THE LEDGE AT THE GULCH.
In a great many ways Merriwell had shown his friendship for Ellis
Darrel. From the very first, when Darrel had reached the camp at Tinaja
Wells as the “boy from Nowhere,” Merriwell had believed in him and had
befriended him.
As he rode toward Camp Hawtrey, Darrel recalled how cleverly Merriwell
had defended him against the charge of robbing the colonel’s safe. So
successful was the defense that even the stern old colonel was forced
to admit that Darrel was innocent.
And again, at the time the rope had given way and Darrel had fallen on
the cliff, it was Merriwell who had risked his neck to climb to the
ledge where Darrel lay unconscious, had fastened a rope about him, and
had lowered him to safety. It was Merriwell, too, who had played “a
game within a game” on the football field and had taken from Lenning
certain evidence of Lenning’s scoundrelly work.
As a slight repayment for all this loyalty and friendship, Darrel felt
that he should do what he could to straighten out the misunderstanding
between the colonel and Merriwell.
Even if he could get the colonel’s attention, Darrel was doubtful of
his ability to sway the colonel toward Merriwell’s side. It was a time,
however, when Darrel was resolved to give himself the benefit of every
doubt, in the hope of being of some service to his friend.
If Jode was successful in making the colonel believe that Darrel’s
influence had caused the trouble between him and Merriwell, then Darrel
would do his utmost to set his uncle right on that point. This, very
likely, would put an altogether different complexion on the clash about
the coyote dog.
If convinced that Darrel had nothing to do with the actions of
Merriwell and Clancy, the colonel might be in a receptive mood so far
as evidence against Jode was concerned. This, at least, was what Darrel
hoped.
A mile or so from the mouth of the cañon the right-hand wall was broken
into by the mouth of a gulch. This gulch was the one in which the Gold
Hill Boys had pitched their camp.
Years before, a mining company had thrown a dam across the mouth of the
gulch. This dam had backed up the water for several miles.
Darrel turned his horse into the gulch and followed a bridle path that
led onward close to the water’s edge. Rapidly, as he advanced, the
gulch widened out. The slopes on either side of the stream became less
steep, pine trees began to show themselves, and flaming poppies, in
irregular beds, made the slopes look like terraced gardens.
“First time I ever knew there was a place like this holed away among
these hills,” muttered the boy, staring around him with all the delight
aroused by a new and pleasant discovery. “It’s a mighty fine place, and
no mistake. Where’s that camp, I wonder?”
Pulling the horse to a halt, he lifted himself in the stirrups and
peered ahead. He could not see the gleam of the tents, but he did see
something else which caused him to utter an exclamation of surprise and
disappointment.
In the distance two figures were moving in his direction, on foot. One
of them was the colonel, as he could see plainly, and the other was
Jode.
“Beastly luck!” grumbled Darrel. “How can I talk with the colonel if
Jode’s around? I’ll just leave the horse in the brush and watch them,
for a spell. Maybe Jode will leave the colonel, and I’ll get my chance.”
Quickly turning the horse from the trail, Darrel spurred up the slope
of the gulch wall for a short distance and rode into a chaparral
of mesquite. Here he dismounted, hitched the horse to a scraggly
paloverde, and crept back to the edge of the bushes to watch.
He had had no exercise to amount to anything for nearly a week, and he
was astonished to find how his exertions tired him. He half reclined as
he stared out of the thicket, resting as he watched the trail for the
colonel and Jode to appear.
It was plain that the two could not be going far from the camp. Had
they been traveling any considerable distance, they would have brought
their mounts.
Not many minutes passed before the two hove in sight. Only a little way
from the place where Darrel had turned from the trail, the colonel and
Jode altered their course and began climbing the slope. The colonel was
carrying a small package wrapped in brown paper.
It seemed evident to Darrel that the two from the camp would pass
within a few yards of the chaparral. What if they discovered the horse?
The boy compressed his lips sternly. If that happened, then he would
show himself at once and talk to the colonel, in spite of Jode. But he
hoped the horse would not be seen, and that he could watch his chances
and have the colonel all to himself for a few minutes.
The climb must have tired the colonel, for he halted and sat down on a
convenient bowlder for a brief rest. Jode dropped to the ground at his
side. They were not more than twenty feet from Darrel.
“It won’t take me ten minutes to load the hole and set off the charge,
Jode,” the colonel was saying, “and then we’ll see what sort of rock we
uncover. There’s a vein there—I’m too old a hand at the business to be
fooled—but whether it amounts to much or not remains to be seen.”
“You’re mighty clever at this sort of business, Uncle Al,” returned
Jode admiringly. “I wish I knew as much about dips, angles, and
formations as you do.”
“It won’t be necessary for you to work along that line, my boy,” said
the colonel affectionately. “You’re to educate yourself for commercial
work, and learn to take care of what I shall one day leave you.”
