NAT'S LUCKY ESCAPE.
If a round black bomb had come rolling down the mountain side and
exploded at Nat's feet he could not have been more thunderstruck than
he was at the sudden appearance of his old enemy. True, he should have
had such a possibility in mind, but so intent had he been on his trout
fishing, and the pain of his injury on the top of that, that he had not
given a thought to the possibility of any of their foes being about.
"Don't make a racket," warned Al. Jeffries ominously, as he flourished
a revolver about, "I'm dreadful nervous, and if you make a noise I
might pull the trigger by accident."
Nat saw at once that this was one way of saying that he would be shot
if he made any outcry, and he decided that there was nothing for him
to do but to refrain from giving any shout of alarm. Had his ankle not
been wrenched and giving him so much pain the boy would have tried to
run for it. But as it was, he was powerless to do anything but wait.
"Ain't quite so gabby now as you was in Lower California," snarled
Dayton vindictively, as the boy sat staring at his captors.
"If you mean by that that I am not doing any talking, you're right,"
rejoined Nat.
"That's a purty nice watch you've got there," remarked Al., gazing at
Nat's gold timepiece which had been jerked out of his breast pocket
when he fell over the rock.
"Yes," agreed Nat, determined not to show them that he was alarmed by
his predicament, "my dead father gave me that."
"Well, just hand it over."
"What?"
Nat's face flushed angrily. His temper began to rise too.
"Come on, hand it over and don't be all night about it," ordered Al.
Nat jumped to his feet.
His fists were clenched ready for action. It seemed clear that if they
were going to take the watch from him while he had strength to protect
himself that they had a tough job in front of them. But an unexpected
interruption occurred. It came from Ed. Dayton.
"See here, Al.," he growled, "don't get too previous. I reckon the
colonel can dispose of the watch as he sees fit. All such goes to him
first you know, so as to avoid disputes."
"Don't see where you come in to run this thing," muttered Al., but
nevertheless he subsided into silence.
All this time Nat's mind had been working feverishly. But cast about as
he would he could not hit on a plan of escape.
"I guess the only thing to do is to let them make the first move, and
then lie low and watch for a chance to get away," he thought to himself.
"Wonder what they mean to do with me anyhow?"
He was not left long in doubt.
"Get the horses," Dayton ordered, turning to Al. Jeffries.
The other, still grumbling, turned obediently away however. There
seemed to be no doubt that Ed. Dayton was a man of some power in the
band. Nat saw this with a sinking heart. He knew the vengeful character
of the man too well for it not to cause him the gravest apprehension
of what his fate might be. Not by so much as a flicker of an eyelash,
however, did he let the ruffians see that he was alarmed. He would not
for worlds have given them the satisfaction of seeing him weaken.
Pretty soon Al. returned with three ponies. The animals must have been
hidden in the brush on the opposite, or mountain side of the stream,
for this was the direction in which Al. had gone to get them. They were
a trio of wiry little steeds. On the back of each was a high-horned and
cantled Mexican saddle, with a rifle holster and a canteen slung from
it. The bridle of Dayton's pony was decorated with silver ornaments in
the Western fashion.
"Come on. Get up kid," said Dayton gruffly, seizing Nat by the
shoulder, "we've got a long way to go with you."
A long way to go!
The words sounded ominous, and Nat, hurt as he was, decided on taking
a desperate chance. Springing suddenly to his feet he lowered his head
and ran full tilt at Dayton, driving his head into the pit of the
ruffian's stomach with the force of a battering ram.
"Wo-o-o-f!"
With the above exclamation the rascal doubled up and pitched over.
Before the others could recover their presence of mind Nat, despite the
pain in his ankle, had managed to dash in among the brush where it was
impossible to aim at him with any hope of bringing him down.
Nevertheless, Dayton's companions started firing into the close-growing
vegetation.
"Fire away," thought Nat, painfully struggling through the thick
growth, "the more bullets you waste the fewer you'll have for your
rascally work."
But Dayton had, by this time, scrambled to his feet, and the boy could
hear him shouting angry commands. At the same instant came shouts from
another direction.
With a quick flash of joy, Nat recognized the new voices. The shouts
were in the welcome and familiar tones of Cal Gifford and the Motor
Rangers.
"Mount, boys, and get out of here quick!"
The warning shout came from behind the fleeing boy, and was in the
voice of Dayton. The rascal evidently had heard, and interpreted
aright, the exclamations and shouts from the meadow side of the brook.
The next instant a clattering of hoofs announced the fact that the
members of Col. Morello's band of outlaws were putting all the distance
between themselves and the Motor Rangers' camp that they could.
"Good riddance," muttered Nat, thinking how nearly he had come to being
borne off with them.
But the tension of the excitement over, the pain in his ankle almost
overcame him. He sank limply down on a rock and sent out a cry for aid.
"Cal! Cal! this way!"
