HORSE THIEVES PAY A SECOND VISIT
Tad was unusually silent while they were packing ready to break camp,
but as they got out on the trail he became more talkative. He did not
refer to the ponies again on the way, though the lad's mind was
working rapidly.
"Do you think we shall be able to hire some ponies of Mr. Munson?" he
asked when they had been an hour on their journey.
"I have no doubt of it," answered the Professor. "Perhaps it would be
better to buy a couple."
"I don't want to do that just yet. There's the place where we are to
leave the trail," he added, pointing to what appeared to be a broad
gash in the rocks ahead of them. "We shall have to leave the ponies,
what few we have left. I don't suppose the thieves will come back for
the rest of them, do you?"
"Hardly," answered the Professor.
Securing their mounts as well as the two pack mules, they started down
the mountain side with Tad Butler in the lead. On down the long,
sloping trail they trudged until at last they reached the point where
they were obliged to get down on all fours to clamber the last fifteen
feet of precipitous rocks.
Eagle-eye halted, standing rigid, gazing off across the gorge.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" demanded the Professor. "Come
along. We shall need you."
"Me stay."
Professor Zepplin was angry. He was for trying to force the Indian to
accompany them.
"I would suggest that you let him remain where he is," said Tad. "We
shall need some one here to haul up the packs when we get them at the
bottom there. I'll leave my rope for him."
"Very well, just as you say. I hate to see even an Indian make such
an exhibition of himself," answered the Professor witheringly. "I
never supposed there were such cowards among the red men."
Tad handed his rope to Eagle-eye, at the same time telling the fellow
what he was to do. The party then scrambled down the rocks, soon
finding themselves on more secure footing by the side of the roaring
stream.
The mountain torrent was more of a reality to the boys now than had
been the case when they were gazing down upon it from the top of the
cliff.
"My, I'd hate to fall in there!" decided Stacy, edging away from the
flying spray that floated like a thin cloud along the edge of the
bank, masking the torrent like a white veil.
"Wonderful! wonderful!" exclaimed the Professor, raising both hands
above his head, glancing first up then down the imposing mountain
gash. He was deeply impressed by the spectacle.
"Young gentlemen," he said, turning to them, impressively, "it would
be well for you to give serious thought to the remarkable region in
which you now find yourselves."
"Yes, sir," agreed Tad.
"We are not liable to forget it, Professor," added Ned.
"The Ozark region is unusual in having within such limited areas so
wide a range of geological formation."
Professor Zepplin in his enthusiasm was waxing eloquent, and the lads
were giving respectful attention.
"Perhaps you are unaware," continued the scientist, "that in both the
eastern and western portions of this range, a section running
transversely to its main axis presents a complete succession from the
oldest Archaean to the newest quaternary."
The Professor fixed Stacy with a stern eye.
"Do you follow me, young gentleman?"
"Ye--yes, sir," stammered Chunky weakly, shrinking back against the
rocks.
"And from perfectly massive rocks to the most perfectly stratified
sediments there are represented a considerable variety of masses
belonging to different ages--a very complete section of the Palaeozoic
and a rather full sequence of the latter deposits which recline
against the older strata."
"Yes, sir," agreed Ned meekly.
"A-h-e-m. And now having thus enlightened you, we will proceed with
our quest for something to eat. I trust my explanation has been
perfectly clear to you all?" queried the scientist, with the suspicion
of a twinkle in his eyes.
"With all due respect to you, sir, I must confess that I didn't
understand a word of it," answered Tad boldly.
"I hadn't the slightest idea that you did," retorted the Professor,
with a hearty laugh. "Our friend, Master Stacy, appears to be the
only one of you who grasped the scientific truths."
The boys shouted with laughter.
Ned Rector proposed three cheers for Professor Zepplin, which were
given with a will.
Stacy, rather crestfallen, joined in the cheering, weakly, however.
"It is well to give thought now and then to more serious matters,
boys. After we are out of our present difficulty I will put what I
have just told you into more simple language--language that you will
all understand. This is the most unusual country we have been in yet,
and I want you to leave it with a pretty clear idea of the lessons it
teaches. How far is it to where our provisions were dumped?"
"It will take us an hour to get there, I should say," replied Tad.
"We had better be on our way."
Tad tied his red handkerchief to a bush, so they might not miss the
trail upon their return, after which the party started out on its long
tramp.
"If we were nearer to food, I should not take the time to rescue the
supplies. At the present rate, it may be days before we reach a
settlement."
"Especially if we lose any more live stock," said Tad.
Lost in admiration, the lads worked their way along the bank, gazing
first at the swirling waters, whose spray here and there gave off the
colors of the rainbow in the morning sun, then up at the towering
white limestone cliffs above them.
"There's the place," announced Tad finally.
"Where?" queried the Professor.
"Just below where you see that projection of rock that looks like an
Indian's nose. That's the rock that I tumbled down after the rope
broke with me. I am black and blue yet. Don't think there's a spot
on the rock that I didn't hit on my way down. My, I got a bump!"
"Are the things damaged?" asked Ned solicitously.
"No, nothing to speak of. I guess I did the most damage when I helped
myself last night," laughed Tad.
Tad, after finishing his meal, had carefully packed the stuff
together, and they now found it all in excellent condition. The heavy
canvas had protected the food and dishes in the dizzy fall, though
some of the cans had been considerably flattened.
"What do you say to having a real breakfast down here?" suggested
Walter.
