The start was made in the direction of the spot where the rest of the
train was gathered together, and with all present feeling flushed with
excitement and in dread of what might happen, the rope tightened with a
jerk, and then threatened to break, for there was no yielding on the
part of the kegs after they had followed for a few yards, the sound
announcing that they had caught and become wedged amongst the stones.
In the midst of a painful silence Griggs said in rather an altered
tone--
"Well, it's of no use to make bones about it. I shall have to go and
give 'em a clearing shove or two."
"You'll do no such mad thing," cried the doctor angrily. "If the
rattlesnakes will face the darkness they must be swarming out of their
holes after this disturbance. Here, start afresh, Chris. Take the
mule's rein and lead him on steadily a little more to the right."
This was done, but the kegs did not move.
"Try to the left now, my boy."
Chris led the animal in the required direction, but the kegs remained
fast.
"You'll break the rope," said Griggs.
"Then we must make fast another," replied the doctor. "We must go
farther off now, and pull at right angles."
"You'll only get the rope cut by some of the upright stones," said
Griggs bitterly. "It's of no use, doctor. I must go back and--"
_Bump_!
At that moment, before the American had finished his sentence, there was
a quick movement, the tubs had yielded to the steady strain kept up by
the mule, and for the next few minutes they came on, gliding easily over
the sand, bumping and hopping over stones, against some of which they
collided in a way that threatened to knock off hoops or drive in staves,
but they kept on coming till the mule reached the first of its
companions, when the doctor called a halt.
"Now then," he said, "lanthorn here!"
"What are you going to do, father?" cried Chris anxiously.
"Pass the light along the rope till I reach the tubs, to see if there
are any snakes twisted about the chain."
"Nay, that's my job, sir," cried Griggs eagerly.
"We'll go together," said the doctor. "Every one else stand back."
The next minute Chris and Ned stood anxiously watching the light of the
lanthorn, which was made to run along the rope and the ground till it
played only upon the two kegs, which looked dull and indistinct by the
shadowy figures which could be dimly-seen.
"Look out, sir; there's one!" shouted Griggs out of the gloom, and the
lanthorn seemed to make a sudden jump.
So did Chris's heart at the thought of the danger to which his father
might be exposed.
The next moment the boy's pulsations seemed to have ceased, but only for
a heavy throbbing to set in, before he gave vent to a low gasp of
relief. For the doctor's voice came clearly to them in the grateful
word, "_Crushed_!"
"It's all right, sir," said Griggs loudly then. "I've cut through him
twice, and he has dropped off. Haul away there and pull 'em close up."
The order was obeyed by hand, and the kegs, illumined by the light cast
upon them by the lanthorn, were drawn right up to the halting-place.
"Don't cheer, boys," said the doctor, anticipating a shout. "Here,
Griggs," he continued, "let's have a little sand over the chain where
you cut that horrible reptile away."
"Hold the light a little lower, sir," said the American. "It's all
right," he added the next minute, after the light had played over the
connecting-links of the two kegs. "Sand's cleared it all away as they
came. They're as clean as can be. I can't see anything on the rope or
hook either."
"Was there one on it?" asked Chris eagerly.
"Yes, a big 'un," replied Griggs. "He'd tied himself in a tight knot
close round the hook and the chain."
"It must have been that he was crushed when the kegs were first moved,"
said the doctor.
"Nay, sir; I fancy that it was when I hooked the chain. I fancy I must
have caught him fast and dragged him close up."
"And then, in resentment," said the doctor, "the beast twined itself up
tightly;--just like an eel on a night-line, boys," he added.
"Did you cut it away, Griggs?" asked Chris.
"Yes. I just slipped the point of my knife in between two of his coils
twice over, gave a sharp push, and he dropped down wriggling at once."
"Did you see many more?" asked Ned.
"Nary one, my lad."
"A bucket here," said the doctor. "Let's run out a pannikin from one
keg for each of the mustangs."
"Won't want a bucket then, sir."
"Nonsense, man! We can't give the mustangs their drop out of a tin. I
want it poured into the bottom of the bucket so that each can suck it up
to the last drop."
