join us,” said Mr. Vernon.
The young Ranger glanced curiously at Mrs. Vernon and the four
good-looking girls with her, so Mr. Gilroy introduced himself and his
friends in a general way.
“Well, I don’t suppose any one will take me to account for my time if I
should decide to linger along the way with you,” remarked the Ranger. As
he spoke he led his horse over to the group of horses which had been
tethered under the trees. When he came back to the impromptu camp, he
said: “If you’re ready, Mr. Gilroy, I’ll show where the trout are as
thick as flies on molasses.”
“Just a moment, Ranger, till I get my rods and flies,” said Mr. Gilroy,
running to get the tackle.
Mr. Vernon accompanied the two, and soon the three were out of sight in
the forest.
“How do you like the portable cook-stove, Tally?” asked Mrs. Vernon,
walking over to the guide, who was cooking.
“Personally, Verny, I think it will prove a great accelerator of
mealtime,” said Julie laughingly; “but Tally vows he has no use for
new-fangled ways of roughing it.”
Joan added: “Tally’s like the man who swore he’d never pay the bills for
having modern plumbing installed in his home, after his wife had ordered
it; yet he monopolized the bath-tub every morning to the inconvenience
of his family; and he had his meals served on a tray as he sat right
over the register of hot air in the dining-room; the others ate at the
table and shivered.”
“Looks as if he had been swearing at the cost,” chuckled Hester.
“But that isn’t Tally’s case,” retorted Mrs. Vernon. “The burro pays the
price of having a stove in camp; all we do is to unload it and give it
plenty of wood to burn.”
Presently the three men returned with a splendid catch of trout which
they brought over to the Indian to prepare for the lunch. Mr. Gilroy and
Mr. Vernon seemed to have become well acquainted with the Ranger during
their little fishing excursion; and during the luncheon the girl scouts
also came under the spell woven by this interesting young man’s
personality.
There were many a merry laugh and jest during the time the dishes were
being washed and all signs of the midday meal removed; then the Ranger
and Tally destroyed every vestige of the camp fire, before the entire
party climbed into their saddles and rode away from the camping spot.
“How glorious is life up here,” exclaimed Mrs. Vernon, inhaling a deep
breath.
“I should say so!” agreed Mr. Vernon, fervently.
“No wonder you Forest Rangers are such fine chaps. Who could be sickly
or small when living on heights so near to God,” declared Mr. Gilroy,
and Sanderson flushed at such praise.
As they began to climb to the crest of Raton, the birds were flashing
back and forth overhead, industriously seeking dinner for their young.
The fragrant verdure, the slanting sunbeams as they seemed to search
through the crannies of cliffs and chasms, the sudden flash of a wild
thing scuttling away from the trail, all served to exhilarate the
riders.
“This is a mighty good trail,” remarked Mr. Vernon.
“This is the best and greatest trail known,” remarked the Ranger. “Wait
till we gain the crest— I’ll say no more.”
“Mr. Sanderson, we heard last summer that a trail once made by human
feet will forever keep its peculiarity so that it never becomes
completely overgrown again. On the other hand, it is said that the
trails worn by forest creatures will, after being abandoned, become
obliterated by growth of young trees and brush,” said Julie.
“That’s what people say, but I can hardly believe it,” returned
Sanderson. “If you were a Forest Ranger and had to build the roads we
do, you would forget all about these other kind of trails. We Rangers
have to clear away all obstructions in making a trail, and build the
road in such a way that it will be permanent. Then we have to see that
these trails are kept clear of rubbish and undergrowth.”
They came to a belt of forest where the light seemed to take on a
greenish tinge from the thick, interlaced branches overhead. After
riding through this for a time, the sound of rushing, falling waters
could be heard.
“Let’s find it!” exclaimed Julie, eagerly.
“It must be a high fall to make such a noise,” added Betty.
“Tally, you scout for the torrent and, should it be accessible, we will
follow and get a snapshot of it,” advised Mrs. Vernon. Then Sanderson
spoke.
“You’ll find the falls over there, a short half-mile from here; but
you’d better leave the burros out here; the undergrowth is too much for
them. Tally can tether them back there in the bushes. While you go to
the falls, I’ll do a little hunting in these woods for supper.”
“All right, Ranger, that’s a good plan; we’ll all meet you here in
half-hour, eh?” agreed Mr. Gilroy, nodding at the Indian to do as
Sanderson had advised.
