THE X BAR X BOYS ON WHIRLPOOL RIVER
[Illustration: THE RUSHING CURRENT SWEPT TEDDY OUT OF REACH OF THE
ROCK.]
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THE X BAR X BOYS ON WHIRLPOOL RIVER
BY
JAMES CODY FERRIS
Author of “The X Bar X Boys on the Ranch,”
“The X Bar X Boys in Thunder Canyon,” etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY
Walter S. Rogers
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Made in the United States of America
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WESTERN STORIES FOR BOYS
By JAMES CODY FERRIS
THE X BAR X BOYS BOOKS
THE X BAR X BOYS ON THE RANCH
THE X BAR X BOYS IN THUNDER CANYON
THE X BAR X BOYS ON WHIRLPOOL RIVER
THE X BAR X BOYS ON BIG BISON TRAIL
THE X BAR X BOYS AT THE ROUND-UP
(OTHER VOLUMES IN PREPARATION.)
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
Copyright, 1926, by
GROSSET & DUNLAP
The X Bar X Boys on Whirlpool River
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CONTENTS
I King of the Forest
II The Brainy Beastie
III An Angry Visitor
IV Joe Marino
V Guarded Words
VI To Whirlpool River
VII Suspicion
VIII Follow Us
IX The Water Trail
X A Figure among the Trees
XI A Night in the Woods
XII Voices in the Night
XIII The Fugitive
XIV Failure
XV A Vain Search
XVI Separated
XVII Primitive Tactics
XVIII Afloat Again
XIX The Whirlpool
XX Burying the Hatchet
XXI The Chase
XXII The Man at the Fire
XXIII Boss and Bandit
XXIV Flying Bullets
XXV Meet the Wife
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THE X BAR X BOYS ON WHIRLPOOL RIVER
CHAPTER I
King Of The Forest
“If there be such in these woods, then such there be,” announced
Teddy Manley, and punctuated this cryptic utterance with a slight
grunt as he bent over the marks in the soft earth.
“No doubt, no doubt,” his brother, Roy, declared dryly. “Speak the
mother tongue, Teddy. What are you staring at, anyhow?”
“Take a look for yourself,” Teddy answered briefly, and stepped
aside. Roy moved closer, gazed curiously at the impressions on the
ground, then gave a low whistle.
“Bear tracks!” he exclaimed excitedly. “Bear tracks, or I’m a shad!”
“You remain as originally intended,” remarked Teddy. “Those are
definite, certain, and never-to-be-doubted bear tracks. Now the
burning question is--” he hitched up his belt and turned his head
from side to side. “Whar am Mister B’ar?”
Roy hunched his shoulders in a gesture expressing entire ignorance
of the subject. The tracks were fairly fresh, but their maker could
be many miles away by this time.
It was early fall, and the two brothers had started out from the X
Bar X Ranch, with the intention of bagging some small game. Teddy
carried a light shotgun, hoping to get a chance at duck. Roy had
brought with him a small-bore rifle. Hardly the weapons with which
to hunt bear.
The boys had picketed their ponies near the foot of the mountain,
knowing that the steep grade above made riding impractical. Thus far
they had not sighted any game worth considering, but now, when they
were near the top, Teddy had come upon the bear tracks.
“Do we follow them?” Teddy, the younger, asked dubiously. He glanced
down at the gun held in the crook of his arm. “This shotgun I have
would only take his picture, Roy, and that pea-shooter of yours
isn’t much better. What’s the verdict?”
Roy looked at his brother and smiled.
“Trying to kid me? After looking for bears in these woods for years,
when we raise one, you want to know things! Huh! Don’t ask! Look me
straight in the eye, brother mine, and say: What would you rather
do, or hunt bear?”
“You’re the doctor,” Teddy responded. “You must be getting reckless
in your old age, Roy.” This last was to nail any idea that Teddy
hesitated to face the adventure. He was slightly chagrined at the
fact that Roy had taken the initiative in suggesting that they
proceed. Usually it was the other way around, the younger lad
proposing, and Roy, with what he was pleased to call his “more
mature judgment,” disposing.
“Far be it from me to dissuade you from entering the lists against a
baby bear,” Teddy went on. “I hope you see him before he sees you.
Those animals are easily scared.”
“Yes, Teddy, my lad,” Roy said with a maddening grin. “We shall not
argue the issue. Come on--let’s go.”
Grumbling half-heartedly to himself, Teddy Manley followed the
tracks. As he proceeded, the injustice that had been done him was
forgotten in the mounting excitement of the chase. The tracks led
diagonally across the mountain, and seemed to get fresher with every
yard. As the boys came to a clearing, Teddy halted.
“Not long since he passed here!” he exclaimed, as he noticed an ant
heap that had been disturbed by the animal. “Look--those ants are
still half crazy with fright--running around every which way.”
It was not by accident that Teddy’s eyes caught this telltale bit of
evidence. Born and brought up in the West, these boys could
interpret the signs of the forest with unerring judgment. Where
another might see merely a broken twig, the young ranchers read a
story.
