[Illustration: Straight and true it sped to its mark. The lion had
already crouched for a spring when Nat's missile was discharged.
--Page 18.]
THE MOTOR RANGERS THROUGH THE SIERRAS
BY
MARVIN WEST
AUTHOR OF "THE MOTOR RANGERS' LOST MINE," ETC.
NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1911,
BY
HURST & COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. INTO THE SIERRAS 5
II. BETWEEN TWO FIRES 17
III. IN A RUNAWAY AUTO 31
IV. MOTOR RANGERS TO THE RESCUE 43
V. AN APPOINTMENT ON THE TRAIL 55
VI. SOME RASCALS GET A SCARE 66
VII. A PHOTOGRAPHER IN TROUBLE 77
VIII. LOST IN A PETRIFIED FOREST 87
IX. THE MIDNIGHT ALARM 99
X. ALONG THE TRAIL 110
XI. TREED! TWO HUNDRED FEET UP 125
XII. NAT'S LUCKY ESCAPE 135
XIII. THE VOLLEY IN THE CANYON 147
XIV. A "LOONITACKER" HORSE 159
XV. THE MOTOR RANGERS' PERIL 170
XVI. THE HORNS OF A DILEMMA 181
XVII. IN COLONEL MORELLO'S FORTRESS 191
XVIII. A RIDE FOR LIFE 201
XIX. OUTWITTING HIS ENEMIES 211
XX. HERR MULLER GETS A CHILLY BATH 220
XXI. THE FIRE IN THE FOREST 232
XXII. A DASH THROUGH THE FLAMES 242
XXIII. THE HUT IN THE MOUNTAINS 258
XXIV. FACING THEIR FOES 272
XXV. THROUGH THE FLUME 285
The Motor Rangers Through the Sierras
CHAPTER I.
INTO THE SIERRAS.
"Say Nat, I thought that this was to be a pleasure trip?"
Joe Hartley, the perspiration beading his round, good-natured
countenance, pushed back his sombrero and looked up whimsically from
the punctured tire over which he was laboring.
"Well, isn't half the pleasure of running an auto finding out how many
things you don't know about it?" laughingly rejoined Nat Trevor, the
eldest and most experienced of the young Motor Rangers, as they had
come to be called.
"V-v-v-variety is the s-s-spice----" sputtered our old friend William,
otherwise Ding-dong Bell.
"Oh, whistle it, Ding-dong," interjected Joe impatiently.
"_Phwit!_" musically chirruped the stuttering lad. "Variety is the
spice of life," he concluded, his hesitating manner of speech leaving
him, as usual, following the puckering of his lips and the resultant
music.
"That's no reason why we should be peppered with troubles," grumbled
Joe, giving the "jack" a vicious twist and raising the rear axle still
higher. "Here it is, only three days since we left Santa Barbara and
I'm certain that I've fixed at least four punctures already."
"Well, you'll be a model of punctuality when----" grinned Nat
aggravatingly, but Joe had sprung from his crouching posture and made
for him threateningly.
"Nat Trevor, if you dare to pun, I'll--I'll--bust your spark plug."
"Meaning my head, I suppose," taunted Nat from a safe distance, namely,
a rock at the side of the dusty road. "'Lay on, Macduff.'"
"Oh, I've more important things to go," concluded Joe, with as much
dignity as he could muster, turning once more to his tools.
While he is struggling with the puncture let us look about a little and
see where the Motor Rangers, whom we left in Lower California, are now
located. As readers of "The Motor Rangers' Lost Mine" know, the three
bright lads with a companion, oddly named Sandrock Smith, had visited
the sun-smitten peninsula to investigate some mysterious thefts of
lumber from a dye-wood property belonging to Mr. Pomery, "The Lumber
King," Nat's employer. While in that country, which they only reached
after a series of exciting and sometimes dangerous incidents, they
stumbled across a gold mine in which Nat's father had, years before,
been heavily interested.