“I hope,” observed Jode, “that it will be a long time before I shall be
called on to do that. There’s no chance, you think, of patching up our
differences with the Ophir fellows?”
“No chance—at least, not so long as Merriwell has anything to do with
the Ophir team. I’ve cancelled the Thanksgiving Day game.”
“That’s pretty tough! I think, uncle, we could play Ophir, even with
Merriwell in their crowd, and show them that we can be square and let
bygones be bygones.”
“What you say, Jode, does you a lot of credit. Our boys are gentlemen,
however, and not hoodlums. I could not sanction your playing with a
team where such a spirit as Merriwell and Clancy showed yesterday is
liable to crop out at any moment.”
“Whatever you say goes, Uncle Al. But I wish the thing could be patched
up in some way.”
“Well, I don’t see how it can. Mr. Bradlaugh has placed Merriwell in
charge of the Ophir eleven, and a team is bound to reflect the spirit
of the coach. There’ll be no more exhibitions of petty partisanship
between the two clubs if I can help it.” The colonel got up and stooped
to lay hold of the bundle he had been carrying. “What’s the matter?” he
asked, starting quickly erect.
Jode had given a jump and uttered a startled exclamation.
“I—I thought I saw that coyote dog among the rocks, up toward the
ledge,” he answered, in a smothered voice.
“What if you did?”
“Why, I heard—some one in the camp told me—that a coyote dog always
lays for the fellow who tries to hurt him or——”
“Stuff and nonsense!” scoffed the colonel. “You ought to be above such
superstitious notions, Jode. Never mind if you did catch a glimpse of
the dog. Come on and we’ll go up to the ledge and do our work there.”
“I wish I’d brought my revolver,” said Jode, as he again began climbing
at his uncle’s side.
“You’ll not need your revolver.”
Contrary to Darrel’s fears, the two passed well to the side of the
chaparral. The colonel’s mind was busy with the work that lay ahead of
him, and Jode was still plainly experiencing a few qualms on the score
of the coyote dog. As he climbed, Jode’s shifty eyes were fixed on the
rocks where he believed he had caught sight of the skulking animal.
What Darrel had overheard pass between his half brother and the colonel
gave him a queer feeling of regret for the part he was playing. It
seemed almost as though he was a spy and an eavesdropper. The colonel’s
affection for Jode was deep and sincere, there could not be the
slightest doubt; but Jode’s manner, his very talk, to Darrel’s mind,
lacked all that the colonel’s so frankly expressed.
“What business is it of mine?” thought Darrel bitterly. “So long as I
am under a cloud I have no right to criticize Jode. I wish he’d clear
out and give me a chance at the colonel.”
Some twenty or thirty feet above the chaparral, and forty or fifty feet
to the left of it, was a ledge of rock standing straight out from the
sloping gulch wall. A mass of loose bowlders overhung the ledge.
This was the spot toward which the colonel and Jode were climbing.
Observing this, Darrel quietly forced his way upward along one side of
the patch of mesquite. At the upper edge of the chaparral he found a
rift in the slope. It was like a trench, deep enough to hide a man, and
ran straight toward the crest of the gulch wall.
Still watching and hoping for an opportunity to speak a few words in
private with the colonel, Darrel crawled into the trench and made his
way to a point that was on a level with the top of the ledge. When he
finally halted and peered over the edge of the rift, he found that some
thirty feet of rough ground separated him from the colonel and Jode.
The colonel was on his knees, carefully opening the parcel he had
brought with him. A small coil of fuse and a couple of sticks of
dynamite were presently taken from the package.
“There were three sticks here when I wrapped up the package in Gold
Hill,” said the colonel, lifting his eyes to Jode’s. “What’s become of
the rest of the dynamite?”
“Are you sure?” Jode answered. “Some one must have taken out one of
the sticks.”
“Of course I may be mistaken,” muttered the colonel.
Cutting off a length of fuse, he trimmed it with a pocket knife; then,
taking a cap from his pocket, he pushed it over the trimmed end. Next,
he picked up one of the sticks of giant powder, slit it lengthwise on
four sides, and dropped it into a hole that had been drilled in the
shelf. The other stick was pushed down on the first, and both were
gently tamped down on the cap, which was in the bottom of the hole.
“Now, clear out, Jode,” said the colonel. “It’s only a two-minute
length of fuse, and I shall have to scramble for safety when I touch it
off.”
Jode jumped from the ledge and hurried to get away among a lot of
bowlders at a safe distance. The colonel lighted a match, touched it to
the fuse, and Darrel flattened himself out in the bottom of the rift.
The next moment he heard a crash, but it was not the crash of an
explosion. A startled cry came from the colonel, and Darrel, thrilled
with a weird premonition of disaster, rose to his knees and again
looked out over the top of the rift. What he saw, there on the ledge of
the gulch wall, caused him to gasp and close his eyes to shut out the
horror of it.