A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE
Ned and Jerry halted, brought to a sudden stop by seeing the yellow
eyes and hearing the low-voiced but ugly growls. It did not take long
for Bob and the professor to reach the same spot. Uriah Snodgrass
had been telling Bob how much better he felt since coming to Thunder
Mountain, and the little scientist was discoursing on the zoölogical
merits of some bug or other he had captured that day. But when the two
who had been lingering in the rear caught up to Jerry and Ned, the
stout lad exclaimed:
“What’s the matter?”
His voice, louder than the warning tones of Ned and Jerry, brought
forth a fiercer growl from the owners of the four gleaming, yellow
eyes, and even before Jerry could have replied had he desired to, there
leaped into the trail, not far from the four, a pair of large mountain
lions--a male and a female.
To the credit of Professor Snodgrass be it said that he was the coolest
of the party of four. He stared at the two beasts, the light of the
evening glow reflecting on the tawny coats of the lions, and then, in a
soft voice he remarked:
“How interesting!”
It did not strike the Motor Boys so at the time. In fact they thought
it was distinctly dangerous, to say the least. But they were so
impressed by what Professor Snodgrass said that for years afterward,
whenever they were confronted with danger, one or the other was sure to
remark--if there was time:
“How interesting!”
“What are they?” whispered Bob, though an instant after he had asked
the question he knew. For Tinny had told the boys that mountain lions
were the only dangerous animals in the vicinity of Thunder Mountain,
and he had fully described the beasts.
“But they won’t hurt you unless you corner them,” Tinny had said.
“They’ll slink away and leave you. They’re bad enough in a fight, but
they very seldom get into a fight.”
However, this pair seemed very much disposed to fight, and though there
was open to them the trail back, along which they could have retreated,
the animals seemed disposed not only to stand their ground but to
advance.
“I believe they’re actually stalking us!” whispered Ned.
“It does seem so,” admitted Jerry. “And we haven’t so much as a pop
gun!”
It was true--they had not come out armed, for the hunting of Professor
Snodgrass was merely for bugs, butterflies, and other insects and
required no powder or shot.
“They must have their nest or den, or whatever it is, around here,”
went on Ned, “and they think we’re disturbing them. Look! They’re
coming right at us! We’d better get some clubs, stones, or something.”
“How would it be to run?” asked Bob. “If they don’t want us here we’d
better get out!”
“No, don’t do that,” advised Professor Snodgrass. “The minute you turn
your backs they’ll spring, and a mountain lion can cover a good bit of
ground in a leap. Keep facing them!”
“But for how long?” asked Jerry nervously. “They’re coming nearer all
the while! Say, they’re ugly beasts!”
“Get out your jackknife and open the biggest blade,” advised Ned, in a
low voice. “It’s our only chance!”
This was good advice, and the boys prepared to follow it. Meanwhile the
two mountain lions were slowly advancing. Their eyes gleamed savagely
and their tails lashed their lean sides while low growls came from
their throats. Later the boys learned that the female lion had some
cubs concealed among the rocks, and this accounted for the boldness
and savage attitude of the pair.
But at present the boys were concerned only with their own safety,
and they knew if the lions sprang at them there would be a savage and
desperate fight with only jackknives for defense against the keen claws
and keener teeth of the brutes.
But Professor Snodgrass unexpectedly took a hand in the matter.
“Keep still, boys,” he said in a low voice. “I hate to do it, but I
think I can dispose of these creatures.”
He held in his hand a small collecting box.
“Here! Keep back! What are you going to do?” exclaimed Jerry, seizing
the little scientist by the arm as he was about to step forward and
nearer to the two lions. “You can’t scare them by letting them sniff
ammonia, as you once did the bull.”
“I’m not going to try ammonia on them,” stated the professor. “I only
wish I had some, and then I could save my _vespa maculata_! I may never
capture any more.”
“What’s that?” cried Jerry. “What have you in that box?” For the
professor had raised a small box as though to hurl it at the mountain
lions, an action at which they growled the more menacingly.
“I have some _vespa maculata_ in here,” the professor replied.
“Is that stronger than ammonia?” asked Bob, while the lions drew nearer.
“It’s hornets--about two hundred of them,” cried the professor. “Get
ready now, boys, duck into the bushes when I hurl this!”
He threw the box. It struck the ground directly in front of the
mountain lions and burst open. The lions growled, sprang a little to
one side in alarm, and then, as the boys in obedience to the advice of
the scientist ducked into roadside bushes, they beheld a curious sight.
The hornets which the professor had caught and imprisoned that
afternoon, being suddenly let loose, attacked with all their pent up
anger the mountain lions on their most vulnerable spots, namely, their
noses. In an instant each of the tawny beasts was stung by a score or
more of the fiercest insects of their kind known to science. There is
nothing more sudden in its action nor more painful than the sting of a
hornet, and the mountain lions had more than their share.