"I see, sir," cried Griggs, and as the tompion-like stop was unscrewed
from the bung-hole of a keg, a shallow iron bucket was cast loose from
one of the mule's loads, the noise in the darkness nearly driving the
whole team frantic, connecting the rattle of the handle as they did with
water.
But they were kept back while the mustangs each took their tiny
portions, uttering a piteous remonstrance-like sigh as the bucket was
withdrawn again from its muzzle; and this done, the mules had their
turn, two of them proving outrageous after getting their taste of water,
Skeeter, as Griggs called him, seizing the edge of the bucket with his
teeth and holding on till a sharp crack on the flank made him let go.
"Poor brutes!" said Ned's father. "It seems very hard upon them. Such
a tiny drop each."
"Yes," replied the doctor, "but a score of these tiny drops make a hole
in the contents of the keg. There, I don't think we have been
unmerciful to our beasts. They have had the first turn. It is ours
now."
The animals were driven back, and after the first keg had been as
carefully closed up as if its contents were fine gold-dust, the second
was opened, and a tin mug filled by the doctor, Wilton holding the
little cask.
"Now, Ned, you're the youngest," cried the doctor.
"Oh, you have some first, sir," said the boy.
"Tip it up," cried the doctor fiercely. "My good lad, you don't know
what agony it is to practise self-denial and etiquette at a time like
this."
The doctor spoke so fiercely that his words, combined with the intense
thirst from which he suffered, made the boy raise the cup to his lips,
to feel a thrill of delight as the lukewarm water trickled down his
parched throat.
The next moment, thanks to his father's teaching, he literally dragged
the cup from his lips and thrust it in the face of Chris, who was
looking at him by the lanthorn light, feeling in agony, and as if his
eyes were starting out of his head.
"No, no!" he panted.
"Drink!" yelled Ned savagely.
"Yes, drink, boy!" cried the doctor. "Quick!"
The doubling of the emphatic command made Chris obey, and he too sighed
bitterly as he drained the last drop from the half-filled mug and passed
it back.
"Quick, no more ceremony," cried the doctor, "or I shall be ready to
forget myself, for I'm half mad with thirst. Fill up, Wilton. Now,
Bourne, drink."
"No, no; you first."
"Drink!" roared the doctor, in a tone which startled his son, and
without another word Ned's father half emptied the mug and handed it to
Wilton, who hurriedly drained it, and began to fill it once more.
"My turn to order now," he cried, holding it to the doctor. "We've all
had a taste now, Lee; you drink all that."
Griggs did not move a muscle, but stood firm, holding the lanthorn now;
but he gave a side glance at the glistening cup as the doctor drank,
suffering agony the while, but only to heave a sigh of thankfulness on
seeing that his leader only swallowed half and then passed him the
remainder.
"I thought dad wouldn't forget him," whispered Chris to Ned, and perhaps
it might have been only a couple of drops of the water that had gone the
wrong way, but certainly something like a couple of tears glistened for
a few moments in Chris's eyes.
"Thank ye, doctor," said Griggs hoarsely, and the next moment there was
a sound like _glug_--_glug_!! and the tin mug was empty.
"Must have another drink round; eh, doctor?" said Wilton.
"Drink?" was the reply. "Well, yes; fill up. We must find water
to-morrow."
Half a cupful was passed to each then, swallowed with avidity, and then
Wilton sighed as he helped to secure the tompion in its place.
"Now," cried the doctor, "we all want to lie down and rest, but I'm sure
we should none of us sleep for thinking of water. The night is fairly
clear, and I feel that I can guide you up the rising ground, so I
propose that we go on at once."
"Yes, yes," cried Bourne; "on at any cost, to get away from this
horrible nest of reptiles."
"But suppose we go blundering on among them," cried Wilton. "What do
you say, Griggs?"
"I say let's get on, sir, for if we stop here we shall be getting no
nearer water, and we shall be having the snakes coming to see where we
are for killing that last one of their friends."
To get away from the horrors that haunted the spot was the great desire
of all, and with the doctor and Griggs leading, the first a little in
advance, and bearing the light, so as to avoid the blocks of stone
projecting from the sand, the little party went slowly on hour after
hour, ready to stop again and again to throw themselves down and rest.
