YELLOW EYES
Quickly, Bob and Jerry had followed Ned down into the hole, sliding as
he had done. For they had suddenly and unexpectedly reached the edge of
the pit and, not knowing of its presence, they had simply stepped off
into space. They slid down the slope of gravel, rather than taking an
actual and precipitate tumble, and this saved them from broken bones,
though it jarred them considerably.
Ned’s words, about being stuck, were not to be taken literally. He was
able to arise after the first, stunning effect of the fall, and so were
Jerry and Bob.
The first thing Bob did after getting to his feet was to make a dash up
the slope down which he had slid. He could get only a few feet up the
yielding surface, however, before slipping back to the harder bottom.
“You can’t get up that way!” remarked Jerry.
“I wasn’t trying to get out--I wanted to save the sandwiches,” Chunky
answered, holding up the package he had salvaged. It had dropped from
his pocket during his slide.
“Oh, that’s different!” remarked the tall lad.
“So’s this place--different!” exclaimed Ned, looking about in the gloom
which was deeper down in this gravel pit. “Say, how are we going to get
out?”
Well might he ask that, and well might his companions seek about for an
answer. For their situation was getting desperate now, if it had not
been before. Hitherto they were at least up on the level, where they
could walk. Now they were down in a pit, almost circular, the sides of
which were composed of treacherous and fine gravel. Chunky had given
one demonstration of trying to climb it. Other efforts might result
likewise, it could be surmised.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” muttered Jerry. “They’ll never find us
down in this hole!”
“It’s easy enough to say get out,” returned Ned. “But how can we? Was
it hard going, Chunky--scrambling up after the grub?”
“Hard? I’ll say it was! But maybe there’s some easier place.”
“That’s what we’ve got to try for, and we’ve got to snap into it, too,”
decided Jerry. “It’ll soon be as dark as a pocket.”
By a strong effort of will the Motor Boys refused to let themselves
become panic-stricken. As calmly as they could, they walked about
the bottom of the pit which was about a hundred feet in diameter. Its
sides sloped up at a sharp angle. It was a natural sand and gravel pit
combined, but appeared never to have been worked. It was a freak of
nature in a land where such things were common.
The boys tried in several places to crawl, scramble or walk up the
sloping sides, but it was of such a shifting and treacherous nature,
like dry quicksand, that they could never get to the top. Once Jerry
was three quarters of the way up, only to slip and slide back.
“Boys, it can’t be done!” he exclaimed seriously. “We’ll need help to
get out of here--some one at the top with a rope.”
“Then we’d better yell for help,” suggested Ned. “Tinny and Bill, to
say nothing of Professor Snodgrass, may be out in search of us. The
miner will have been sure to mention that we were coming here. Let’s
yell.”
This they did until their throats ached, but no answering shouts came
to them, and down in the pit there were no echoes. Again and again they
cried for help. At last, when it was almost dark, Bob suggested:
“Let’s eat!”
“Might as well,” agreed Jerry, with no thought now of making fun of
Chunky.
“But we’ll be thirsty, and there’s no water here,” objected Ned.
However, there was no help for it, and though thirst plagued the boys
when they had munched the dry sandwiches, they bore their sufferings
patiently.
It began to grow cool--cold, in fact--and they had no shelter and no
covering. It had been hot when they set out, but with the going down of
the sun, cool winds swept down into the pit.
“We must keep up yelling,” said Jerry, after a gloomy pause. “No
telling when Tinny and his men may come this way.”
So they yelled and shouted, in unison and separately. Hours passed.
They were becoming desperate and were ready to make another try at
climbing the steep, shifting, sandy side of the pit when Bob suddenly
called:
“Hark!”
They all listened.
“What did you hear?” asked Jerry.
“A voice, I thought! There it is again!”
There was no question about it. A voice faintly called:
“Hello! Hello, boys! Where are you?”
Joyously they answered. The calling voices came nearer and five minutes
later a brilliant shaft of light shot down into the pit. It was an
electric torch in the hands of Tinny, who soon made his identity
known, and then the plight of the boys was told.
“We’ll soon have you out!” cried Bill Cromley. “I’ve got a rope. Some
of the men said you might be in a hole.”
Other electric searchlights now flashed on top of the pit, and in their
gleam the boys could see several figures moving about. A rope soon came
uncoiling down to them, and when they had made sure by pulling on it
that it was securely fastened, they hauled themselves up, one by one,
finding it easy to walk on the sloping, gravel side of the pit when
they had hold of the rope to give them purchase.