With a friendly assent the Ranger rode away, and the others in the party
watched his graceful form disappear behind the trees; then they turned
to ride to the falls. Suddenly Julie turned to Hester and said: “Say!
what did we do with the camera?”
“Captain remembered it, but you didn’t,” laughed she, nodding her head
accusingly at the scout leader.
“My! I felt my heart sink in my shoes then,” sighed Julie, with a
melodramatic roll of her eyes.
“You’re lucky to have such soft elk-skin foot-gear to catch your heart
when it falls,” remarked Mrs. Vernon, teasingly.
The sound of the mountain stream which had called the girls to seek the
falls mellowed to a distinct splashing as they drew nearer the ledge
where the Guide had preceded them. When they reached the place where
Tally stood, his horse’s bridle over one arm, the tourists gazed with
astonishment at the scene of wild beauty.
The water, a small insignificant bit of water had it been running on the
plains, was transformed into a veritable fairy’s veil of white spray,
because of the height from which it fell. The group stood upon a crag
which projected over a ravine and gazed up at the misty cascade which
began its descent about fifty feet higher than the ledge where they
were. It fell sheer down to a rocky basin twenty feet below the ledge,
and thence it fell again to another depth of about fifty feet before it
resumed its rushing career on down to the base of the mountain.
“Hesty, focus the kodak carefully in order to get the entire falls in
the picture,” advised Julie.
“Now, Jo, how is that possible?” exclaimed Hester. “The lens would have
to be automatic and stretch way up, then down, to cover that two hundred
foot fall.”
“I never heard of such an adjustment to a camera, Hessie. Where do they
have them on sale?” remarked Mr. Gilroy.
Hester laughed. “I don’t know, Gilly, because no one ever patented that
idea, that I know of. I was merely telling Julie that the stunt of
stretching the lens was impossible.”
“You ought to know what I meant, Hester,” added Julie. “I meant for you
to get the scenery _across_ the ravine, to bring out the effect of the
falling water against that green background.”
While every one had a different suggestion to make to Hester, how she
ought to take the picture, the scout turned a deaf ear, but kept her
eyes on the work in hand. Hence the snapshot proved to be all right.
After taking a few more pictures, the scouts were about to return to the
trail where the burros had been left, when Julie begged: “Oh, wait! Let
Hester take one more snap, Verny.”
The others stopped and turned, and Julie caught hold of Hester’s arm.
“Come over here, Hessie, and wait till I say ‘ready!’ I’m going to be in
this picture, all right, because I want to develop it and mail it home.”
As she was speaking Julie led Hester to a spot and showed her just what
she was to do after she, Julie, was posed and ready.
“That beautiful hanging tree all draped with creepers, see it—right on
the verge of the cliff? I’ll lean against it gracefully, as if I was
leaning over to look down into the chasm, and then you push the button.
You’ll get the falls as a background, and everything.”
Hester understood perfectly, so Julie rushed over to the crooked,
leaning pine, half-dead, but draped as the scout had said, with long
swinging tendrils of vines.
“Isn’t this going to be a thriller of a picture, Verny?” called Julie,
waving a hand at the wide canyon and the shimmering falls.
“For goodness’ sake, Julie! don’t go so close to the edge,” warned Joan.
But she was too late.
In turning to address the Captain, Julie had inadvertently stepped back
one pace too far. With the wave of her hand at the ravine she lost her
balance. In a panic she flung out both hands to clutch at the nearest
hold. They grasped the swaying vines which immediately tore away from
their frail hold, and in a second’s time Julie was gone.
Every one stood momentarily transfixed with horror. The next second,
however, the girls were screaming, Betty was wringing her hands, and the
Captain flung herself at her husband, beseeching him to save Julie!
Hester still held the camera exactly as she had while waiting for the
signal to snap the picture. She seemed utterly bereft of her senses,
because she was turning the key that rolls the film, and she kept on
turning it in her brain-shock until the entire roll of twelve exposures
was used up. Tally was the only one who seemed to have any presence of
mind.
“Boss, run get rope from packs! Me climb down canyon an’ help Mees
Jule.”
“Tally, I must go with you to help,” called Mr. Gilroy, in opposition to
the guide’s command; “let Mr. Vernon get the rope!”
The two men ran to the edge of the cliff where the crooked tree still
leaned far out over the chasm, but Tally sought and found a place where
he could get a clear unobstructed view of the side of the canyon
directly under the jutting tree. And there he saw a sight that caused
him to scream hysterically, “Julesafed! Julesafed!”
