The Water Trail
To Teddy’s excited questions, Nick gave only mumbled replies, and
waved his hand protestingly.
When Roy bent down and raised him to a sitting position he declared
he knew nothing more than what was in the letter, except that a
wandering horseman had told of a slide near Whirlpool River, which
threatened to force the cattle into the water, should it reoccur,
and would the boys “please give the bronc some water.” This was
attended to, and the boys got ready to start.
Nick came to life suddenly at Sing Lung’s cry of “come an’ get ’um,”
and started lurchingly for the mess house. After he was stoked with
food and coffee, he aroused himself to an interest in life, and
where he was taciturn before, he was a veritable spring of
information now. The food acted as a stimulant, after his long fast
and hard ride, and he talked willingly.
Teddy and Roy, eager as they were to set out, felt it would be worth
their while to delay long enough to hear Nick’s story, so they
waited for him to light a cigarette, settle himself comfortably on a
bunk, and commence.
“We struck camp about seven last night,” Nick said, blowing out a
swirling cloud of smoke. “The goin’ had been bad, on account of the
rains, an’ we didn’t make such good time, ’cause the boss wanted to
save the broncs. We hit that place on the other side of Harver’s
Gully--forget the name of it--’bout twenty miles west of the gulch.
Then we got set for the night.
“Long about nine o’clock, just when Slim Holiday was startin’ one of
them dirges he calls a song, we hears a noise an’ up rides a hombre
on a pony that looked like it was more use as a hat-rack than a
horse. This waddy tells us something that sure makes us sit up an’
take notice.”
“The slide?” Teddy interrupted.
“Check! He says the whole top of Friendly Mountain has shifted, an’
part of it’s slid down into the valley almost to the edge of
Whirlpool River. Says he saw it happen, an’ the rest of the mountain
is likely to go any day now. Says if it does, it’ll about block up
the river.”
“Just where on the river is this?” Roy asked excitedly. “That river
is some long, runs into Thunder Canyon, I think. The slide may not
be near our cattle.”
“May not, an’ then again it may. That’s the way yore dad feels about
it. Last we heard of that bunch of dogies they was near Friendly
Mountain. They may be there yet, or they may have wandered Pete
knows where. But we can’t take no chances. We got to see that the
cows get out quick. Yore dad says the pick of the whole bunch is in
that herd.”
“They are, too,” Teddy mused. “All our best short-horns. Was dad
worried, Nick?”
“Well, he wasn’t any too easy in his mind. So he roots me out to
ride back--which I done. Yep, which I done.” Nick’s head started to
nod, and Teddy motioned toward the bunk he was sitting on. Gently
the two boys deposited the puncher on the bed, took his still
smoking cigarette from his fingers, and left him to shake the
rafters with healthy snores.
“I don’t like the looks of this at all,” Roy declared, as soon as
they reached the yard. “I kind of hate to leave mother alone with
Marino around. If he should come back--”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Teddy assured him. “Marino isn’t
going to show his face around here for some time to come. And then,
too, Nick will be here. Mother will be all right. She depends on
Nick--and he’s a good man. Now we’ve got to tell her, and find Bug
Eye and Pop. I suppose Bug Eye will want to go in that Fishmobile of
his--but not with me. Suppose you see mother while I find the
others?”
Mrs. Manley took the news calmly. Nell and Ethel were disappointed
that the boys were going to leave, but at Belle’s insistence they
promised to remain until their return.
“Bring back some fish,” Belle suggested. “Some trout, if you can.”
“If we bring back any fish, they’ll be the kind that walk on land,”
Roy declared grimly. His mind flew to The Pup, and he wondered if
there was a chance of meeting him. Then, with a laugh, he dismissed
the thought. “That would be the kind of thing you read about, but
never happens,” he decided. “I reckon we’ll never see him again, nor
our money or horse either.”
Teddy’s idea was to bring the heavy canoe, which lay under a shed in
the rear of the yard, to the water by one of the ranch trucks. Both
the boys had often been on the river before in this canoe, but never
had they been as far as the rapids, which gave the stream its name.
The part that flowed by the ranch was broad and peaceful, and
continued this way for some fifteen miles. Then, like a beast
suddenly released from a cage, it became a roaring, whirling
torrent, barely navigable, and dangerous always. It was down this
stream, and past these rapids, that Roy and Teddy had to go to reach
the cattle.
When Bug Eye and Pop heard the news, they began preparations
immediately. Pop examined the bottom of the canoe with minute care,
he and Bug Eye going over every seam, for this was the boat to which
they were to trust their lives. Bug Eye had received word by phone
from Pete Ball that he was not needed for a time at the 8 X 8, and
that Mr. Manley was welcome to his services. By one o’clock
everything was in order.
Roy, after several attempts, succeeded in awaking Nick for a few
moments, and under the boy’s eyes the puncher wrote his instructions
on a slip of paper, for Roy knew in his tired state he would never
remember them. This over, Nick murmured something that may have been
Chinese, but that sounded faintly like “good luck,” and, turning
over, resumed his interrupted slumbers.
Jim Casey was to drive the truck, containing the canoe, to the
river. All of them were needed to lift it in place on the vehicle,
so heavy was it, but at last it was in and securely lashed to
prevent it from jolting. The rest of the stuff, including food and
blankets, were piled in the front, to be unloaded and put into the
canoe when the river was reached.