[Illustration: EACH OF THE TAWNY BEASTS WAS STUNG BY A SCORE OF FIERCE
INSECTS.]
In an instant these two fierce beasts, ready to attack, were turned
into rolling, tumbling, snarling, growling and panic-stricken balls
of yellow fur. They rolled about in the dust, biting and snapping at
the hornets, but with no effect. In another few seconds, their tails
between their legs, the mountain lions were in full retreat.
From their hiding places in the bushes the boys watched this strange
turning of the tables, and then they came slowly forth. With a sigh
Professor Snodgrass said:
“Well, my _vespa maculata_ are gone, and I may never get any others
like them--they were a rare variety. But I saved you from the cougars,
didn’t I, boys?”
“I’ll say you did!” cried Bob. “But why did you want us to duck into
the bushes? Did you think the lions would come for us when they were
stung?”
“Oh, no, I knew they would have enough to attend to on their own
account. But I didn’t know which way the hornets might swarm, and they
might as well have turned and come back at us as have gone toward the
cougars. Cougar is a better name for your mountain lion, boys. But
to proceed, I knew if we were under the bushes we’d be safe. But my
wonderful _vespa maculata_--gone forever, I fear!”
“I hope they don’t come back this way,” remarked Jerry, as he put his
knife in his pocket. “But, Professor, if those hornets are so fierce,
how did you tame them enough to get them into that specimen case of
yours?”
“I smoked them, Jerry. It is a well known fact that bee-keepers blow
clouds of smoke into the hives of bees when they are taking out the
caps of honey. I used the same method. But, not having a mechanical
smoker, I had to use Bill Cromley’s pipe. And a most strong and vile
pipe it was, too! Pah--I can taste it yet! But the tobacco smoke made
the hornets very gentle.
“It soothed and lulled them into temporary sleep and I could easily
transfer them from their paper-like nest to my box. The effects of the
smoke soon wore off, however, and they were fully alive when I threw
the box at the cougars.”
“I’ll say they were!” chuckled Ned. “It was quick work all right. Good
for you, Professor!”
But no words of commendation by the boys could make up to the little
scientist the sacrifice of his _vespa maculata_, and for many days he
bemoaned their loss.
“Well, I guess the way is clear now,” observed Ned, when the last of
the flying insects had circled back to their devastated nest and there
was no further sign of the mountain lions.
They returned to Leftover, where Tinny and Cromley were much interested
to hear the story.
“First time I ever knew mountain lions to be so bold,” said Mallison.
“They must have cubs.”
* * * * *
The next day saw the beginning of busy times at the gold mine. The
force of miners began taking out the ore and it was hauled away in
a motor truck to the stamp mill. Eagerly Tinny and the boys watched
the specimens of rock as they were dug and blasted out, and though no
wonderful streak of pay dirt was encountered, it was all of a general
good character, indicating that the mine would prove profitable, if not
exactly record-making.
While Jerry and his chums, Tinny and Cromley worked with their laborers
at the mine Professor Snodgrass wandered about the Thunder Mountain
country getting specimens.
“Though why they call it Thunder Mountain I don’t see,” said Bob one
day. “It hasn’t thundered once since we came!”
“Just wait,” was all Mallison said, but there was a veiled significance
in his voice.
If the Motor Boys expected to have a perpetual holiday after work once
started seriously at Leftover, they were disappointed. But, in fact,
they had no such idea. At any rate, they plunged in and did not shirk
the disagreeable, and sometimes dangerous, work of mining for gold.
They felt that they were in a profitable business.
“And the best part of it is that Noddy Nixon isn’t bothering us,”
observed Bob.
“He seems to have dropped out of sight,” chuckled Jerry. “I guess he’s
looking for the treasure chest of Blue Rock, and maybe he’s fallen
into some hole.”
“As we did,” added Bob. “I guess Noddy won’t bother us again.”
It was about two weeks after work had started in earnest at the mine
that an event occurred which precipitated a strange series of events
for the Motor Boys and their friends.
Tinny and the three lads had gone down the trail on some business,
leaving Cromley in charge at the mine. Professor Snodgrass was, as
usual, off alone after insects. Returning, Jerry and his companions
were struck by the strange quiet about the cabin. No sound came from
the cheerful Hang Gow--his kitchen, where he was generally rattling
pots and pans, was silent.
“And where’s Bill?” voiced Ned. “Here’s his pipe on the ground, still
lighted, but Bill’s gone. And look--there’s been a fight or a struggle
of some kind here, the ground’s all torn up! Bill’s gone! Something has
happened!”