But no one dared to do so lest the jar given to the earth should send
some of the poisonous reptiles to the surface in search of the enemy
that had intruded upon the solitude which they seemed from their numbers
to have marked down for their own domain.
The greater part of that night seemed to the two boys like a feverish
dream, during which they had been compelled by some strange force to
keep plodding on through horrors unspeakable, and tortured by a thirst
that was maddening.
At times, where the stones lay thick, hardly a word was spoken, but now
and again Chris would begin questioning his companion loudly, eager to
obtain his opinion as to whether he did not think it must be nearly
morning.
But Ned's answers were not encouraging. There was no romance in them;
they were too near the truth to suit Chris, and he liked them the less
because at heart he felt that they must be correct and his own hopes too
sanguine. But all the same he clung to his own ideas--they were so
tempting. They were that with daylight they should have reached the end
of the wild desert, and that from high up on some sunlit slope they
would be gazing down into a broad green valley--some natural paradise
through which flowed a rippling stream.
He described his notions to Ned, who seemed to be listening attentively
in the darkness, and now and then said "Oh," or "Ah, yes;" but all the
time he was clinging involuntarily to his saddle, his head nodding
forward again and again, only to be brought back to the perpendicular
with a jerk, while Chris was too drowsy himself to notice it, as he went
muttering on.
"It won't be the place where the gold city and temple are, Ned," he
said; "but it will be just the spot where we can rest for a few days."
"Ah!" said Ned.
"There'll be fish in that river, you know," said Chris--"salmon that
have come up out of the Pacific; and we can spear them after we've drunk
all we want, and bathed till we've soaked all this horrible dryness out
of our skins. All along by the river too there'll be park-like
meadows--meadows--green meadows. Do you hear?" Ned grunted.
"And in those park-like prairie places there are sure to be droves of
buffalo. Beef--do you hear?--beef!"
Chris's head bowed down as if he were going to lay his forehead upon his
mustang's neck; but the thought of roast beef woke him up again, and he
clung a little more tightly with his knees and kept on with his
muttering.
"I say, don't go to sleep, Ned," he said, as he saw his companion follow
his own example and bow low. "I feel as sure as sure that's the sort of
place we shall come to. There'll be great spreading fir-trees too, such
as Griggs talked about seeing up north in the Rockies--trees with boughs
that will keep off the sun and rain, eh?"
"Ah!" grunted Ned.
"It will be just the place that we want, to give the horses and mules a
good long rest for a few days, to feed up well on good pasture while we
shoot, and amuse ourselves, and kill buffalo, and eat hot roast beef--
hot roast beef. And drink beautiful, clear, cold water--and you can lie
down upon your chest with your face over the running stream, and drink
as long as you like of the clear, cold, sparkling water--sparkling
water--sparkling water--sparkling--wa--"
"Ah!" said Ned.
"Come, boys; come, boys!" said a familiar voice out of the darkness.
"Sparkling water," repeated Chris drowsily. "Much as you like, Mr
Bourne."
"To be sure, my boy," said the owner of the name, laying one hand upon
Chris's shoulder, the other upon Ned's, but with no effect whatever save
to make them both seem to roll in their saddles as he forced his horse
in between them. "Sit up; come, or you'll be falling out of the saddle.
Very sleepy, Ned?"
"Ah!" grunted the boy.
"Poor fellow!" said Bourne, with a sigh. Then aloud--"Can't you keep
awake, Chris?"
"Spear fish--salmon--sparkling water," sighed the boy, bowing very low
this time.
"Come, try and wake up, my lad; we're getting on higher ground, and it's
not so rocky here. As soon as day begins to break we shall come to a
halt, and rest for a few hours--that is, if we can be sure that there
are no rattlesnakes near."
"Eh? Snakes?" said Chris, sitting very upright now, and gazing in the
face of Ned's father. "Yes, snakes. Made the water taste snaky.
Horrid! Dries up your tongue. Tasted snaky."
"Mine didn't," said Bourne. "I thought it was the sweetest drop I ever
tasted in my life. Come, come, Ned; do you want me to hold you on your
pony? Keep up a little longer, boy."
"Ah!" grunted Ned, straightening himself and feeling about for the
reins, which had escaped his hand, not that any guidance was wanted, the
intelligent beast following the fight of the lanthorn, clearly seen
moving ahead as Griggs' mustang plodded on.