Mrs. Manley, Belle, and the two visitors watched the start from the
porch. Affectionately the mother kissed her sons good-bye and
breathed a prayer for their safety. She knew that the journey they
were about to undertake was dangerous in the extreme, yet she never
uttered one word of protest. It was necessary that they go--their
father had called for them. And, as she waved good-bye, she smiled
cheerfully and bravely. These were her sons--they would come back as
they had always done, successful, unharmed. Yet strive as she would,
the mother could not keep a tiny lump from coming into her throat.
The truck containing the five men--Teddy, Roy, Bug Eye, Pop, and
Casey, the driver, reached the river in half an hour. Carefully the
canoe was lifted from the platform and carried to the water’s edge.
“Now!” Roy grunted, and they swung it into the stream. Eagerly they
bent over, watching the bottom with anxious eyes. For a moment they
waited.
“Not a drop!” Teddy exulted. “You did a good job, Pop. Nary a leak.
Hope she stays that way, and I guess she will. It’s a good boat. All
right, Jim. Let’s get the rest of the stuff out. Then you can mosey
back. Let Nick sleep as long as he wants to--he’s had a hard ride.
And tell Belle she’ll have to ride to Eagles herself for that whip I
promised her unless she wants to wait until I get back. It’s at the
express office now. Wait--take that roll of blankets first, and
we’ll stow ’em at the bow where they’ll stay dry.”
The canoe was soon loaded and ready to start. Roy and Bug Eye were
to paddle first, while Teddy and Pop sat in the middle.
“So long!” Jim called. “If you see The Pup tell him we been lookin’
for him!”
“Now why should we see The Pup?” Roy asked of no one in particular,
and dipped his paddle deep into the water. “Although I was thinking
the same thing a while ago. Pipe dreams, I guess. What do you say,
Bug Eye? Let’s hit it up. Hu, hu, hu, hu....”
The boat glided downstream, both paddlers stroking in unison to
Roy’s grunted chanty. The gentle current added to their speed, and
they went along at a good rate. On either side of the river, willows
trailed their drooping branches into the water and afforded a
grateful shade from the midday sun. Roy, seated in the rear of the
craft, steered nearer the edge to take advantage of this protection.
To the left, many miles from the river, but because of its hugeness
seeming almost to border it, rose the highest peak in that part of
the country. Its top was capped with eternal snow and framed in a
wreath of clouds--a picture to make even the most indifferent heart
beat faster. The sparkling water of the stream reflected the sun
like a polished mirror. After half an hour of paddling, Roy stopped
for a moment and shaded his eyes with his hand.
“She curves around here some place, doesn’t she?” he asked. “I don’t
exactly remember--it’s a long time since I’ve been down this far.”
“If by ‘she’ you mean the river, it does,” Bug Eye grinned, turning
around slightly. “It swings to the left, then it’s straight for a
long stretch before the rough water starts. Golly, it’s almost
smooth enough here to try my Fishmobile! Wish we could have brung
it--I mean brought it.”
Some one had lately placed into Bug Eye’s hands a copy of “Correct
English as Used by Gentlemen,” and since then he had laboriously
tried to pattern his speech after the forms advocated by the book.
Thus far he had not had much success, most of the time being too
lazy to retrace his words.
“You know how long that Fishmobile would last?” Teddy laughed.
“About five minutes--if it didn’t fall to pieces before then. Say,
Pop, have you ever shot the rapids below here?”
The veteran puncher nodded solemnly. Seated on the bottom of the
canoe with his long legs curled uncomfortably about the bundle of
blankets and his bald head exposed to the rays of the sun, Pop Burns
presented a strange sight. A canoe is no place for a man who appears
uneasy unless he’s straddling a bronco.
“I bin down twice,” Pop replied. “Once we got spilled--see that
scar?”
He bent over, exposing a white line on the top of his head.
“Where I hit a rock,” he explained laconically. “But we had a small
boat then, and she wasn’t well balanced. With this thing, now, we
got a good chance. She’s heavy, an’ we got lots of weight on the
bottom. But even at that, it ain’t gonna be no picnic.”
“Isn’t,” Bug Eye corrected. “We’ll make it though, Pop. We got to
make it. Yore boss wants to get those cattle out quick. We can land
an’ see can we scare up some broncs. Can’t do a thing on foot. How
long you calcalate it’ll be before yore dad shows up, Roy?”
“Well, we’ll probably hit Trummer’s range sometime to-morrow or the
next day. Dad had a start on us of a day. That ought to bring him
there soon after we arrive. The land route is much longer, on
account of having to skirt the mountains. But dad’s a hard rider,
and so are the men with him. I have a hunch they’ll make it almost
as soon as we shall.”
“You figuring on borrowing broncs from Jake Trummer?” Teddy asked.
“Well, if he wants us to get the cows off his range he’s got to help
us out that much, anyhow. Besides, if that story about the landslide
is true, he’ll have his hands full with his own cattle, although his
herd may not be near the place where the slide occurred. Something
tells me the bird who told that tale exaggerated more than a little.
Still, dad believed him, so there may be something in it. We can’t
afford to take a chance. Say, here’s a peach of a place to stop. How
about eats?”
There was a general assent to this proposition, and Roy steered into
a little cove.
“That was a nice, pleasant ride,” Teddy reflected as he seized a
bundle of foodstuffs. “If it was all like that, I wouldn’t kick. But
wait till to-morrow! If we don’t have our hands full then, I’m a
ring-tailed doodle bird!”