This announcement acted like an electric current on the others. With one
impulse the scouts made a dash for the place where Tally stood, but Mr.
Gilroy barred the way.
“Not much! You-all get back and leave us men do this,” shouted he,
sternly.
Obedient as children caught in mischief, they all fell back without a
thought of doing otherwise. Their minds were intent on every least thing
in this emergency, but the suspense was racking to the nerves.
“Get rope, Mees’s Vern’, tie ’roun’ beeg tree. I go down furder an’ get
Mees Jule. She on ledge right unner dat tree. She not move, so she mus’
faint,” explained Tally, as he rushed past Mr. Gilroy and ran downward
from the place where the others remained.
The moment Tally had vanished in the heavy undergrowth and trees, Mr.
Gilroy leaped over to the point where the guide had had his view. Then
he called and explained to the anxious group of scouts.
“There’s a projecting ledge under the edge of the top of the cliff, but
it is not visible from where we were standing. It is only a few feet
beneath the top, and Julie _can’t_ be hurt by the fall. She has fainted
through fright, I’m sure.”
His words brought back the color to blanched faces, and hope to stricken
hearts. Now he called to them again.
“There goes Tally! He has found a way of reaching the ledge, so it can’t
be a hazard to bring her up. I’ll go the way he went and help.” As he
spoke he started for the slope down which the Indian had disappeared,
but Mrs. Vernon ran over to him with a small vial in her hand.
“Here, Gilly—ammonia! I had it in the small knapsack on my belt,” cried
she, breathlessly, dragging at him.
He took it and hurried away. In a very short time Mr. Vernon returned to
his friends with a blank look upon his face, but the dire news he had
intended to impart to them was driven dean from his mind when he heard
of the possible recovery of Julie.
“Oh, Uncle Verny, Julie’s all right _now_!” Joan assured him.
“Yes, yes, Verny! Gilly says she only fainted. He’s gone to help Tally
carry her back here,” explained Hester, eagerly. Betty was still weeping
nervously.
At such information Mr. Vernon could not control himself, but he ran
over to the outlook point whence the Indian had spied the fallen scout
upon the ledge. He saw the Guide about to pick up the unconscious girl.
In another moment Tally had her upon his back as a trained first aid
would; then, carefully, he picked his way along the narrow shelf of
mossy rock till he reached the place where it ran into the slope. Here
Mr. Gilroy was waiting with the aromatic ammonia. The next thing Mr.
Vernon saw was Julie kicking violently and struggling with the strong
pungent fumes of the ammonia.
“She’s all right! Julie’s come to again!” shouted Mr. Vernon to the
anxious group waiting to hear from him. “Get some water, some one, and
have a glass of water ready to dash in her face, in case she feels faint
again!” But he remained where he was till the last signs of the three on
the slope of the chasm had vanished.
At his order, the scouts ran here and there in vain, then said: “Where
can we find any water, Verny, other than over the falls?”
“Let Unk Verny go get the water if he thinks it is so easy a matter,”
replied Mrs. Vernon, testily, dropping upon the grass and using her
sleeve to dry the beads of anxiety from her brow.
Joan laughed hysterically as she added: “We’ll tell him to use the old
oaken bucket that hangs in the well! It’s so convenient to our hand just
here.” Her laugh broke the tension and every scout present laughed
uproariously, then felt better.
By this time the two rescuers came in sight, helping Julie to use her
shaky limbs. Then Mr. Gilroy called out to his friends:
“Jule’s all right again. She argued to be allowed to walk, so that shows
she is O. K.!”
“Of course, I’m all right! I did that very stunt just to get a good
snapshot of myself going over the edge, and I suppose Hester got so
frightened that she forgot to snap the picture,” said Julie, as she
allowed her helpers to seat her upon the moss.
“Oh, Julie, dear! Did you really! How you frightened me!” wailed Betty,
with the suggestion of a complaint in her tones.
Every one laughed at gullible little Betty, and Julie said, “Yes, of
course I did! If only that picture turns out well!”
Hester had forgotten all about the camera, but being reminded of it she
ran over to pick it up. As she did so she looked at the register to see
how many exposures had been used, and as she did this she gasped.
“Jule! I really believe I did take that stunt! Any way, I must have
turned the key, again and again, until not one single film remains to be
exposed. I’ve reached the end of the reel!”
The laugh that greeted this information acted like a tonic on Julie’s
shaken nerves, and in a little while she felt able to get up and walk to
her horse.
