HIPPY MYSTERIOUSLY DISAPPEARS
All except Nora Wingate obeyed the command to hold up their hands.
"I'll not put me hands up for the likes of you!" she retorted, her eyes
snapping, as she deliberately got down from her pony.
"Don't do anything foolish," warned Grace Harlowe.
Unheeding the warning, Nora stepped over and picked up Hippy's hat, eyed
the hole in it, the color flaming higher and higher in her face. Nora
then walked straight up to the mountaineer, apparently unconscious of
the fact that his rifle was now pointed directly at her.
The mountaineer was nearer death at that moment than he knew, for two
hands had slipped to two revolver butts resting respectively in the
holsters of Grace Harlowe and Lieutenant Wingate. What mad thing Nora
had in mind they could not imagine, but they did not believe the fellow
would dare to shoot her down in cold blood, for it must be plain to him
that she was unarmed.
"Look what you did!" she demanded, holding up the hat that the
mountaineer might see the bullet hole in it. "You put a bullet through
my husband's perfectly good hat. Aren't you ashamed of yourself? That
hat cost him eight dollars, and if I thought you had eight dollars in
the world, I'd make you pay for it. You're a cheap ruffian, that's what
you are!"
Nora's chin was thrust out belligerently. At this juncture her right
hand flashed up to the nose of the mountaineer. The fingers closed over
that prominent member and Nora Wingate gave it a violent tweak.
The fellow's jaw sagged. He appeared actually dazed and the muzzle of
his rifle, that Nora had thrust to one side as she boldly stepped up to
him, had been permitted to sink slowly towards the ground.
Nora Wingate did not stop there. She soundly boxed the fellow's ears,
first with the right, then with the left hand, each whack giving his
head a violent jolt to one side.
"Jump back!" It was Grace Harlowe who, in an incisive tone of voice,
gave the order to Nora.
"Why should I jump back?" demanded Nora, turning a flushed face to her
companions. What she saw, however, caused Nora to take a few slow steps
backwards. Three revolvers were pointed over her head at the
mountaineer. The revolvers were in the hands of Grace Harlowe,
Lieutenant Wingate and Elfreda Briggs.
The mountaineer saw the weapons at the same time.
"Drop it!" bellowed Hippy. "Drop it or I'll bore you full of holes!"
The mountain man permitted his grasp on his rifle to relax and the
weapon fell to the ground.
"Back up!" commanded Hippy. "Don't play any tricks, and keep your hands
away from your holster. Keep him covered, Grace, while I dismount. You,
fellow! Take notice! We know how to shoot, probably better than you do.
If you try any tricks you'll get what's coming to you. Turn around and
stand still with your hands as high above your head as they will go.
Good!"
Hippy dismounted and, with revolver at ready, stepped over to the man
who was now standing with his back to the Overland Riders.
"Don't make a move! I'm going to take your revolver," warned Lieutenant
Wingate, pressing his own revolver against the mountaineer's back. He
then jerked the fellow's weapon from its holster and tossed it behind
him. Nora picked it up.
"Turn around!"
The mountaineer faced him, his face contorted with deadly rage.
"I'll kill ye fer this 'ere!" threatened the man.
"Not this evening you won't. Listen to me, Mister Man. We are not here
to interfere with you or with your business, and we wish to be let
alone. So long as we are let alone, we shall move along peaceably. When
we are not, some one is going to get hurt right smart. Get me?" Hippy
thrust out his chin pugnaciously.
The mountaineer did not reply, but his eyes, and the malignant scowl on
his face, voiced the thought that was uppermost in his mind.
"Now turn around, face up the gully and sprint when I give the word.
Don't you show up in this vicinity until to-morrow. You will find your
rifle and revolver right here where I am standing. We don't want any
such antiquated hardware. Don't stop until you get to the other end of
the gully, if you value your life. Go!"
The mountaineer started away at a brisk trot, never once looking behind
him.
"Shoot! Make him dance," urged Emma Dean excitedly.
"No!" replied Grace incisively. "We are not savages."
"Why didn't you 'con-centrate' on him and save us all this bother?"
demanded Hippy. "Nora darling, I am proud of you," he said, turning to
her smilingly. "But never do a crazy thing like that again. Even Emma
Dean could do no worse. What's the next thing on the programme, Grace?
Do we go on or do we camp here?"
