short cut to Lake Park, it was Oliver’s suggestion to leave the three
packburros hobbled somewhere along the trail. As the scouts could ride
on twice as fast, and be able to get back to the Pecos River trail that
much sooner, this plan was agreed upon, and Oliver showed Tally an
excellent spot where the animals might graze during the day. The packs
were _cached_ under some rocks, and the burros secured, then the scouts
rode away to the park as had been outlined by the Ranger at breakfast
that morning. By four o’clock that afternoon, the scouts sent Tally for
the burros, and then, reaching Winsor, said good-by to Oliver, who
continued on the trail to his station, while they rode on further and
pitched camp on the Pecos River, just south of Panchuelo.
They had been undecided whether, after reaching Panchuelo, to take the
trail that followed the Rio del Pueblo for some distance on the trail to
Taos, or whether to turn northwest and follow the trail to Truchas,
thence northeast to Taos. Therefore at the breakfast, next morning, a
vote was taken and because there was a possibility of having Ranger
Sanderson and Mr. Burt overtake them on that trail from Santa Fé to
Taos, Truchas trail won the election.
Panchuelo was located at the fork of these two Taos trails and the
scouts wished to ride on a short distance to visit Round Mountain and
Pecos Baldy, so they debated what to do with the burros.
“What’s the use of dragging these slow coaches over the trail to the
mountains and back again?” demanded Mr. Gilroy. “Why not do as Oliver
did yesterday—find a place to hobble them and, later, send Tally to get
them?”
“All right!” agreed Mr. Vernon. “Tally, we’ll ride on, and you hide the
burros somewhere along the trail where they can graze till you come for
them.”
“But do not unpack? We won’t be at the peaks more than three hours,”
added Mrs. Vernon.
After breakfast the party rode on to the Forest Station, where they were
cordially received. Not till they stopped to look around were the scouts
aware of the altitude of Panchuelo. Now they stood in the Lookout
gazing upon the peaks of surrounding mountains which stood out clearly
in the morning light; they found that the far-down dots betokened
villages and camps in the valleys. Silvery streams winding here or there
showed where the Pecos and other rivers followed the course of least
resistance.
Having visited and photographed everything of interest at the station
the scouts bid good-by to the Foresters and rode away to the northeast
point of the triangle trail, thence westerly to the Truchas point, where
they were to meet the guide. He was not there.
“How could he be, when he has three burros to push and pull along the
road?” said Julie.
Finally, waiting got to be irksome, and the Captain suggested that some
one return to the Panchuelo point of the trail to see if anything had
happened to the Indian or to the burros.
Then Tally himself came to explain.
“Boss, dem burros all gone!” he gasped. “I hunt and hunt an’ I axe ever’
one what pass, but nobody see dem!”
[Illustration: “Boss, dem burros all gone!” he gasped.]
“Why! Where do you suppose they could have gone?” gasped Mr. Gilroy. But
Tally was already on the way back, so they all turned and followed him.
“Tally, what do _you_ say? did the burros run back to Grass Mountain? If
they did we shall soon know because Oliver will bring them down,” said
Mr. Gilroy.
“Burros go down-trail,” remarked Tally, “Not ’lone; two man-riders drive
’em.”
This amazing information surprised the scouts, and Mr. Gilroy said: “How
do you know.”
Tally explained about faint impressions made by the hoofs of the burros,
and the tracks made by two larger animals.
After a time they came back to the place where the burros had been left.
“Dem men not gone long. He drop ash here, see?” and the guide pointed to
a small rock beside the trail where some one had knocked the ashes from
a smoking-pipe.
“Even that does not prove it to be from a man to-day. That may be from
last night,” returned Mr. Vernon, deeply interested in Tally’s
deductions.
“Dem foot-tracks not last night’s,” said Tally, showing plainly where
the grass had been pressed flat.
“If that had been from last night the dew would have freshened it so
that the blades would have straightened again,” added Betty, her
scout-lore expressing itself.
“Then we’d better ride on and overtake the zealous assistants!” was the
Captain’s advice.
“You mean if they allow us to,” Mr. Gilroy amended. Tally had jumped
into his saddle and now he started ahead of the others, but he kept his
eyes fixed upon the faint tracks in the trail as he went. Halfway
between Panchuelo and Winsor was a trail which ran along the northly
boundary of Lake Park and so on down to Santa Fé. This they followed,
the guide leading. Just before they reached the foot of Santa Fé Baldy
they came to a rushing torrent with a rough-hewn bridge of logs across
it.
Tally halted, and said: “Burros and riders no go up-trail f’om here.
