OUT IN THE WIND AND RAIN
"Dave, what do you suppose those six horses were worth?" questioned
Phil, as the two youths hurried along the back trail on a dog-trot,--the
same dog-trot they used when on a cross-country run at Oak Hall.
"At least two thousand dollars, Phil," was the reply. "The horse I used
was a dandy, and so was that Belle had--and yours was a good one, too."
"What do you suppose those horse-thieves will do with them?"
"Drive them a long distance, hide them for a while, and then, when they
get the chance, sell them. Of course they don't expect to get full value
for them, but they'll get a neat sum."
"You don't suppose this can be a trick of Link Merwell's?"
"I thought of that, but I don't think so. Taking a horse in this section
of the country is a serious business. Why, they used to hang
horse-thieves, and even now a ranchman wouldn't hesitate to shoot at a
fellow who had his horse and was making off with it. No, I don't think
Link would quite dare to play such a trick. But of course we can
investigate,--after we have reported to Mr. Endicott."
"You are not going to try to keep up this dog-trot all the way to the
house, are you?" questioned the shipowner's son, after about a mile had
been covered, and when they were passing over a rather rough portion of
the trail.
"Winded?"
"Not exactly, but I shall be if I keep this up," panted Phil. "Besides,
I don't want to tumble over these tree roots."
"I wanted to get as far as possible on the way before that storm broke,"
went on Dave, glancing anxiously upward, between the branches of the
trees. "When it comes, I rather think it will be a corker. I hope the
others reach that shack before it rains."
"Oh, they ought to be there by this time."
The boys kept on, sometimes running and sometimes dropping into a walk.
As they advanced, the sky kept growing steadily darker, both on account
of the storm and because the day was drawing to a close.
"Here's the spot where we passed Link and that man with him," said Dave,
presently. "Wonder who that fellow was?"
"Oh, some hand from the Merwell ranch, I suppose. He didn't seem to be
very sociable. He kept his head turned away all the time Link was
talking to us."
"If he's from the Merwell place, they can't have very nice fellows up
there."
"Well, who would want to work for a man like Mr. Merwell? He and Link
are just alike, dictatorial and mean."
The two boys kept on for a short distance further. Then Phil caught his
foot in a tree root and went sprawling.
"Wow!" he spluttered, as he arose. "Hi, Dave, wait for me!" he added,
for his chum had continued on the run.
"What's wrong?"
"I tripped and fell--just as I was afraid I'd do. Better go slow--unless
you want to break an ankle or skin your nose."
"The storm is coming," said Dave, as he came to a stop. "Much hurt?"
"Not very,--scratched my hand, that's all. Phew! listen to the wind!"
The sky overhead was black with clouds, but to the north and the south
were great patches of light. The wind was increasing steadily.
"Maybe it will be more wind than rain," said Dave. "I hope so, too, for
I have no fancy for getting drenched to the skin."
"I don't like a wind storm--when I am in a big woods like this,"
answered the shipowner's son. "I am always afraid a tree will come down
on me."
"Well, we have got to look out for that--if we can," answered Dave,
gravely. "I don't like it myself, but it can't be helped."
They continued on their way. The wind increased rapidly, and soon it
grew so dark they could see little or nothing under the thickest of the
trees. They came to an open space, and there the wind struck them with
great force, almost hurling them flat.
"Say, I think--we had--had better wait a--a bit!" panted Phil, as he
clutched Dave by the arm.
"Let us get over to yonder rocks," answered Dave. "We'll be a little
safer there than between the trees."
Hand in hand the chums crossed the glade and made for a series of rocks
looming between the trees beyond. The wind was now blowing with almost
tornado force, and with it came a few scattering drops of rain. Just as
they gained the rocks something whizzed past their heads.
"What was that?" gasped Phil, ducking after the object had passed.
"It was a small tree limb," answered Dave. "We've got to watch out.
Hark!"
They listened, and above the whistling of the wind heard a great crash.
"It's a tree being blown down!" cried Phil. "Come on, let us get between
the rocks, before something hits us on the head!"
Much alarmed, both boys leaped for the shelter of the rocks, and in the
darkness felt their way until they reached a split that was seven or
eight feet deep and a foot wide at the bottom and twice that at the top.
"I guess this is as good a place as any, Phil," remarked Dave, when he
had regained his breath sufficiently to speak.
"It won't be much protection if it rains hard," grumbled the shipowner's
son.
"Well, I don't see that we can do better."
"Neither do I."
Further conversation was cut off by the wind and the rain. The former
shrieked and whistled through the woods, sending down branch after
branch with tremendous crashes that awed the boys completely. The rain
was light, but the drops were large and hit them with stinging force.