"I don't like the climate of Spring Brook at all. It is too warm and
malarial for me," interjected Miss Briggs.
"I agree with you, J. Elfreda," replied Grace laughingly. "I would
suggest that we detour to the right and proceed over the ridge, and on
into the mountains where there may be a probability that we shall not be
molested. What do you say, people?"
"I think we all agree with you," answered Anne.
"Yes, let's seek the seclusion of the mountain fastness and have Emma
sit up and 'con-centrate' all night. If she can move a house and lot
with her con-centration stunt, she surely should be able to move that
touchy mountain savage further away from us," suggested Hippy to the
discomfiture of Emma and the great amusement of her companions.
"I think you are real mean," pouted Emma.
"Would it not be a wise thing to do to leave one of us here for a short
time to see if that fellow returns and tries to follow us?" asked Nora,
still full of fight. "I should just like to teach him a lesson."
"You already have done so," chuckled Anne.
"Your suggestion is excellent," agreed Grace. "However, it is getting
dark and we must locate ourselves before that. That is, we should do so.
Let's go!"
The Overlanders then mounted and retraced their steps until they found a
place where they could climb to the ridge. Reaching the top, they
followed the ridge trail for half a mile, then struck off into the
mountain fastness. In order to better hide their trail, they guided
their horses into a small stream and rode up that for a full mile,
finally finding a suitable camping place.
A cook fire, a small blaze, was made under a shelving rock, and
Washington was left to cook the supper while Hippy and the girls watered
and cared for the ponies. Supper was ready about the time they finished.
The pitching of the tents was left for the boy to attend to while the
Overlanders were eating.
"Now that we are composed, what does all this disturbance of to-day
mean?" demanded Miss Briggs.
"It may be the result of our running that fellow out of our camp last
night, or rather Hippy's running him out. Then again, the incident of
to-day may be explained in another way. I first had a duel with some one
in the bushes; later, when we headed into Spring Brook valley we may
have been getting into the Moonshiners' territory. I understand they are
rather touchy when it comes to outsiders penetrating their mountain
preserves. At least this last savage was thoroughly in earnest when he
ordered us to get out. I fear we should have gotten into trouble had it
not been for Nora." Grace smiled at the recollection of Nora's
chastisement of the mountaineer.
"Surely, they do not think we are revenue officers, do they?" asked
Anne.
"They are suspicious of all strangers," Hippy informed his companions.
"I had a friend in the flying corps, who comes from Kentucky, and he
told me all about these mountaineers. They are, in a way, simple as
children, but bad all through when they differ with you."
"Then, there is the Mystery Man," reminded Nora. "Is he one of them?"
"He may be for all we know about him," answered Elfreda, shrugging her
shoulders.
Grace said "no."
"It doesn't seem probable, that, were he one of them, he would have shot
one of them in our defense, does it?" she asked.
The Overlanders admitted the force of her argument. Supper finished,
they sat about the campfire, now a glowing bed of coals, which now and
then was fed and stirred into little ribbons of flame by adding bits of
dry twigs.
"I am going to sit up to-night, and watch the camp," announced Hippy
after the tents had been pitched and the girls, one by one, had begun to
do their hair for the night.
"Yes, it will be wise. When you get sleepy, call me and I will take the
watch for the rest of the night," directed Grace.
"I never sleep," remonstrated Hippy.
"He never sleeps," mimicked Emma in a deep voice from her tent, sending
her companions into a shout of laughter.
"Except when he is supposed to be awake," teased Anne.
Before turning in, Grace made a circuit of the camp and the bushes and
the trees surrounding it, halting where the ponies were tethered to see
that they were properly tied for the night. Soon after making camp she
had taken possession of Washington's harmonica, for it was all-important
that attention be not attracted to their camp that night.
Grace was certain that they had not yet heard the last of their mountain
enemies and that trouble might be looked for from that direction, hence
no precaution must be overlooked with regard to protecting themselves.
"Tom was right," murmured Grace, when, after giving Washington and Hippy
final directions, she had retired to her tent and lain down with rifle
and revolver within easy reach.
Lieutenant Wingate put out the fire and sat down to watch, rifle in
hand. Grace got up an hour later and, peering from her tent, saw Hippy
sitting with his back against a rock. At first she thought he was
asleep; then, when she saw him take off his hat and smooth back his
hair, she knew that she was mistaken.