Mebbe men lead um up brook to fores’,” and the guide pointed to a small
tributary which emptied into the larger stream which was spanned by the
bridge upon which his horse stood.
“Well, Tally, what shall we do?” asked Mr. Gilroy.
“Me scout here for signs if he’em come out. Tally got full gun,” the
Guide patted a Colt’s revolver upon his hip. “Boss take some scouts
up-trail an’ keep look-out for Ranger San’son, en some scout go wid Mr.
Vernon down-trail f’om Winsor en ask eve’y touris’ if dey see men who
got packburros what look familiar, see?”
“Yes, I see, Tally. But they may be down at one of the towns by now, and
the animals with our packs sold. Or they may be hiding in the woods,
waiting for a chance to come out again. Whichever it is we will be
without camping equipment and nowhere to get new things,” worried Mrs.
Vernon.
“You-all got hosses. Always scouts kin ride to hotel and get bed and
board,” was Tally’s practical reply.
“You’re right, Tally; some of us go Lake Park trail, and some ride the
Aspen Mountain trail and wait at Bishop’s Lodge. You stay and hunt man,
but be sure and meet us before dark at the Lodge,” said Mr. Gilroy.
It was sundown that evening, when the girls, accompanied by Mr. Vernon
and the Captain, rode up to Bishop’s Lodge to secure accommodations for
the night. Tally and Mr. Gilroy were out on the trails still hunting for
the men who had stolen the burros. While Mr. Vernon registered, the
girls stood near by talking.
“It’s just like a horrid nightmare where you start for a place and some
unseen foe holds you back,” said Joan.
“I suppose Sandy and Mr. Burt are almost up in Taos by this time,”
wailed Julie.
“Who’s taking our names in vain?” called a genial voice from behind a
wide-open newspaper. The man thus screened, sat in a chair in the
corner. Now he jumped up and laughingly came forward.
“Wby, Sandy! Where did you come from?” cried the girls in one voice.
“Right straight to you from that corner,” said the Ranger, pointing to
the paper on the chair.
“My! but you’re good for sore eyes, old chap,” remarked Mr. Vernon,
shaking hands with the Ranger.
“Yes, eyes sore from hunting for needles lost in a haystack,” laughed
Julie.
Sanderson smiled at her as she spoke. He had not believed Julie so
enchanting as he now found her to be. But the recital of a tale of woe
now demanded his attention. When Mr. Vernon’s story was ended, the
Ranger’s advice was asked.
“Burt and I arrived here not twenty minutes before you came. He is out
somewhere, but I wanted to see the papers before dinner. I saw you come
up to the door and I hid myself to see what you would do when you found
me,” explained Sanderson.
Then he proceeded to outline what could be done to get the burros as
well as the men, common rustlers without a doubt, who had stolen the
animals.
“We have the beasts insured, Sandy, and I’m not worried about _them_,
but we had dandy camping outfits as you know, and we need them for our
entire season,” complained Mr. Vernon.
“Leave it to me, Mr. Vernon, and you’ll get them all back in no time,”
promised Sanderson, “but that means I shall have to leave you here with
Burt while I run back to Santa Fé to pick up a coupla guides who can
find anything in New Mexico.”
Sanderson, merely leaving word for Burt, rode away on his wonderful
horse to Santa Fé, to find the Indians, of whom he had spoken. He said
he would be back at the lodge that night in order to start his men on
the hunt at dawn in the morning.
As long as the scouts had visited the Pecos Region and now were down
where the trail ran north to the Nambe Indian Pueblos, and thence on to
Truchas and northwest to Taos, it was agreed that they would ride with
Sanderson and Burt when they started up that trail.
For various reasons the scouts refused to retire that night. One was,
Sanderson had not yet returned; another was that they fully expected to
have Tally and Mr. Gilroy come in at any moment, and they wished to be
on hand to hear all the news if either party arrived.
“Evidently, Sandy has not had so simple a job in finding his Indians, as
he had expected,” remarked Mr. Burt, glancing at his watch. It was just
eleven.
By eleven-thirty Betty was dozing, and the other girls were doing their
best to stifle sleepy yawns. At a quarter to twelve they heard the sound
of horses’ hoofs in the court-yard outside, and they all ran to the door
to see who it might be.
“Behold the conquering heroes come!” sang Mr. Gilroy, rolling from his
horse and limping up to the scouts.
“Oh, Gilly!” exclaimed the girls, trying to peer through the darkness to
see who was with Mr. Gilroy.
“Ish me, an’ we got burros all fine!” laughed Tally, finding the scouts
could not see him through the darkness of the night.
