living room. "I mean to
stay right here till the cows come home--I mean the cowboys--and have a
close-up look at that skunk, if they overtake him."
None of the others evinced any desire to seek their beds; so half an
hour afterwards when they heard the riders talking and laughing over by
the corral both Lanky and Frank went out to learn what the result of
the chase was.
"Shucks, he got clean away!" Lanky ejaculated, after hearing what some
of the men had to say.
"But, anyway," announced the effeminate-looking puncher with the high
voice, who had come West to build up his health and who rejoiced in the
name of Sally Keating, "the joke is on that coyote, because he had the
bad luck to pick out the worst pony in the whole outfit, with more mean
traits than you can shake a stick at."
"You don't mean that white-eyed terror we call Whitey Knocker, do you
Sally?" shrilled Lanky, in great joy. Upon the other's wagging his head
in the affirmative, he continued with a bit of spite in his voice:
"Then he's in for a peck of trouble! I only hope that bronc will break
his own neck in the bargain when he goes down in a crash with his
rider."
Lanky knew from experience what a pack of tricks Knocker had for all
occasions. There were several sore spots on the boy's person that he
could lay to his determination to beat the pony with that wicked white
eye at his own game, his father having finally been compelled to
forbid any repetition of the dangerous task.
By degrees the excitement died out, and there was an exodus of tired
riders and others to their own quarters.
With the morning the boys went over the ground to revive their
recollection of every incident connected with the previous night's
thievery. They even followed the tracks of Whitey Knocker for some
little distance, which could be done through a certain queer formation
of the pony's off hind hoof.
"No use going any further, Lanky," said Frank finally. "The trail keeps
on getting fainter right along, as the soil changes."
"Then, all we've learned," suggested his chagrined chum, "is that when
he flew the coop he headed about as straight as the bee flies for
Double Z Ranch."
"But our boys all say they've seen every puncher in that outfit, and
what we could tell about this runt's looks with his big head didn't fit
any of that rough bunch. Still, he may be a newcomer, playing a lone
hand in hanging around Rockspur at night."
Frank Allen had always been a leader among his boy friends in the home
town of Columbia in the East, as told in the first volume of this
series called "Frank Allen's School Days."
Rockspur Ranch, a small cattle industry located on the plains, had been
left to Mrs. Wallace by her bachelor brother, George Rockford, and the
Wallaces had come out, partly for the banker's health, but also to
inspect the newly acquired property.
Frank Allen and Paul Bird had been asked to become members of the
party, and Minnie Cuthbert, the prettiest and most sensible girl in all
Columbia--at least so Frank was firmly convinced--was along to keep
Mrs. Wallace company.
A man by the name of Nash Yesson had tried to buy the property from the
new owner. That failing, he had, with the assistance of Lef Seller,
known as the bully and worst boy in Columbia, tried to get possession
of a treasure he knew to be buried in a cellar under the ranch pantry.
The vigilance of Frank Allen and his chums defeated this effort, and
the plotters were chased off, leaving the old rusty iron box they
had dug up in the possession of the rightful owners. All of these
happenings have been narrated in the pages of the book just preceding
this, under the title of "Frank Allen at Rockspur Ranch."
Lanky's uneasiness concerning the possible continued efforts of Yesson
and Lef to steal the valuable paper and chart that, with gold nuggets,
had lain in the iron box so many years, accounted for his suspicions
that the mysterious nightly visits of the man with the big head were
connected in some way with the long-buried treasure.
One of the papers yellowed by age that fell into the Wallaces'
possession had been a rudely drawn chart of a mountainous section of
country where years before gold had been found in paying quantities and
a little mining settlement named Gold Fork was located.
It was understood that this place was now deserted, the shacks in
ruins. So all hope of ever locating the long-lost mine worked in secret
by Josh Kinney, former owner of Rockspur Ranch, died away.
This map had been drawn by Josh Kinney himself. Its existence was
known, but no human eye had ever beheld it save the maker's up to the
time it fell into the possession of Frank Allen and his two chums.
Jerry Brime knew something about the lost claim, for he had worked
alongside Kinney at cattle raising and had himself tried, but without
success, to follow the other when he disappeared. Jerry believed that
Kinney was laying in a fresh stock of gold nuggets from the rich
deposit, or "pocket," in his secret mine when this happened.
