HEADED FOR THE HIGH COUNTRY
"I have found a guide," announced Hippy next morning, walking into the
post office where he found all the other members of his party writing
postal cards to friends in the east.
"That's good. Where is he?" asked Tom Gray.
"If you will look up you will see him."
The Overlanders looked. Just to the rear of Hippy Wingate stood a
grinning Chinaman, both hands hidden in the ends of his flowing sleeves.
The Oriental was bowing and scraping, his queue animatedly bobbing up
and down. Stacy uttered a loud "Ha, ha!"
"Permit me to introduce to you the Honorable Woo Smith whom I have
selected, subject to your approval, to accompany us on our journey to
the High Sierras," announced Hippy Wingate.
"But surely, Hippy, this man cannot be a guide," protested Elfreda
Briggs. "We need a guide!"
"Perhaps he isn't, but you can't find anything else with a magnifying
glass in this burg. Should you folks think best not to accept him, we'll
go it alone. I've done the best I can. Remember, too, that I'm a sick
man, that I've been mauled and keelhauled by a bunch of bandits and--"
"Do you speak English?" interrupted Grace Harlowe.
"Les. Me speak English velly fine."
"You say his name is Woo Smith?" questioned Emma.
"The Honorable Woo Smith," Hippy informed her.
"What has he done in the way of mountain work?" persisted Grace.
"I am informed that he has made frequent journeys to the mountains with
prospecting parties and hunters as cook, guide and general handy man. At
one time he was out with a government survey party."
"As cook or guide?" interjected Nora Wingate.
"The former, I believe."
"This outfit needs a good cook," suggested Chunky.
"Woo, do you know horses?" asked Tom Gray.
"Les."
"That reminds me, Chunky, what have you done about the pack animals?"
demanded Lieutenant Wingate.
"Got three dandies. I have learned that we must travel light. They say
that the trails are very rough in the High Country, and further, that we
must depend upon the country for our food, generally speaking. I don't
know what Uncle Hip and I are going to do if it comes to short rations.
Of course, as a last resort we can eat the pack-horses. They eat horses
in France, so why shouldn't we do the same, if we're hungry enough."
"That reminds me. One of the men out with us on our search for Hippy
declared that our ponies would not be suitable for this journey, and
that it requires animals accustomed to the peculiarities of the
Sierras," averred Tom Gray.
"Oh, pooh!" grunted the fat boy. "My pony could climb a tree."
"How much money do you wish, Woo?" questioned Tom.
"Five dollah a week."
"What do you say, good people?" asked Grace.
"I don't care what you do," exclaimed Hippy. "I want food and I want
someone who knows how to cook it fit for human consumption, that's all."
"I second the motion," agreed Stacy. "We can't all live on
soul-transmigration stuff. I'd get mental indigestion on that food in
thirty seconds by the watch."
"We had a Chinaman on our journey across the Great American Desert, and
he was an excellent man," declared Elfreda Briggs. "I move that we take
this one."
The others agreed with her, and Grace, turning to Woo, told him that he
was engaged.
"What has been done about the general equipment?" asked Tom.
Grace said that experienced men had advised against the Overlanders
burdening themselves with tents or any heavy equipment.
"We have slept in the open many times before, so I think we shall be
able to get along very nicely," she added.
Stacy Brown protested vigorously. He declared that he would not sleep
out of doors where bugs and other undesirable things could get at him,
but, after discussing the matter further, every one agreed that the
tents would prove an unnecessary encumbrance. They went over their list
critically, eliminating several articles that they thought they could do
without.
"I have an idea!" exclaimed Stacy.
"Keep it," urged Emma. "They seem to be reasonably scarce with you."
"At least I don't transmigrate them," retorted Chunky. "As I was about
to remark when interrupted, I have an idea that this outfit will have to
browse with the horses if it wishes food."
"It would be a great flesh-reducer," murmured Emma, giving Chunky a
sidelong glance.
Elfreda suggested that they have a look at the pack-horses selected by
Stacy, so they all walked over to the corral, and expressed themselves
as well satisfied with Stacy's selections. One white, mischievous little
animal, with a circle of delicate pink about each eye, they named Kitty.
The name seemed to fit her. The other two animals they, decided to name
later on after learning their peculiarities.
"I've ordered pack saddles for them," announced Hippy, "and a pair of
kyacks for each horse."
"What is a kyack? Something good to eat?" questioned Stacy.
"A kyack is an alforgas," Emma Dean informed him. "I am amazed at your
ignorance."
"I agree with you, Emma. For once I do," nodded Hippy. "For your
information, Stacy, a kyack is a packing outfit. These are made either
of heavy canvas or of rawhide, shaped square and dried over boxes. After
drying, the boxes are removed, leaving the stiff rawhide or canvas, like
small trunks, open at the top. They are in reality sacks--"
"Me savvy klyack," chuckled the Chinaman, rubbing his palms together
gleefully.
"Mr. Smith knows," nodded Hippy.
"The explanation is not satisfactory. Once more I rise to ask if this
kyack thing is some sort of dried beef that we are expected to eat when
real food is scarce?" insisted Chunky.
"You and I, lad, would have to be pretty hungry to eat a kyack," laughed
Hippy. "The loops of the kyack are slung on each side of the horse. They
are used to pack belongings over the mountains. I have also ordered
sawbuck trees for the pack-saddles, together with pack-cinch, and
pack-rope for each animal. I also took the liberty of buying blankets
from which to make saddle-pads. It will be cheaper than trying to get
along with horses with sore backs, I think. Then there are hobbles for
the horses, a couple of cow bells--"
"Are we going to take cows along with us?" wondered Chunky, opening his
eyes a little wider.
"Not quite. Only a calf or two," murmured Emma Dean.
