A MISSING BROTHER
“Ride!” Teddy yelled. “It’s a landslide! Watch out for—”
His words were drowned by a _bo-o-o-m!_ that seemed to shake the
mountain to its very base. Teddy wasted no more time in useless
explanations. Wisely he gave Flash his head and let the bronco pick his
own path down the treacherous incline.
As horse and rider catapulted toward level ground, Teddy’s first thought
was for his brother. He turned swiftly in the saddle, and his heart gave
a leap when he saw that Roy had disappeared. Frantically the boy peered
through the haze of dust which hung over the landscape like a pall, but
Roy was nowhere to be seen. Teddy knew it would be hopeless to yell, as
he could never make himself heard over the crashing roar of the
landslide.
With a silent prayer for his brother’s safety, the rider was forced to
use all his skill to retain his seat in the saddle. Lucky for him that
he had, as his father put it, “been born aboard a bronc,” else he must
surely have been flung to the ground, to be seriously injured, if not
killed, by the rocks and trees that were sweeping swiftly down the
mountain side, almost at his heels.
Flash, his eyes white with fright, was leaping for safety like some wild
animal. Now and then he would give a whinny of terror as a rock landed
at his side with a thud. The chances were about even that the boy and
his pony would avoid the falling stones. Yet, as each one hurtled by, it
seemed certain that the next must strike and send the horse and rider
crashing to the ground.
“Stick to it, Flash!” Teddy panted, drawing his hand quickly over his
eyes to clear them of sweat. “Another five hundred feet and we’ll be
safe—the slide is slowing up! If I could only see—this dust—if Roy is
safe—”
The grinding noise to the rear of the boy was gradually lessening, and
the hurtling rocks were becoming fewer in number. Still Teddy knew he
was by no means safe, as any moment another slide might start and
overtake him. And a second slide, piled on top of the already loosened
earth, might completely overwhelm him. He must ride, and ride hard, if
he wished to place himself out of danger.
Flash’s trip down the mountain was one of breath-taking escapes from
destruction. Teddy swayed with him as though he were a part of the
horse. Almost automatically, the boy would know when the bronco was
going to plant his feet to avoid a sudden drop, and he would brace
himself for the shock. Then the pony would slide and leap—slide and
leap. On Teddy’s part it was a marvel of horsemanship; on Flash’s part
it was a wonderful example of animal intelligence. Frightened as he was,
the pony never once made a misstep, never once gave way to his terror
and dashed blindly forward. Had he done so it would have meant the end
for Teddy Manley.
At this moment the young rancher bore little resemblance to the young
man registered as “Theodore Havens Manley, Latin Scientific Course,” on
the records of the Hopper Boarding School. His face was streaked with
dust, and perspiration had smudged it into a black mask. His hat was
gone—swept off by a swishing branch—and his hair was in wild disorder.
His clothing was torn in several places by the bushes he had dashed
through. He was panting fiercely, and his eyes were sharpened into two
points of blue light. From his lips came words that were barely
articulate.
“Now, Flash—watch that rock! Stick to it, old boy, stick to it—a
little more—yow! That was a close one! All right, baby, you’re not
hurt—take it easy now—”
A leap—a swift, neck-jerking halt—slipping, sliding, trying
desperately for a foothold—another leap—
Suddenly a yell burst from Teddy’s lips. Frantically he pulled on the
reins, seeking vainly to stop the pony almost in midair. The boy’s face
paled. In front of him, so close that the horse’s forefeet seemed on the
very edge, yawned a deep gully!
“Flash! We’re done for! Ah-h—”
In the second that remained to him Teddy made his decision. It was
impossible to stop, the gully seemed to rush eagerly to meet them. There
was only one chance—that Flash could clear it, could leap to the other
side.
Teddy released the reins. He dug his heels deep into the pony’s sides.
And, with his heart in his throat, the boy felt the horse rise beneath
him and sail through the air.
For a moment the mount and his rider were silhouetted against the sky
like a frantic picture thrown on the silversheet. A moment—then Teddy
felt his very bones grind together in the shock of that swift descent.
Vaguely he looked about him. Flash, trembling like a leaf, was standing
upon a broad plateau. They were safe!
Teddy nodded his head several times, slowly, deliberately, as if to
confirm his past thoughts. Then he dismounted stiffly, and putting a
hand on either side of the pony’s head, he looked him straight in the
eyes. For a second—perhaps two—he stood there, while Flash gradually
grew still and breathed easier. When he whinnied softly, Teddy rubbed
the pony’s ears and stepped back.