“And _some_ ride we’ve had from Lake Park here!” grumbled Mr. Gilroy.
“Had it not been for those bully Rangers, Tally and I might have lost
our way again and again.”
“Oh, Boss! Not say so for Tally!” exclaimed the Indian. “You know you
mek me go your trail an’ he’em alius wrong one. But you be Boss, and
Tally have to mind you.”
As every one laughed at this, Burt added: “Come in, Tally, and tell us
all about it. At the same time we’ll see if there’s a chance of getting
at the pantry to find you some supper.”
Burt enlisted the sympathies of the night-clerk who went with the
newspaper man to the culinary regions. Within ten minutes’ time they
both returned.
“Now, then, boys, you come with me and sit down to the impromptu
spread,” was Burt’s hearty invitation to the belated wanderers.
“We’re all coming,” declared Julie; “if we don’t, you’ll hear the whole
story and then we girls’ll have to have it warmed over.”
Mr. Gilroy laughed. “Come on, you’re in the game.”
After sitting down to a table in the corner of the room the two men
spoke not a word but plied knife and fork diligently for a time.
Finally Julie exclaimed: “Don’t use all your power on the supper—spare a
little with which to tell the story.” And Mr. Gilroy obeyed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
GILLY TURNS FOREST RANGER
“Well, you know, soon after you left us to go down the trail to this
place, Tally rode into the stream to reach the tributary he had
mentioned. This he followed and, soon, I lost all sight and sound of him
and the horse. Then I rode back to Winsor where I expected to turn to go
up Grass Mountain for the two Rangers’ advice, and to make sure the
burros had not strayed back there.
“I had almost reached Winsor, when I noticed smoke drifting up the
trail. I cursed such luck that would call the Rangers to fight a forest
fire just when I wanted to find them. But I rode on hoping I might meet
them.
“Then the thought flashed through my mind that this fire might drive the
horse-thieves to the trail, or burn the slow-going burros with our
packs.
“I had not traveled much farther, before I heard the echo of several
horses’ hoofs pounding down the hard trail.
“In a short time I saw a number of fire-fighters come tearing over the
trail. To my intense relief I saw Oliver and Johnson with them. They
recognized me and called to know if I was lost; I tried to explain, but
they told me to join them. Then Oliver said:
“‘Panchuelo telephoned our station that a tiny spiral of smoke was seen
to rise from the woods at Lake Park. They thought some camper must have
left a fire smoldering and gone away to let it eat into dry timber and
start a flare.
“‘Johnson and I left orders for our subs on Grass Mountain and caught up
our tools, then jumped into the saddle and were off down-trail to meet
the other boys coming from Panchuelo.
“‘When we met they told us you had been there and had marveled at the
view of the surrounding country when seen through the powerful lens we
keep in the observatory. The scouts seemed surprised to hear that a
Ranger’s life was not one of ease and “high-living,” laughed Oliver.
“‘And I’m surprised to hear you chat so unconcernedly, Oliver, while
we’re on our way to a conflagration,’ said I.
“Oliver replied: ‘We’re used to this. But as I was about to say, you
scouts seemed amazed to find that our territory stretches over an area
of 100,000 acres. That we have to patrol this area and watch for timber
thieves, forest fires, floods, and other calamities to which the forest
is subjected; then as a little diversion we construct roads, build
bridges, clean away debris and such.
“Oliver now gave me a chance to explain why I had been alone on the road
when they had found me.
“I heard Johnson say to Oliver, ‘Say, that may explain the presence of
those two disreputable characters that were reported to be camping in
Lake Park.’
“And Oliver replied: ‘If we find them I bet we find the three burros.’
“Well, that was some adventure, girls—that fire!” exclaimed Mr. Gilroy.
“Is that all you’ve got to say about it?” demanded Mr. Vernon,
impatiently.
“Great Scott, no! I haven’t begun yet.”
“Goodness sakes! It’s past midnight now,” retorted Mrs. Vernon; “when do
you expect my girls to sleep if you drag on this way?”
“Oh, Verny! We don’t want any sleep,” declared Joan, and her friends
agreed eagerly with her decision.
“I wish you’d all feel this way in the morning, when I have to pull you
up,” laughed the Captain.
“If you females will only give me your _silence_ for a time, I’ll finish
my story and then you can go to bed,” said Mr. Gilroy, authoritatively.
Burt and Mr. Vernon laughed, but Tally continued eating for dear life.
“Well, Oliver and Johnson and I caught up with the other Rangers by the
time they were ready to leave the trail and break into the woods. They
had drafted every tourist and Indian they met on the road, and we had
quite a squad to fight against the fire. I was given a spade and told to
get busy when the orders were issued.