“Well, boys, you did a good job of getting lost while you were at it,”
grimly remarked Tinny, when they were safe at the top.
“Yes, we sure did!” admitted Jerry. “What time is it?”
“Almost midnight. We’ve been hunting for you since sunset. One of the
miners said you started for here, but there are so many places in Echo
Canyon where you might have been we didn’t know where to look.”
“I remembered this old hole,” observed Bill Cromley. “A partner of mine
once got in and nearly died of thirst and starvation before we got him
out. So I suggested at last that we look here.”
“And a good thing we did,” said Tinny. “Well, after this, boys, don’t
go into a place unless you know the way out. And now I expect you’re
hungry, aren’t you?”
“Oh, boy!” breathed Bob, but it sufficiently expressed the sentiments
of the others.
Professor Snodgrass, eager and anxious, had come with Tinny, Cromley
and some of the miners to the rescue. As soon as he found that the boys
were safe, the little scientist inquired:
“Did you see any toads or lizards down in that pit? It ought to be a
good place for them.”
“It was so dark, soon after we fell in, that we couldn’t see,” Jerry
replied.
“And don’t you go in there, Professor, to find out unless you have some
one at the top with a rope to get you out,” warned Tinny.
“I’ll be careful,” was the promise. “I’d like to go in there to-morrow.”
Hang Gow had a good, though late, supper ready for the boys, and, Bob
said, “they stepped on it!”
Echo Canyon was a good place to keep out of, the lads voted, and they
spent most of the following day resting after their strenuous excursion.
Meanwhile the financial and business end of the venture had been
arranged and Tinny was losing no time getting Leftover in workable
shape. Men and supplies, as well as mining material, gave promise of
results soon, and the boys were eager for their first sight of the
yellow metal from the mine of which they were part owners.
Contrary to expectations, Noddy Nixon was neither seen nor heard of,
nor was either of his cronies in evidence. The bully seemed to have
dropped out of sight after arriving at Livingston.
As a matter of fact, the Motor Boys were too busy to think much about
Noddy, for now that the mine would soon be turning out ore which would
have to be sent to the stamping mill, they were kept busy.
Instead of going too deeply into the venture at first, Tinny and his
young partners had decided to have their ore treated and the gold
extracted by another and larger mining concern near by. If they erected
a stamping mill, in which the rock would be pulverized and the gold
extracted by one of several processes, it would mean the expenditure
of a small fortune, and only by selling stock could this be financed.
But with the money the Motor Boys’ parents had secured and authorized
them to invest, ore could be got out and sent to a stamp mill where the
precious gold would be extracted on a percentage basis.
It took rather longer than the boys had thought to start the actual
work of mining. Shacks had to be erected to house the miners and
arrangements made for feeding them. Even the employment of a
comparatively small force was a lot of work.
But Tinny knew his business, and, with Bill Cromley to help, matters
were soon in good shape.
“If we have luck we’ll begin taking out ore to-morrow,” said Tinny to
his young partners one afternoon. “You fellows have been a big help to
me. There’s nothing particular you can do now, and, if you like, you
can take the rest of the day off. But don’t go to Echo Canyon!”
“Nothing doing, pos-i-tive-ly!” cried Ned.
They voted to visit a waterfall of great beauty a few miles from
Leftover, and as the trail there and back was well marked they decided
they could not be lost.
“I’ll go with you,” offered Professor Snodgrass, as they were about to
start. “I am anxious to get some specimens of water spiders, and I may
find them in the pool below the falls.”
The waterfall was even more beautiful than had been described to
them, and Uriah Snodgrass was delighted to find several large spiders
skittering about in quiet eddies of the pool below the cataract.
“Though how he can gloat over the ugly things when he can look at
that, I don’t understand,” remarked Jerry, waving his hand toward the
beautiful falls.
So delightful was the place and so long did they linger to enable
Professor Snodgrass to get a few more bugs, that it was getting dark
when they started back along the trail to Leftover.
Jerry and Ned were walking along ahead, with Bob and the professor
trudging along behind, when the tall lad, suddenly clutching Ned by the
arm, whispered:
“Look!”
“What is it?” asked Ned, as he followed Jerry’s extended hand.
“Those yellow eyes! Do you see them? Four of ’em! Yellow eyes--in the
bushes!”
For an instant Ned saw nothing, but as he continued to look he caught
a glimpse of what Jerry had seen. And as the last, flickering gleam of
daylight glittered on the four yellow eyes, there came from the bushes
menacing growls.