"The bells are for the horses, so that they may be easily found in the
morning," spoke up Tom Gray. "I thought you had been out before."
"I have, but never with such an outfit as this, especially the
transmigration end of it," retorted Stacy, giving Emma a quick look to
see if his shot had gone home. "I see," he added. "But every time I hear
the bells a-ringing, I shall think of home and a pitcherful of warm
milk."
"Perfectly proper food for the species to which I so recently referred,"
observed Emma airily. "However, from all accounts, you will have nothing
more nourishing than snow-water from the tall peaks of the Sierras."
"Br-r-r-r!" shivered Stacy.
At Hippy's direction, the Honorable Woo Smith led the pack-horses over
to the general store, and there, with Stacy to assist him, Hippy began
packing their equipment, throwing a diamond hitch about each pack. The
girls, observing the work, discovered that Stacy Brown was quite as
familiar with "throwing packs" as was his Uncle Hippy.
"Mister Brown is not quite the fool he would have us believe," declared
Elfreda Briggs. "It is my opinion that he believes in putting his worst
foot forward, keeping the other one hidden behind it."
A group of mountaineers were standing near, observing the operations
with interest. One stepped up and examined the much-worn saddle on Hippy
Wingate's pony.
"Son," said he, "do ye reckon on climbin' mountains with that thing?"
"Why not?" demanded Hippy.
"I reckon it might be all right for the Rockies, but yer saddle'll be on
the critter's tail afore ye git half way to the top of the Big Sierras."
Hippy stroked his chin reflectively.
"You mean I ought to have a double-cinch on the riding saddles? Is that
it?"
"I reckon."
"Thanks, Buddy. I'll fix it. I should have thought of that, but I am not
at all familiar with the lay of the land up here."
"Ye will be, pardner, after ye've fell off it a few thousand times. The
landscape in these here parts be rather sudden in spots," drawled the
mountaineer.
A yell from the Honorable Woo Smith interrupted the dialogue. Kitty, the
mischievous pack-horse, had playfully seized the queue of Woo Smith
between her teeth and was jerking her head up and down, and, with each
jerk, the Chinaman was jolted backwards, howling lustily, chattering in
volleys in his native tongue. The street, near the village store, filled
with cowboys and citizens as if by magic. They set up yells, shouts and
cat-cries that smothered the chatter of the new guide.
Grace, being nearest to the mischievous animal, sprang forward and gave
the white pack-horse a smart slap with the flat of her hand on Kitty's
plump stomach. The mare instantly dropped the howling Chinaman, and,
whirling on Grace with wide open mouth, looked as if she were about to
devour the Overland Rider. The girl never flinched.
"Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Kitty?" she chided. "If ever I see you
do a thing like that again I'll surely have you punished. Do you
understand?"
The mare's mouth closed slowly, her upper lip quivered, she nibbled
gingerly at Grace Harlowe's sleeve, and looked as meek as was possible
for a mischievous pony to look. The cowboys grunted disgustedly. They
were disgruntled that Grace had spoiled their fun, disappointed that the
white mare had not taken a large slice, either out of the Chinaman or
Grace Harlowe herself.
"Grace, do you know, you have given us a most remarkable demonstration
of the transmigration of thought," declared Emma. "It was your thought,
transmitted to the mentality of the white mare, that caused her to
desist, to beg of you to forgive and--"
"Yeo-o-o-o-ow!" howled Chunky.
"Young man, your rudeness is inexcusable," rebuked Emma.
"That's what the white mare wanted to say to Grace," retorted Stacy.
While all this was taking place, Tom and Elfreda were talking with the
mountaineers, getting all the information they could about trails and
conditions in the mountains. The result of the information gleaned was
that the Overland Riders decided that they would take the "Cold Stream
Trail" for the High Country, a section seldom visited, but which Woo
Smith declared he knew all about. The spectators were inclined to make
sport of the explorers, and especially of the idea that women could ride
the Sierras. Even the postmaster sought to dissuade them from making the
attempt.
"It's a bad country," he confided to Tom. "With that bunch of gals on
your hands, you'll starve to death, sure's you're a foot high."
"There is plenty of game there, is there not?" questioned Tom.
"Yes, for them that knows how to shoot."
"Then I reckon we will not starve. What other objection is there?"
"The Jones Boys. You watch out right smart for them."
"Who are they?" demanded Elfreda, who had been an interested listener to
the conversation between Tom and the postmaster.
The postmaster glanced about him apprehensively before replying, then,
leaning towards Tom, spoke in a half-whisper.
"Outlaws!" he said. "I reckon you've heard of them. It is suspected that
they're the fellows that held up the Red Limited the other night. I
reckon you know something about that affair." The postmaster squinted
knowingly at Tom, who nodded.
"So, that's it, eh?"
"Yes. Better look out for them. They have their hang-out somewhere in
the mountains, but nobody has ever been able to trail them to it, and I
don't reckon no one ever will--and come back to tell about it. A squad
of Pinkerton detectives went into the mountains looking for those
fellows, but not one of that bunch of detectives has ever been heard
from since."
"It sounds shivery, doesn't it?" spoke up Elfreda. "However, we have no
especial reason to fear the bandits because there could be no object in
their interfering with us. We do not carry money with us--not enough to
make it worth their while to try to rob us--nor are we looking for
trouble."
"No object!" exploded the postmaster. "Lady, those fellows would kill
you for two bits and a piece of string."
In his own mind, Tom Gray was not so positive that the bandits had no
reason for interfering with them. On the contrary, if the Jones Boys
knew that it was the Overland Riders who had assisted in driving them
from the scene of the attempted train robbery, the Overlanders might
confidently look for some stirring times in the High Sierras.