“He’s close,” Roy returned laconically. He looked to his rifle. The
magazine was full, and he pumped a bullet into the chamber. If they
did come upon the bear, by great good luck Roy might succeed in
placing a shot through the eye into the brain, which was the only
place where the small bullet would be effective. If he missed--well,
several things might happen, and not all of them to the bear.
Teddy gazed intently toward a clump of sage brush just off the
trail. Absently he bent his left knee, and with his hand he
dislodged a piece of dirt that had caught on the heel of his shoe.
This he tossed into the bush carelessly.
There was a sudden deep-throated growl. The bushes stirred, then
parted. Framed in a circlet of brown sage brush, appeared the shaggy
head of a huge black bear.
Neither boy spoke. Silently Roy leveled his rifle. The bear stood as
immobile as a statue, staring fiercely at the intruders, only his
head showing. Then, as the lips drew back in a snarl, showing the
sharp teeth and the red gums, Roy pressed the trigger.
There was a sharp crack. The bear started as though it had been
stung by a hornet, and a crimson spot of blood marked the black fur
just above the left eye.
“Take it on the run!” Teddy cried hoarsely, and fired as he spoke.
He knew the buckshot would have small effect, but he hoped it might
cause the animal to hesitate long enough to give them an opportunity
to make their escape.
As the bear moved forward Roy sprang to one side. With a yell to
Teddy to follow, he bounded to the right, then up, toward a ledge
that jutted out from the mountain over their heads. If they could
gain that, and the bear could not, they had a good chance for their
lives.
Teddy leaped after his brother. The bear, growling in rage at the
pain of his wound, sought to close his teeth in Teddy’s leg. The boy
gave a shout, and releasing his hold on the gun gave all his
attention to the business at hand--beating the bear to the ledge.
Strangely enough, as he scrambled up the incline, Teddy’s thoughts
reverted to the ranch yard, when only yesterday he and Roy had sat
on the corral fence and snickered as Pop Burns told about the time a
bear had tried to make a meal from Nick Looker’s pants, while Nick
was in swimming at Lomley’s Lake. According to Pop, the bear had
struck a fishhook in the back pocket, and out of revenge had chased
Nick all over creation.
“Now I know just how Nick felt,” Teddy panted. “Never--as long as I
live--will I laugh at another bear story! Hey, Roy! Hang on to your
gun! Mine’s gone!”
But even as he spoke, he heard a thud and saw their only remaining
firearm go sliding down the mountain. It hit in the path of the
oncoming beast, and the animal stopped for a moment to see what this
was that tumbled toward him. As the rifle reached him, he put out
his paw, stopped the gun, sniffed at it, then flicked it from him
with a snort, and once more lumbered on.
But at least the rifle had served one good purpose--for in that
small interval of time Roy had reached the ledge. He jumped upward,
careless of consequences, and felt his finger close over the root of
a tree. Straining every muscle, he gradually drew himself
up--higher--higher--and, with a gasp of thankfulness, he sank down
upon the rock.
Then, bracing himself, he stretched his arms over the edge toward
Teddy. The boy seized his brother’s hands, and, grunting with
exertion, succeeded in gaining the shelf just as the bear reached
the spot where he had stood but a moment before.
“Leaping lizards!” Teddy panted. “That was some close! Hey, listen
to that geezer grunt! Golly, I--”
“I’ll tell a maverick it was close!” Roy gasped. “Another second and
you’d have been mince-meat! I told you we shouldn’t have followed
those tracks. If we had had a decent rifle--”
“_You_ told _me_! Well, for the love of Pete! And _you_ were the one
who wanted to do all this bear hunting! Great snakes! How do you get
that way? Wow! Listen to our friend! He won’t be able to talk
to-morrow!”
Below them the bear was uttering dire threats against their safety
and was trying desperately to reach the ledge by jumping. Every time
he sprang the boys heard the “scra-a-a-ape” of his claws over the
rock.
Teddy shook his head.
“Baby,” he remarked, “I sure hope he gets discouraged easily! If he
ever manages to pull himself up here--good-night!”
Cautiously Roy leaned over.
“He’s still at it. Thank goodness this shelf is narrow. But the
point is, how are we going to get down? It’s a cinch we can’t climb
up that cliff.” He motioned with his thumb to the wall back of them,
which rose straight up. “As long as the old boy wants to hang
around, we’re his guests,” he finished grimly.
“Well, if you had frozen to that gun of yours we might have a
chance. But there it is, lying down on the rocks, not doing us a bit
of good. It might just as well be at home as down there. Say--”
Teddy stopped short. Speechless, he seized his brother’s arm and
pointed. Roy looked along the side of the mountain, then staggered
against the wall.
“Jumping catamounts!” he groaned. “We’re cooked! Another one! Start
the slow music, Teddy. This bear’s brought his gang along with him!”
“Oh, cheer up! It’s not a gang--yet! It’s one bear, only one! And
that makes two bears, only two! Golly, if we only had a rifle!”