For fully half an hour the blow continued, and then it appeared to let
up and the rain stopped entirely.
"Shall we go on?" questioned Phil, standing up and trying to pierce the
darkness around them.
"Better hold up a while, Phil," answered Dave. "This is as safe a spot
as any, with the wind blowing down the trees all around us."
They waited, and it was well that they did so, for presently the wind
started to whistle once more, growing louder and louder. A small tree
branch came down on them, and then came a crash that made them both
jump.
"It's coming this way!" yelled Phil. "The tree behind the rocks!"
"Get down!" cried Dave, and threw himself flat.
Both boys crouched as low as possible. They heard the tree bend and
crack. Then came a tremendous crash, and they felt one of the rocks
moving.
"Maybe we'll be crushed to a jelly!" groaned the shipowner's son.
There was no time to say more, for an instant later the tree came down,
directly over the top of the opening. Several small branches thrust
themselves down upon the lads, pinning them to the bottom of the
crevice. The rocks trembled, and for the moment the boys were afraid
they would be crushed to death, as Phil had intimated.
"Safe, Phil?" asked Dave, as the rocking of the stones and the big tree
ceased and the wind seemed to die down once more.
"I--I guess so! A tree limb is on my back, though."
"I've got one across my legs."
With caution both boys crawled from beneath the branches and out of the
split in the rocks. They could see where the big tree had been uprooted,
leaving a hole in the soil fifteen feet in diameter. The top of the tree
was all of a hundred feet away from this hole.
"We were lucky to be between the rocks, Phil," said Dave, with a grave
shake of his head. "Otherwise, if that tree had come down on us----"
"We wouldn't be here to tell the tale," finished the shipowner's son.
"Ugh! it makes me shiver to look at it."
"Now it is down, we may as well get between the rocks until we are sure
this blow is over," went on Dave, after standing several minutes in the
rain.
This appeared the best thing to do, and they crawled back into the
crevice and partly under the tree. Here the thick branches protected the
lads, so that but little rain reached them.
A dismal hour went by, and then the storm came to an end. The wind died
down into a gentle breeze and the rain was reduced to a few scattering
drops, to which they paid no attention.
"If only that wind didn't blow the shack down on the other folks'
heads," said Dave. He was thinking of how frightened the girls, and
especially Jessie, must have been.
"I'll wager the trail is now a mass of mud and water," said Phil, and he
was right, and as they progressed, they frequently got into the mud up
to their ankles.
It was eleven o'clock when they gained the edge of the woods and came
out on the plains. The sky was still overcast, only a few stars being
faintly visible.
"Are you sure of the right direction, Dave?" asked the shipowner's son,
as both paused to look around.
"I think this is the trail, Phil, don't you?" and Dave pointed with his
finger to a deep rut in the soil.
"Yes. But that doesn't make it right," and Phil gazed around in some
perplexity.
"What do you mean? This is the only trail around here."
"So I see. But, somehow, this edge of the woods doesn't look familiar to
me. I thought we entered at a point where I saw a clump of four trees on
the left."
"Hum! I rather think I saw those trees myself," mused Dave. "But I don't
see them now."
"Neither do I, and that makes me think that perhaps we came out of the
woods at the wrong spot."
Much perplexed, the two lads walked around the edge of the woods for a
considerable distance. But they saw nothing of any other trail and so
came back to the point from which they had started.
"This must be right, after all," was Phil's comment. "Anyway, it's the
only trail here, so we may as well follow it."
They hurried on, the halt under the rocks having rested them a good
deal. Out on the prairie the trail grew a bit drier, for which they were
thankful. They got into their dog-trot once more, and thus covered all
of two miles in a short space of time. Then, of a sudden, both came to a
halt in dismay.
"Which one?" asked Phil, laconically.
"Don't know," was Dave's equally laconic answer.
Before them the trail branched out in three different directions, like
three spokes within the right angle of a wheel.
"This is a regular Chinese puzzle," said Dave, after an inspection of
the trails. "The one to the right looks to be the most traveled."
The two boys made every possible effort to pierce the darkness ahead of
them, and presently Phil fancied he saw a light in the distance. Dave
was not sure if it was a light or a star just showing above the clearing
horizon.
"Well, we may as well go ahead," said the shipowner's son. "No use in
staying here trying to figure it out."
They went on, taking the center one of the three trails. They had
covered less than quarter of a mile when Phil gave a shout.
"It is a light, I am sure of it--the light of a lamp or lantern! Hurrah!
we must be on the right trail after all!"
"Go slow, Phil," cried Dave, a sudden thought striking him. "That may
not be a ranch light."
"Yes, but----"
"It may be something much worse--for us."
"What do you mean?"
"It may be the light from the camp of the horse-thieves."