“Think you are strong enough to resume the ride up-trail, dearie?” asked
Mrs. Vernon, solicitously.
“Oh, sure! Strong as a mountain lion,” laughed Julie, as she tried to
jump into the saddle. Then she found she had better wait and receive
assistance. But once she was securely seated upon her horse, she felt
her old self again, and needed no further sympathy for her dramatic
scene at the cliff.
They rode out from the tangled wilderness to the trail, but no Ranger
had arrived. The burros were brought from the nook where they had been
hidden, and everything was in order for a new start, yet no young man
appeared on the scene.
“Great Scott! We can’t sit here all day waiting for a youngster who may
not show up before midnight,” grumbled Mr. Gilroy.
“Suppose we leave a note somewhere where the Ranger will be sure to see
it, and then we can ride on,” suggested Julie.
“Yes, Gilly. You know how long it takes these burros to cover the
ground,” added Joan.
“Oh, very well! But I thought you young ladies would prefer to wait for
such a handsome young chap who is so entertaining,” agreed Mr. Gilroy.
“Gilly, have you ever heard one of us complaining about your age,” asked
Betty in such an earnest manner that every one had to double over in
laughter. But Betty had meant what she said and she could not understand
why they should laugh at her.
In a few more minutes the cavalcade started on the trail, and the note
telling the Ranger where to find them had been left upon a stick which
was stuck in a prominent place on the road.
CHAPTER FOUR
JULIE MAKES A CONQUEST
The scout party rode on and on along the Sky-line Trail, stopping
frequently to gaze at the wonderful views to be had from this altitude.
Reaching the place where another important trail crossed, Tally, for the
second time in his experience as a Guide, decided upon the wrong trail
as being the one to follow to reach Springer. But he was justified
inasmuch as the trail he chose was the better one of the two from that
point on. They had gone a long distance before any one questioned
whether this could be the Old Santa Fé Trail. As no one could tell they
kept on going, often turning their heads to see if Ranger Sanderson was
in sight. At last the sun was setting and they must locate a camp-site
for the night; then it was decided that, as long as Sanderson had had
all afternoon in which to overtake them, but had not taken advantage of
the time, they would decide upon the first best spot where spring water
was to be found.
Not long afterward Tally’s keen eyesight detected an attractive
pine-grove a short distance off the trail where he declared they would
find water. How he knew this to be so was a wonder to the girls. But
that is the way with these Indian Guides!
Sure enough! in riding to the grove the scouts saw the reflection of
sunbeams sparkling on a body of water. Then as they entered the woods
the lake was lost to view. They rode on a short distance farther and,
suddenly emerging from the girdle of trees, they spied a small lake of
about a mile in length.
“Goot camp, eh, Boss?” said Tally, nodding at the sheet of water.
“Yes, Tally, and we’re ready for supper,” said Mr. Gilroy.
“All right, Boss, but we no camp here,” returned Tally. At the point
where the Guide had discovered the lake, reeds and grasses hugged the
shore, and from the quiet water a faint mist upcurled like a transparent
veil. Gradually this veil spread until silently it enveloped everything
along the edge of the water.
Tally now led the way along a faint wild trail that skirted the lake,
and soon, the scouts came to a rippling stream which the horses had to
ford. The scene was splendidly wild, and isolation hung like a curtain
over everything. Mystic sounds chirruped at them as their horses went
clipclopping over the hardened trail; finally they rode out to an open
place which was enchanting in its beauty. The fast-fading reflections of
the setting sun, purple and rose, which shimmered upon the bosom of the
water touched this mist into a rosy aura.
“Here we mek camp,” announced Tally, reining in his horse.
The rest of the party dismounted and preparations were instantly begun
for a night camp.
“Who will go for the fish?” asked the Captain.
“Oh, Gilly! do let some of us girls go with you!” cried Joan.
“That will have to be as the Captain says,” replied Mr. Gilroy.
“Two of you girls can go with Gilly, and two must remain here to assist
me in making the beds,” said the Captain.
“I don’t want to fish,” said Betty; “I can’t bear to see the poor little
things wriggle on the hook.”
“But you can bear to eat them when somebody else hooks them,” laughed
Julie.
“Mees Betty, you no forget how to mek hemlock bed, eh?” asked Tally, as
he arranged the cook-stove upon which to prepare dinner.
“Indeed I have not! Let the other girls go and fish, Tally, and I will
show you how I can weave the tips as well as ever I did,” bragged Betty.