It was long past midnight when Grace again roused herself and got up
with a feeling that all was not well. A quick survey of the camp from
her tent revealed nothing disturbing. Hippy was in the same position in
which she had seen him some hours before and not a sound was heard from
the ponies' direction.
Picking up her rifle, and strapping on her revolver, Grace stepped over
to Hippy and peered down into his face. He was sound asleep and snoring.
"It were a pity to wake him," she muttered, moving quietly away and
sitting down within a dozen feet of the sleeping man to guard the camp
for the rest of the night.
Grace suddenly tensed with every faculty on the alert. She thought she
heard something moving cautiously in the bushes at the left of the camp.
A few moments of listening convinced her that she was right. She knew
that none of her outfit was out there and that Washington Washington was
sleeping in his little pup-tent a few yards from her, for she could hear
him breathing.
The Overland girl used her eyes and ears, and a few moments later she
made out a vague form at the edge of the camp. Even then she would not
have seen it, had it not moved to one side. The dark background
prevented her being able to make anything out of the form, except that
it was a human being.
Having satisfied herself of this, Grace raised her rifle, aiming it
above the head of the intruder, and waited. Herself being in a deeper
shadow, her movements were not observed by the prowler.
Grace put a gentle pressure on the trigger. A flash of fire and a
deafening report followed.
Hippy Wingate sprang to his feet.
"Wha--wha--wha?" he gasped.
"Don't get excited," soothed the calm voice of Grace Harlowe. "I shot
over the head of a prowler. Go back to your tent, Washington," she
directed, as the colored boy ran out ready to bolt into the bushes.
Grace had heard the prowler crash through the bushes in his haste to get
away, and felt reasonably certain that they would not be troubled by him
again that night. In the meantime the others of her party had sprung
from their tents, excitedly demanding to know what had occurred. She
told them briefly, and advised that they go back to sleep.
"You too turn in, Hippy," directed Grace. "It is too bad to have spoiled
that lovely sleep. I will look after the camp for the rest of the
night."
Without a word Lieutenant Wingate went to his tent. He was ashamed of
himself despite his former assertion that Nora Wingate always provided
this emotion for him.
"I think I'll ask Emma to sit up and 'con-centrate' to keep me awake
after this," muttered Hippy, and then lost himself in slumber.
The camp once more settled down and was not again disturbed, but Grace
kept her vigil ceaselessly through the rest of the night. The girls did
not know the details of the disturbance until breakfast next morning
when Grace told them all she knew about the occurrence. After breakfast
she and Hippy searched the ground about the camp and found traces of
their visitor. In leaving he had made no effort to hide his trail,
probably having been in too great a hurry, but Grace did not consider
it worth while to try to follow the trail.
"We must make time, you know," she told her companions upon returning to
camp. "If we are late in keeping our appointment with Tom, he will be
worrying for fear something has happened to us."
"Something probably will have happened to us by that time," observed
Elfreda solemnly. "Several somethings, perhaps."
After considerable milling about, after retracing their steps along the
mountain rivulet, they found the trail that they were in search of, the
footpath that led in the direction that they wished to go. On either
side of the path was a jungle-like tangle of shrub and vine, through
which the party, riding in single file, were obliged to force their way.
So dense was the foliage that they could not see each other, but they
kept up a rattling fire of conversation back and forth, much of which
was directed at Hippy who was leading and doing his best to beat down a
path for those who were following.
This continued for some time, until finally Hippy's mount seemed to be
getting lazy, for Elfreda, who was riding directly behind the leader,
bumped into his pony several times.
"Come, come, Hippy! Have you gone to sleep?" demanded Elfreda. "We
shall never get out of the tangle at this rate."
There was no reply, and when Elfreda communicated her belief to her
companions that Hippy had gone to sleep on his saddle, there was much
laughter. Emma called out that, so long as the horse kept awake, they
would be all right.
This condition of affairs continued for some little time, until finally
Elfreda rode out into a rugged, rocky clearing and made a discovery
that, for the moment, left her speechless.
Hippy Wingate's pony was browsing at tender blades of grass that were
sprouting from crevices in the rocks, but its saddle was empty.
"Hippy! Oh, Hippy!" called Miss Briggs.
There was no response to her call. The pony raised its head and looked
at her and then resumed its eating.
"Grace!" cried Elfreda in a tone that thrilled every member of the
party. "Hurry! Hippy has gone!"