"Yip yee!" he heard the welcome answering shout, and before many
seconds had passed Herr Muller's horse, with the Westerner astride
of its bony back, came plunging into the brush. Behind came Joe and
Ding-dong, wide-eyed with excitement. They had missed their comrade
and had been searching for him when the sound of the shots came. Cal,
who had also become anxious, and had ridden down from the camp to the
stream side, was with them at the moment. Together the rescue party had
hastened forward, too late however, to find Dayton and his companions.
They naturally heard Nat's story with deep interest and attention.
"Good thing them varmints didn't know that you two weren't armed," said
Cal, turning to Joe and Ding-dong, "or they might hev stayed. In which
case the whole bunch of us might have been cleaned out."
"I think it will be a pretty good rule never to leave camp in future
without a revolver or a rifle," said Nat, painfully rising to his feet
and steadying himself by gripping Bismark's mane.
"Right you are, my boy. We ought to have done thet in the first place.
Howsomever, the thing to do now is to get you back ter camp. Come on,
I'll give you a leg up."
As he spoke, Cal slid off Bismark's back, and presently Nat was in his
place. Escorted by Joe and Ding-dong, the cavalcade lost no time in
getting back to where the auto had been left in charge of Herr Muller.
"Get any pictures while we was gone?" asked Cal as they came within
hailing distance.
"Nein," rejoined the German sorrowfully.
"Nine," exclaimed Cal looking about him, "where in thunder did you get
nine subjects about here?"
"He means no," said Nat, who had to laugh despite his pain, at this
confusion of tongues.
"Wall, why can't he say so?" grunted Cal, plainly despising the
ignorance of the foreigner.
Nat's ankle was found to be quite badly twisted, but Cal's knowledge of
woodcraft stood them in good stead. After examining it and making sure
that nothing was broken, the former stage driver searched about the
grassy meadow for a while and finally plucked several broad leaves from
a low-growing bush. These had a silvery tint underneath and were dark
on the upper surface.
"Silver weed," said Cal briefly, as he came back to the camp. Selecting
a small pot, he rapidly heated some water on the fire which Herr Muller
had kindled in his absence. This done, he placed the leaves to steep in
it and after a while poured off the water and made a poultice with the
leaves. This he bound upon Nat's ankle and in a wonderfully short time
the pain was much reduced, and the boy could use his foot.
In the meantime, a spiderful of beans and bacon had been cooked to go
with the fried trout, and the inevitable coffee prepared. For dessert
they had canned peaches, topping off the spread with crackers and
cheese.
"Tell you," remarked Cal, as he drew out his black pipe and prepared
to enjoy his after dinner smoke, "this thing of travelling round in an
auto is real, solid comfort. We couldn't hev had a spread like that if
we'd bin on the trail with a packing outfit."
Dinner over and Nat feeling his ankle almost as well as ever, it
was decided to start on at once. For one thing, the outlaws might
have marked the camping place and it was not a good enough strategic
position to withstand an attack if one should be made.
"We want to be in a snugger place than this if that outfit starts in on
us," said Cal decisively.
"Do you think they'll make us more trouble then?" inquired Joe.
"I think that what they did to-day shows that they are keeping pretty
close watch on us, my boy. It's up to us to keep our eyes open by day
and sleep with one optic unclosed at night."
Herr Muller and Ding-dong Bell, who had undertaken the dishwashing,
soon concluded the task and the Motor Rangers once more set out. They
felt some regret at leaving the beautiful camping spot behind them, but
still, as Cal had pointed out, it was a bad location from which to
repulse an enemy, supposing they should be attacked.
"Vell, I'm gladt I didndt drop from dot tree," remarked Herr Muller,
gazing back at the lofty summit of the imposing Big Tree, in which he
had had such a narrow escape.
"You take your pictures on terra firma after this," advised Joe.
"Or if you do any more such stunts leave the camera with us," suggested
Cal, who was leading the Teuton's steed.
"Then we could get a g-g-g-g-good pup-p-p-picture of what England
d-d-dreads," stuttered Ding-dong.
"What's that?" inquired Nat.
"The G-g-g-g-g-german p-p-p-peril," chuckled the stuttering youth.
Soon after leaving the pleasant plateau of the big trees the scenery
became rough and wild in the extreme. The Sierras are noted for their
deep, narrow valleys, and after about an hour's progress over very
rough trails the Motor Rangers found themselves entering one of these
gloomy defiles. After the bright sunlight of the open country its dim
grandeur struck a feeling of apprehension into their minds. It seemed
chilly and oppressive somehow.
"Say, perfusser," suggested Cal presently, "just sing us that Chinese
song to cheer us up, will you?"
"Hi lee! Hi lo!
Hi lee! Hi lay!----"
The "perfusser," as Cal insisted on calling him, had obligingly begun
when from ahead of them and high up, as it seemed, came a peculiar
sound.
It was a crackling of brush and small bushes apparently. Instinctively
Nat stopped the car and it was well that he did so, for the next
instant a giant boulder came crashing down the steep mountainside above
them.
[Illustration: Instinctively Nat stopped the car, and it was well that
he did so, for the next instant a giant boulder came crashing down.]