“I shall remain with Betty to cut the hemlock branches, while she makes
the beds,” said Hester.
“Um-ra-m! me show you-all goot place for sleep,” hinted Tally; as he
spoke he pointed to a sheltered nook made by a huge rock on one side,
and a thick undergrowth of bushes and aspens on the other two sides; the
fourth side was the approach from the clearing.
“Not far over dere you fin’ alla beddin’ you-all need,” explained the
Indian, waving a hand at a clump of fine hemlocks.
Meanwhile Julie and Joan had gone with the two men to find a suitable
place from which to fish. The sun had gone down, and the lake had
changed from a warm rose hue to a chill gray. The silence which could be
felt was broken only by the pulsating sounds from the woods. As they
sought along the lake edge for a good place to stand, quite
unexpectedly, from a tree directly overhead, a loon shrilled a warning
to her mate across the lake. But the mate sent back his wild laughter at
the unbased fears entertained by his wife. As the scouts moved slowly
along, feeling as if they were one with the wild creatures of this spot,
they almost forgot they were sent to fish for their supper.
But in a short time they had caught a goodly mess of fish and returned
to camp. As the first day’s long ride had wearied them, no one wished to
stir after supper, and Mr. Gilroy merely said: “Tally, are the horses
all right for the night?”
“Sure! Tally fix hosses first,” returned the Guide.
Every one was soon asleep that night, and Tally knew not how long he
had been sleeping when he suddenly sat up. He thought he heard one of
the horses whinny, but all was quiet, so he stretched out again. Just
before he dozed off, however, he wondered if, by any chance, a wild
beast could sneak up and attack them. This thought caused him to dream
fitfully and he started up again to satisfy his mind regarding the
animals. Looking at his Ingersoll he found it was one o’clock in the
morning.
Tally got up and found the ponies quiet and safe; but, to his great
surprise, he heard a horse’s hoofs on the river trail. Hastily he
climbed up on a high bowlder and from there he could glimpse the river
sparkling in the last rays of the fading moon.
As he stood watching and listening for new revelations from the trail,
he thought he saw the flash of a pocket searchlight. The whole discovery
seemed so out of the ordinary to the Indian that he decided to creep
along the faint lake-trail made by wild animals and reach the
river-trail before the rider passed the spot where the two trails met.
It was not mere curiosity which induced Tally to do this, but the inborn
wariness of the Guide who feels he is responsible for his party.
He was none too soon, for, immediately after he had secreted himself and
his horse back of some trees and brush, the steady gleaming of an
electric light reflected on the trail along which a horse was heard
approaching. Tally placed his coat over his own horse’s head to keep him
from calling to his comrade on the trail.
When the stranger’s horse reached the place where the two trails joined,
it stopped, turned its head in the direction of the lake and whistled
softly. In a moment the reply from one of the ponies hobbled at the lake
reached Tally’s ears. He swore under his breath at this unexpected
incident, then he had a further surprise.
“Ah, good old Snubby! You’ve told me where to find them,” spoke a young
man’s voice, sounding familiar to the Guide.
“Dat’s Range San’son!” was Tally’s thought, as he hastily caught the
bridle of his horse’s head and led him out to confront the newcomer.
“Halt!” commanded the Ranger, flashing his light over in the direction
of the unexpected horse and rider.
“Is’s onny Tally, Mees’r San’son,” called the Guide.
“Tally! Good for you, old man! Now you can take me to the camp,” replied
Sanderson, eagerly.
“Whad wrong, Mees’r San’son, mek you not ride with scouts?” asked the
Indian.
“Why, Tally, you took the wrong trail, and I rode all the way down the
old Santa Fé Trail only to discover that you had not gone that way. Then
I rode all the way back to the Forks and discovered the tracks your
horses made down the Cimarron Trail.”
“Mees’r San’son, you say I go wrong way?” gasped Tally, dubiously.
“Yes, Tally; but in the long run it will prove to be the pleasanter
route, because the scouts can trail along the Red River which crosses
this road a little farther on, and go almost as far as Springer before
leaving it to travel on the more public road.”
“Now we ride to camp and sleep, eh?” suggested the Indian.
“I’ll be glad to get myself a cup of coffee, as I did not stop to eat or
drink,” remarked the Ranger, turning his horse’s head to follow the
Guide.
“Yeh—too bad!” said Tally, but the night hid his face as he spoke. If it
had not the Ranger might have felt slightly embarrassed at the quizzical
expression in the eyes of the Guide.