Brime and the three boys held many consultations as the days passed.
The boys were bent on making an effort to locate Kinney's source of
treasure-trove, and so asked a multitude of questions. Some of these
Jerry answered readily, but in other cases his memory failed him.
"Wait till we-uns git up thar at Gold Fo'k," he would say. "Mebbe ole
Jerry's mind'll be freshened a bit by seein' the ole place agin. Thet
map's a-goin' to help a heap; an' I do reckon we'll git our paws on the
stuff thet's hidden away in the five-fingered cave."
In the end Frank and Lanky came to believe that they must wait until
Mr. Wallace gave the word for the little expedition to set forth. Then,
if luck favored them, all might yet turn out well.
"There's only one thing that bothers me," Lanky said the afternoon
they gave up trying to squeeze more information from the willing but
helpless Jerry Brime.
"I can guess what it is," chucked Frank. "Nash Yesson?"
"And his crony, Lef Seller," admitted the smiling Lanky Wallace. "They
may be hanging around here; for they are stickers, all right. Then
again, for all we know, the pair may be up at Gold Fork raking the
ground over with a fine-tooth comb, looking for the lost claim."
"What of it?" Frank asked complacently. "A heap of others did that same
thing years ago and only found themselves up against a blank wall. I
tell you, Josh Kinney was a cute one and knew how to keep a secret."
"Glad to see you feel so confident, Frank. With Jerry along to revive
his memory of things and that little chart to help, I guess we've got a
better chance to spot that claim than anybody ever had before. But that
was startling news you had in the last letter from Buster Billings, our
fat chum back in Columbia."
"Well, I'm not much surprised about Lef," said Frank, shaking his head
as he spoke. "We always knew he was a bad egg, up to every kind of
mischief he could think of."
"But to make away with something like two-hundred-and-fifty dollars
which his father had given him to pay some bills!" exclaimed Lanky.
"They said he lost it at the races, betting on losing nags," he added
musingly.
"And now," Frank went on to say, "Buster tells us Mr. Seller reports
five thousand dollars in Liberty Bonds missing; and he adds that
suspicion strongly points to his own son, Lef, as the one who robbed
the home safe."
"Well, Lef is in a section of country right now where Lynch law often
overtakes a rascal; and believe me, Frank, if he's caught red-handed in
any of his ugly tricks out here he'll not have an indulgent dad to help
him out of the fix."
"As long as we have any reason to believe that precious pair still hang
out around here, Lanky, we've got to keep our eyes peeled for trouble.
What under the sun are you sniffing like that for? Think you smell a
skunk around?"
"Made me think of the way we smoked that mountain lion out of his
den--smell of dried grass, all right. I wonder if the boys are burning
off a piece of meadow that's turned brown in this dry spell?"
Frank himself was now busily engaged in "sniffing."
"Well, there must be a fire where there's smoke," he said finally, at
the same time showing a trace of uneasiness. "Strikes me, it comes from
over that way."
"Look at that burst of smoke shoot up on the other side of the house!"
cried Lanky. "Some fire, that must be as sure as-- There, listen to
Charlie Gin Sing giving tongue! The cook's as scared as a singed cat.
Let's scoot over that way, Frank, and see what they're doing. Now
others are yelling to beat the band! We were longing for excitement,
and, sure enough, here she comes full tilt!"
"Lanky, it's the barn on fire, I do believe!" Frank managed to say as
the pair of them went at full speed, swerving so as to pass around the
house, when they would have a full unobstructed view.
"With all that hay and the straw from last year in it, too!" added the
other.
Then as the boys turned the corner where Gin Sing was now beating
wildly on a monster frying pan and making a dreadful din, Lanky
finished with a whoop, and increased his pace, if such a thing were
possible.
No question about its being the barn that was ablaze, for vast
volumes of smoke were already pouring out from several places. These
continually grew in density, while wicked looking red tongues of flame
could be seen playing amidst the dense belching billows.
Frank had gone as white as chalk.
"Your mother--Minnie!" he gasped.
"What of them?" cried the agitated Lanky.
"I saw them go in some time ago! Oh, Lanky! what if they are still
inside the old barn, trapped like rats and blinded with all that
smoke?"