THE STORY OF LOST LAKE
The trick Bob had played seemed to be much appreciated among the crowd
of miners and herdsmen who were gathered at the hotel. They laughed loud
and long over the sight Simmons had presented.
"I guess he'll know better than to fool with the next lad that comes
along in one of them choo-choo wagons," was the hotel proprietor's
comment.
Bob gathered up the specimens that belonged to the professor and they
were put in the car, together with a fresh supply of provisions that
were purchased at the village store.
"I guess we'll be traveling," suggested the professor. The boys agreed
with him, for though they knew the pleasures of sleeping beneath a roof,
yet the character of the men who stayed at the hotel was so rough that
they feared further rows. So, in spite of the entreaties of the hotel
keeper they started off, having inquired the best roads to take.
Through the afternoon they bowled over a well elevated table land. The
air was fine and bracing. Off in the distance to the west could be seen
the first ranges of the big mountains.
"That's where our mine is," said Jerry, his eyes shining.
"Maybe it isn't ours after all," put in Bob.
"Now there you go, Chunky. What do you want to call up unpleasant
subjects for?" asked Ned reproachfully. "Anyhow it's our mine until some
one takes it away from us, and I guess they'll have quite a fight, with
Nestor on guard."
The others thought so too. Jerry, who was steering, was sending the auto
forward at a fast clip, when the professor, who always had his eyes open
called out:
"What's that just ahead of us? Looks like a bear."
"Where?" asked Ned.
"Right in line with that big rock," went on the scientist, who had very
good eyes and could see a long distance.
"It's only a tree stump," spoke Bob.
"I didn't know tree stumps could move," went on Mr. Snodgrass, "for
this one is certainly coming toward us. It's not a bear after all," he
continued, now that the object was nearer. "It's a bull! That's what it
is! It looks as if it meant to go for us!"
The boys could now see that the beast was one of the big, long-horned
western cattle. It had evidently strayed from the herd, or had been made
an outcast because of a bad temper and a perpetual desire to fight. The
latter seemed more likely, for, as the auto proceeded, and the bull came
on, lessening the distance between the two, a defiant bellow of rage
sounded.
"I hope he don't try to ram us," spoke Jerry. "We don't want any more
collisions."
"See if you can't run away from him," suggested Ned.
By this time the bull was about one hundred yards away. It was coming
straight for the auto. Jerry opened the muffler and at the sound of the
explosions the bull stopped short.
At this point the road ran in a sort of depression, with hills rising
on either side. It was rather narrow, so there was no chance to turn to
one side. Jerry had to bring the machine to a stop or else run the risk
of hitting the bull. He thought the animal might run away if it saw the
machine coming toward him, but there was nothing sure about this.
"Well, this is a regular hold-up," said the professor. "I wonder
whether the bull wants to collect toll?"
The animal seemed to be growing angrier and angrier every minute. It
bellowed loudly, pawed the earth with its hoofs, and shook the lowered
head, armed with sharp horns. Occasionally the keen points would tear up
the ground.
"I wouldn't want him to strike one of our tires," remarked Ned. "It
would be all up with it."
"Hurrah! I have it!" cried Bob at length.
He dove beneath the rear seat and pulled up a shining object.
"The ammonia squirt gun!" he exclaimed. "The same we used on the hold-up
tramps. Give the bull a dose of it!"
"Good idea," commented Jerry.
The bulb of the automatic pistol was still filled with the fiery liquid,
for the boys kept it loaded in readiness for use. Bob handed it over
to Jerry. The latter took careful aim, and pressed the rubber. A fine
stream of the powerful stuff struck the bull full in the face.
With a bellow that fairly shook the ground near-by the bull reared up in
the air, and coming down on all fours snorted with rage, shook its head
to rid its eyes of the terrible burning, and then dashed madly away.
"Now I guess we can get past," remarked Bob, "and get some supper. I'm
as hungry as a bear."
A good fire was soon started and Ned began to prepare the meal. While
the others were setting out the dishes, or getting ready for the
night camp, since it seemed there was no place for shelter in the
neighborhood, the travelers were startled by a voice:
"Evenin' strangers," called a tall, thin man who strolled down the
slight hill at the foot of which the party were encamped. "Have you got
a bite to spare?"
"Plenty," replied the professor cheerfully. "Come right along. Supper
will be ready in a little while. Are you hungry?"
"Hungry? I should say so. I haven't had a bit to eat for two days,
except what berries and old nuts I could gather."
"What's the matter? Get lost?" asked Jerry.
"Exactly," replied the stranger. "My name's Johnson," he went on. "I was
prospecting up in the hills, and got lost there."
"Anybody with you?" asked Ned.
"Nary a soul; I'm all alone. I used up the last of my grub in trying
to find the trail, and I guess I'd been looking for it yet if I hadn't
heard the noise of your steam engine here, and smelled the cooking. I
s'pose you're huntin' for it, same as me."
"Hunting for what?" asked the professor, struck by Johnson's manner.
"Why Lost Lake, to be sure. Nobody comes out this far unless they're
huntin' for the lake, but you're the first to come in a steam car
without rails."
"Well, it's a free country," remarked the scientist, wishing to evade
giving a direct answer, in the hope of learning something. "I guess we
have a right to hunt for the lake."
"Of course, of course you have, strangers," went on Johnson. "No
offense. Have you struck a trace of it yet?"
"Not yet," replied Mr. Snodgrass. "To tell you the truth," the professor
went on, "we don't know much about this lost lake."
"Nor no one else," said Johnson. "I'll tell you all I know, which isn't
much. I've been looking for it 'most a year now."
"Suppose we have supper first," suggested the professor as he noted the
eyes Johnson was casting at the food. "We can talk afterward."
"That's the best word I've heard in a good while," said the newcomer.
He ate with a rapidity that left no doubt about his hunger. Nor were
the others far behind him, as the crisp air of the mountain region had
given them all famous appetites.
"Now for Lost Lake," spoke Jerry when all had their fill.
"It's supposed to be in those mountains over there," began Johnson,
pointing to the range off in the west, now dimly discernible in the
dusk. "It's said to be a beautiful sheet of water, with high peaks all
around it. It was discovered forty years ago by a prospector, and he
came to the nearest village with the news. But when he went to lead a
party back they couldn't find the trail. Ever since then people have
tried to find Lost Lake, but no one has ever succeeded. Many have been
killed trying."
"But why does any one want to find a lake hidden in the mountains?"
asked Mr. Snodgrass.
"Yes, tell us?" asked Ned.
"Why, for the gold on its banks, of course," said Johnson. "Didn't I say
that? I meant to. The man who discovered it said there were pebbles of
gold on the shores. He brought back a pocket full to prove it. I got the
fever quite a few months ago, but nothing has come of all my efforts,
and this time I nearly died. It was terrible up in the mountains.
There's not a soul there I believe."
"And you didn't even get a glimpse of the lake?" asked Ned.
"Nary a look, young man. But I'm sure it's there. I'm going back to
town, get a new outfit and some provisions, and have another try."
He was another example of how the gold fever grips one.
"Maybe we'll come across the lake, though we're not looking for it,"
said Jerry.
"Maybe you will," assented the prospector. "That's generally the way.
The first man was not hunting for it, but he came upon it one night when
the moon was shining. If you do find it, look out for the old hermit,
that's all."