“Then we were sent in units to different sections.
“We three, Oliver, Johnson and myself, were sent to a point up the trail
for some distance and told to work down to the others.
“Oliver, pausing in the run, said to Johnson: ‘Looks like a mess over
there, Johnny. But the wind is for us to-day; it’s blowing in the
direction of the open trail and the Ruins.’
“Johnson nodded understandingly, but rode on. Later they met a number of
men and several Rangers who had been summoned by the telephone call from
other stations. Tally was not to be found at the bridge, neither had the
aids, when questioned, seen him or his pony.
“The ‘Ruins’ proved to be a vast area of great bowlders with not a green
blade growing there. As this barren, rocky place covered more than five
acres, from the stream on one side and the upward slope of the mountain
on the other, the fire-fighters could devote their entire attention to
that side where the tall trees offered excellent fuel to the fire.
“Working side by side, cutting and chopping away with the double-bitted
axes, spading up fresh earth wherever it was possible to turn under any
inflammable timber, the dauntless men progressed step by step, yard by
yard, till the solid green wall on the up-side began to gap widely.
“But the fire had been advancing, too. Now the men could feel the heat
from the flames, and the air became filled with choking smoke and fine,
falling wood-ashes. Cries and terror-stricken calls from wild denizens
of the forest served to increase the energy and zeal of these systematic
fire-fighters.
“As the men and the fire came nearer each other, the trees seemed to
drip red-hot cinders. The heat became unbearable, and the fire seemed to
win the battle for supremacy, but the wide swath made by the axes now
began to have its effect on the encroaching blaze.
“Ranger Oliver blew his patrol whistle to signal the men away from their
positions. Here and there he saw spots where a little extra work would
save the situation, and to such places he sent his aids.
“Finally these brave men, baffling a peril which menaced all alike,
realized that they had subdued the enemy. The flames found nothing in
its way upon which to feed and advance, hence they began to weaken and
die down, lower and lower, until their roar and hellish heat abated.
“The Ranger now commanded: ‘Go to it, boys, and beat out the ground-fire
with your mats.’
“For an hour more, therefore, every one whipped and smothered the sparks
or kindlings on the ground, till only a blackened, smoking stretch of
woodland remained.
“The night came before the Rangers pronounced the danger to be averted
for that time, and thanked all those who had rendered such valuable
assistance in quenching the fire,” concluded Mr. Gilroy.
“How about our guide and the men found hanging about the Park?” asked
Mr. Vernon of Mr. Gilroy and Tally.
“Why, search as they would, not a sign could the fire-fighters see or
hear of Tally, his pony, or of the outlaws and the stolen property. When
all hope of finding any clews had been abandoned, the men dispersed to
go their respective ways. Then I, with the two Rangers, started to the
protected spot where we had tethered the horses. Climbing into the
saddles, we rode up the trail, discussing meanwhile the possibilities of
Tally’s escape.
“‘You know, if your guide had been acquainted in these mountains he
could safely have taken another trail at that bridge and have made his
way to our lookout by a different trail. We Rangers have to blaze many
trails on our sections in order to facilitate our own riding when we
have to hurry to a blaze. If a trail is impassable it engenders great
areas of forests by giving the fire a chance to spread,’ said Johnson.
“‘Tally is a well-trained guide, and I’d wager anything that he’ll find
a trail even where there isn’t one blazed. If it comes to the worst
he’ll blaze a trail of his own,’ I said.
“‘He must be a pretty wise chap,’ said Oliver.
“‘He’s that wise that I’ll wager you still further if that fire hasn’t
done for those outlaws and the horses, I bet he’ll bring them to time
single-handed!’ I added.
“Twilight was darkening into night before we three weary riders said
good-by to each other and parted—they to go back to their lookout, and I
to ride down here to keep the tryst with you fair ladies.”
As Mr. Gilroy concluded his tale, the scouts cried: “Oh, Gilly! That
isn’t all! Where did you find Tally and the burros?”
“Ah! But that’s another yarn which must be told by the hero himself. Now
Tally, it is your turn to brag of all you did,” chuckled Mr. Gilroy,
leaning back in the chair to hear Tally speak.
At the same time the Guide leaned back in his chair also, and sighing
heavily, remarked with satisfaction: “Ah, dat goot job done clean!” Then
he pushed his polished plate away from before him and wiped his mouth
carefully on the napkin.
The scouts laughed, but Julie added: “Tell us your story.”