“Finish!” the boy said. Then he laughed, adding:
“Me, I’m going to join the aviation and have you for a plane! Jimminy,
what a jump! Let’s see—”
Turning, Teddy walked to the edge. The dust of the landslide had almost
settled, and he saw plainly the other side of the gully. It was a great
deal higher than the land on which he stood, which difference in
elevation was the only reason Flash had been able to make the leap. No
horse could have jumped that distance on the level. Even with this drop
to aid him, it seemed almost impossible that Flash had done it. Yet
there he stood, looking at his master with knowing eyes, and here Teddy
stood—safe!
“But where in thunder _am_ I?” the boy exclaimed suddenly. “I don’t
remember seeing this gully before. If I could get to the other side
again I could probably find my way home, but there’s not a dog’s chance
of ever leaping back.” He looked down into the abyss and shuddered. The
thought of that tremendous jump was unnerving.
As Teddy walked toward Flash, he felt a wave of uneasiness pass over
him, as though an unpleasant thought were hiding in his brain somewhere.
His mind leaped forward.
“Roy!”
Where was his brother? What had happened to him? Did he escape? They
were both ahead of the slide, surely he could not have fallen! Star
could bring him out of it—unless he was struck by a rock!
Teddy hunched his shoulders. He ran his hand through his hair and
discovered for the first time that he had no hat on. Then he looked
about him, as if he expected to find the hat lying under a bush. The
hat—never mind the hat! Roy was gone!
In silence and with a deep frown creasing his forehead, Teddy remounted.
Could it be possible that his brother had come to this same gully and,
as he had, leaped with his horse to the other side? Teddy cast his eye
along the opposite edge. Less than a quarter of a mile away the lip of
the gorge dipped down, so that it was level with the plateau on which
Flash stood. The meaning of this struck Teddy like a dash of cold water.
This, then, was the only place the leap could be made! If a pony tried
the jump where both sides were level, he would hit the cliff with his
hind feet, while his front feet would paw desperately on the loose earth
of the plateau’s edge, seeking madly to draw himself and his rider to
safety, then with a scream he would lose his hold—fall
backward—turning over and over—over and over—
A groan burst from Teddy’s lips.
It could not be! It must not be! Roy was safe! He had turned to one side
and had ridden from under the landslide. Now he was looking for Teddy,
wondering what had happened, wondering if Teddy had made it all right.
Now he was taking off his hat, rubbing back his hair and muttering
something about, “I’ll tell a maverick that was some ruckus!” Certainly
he was safe, Teddy argued. Roy—good old Roy—he’d come riding along any
minute now and yell across to his brother asking him if the landslide
didn’t remind him of the scene in “The Fall of Pompeii.”
But Roy did not come riding along, and the sun was casting long shadows
as Teddy rode slowly along the edge of the gorge. Somehow he would have
to find his way out of here. He must reach home and send a party out to
search for Roy. No, Roy would be waiting for him when he got there!
Maybe he would arrive in time to halt those who were about to start
after Teddy. If he hurried they might find Roy before it was too late!
No, no! Roy was home already!
“Can’t go on like this,” the boy muttered, bending low over the pony’s
head. “The thing to do is to find dad as quickly as I can and tell him.
He’ll know what to do. But I won’t let mother know—not until we find
Roy. Then Roy can tell her. If I could only remember this gully I might
reach the ranch without riding all over the landscape.”
He hunched his shoulders again, as another boy might straighten up, and
thrust his chin forward. Chirping to his mount, he increased his pace.
The sky above him had turned to a pale blue that was almost white, while
to the west, beyond the mountains, a riot of color blazed. Teddy threw
his head back as a shrill, hoarse cry of a circling buzzard tore the
silence. Then the boy raised in his stirrups and shook his fist fiercely
at the winged carrion-eater.
“What do you want here? There’s nothing for you! Search! Go ahead and
search, you filthy buzzard! You won’t find anything, I tell you! Roy is
home—home! And he and I will come out to-morrow and toss some lead into
you! Maybe you’ll like to try that for a change of diet!”
Strangely enough, the bird ceased his ominous circling, and with another
scream disappeared over the rim of trees. Teddy sank back into the
saddle, his face somewhat red, ashamed of his outburst.
“Must be getting woozy,” he muttered. “Yellin’ at a buzzard! Never did
that before. I wonder—”
Suddenly he stopped, pulling the reins taut. Above him, outlined against
the eastern sky, was the figure of a man on horseback. As he rode
closer, a red beam from the setting sun shot through the trees and
illuminated his face like a spotlight. Teddy gave a yell.
“Nick! Nick Looker! Yo-o-o, Nick! How do I get out of here? Where’s Roy?
Hey-y-y, Nick!”