"Why, you're asleep, Ned."
"No, father," answered the boy, telling a most brazen falsehood, for the
moment before he was breathing so hard that the sounds were first
cousins to heavy snores.
"That's right, then. We've had a long weary ride to-day, but we're
going up-hill now and the air's growing cooler. We must be leaving the
sandy plains behind."
"Yes, leave behind. Won't fall off," muttered Ned, who was sinking fast
into a state of stupor.
And all the while from ahead, close by the moving lanthorn, came the
musical _cling, cling, cling, cling_ of the mules' bell, with the low
muttering sound made by the doctor and Griggs as they entered into a
conversation about the state of the country into which they were
penetrating.
"Poor fellows!" said Bourne half-aloud. "I can do nothing to keep them
awake. Perhaps they will not fall off, after all."
It was growing darker, but he noted that the mustangs seemed to regulate
their movements to those of their riders, and in nowise altered their
steady walk when one or the other lurched and made a spasmodic effort to
recover himself.
Then Bourne sighed and looked right ahead at the dull star of the
lanthorn in front, some of whose rays fell from time to time upon the
moving pack carried by one of the mules. From that he turned his eyes
upward to the glorious stars, whose rays gave just sufficient light to
enable the line of animals to avoid any obstacle in the way, though that
was seldom, for Skeeter plodded steadily along with his bell, and the
mules which followed almost planted their hoofs, elephant-fashion, in
the prints made by those which had gone before.
"What a long, long, weary night!" sighed Bourne at last. "Will the
morning never come?"
"Who's that?"--a sharp voice from close behind.
"I. Anything the matter, Wilton?"
"Yes; I nearly fell off my nag just now, to be left behind."
"You mustn't do that. 'Ware snakes."
"Oh, don't mention them," came with a shudder. "But thank goodness!"
"By all means; but for what in particular now?"
"You gave me such a fright."
"I did? How? I've been here with the boys for the last quarter of an
hour."
"The boys? Where are they?"
"Here, one each side."
"Oh! I thought those were mules with packs. Do you hear, lads?"
There was no reply.
"What's the matter with them? Tired and sulky?"
"Tired? Yes! Sulky? No. They're both fast asleep."
"Poor fellows! No wonder. So was I just now."
"But you said I gave you a fright. I did nothing. What was it?"
"I was fast asleep, I tell you, holding on I suppose by my knees, when I
woke up and found that you were not by my side."
"But I told you I was going to ride on and see how the boys were getting
on."
"Did you? I didn't hear a word. I must have been sound."
"But you answered me, and said, `All right.'"
"Very likely, but it was in my sleep. When I woke up, though, and found
you were not with me, it was a regular shock, for I thought you must
have fallen off and be lying somewhere in the darkness and your nag
beside you. The sensation was horrible, for in my stupid sleepy state I
felt that we might never find you again."
"How horrible!"
"It was, I can tell you. It roused me up a bit, and I had common-sense
enough left in the midst of my scare to push on first and make sure.
You can't think what a feeling of relief it gave me when you answered.
I say, it would be awful if either of us were lost."
"Awful indeed," said Bourne, with a sigh. "We're on a wild chase,
Wilton."
"We are; but we're in for it, and we must carry it through."
"I suppose so; but one night like this is enough. I say, will it ever
be morning?"
There was no reply, and they went on for a few minutes in silence, and
then there was a sudden check.
"What's wrong now?" said Wilton sharply.
"Anything the matter, Lee?" cried Bourne, for the mules seemed to have
come to a sudden stop, just as if all had been moved by one impulse
communicated to them by their leader.
"I don't know yet, and I'm obliged to be very cautious."
"Strikes me that we've been coming up and up for the last hour, sir,"
said Griggs, "and that we're now just at the edge of a canon with a drop
down to nowhere just ahead. Skeeter came to a stop all at once."
"I'll get down and see what I can make out with the lanthorn."
"Wait a minute, sir, while I get a rope uncoiled. You shall have it
fast round you and the other end to my saddle. These places go straight
down sometimes hundreds of feet to a river. Listen! Can you hear
water?"