Readers of that volume will also recall that Hale Bradford, the Eastern
millionaire, and his unscrupulous associates had made a lot of trouble
for Nat and his companions after the discovery. The exciting escape
of Nat in a motor boat across the waters of the Gulf of California
will also be called to mind, as well as the story of how matters
were finally adjusted and Nat became, if not a millionaire, at least
a very well-to-do young man. The gift of the auto in which they were
now touring was likewise explained. The splendid vehicle, with its
numerous contrivances for comfortable touring, had been the present of
Mr. Pomery to the lads, as a token of his esteem and gratitude for the
conclusion to which they had brought the dishonest dealings of Diego
Velasco, a Mexican employed by Mr. Pomery.
On their return to California proper, the lads had spent a brief time
with their parents, and Nat had seen his mother ensconced in a pretty
house on the outskirts of Santa Barbara. It had been a great delight to
the lady to leave the tiny cottage in which straitened circumstances
following the death of Nat's father, had compelled them to live. Joe
Hartley, we know, was the son of a department store keeper of Santa
Barbara, and Ding-dong Bell was the only child of a well-to-do widow.
So much for our introductions.
Inactivity had soon palled on the active minds of the Motor Rangers,
and they had, with the consent of their parents, planned another trip.
This time, however, it was to be for pleasure. As Nat had said, "We had
enough adventures in Lower California to last us a lifetime." But of
what lay ahead of them not one of the boys dreamed, when, three days
before, they had started from Santa Barbara for a tour of the Sierras.
Nat was desirous of showing that it was feasible to hunt and fish and
tour the mountains in an automobile just as well as on horseback. The
car, therefore, carried rifles and shot guns as well as fishing rods
and paraphernalia for camping. We shall not give an inventory of it
now. Suffice it to say that it was completely outfitted, and as the
details of the car itself have been told in the previous volume we
shall content ourselves with introducing each as occasion arises.
The particular puncture which Joe was repairing when this volume opens,
occurred just as the lads were bowling over a rather rough road into
Antelope Valley, a narrow, wind-swept canyon between two steep ranges
of mountains. The valley is in the heart of the Sierras, and though
too insignificant to be noted on any but the largest maps, forms a
portion of the range well known to mountaineers. It is a few miles from
the Tehachapi Pass, at which, geographers are agreed, the true Sierra
Nevadas begin.
"Say, fellows," exclaimed Nat suddenly, looking about him at the
sky which from being slightly overcast had now become black and
threatening, "we're going to have a storm of some sort. If you're ready
there, Joe, we'll be jogging along. We ought to be under shelter when
it hits."
"Yes," agreed Joe, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, "it will
go whooping through this narrow valley like the mischief."
As he spoke he lowered the "jack," and put the finishing touches on
his repair. The auto carried plenty of extra tires, but naturally the
boys wished to be sparing of their new ones while the others offered an
opportunity for a patch.
As the first heavy rain drops fell, sending up little spurts of dust
from the dry road and the dusty chaparral bordering it, Nat started
the motor, and the car was soon whizzing forward at a good speed.
Thanks to its finely-tempered springs and the shock absorbers with
which it was equipped, the roughness of the road had little effect on
the comfort of the riders.
"This is going to be a hummer," shouted Joe suddenly, "we'd better get
up the shelter hood."
Nat agreed, and soon the contrivance referred to, which was like a low
"top" of waterproof khaki, was stretched on its collapsible frames. It
fitted all round the auto, enclosing it like a snug waterproof tent. In
front was a window of mica through which the driver could see the road.
The erection of the shelter took but a few seconds and presently the
car was once more chugging forward.
But as the storm increased in violence, the wind rose, till it fairly
screamed through the narrow funnel of the rocky-walled valley. Through
his window Nat could see trees being bent as if they were buggy whips.
"If this gets much worse we'll have to find cover," he thought, "or
else lose our shelter hood."