“Solly, Mees Jule, but me go fix burros for sleep now,” and with that
the Indian slipped away and could not be urged back.
CHAPTER NINE
TALLY AND THE RUSTLERS
“That was some fine work our Guide accomplished with those two
horse-thieves,” remarked Mr. Gilroy, enjoying the inquisitive urging of
the girls to make him tell the tale.
“Yes, sir! I won my bet with both those Forest Rangers—or at least I
would have won it had we only laid wagers on the result of this work of
Tally’s,” he added, smiling at the scouts.
After threats and other ways of making him tell his story the girls
finally had him launched.
“Well, it was this way,” he began:
“After I left Tally at the bridge to go up the little brook, while I was
to go on to the lookout, he tells me he took his horse to a good
hiding-place and then pulled his moccasins out of his panniers and put
them upon his feet, then he started.”
“Didn’t he ride his horse?” asked Betty, in surprise.
“No, because a horse with his four hoofs makes more noise than an
Indian’s two feet clad in moccasins. And Tally can creep anywhere
without making a sound once he has on his moccasins, as you all know,”
said Mr. Gilroy.
“But he was taking chances in having those very men get his horse as
well as the burros,” ventured Hester.
“No, because Tally knew they would not come back the way they rode away
with the burros, and he was too good a Guide to hide his animal in a
place easy to find by others.
“Well, he says, he was fully an hour in and out of that stream while
examining both banks carefully for tracks of the pack-animals. Finally
he saw a spot where the bushes were trampled and broken down. Then,
quite unexpectedly, he came to a small clearing where the ashes of a
camp fire had slowly but surely eaten a way through the parched grass
and would have reached in a short time the fringe of woods. He beat it
out before he continued his hunt; and, in thus carefully circling the
clearing to quench the fire, he came across the tracks in the earth of
the quarry he sought. He was confident now that this was the right trail
of the thieves. He also noticed that they were riding the horses which
must have been corraled at their camp when they crept out to get the
burros.
“He could follow the distinct hoof-prints more speedily, knowing they
would lead him to those he was after. But he was careful, while going,
to make sure his revolver and the rifle were in order for a moment’s
need.
“The tracks led in and out as the men tried to find the easiest way
through the forest. At last the trail became so clear that Tally could
increase his pace till, quite suddenly, he came out of the thick forest
to a small clearing where he found what he wanted. One man was just
starting a camp fire, while another was hobbling two horses. The three
burros stood waiting patiently to be unloaded after this arduous trail.
“At sight of the two disreputable, grimy-looking men who had two
magnificent, blooded steeds with costly trappings, Tally immediately
realized that he had a couple of old horse-thieves with whom to deal.
Evidently the rustling of the burros with their well-filled packs was
the means of sustaining the rascals for a longer time in these forest
fastnesses. But Tally despises a horse-thief!
“A full-blooded Indian, descended from a line of famous guides in the
Rockies, such as Tally is, becomes cool and considerate in times of
need. Here were two desperate outlaws, with the goods for evidence, and
here was one young Indian.
“Tally kept behind a tree and watched till the man had finished hobbling
the two horses and was returning to his pal at the camp fire. The three
burros, Tally noted, were almost between himself and the two thieves.
He might spring across the space and screen himself behind the little
fellows, but he wanted to deliver the pack-animals alive to his Boss. If
he used them as a shield they would be certain to be used as a target by
the men.
“After carefully studying the camp-site, Tally decided to skirt the
clearing and make his attack from a point much nearer the men. He wished
to surprise them, and not give them a chance to get their hands on their
guns. Therefore he started to creep noiselessly through the bushes, but
the wise little burros must have sensed the presence of a friend, if the
wagging of their long ears, and the bright eyes watching the woods where
the guide was hidden, proves it.
“As if fortune favored Tally somewhat, one of the men now said: ‘You get
some more wood, Ben. Ain’t got ’nuff here to cook nawthin’.’
“‘You go see what grub them packs is got, whiles I k’lect the
kindlin’s,’ replied Ben, starting for that part of the woods where Tally
waited, hiding behind a pine.
“At the same time, Ben’s partner went for the burros, his thoughts so
engrossed on the desirable items of food he was sure to find in those
bulky packs, that he paid no attention to his pal.
“Ben, watching where he stepped, loped from the clearing into the dense
growth of trees and brush; then, unexpectedly, he heard a faint sound
and looked up—into the cold steel muzzle of a Colt’s automatic
revolver. He knew the game and, so, without uttering a sound, he threw
up both hands. But in doing so, he tried to create a noise with his
feet—a sound which might attract his companion’s attention.