"Yes, I'm hungry," urged Chunky.
"Oh, you'll get over that," retorted Ned.
"An excellent idea, but what are you going to do for a fire?" asked
Professor Zepplin.
They had not thought of that before.
"That's so. There is no wood down here at all," said Tad. "But, wait
a minute. I know where there are some dead brush sticks a little way
from here. Come on, some of you fellows, and we'll see what we can
do."
When they returned each had his arms full of brush and vines, all of
which they dumped in a heap on the edge of the rapids.
"It doesn't look very promising," said the Professor, with a doubtful
shake of his head.
"No, I guess it will be a quick fire," answered Tad. "Ned, you get
the coffee ready and the other things so we can put them on the fire
the moment we get it started. I'll have the pile ready by the time
you are."
With considerable skill the lad arranged the heap, placing the dead
leaves and the driest of the sticks at the bottom. On top he placed a
mass of half green stuff, packing the whole down by throwing himself
on the pile, after which he rounded it up in a mound shape, with a
circle of stones in the middle.
The fire blazed up encouragingly, and Ned, getting water from the
rapids for the coffee, put the pot quickly into the ring of stones.
"Something's going to happen in about a minute," announced Chunky,
with an air of great wisdom. He had been watching the preparations
with hands thrust deeply into his pockets.
"What's going to happen?" demanded Ned, turning on him sharply.
Chunky, instead of replying, leaned back against the rocks and began
to whistle. In a moment the disaster that he had foreseen was upon
them.
The flimsy pile of brush and vines, after the fire had burned away its
foundations, gave way beneath the weight of the stones. Coffee pot,
coffee and stones went down with a crash and a clatter.
"Save the coffee pot!" shouted Ned, giving Chunky a push.
"Save it yourself. I'm not the cook," answered the fat boy, who
chanced to be nearest to the fire. "I told you something was going to
happen."
In the meantime Tad Butler had sprung to the rescue. With one
well-directed kick he had scattered the brush and rescued the coffee
pot before serious damage had been done to it.
Rushing to the river, he scooped up a fresh supply of water, planting
the pot in the center of the fire and heaping the burning stuff about
it.
"We'll have some coffee after all," he glowed. "I don't think Ned is
much of a cook, do you, Chunky?"
"'Bout as good as you are at making fires to cook by, I guess,"
mumbled Chunky.
Tad laughed with them at his own expense.
The water was soon boiling, however, and with the canned stuff laid on
the canvas which had been spread out close to the water, the jolly
party shortly after that were able to sit down to breakfast.
"Two lumps of sugar I believe you take, Professor?" questioned Ned
politely, poising a handful of lumps over the Professor's cup.
"Give me four," interjected Chunky.
"You take yours clear this morning," retorted Ned.
"I got the condensed milk, anyway," jeered Chunky. "No sugar for me,
no condensed milk for you," and he planted the can firmly between his
feet, which were curled up half under him.
"Oh, give him the sugar. I have to take my coffee half milk," begged
Walter.
"All right, hand over the condensed milk then. I'll give you two
lumps," said Ned.
"Three," replied Chunky, firmly, making no move to hand over the milk.
Ned let the lumps drop into his companion's cup, but from such a
height that Chunky had to dodge as the coffee flew up.
He wiped a few drops of the coffee from his face, deliberately filled
his cup to overflowing with milk, then handed the can to Walter.
"I guess Chunky doesn't need any of our help. He is pretty well able
to take care of himself," laughed Tad.
"Delicious," breathed the Professor, sampling his cup of steaming
liquid.
"Who, Chunky?" asked Ned quizzically.
"Certainly not the coffee," replied the Professor in a tone of
reproof.
The meal was finished with many a jest and the pack divided up into
bundles so that each should have his share to carry, after which the
lads took up their return tramp.
They arrived at the mountain trail shortly before noon.
"Where's the guide?" asked Tad, glancing about.
"Probably asleep somewhere," replied Ned. "He's almost as big a
sleepy head as Chunky."
"He is not here, Ned."
"Most unreliable guide we've had. I shall dismiss him immediately
upon our arrival at the Red Star Mine," decided the Professor. "You
are sure he is nowhere about, Tad?"
"You can see. He's not here. I hope he has left the rope. I'll
climb up there and find out. No, he has taken it with him,
evidently."
"Here's the rope," called Stacy, hauling it from a clump of bushes
where it had evidently been dropped.
"Coil it and cast it up here," directed Tad.
This done, he began hauling up the bundles that they made fast to it
below. Finally, this was completed without accident. All hands took
up their packages from that point and started along the winding trail
that led up the mountain side.
"Most peculiar, most peculiar," muttered the Professor.
"Maybe some of those spirits that the Indian was talking about came up
and got him," suggested Stacy, with serious face.
"Maybe," agreed Ned. "But I'd sooner think they would take you if
they were the real bad spirits."
"It is my opinion," declared Professor Zepplin gravely, "that the
spirits that trouble Eagle-eye most are not the supernatural kind. We
certainly drew a prize when we picked him."
"We did," agreed Tad, laughing.
"Next time we'll choose a white man, if we can get one--"
"Hello, he isn't here, either," called Ned, who was the first to reach
the end of the trail at the top.
Tad, close behind him, cast a searching glance about.
"That's not all that is missing, either," he said sharply.
"What!" exclaimed the Professor.
"Two more ponies, that's all," replied Tad Butler. "We are a smart
lot to let him steal our stock right under our very eyes."