He glanced apprehensively at the steel supports of the shelter, which
were bending and bowing under the stress put upon them. As Nat had
remarked to himself, they would not stand much more pressure.
"Say, the rain is coming in here," began Joe suddenly, as a tiny
trickle began to pour into the tonneau. It came through a crack in the
khaki top which had been wrenched apart by the violence of the wind.
"It's g-g-g-gone d-d-d-own the bab-b-b-back of my n-n-n-neck,"
sputtered Ding-dong Bell protestingly.
"Never mind, Ding-dong," comforted Joe, "maybe it will wash your parts
of speech out straight."
"I'm going to head for that cave yonder," exclaimed Nat, after running
a few more minutes.
He had spied a dark opening in the rocks to his right, while the others
had been talking, and had guessed that it was the mouth of a cave of
some sort. And so it proved.
The auto was turned off the road, or rather track, and after bumping
over rocks and brush rolled into the shelter of the cavern. It seemed
quite an abrupt change from the warring of the elements outside to the
darkness and quiet of the chamber in the rocks, and the Motor Rangers
lost no time in lowering the hood and looking about to find out in what
sort of a place they had landed.
So far as they could see, after they had all climbed out of the car,
the cave was a large one. It ran back and its limits were lost in
darkness. The mouth, however, was quite a big opening, being more than
twenty feet across at the base. It narrowed into a sharp-topped arch at
the summit, from which greenery hung down.
"Let's see where we are," remarked Nat, taking off his heavy driving
gloves and throwing them upon the driver's seat.
"You'd have to be a cat to do that," laughed Joe Hartley, gazing back
into the dense blackness of the cavern.
"That's soon fixed," added Nat, and removing one of the lights of the
car from its socket he pressed a little button. A sharp click resulted,
and a flood of brilliant white radiance poured from the lamp. It was an
improved carbide contrivance, the illuminant which made the gas being
carried in its socket.
The boy turned its rays backward into the cave, flooding the rough,
rocky walls, stained here and there with patches of dampness and moss,
with a blaze of light.
"Say," cried Joe suddenly, as the rays fell far back into the cave but
still did not seem to reach its terminus, "what is that back there?"
As he spoke he seized Nat's sleeve in a nervous, alarmed way.
"What?" demanded Nat, holding the light high above his head in his
effort to pierce the uttermost shadows.
"Why that--don't you see it?" cried Joe.
"I do now," exclaimed Nat in a startled voice, "it's----"
"T-t-t-two g-g-glaring eyes!" fizzed Ding-dong Bell.
As he spoke, from behind the boys, came a low, menacing growl. They
faced about abruptly to see what this new source of alarm might be.
As they all turned in the direction from which the growl had
proceeded--namely the mouth of the cave--a cry of dismay was forced
from the lips of the three lads. Stealthily approaching them, with
cat-like caution, was a low, long-bodied animal of a tawny color. Its
black-tipped tail was lashing the ground angrily, and its two immense
eyes were glaring with a green light, in the gloom of the cave.
"A mountain lion!" cried Nat, recognizing their treacherous foe in an
instant.
"And its mate's back there in the cave," called Joe, still more
alarmedly.
"G-g-g-g-get the g-g-g-guns!" sputtered Ding-dong.
This was far more easy to recommend than to accomplish, however. The
lads, never dreaming that they would want their weapons, had left them
in the automobile. The car, as will be recalled, had been left near the
mouth of the cave. The mountain lion advancing toward them had already
passed the auto and was now between them and the place in which their
weapons were reposing.
The mountain lion, or cougar, ordinarily not dangerous unless it gets
its foe at an absolute disadvantage, becomes, during the mating season,
a vindictive, savage brute, if separated from its mate. That this was
now the case was evident. There was no room to doubt that the two green
eyes glaring from the remote blackness of the cave were the optics of
another "lion."
The young Motor Rangers were fairly trapped. Without weapons or any
means of protecting themselves but their bare hands, they were in
imminent peril of a nasty conclusion to their sudden encounter.