THE MOUNTAIN LION
“It’s a wildcat!”
“No, it’s a mountain lion, and it’s going to attack Randy!”
“Shoot the beast!”
“Look out or you’ll shoot Randy!”
“There they go――through the bushes!”
“What shall we do?”
Such were the startled exclamations from the other three boys. The yell
from Andy had brought Fred and Jack hurrying forward, and they were
just in time to see the wild animal land on the flank of the horse.
Then the steed, evidently terror stricken, dashed into the brushwood
alongside the trail, carrying Randy with him.
“Was it really a mountain lion?”
“Where did they go?”
“Randy! Randy! Can’t you shoot the beast?” screamed Andy.
The words had scarcely left Andy’s lips when there came a scream from
his twin and another wild snort from the horse. Then there was added
to the tumult the snarl of the mountain lion and an instant later the
beast dropped from the horse and shot through the brushwood directly in
front of where Jack and Fred had brought their mounts to a halt.
The boys had brought their guns with them, but not having noticed any
game worth shooting at had placed the weapons behind them. Both Jack
and Fred made frantic efforts to get their weapons into action, but
before they could aim at the mountain lion it had whirled around and
disappeared up a rocky trail and then behind a clump of brushwood. An
instant later they saw it streaking up the mountainside. Jack took
aim and so did Fred, but before either could pull a trigger the beast
disappeared.
“Randy! Randy! Are you all right?” called out his twin anxiously, for
they could hear the horse Randy was riding thrashing viciously around
in the brushwood some distance away.
“Whoa! Whoa!” Randy called out. “Whoa, I tell you! You’re all right
now, old boy! Keep quiet! Whoa!” The boy continued to talk to the horse
and do his best to subdue the animal. But the nails of the mountain
lion had been dug deep into his flank and he evidently felt as if he
had been scourged with a whip. He continued to prance here and there
and then, of a sudden, streaked off across a clearing that led upward.
“There they go!” shouted Jack. “The horse is running away!”
“Hold tight, Randy!” shouted Fred. “Don’t let him throw you!” For a
dash upon those sharp rocks that lay strewn all over the open space
might mean death.
Fortunately, Randy had slung his fishing rod beside his gun and had
tied his share of the fish in a cloth behind his saddle. Consequently,
his hands were free to hold the reins, and this he did grimly as the
horse pranced over the field very much like an untamed broncho.
“Whoa! Whoa!” went on Randy, doing his best to subdue his mount. “Whoa,
I tell you! That wildcat――or whatever it was――is gone.”
As the horse shot across the field and among some short brushwood, the
three boys left behind headed in that direction. Each had his gun ready
for use, thinking that possibly the mountain lion or some other wild
beast might show itself.
Never had Randy had a rougher experience than the present. Several
times he was all but flung from the horse as the animal swung around
to avoid hitting one rock or another. Once he dropped the reins and
held on to the horse’s mane. Then the animal stumbled and the lad went
up in the air and it looked for a moment as if he might go over the
horse’s head. But he came back safely, and at last brought the horse
down to a walk.
“Whoa there, Charley Boy,” he said as soothingly as a panting breath
would permit. “Good boy now! Keep quiet!” And then he managed to bring
the horse to a standstill.
When the others came up Randy dismounted and all saw that the horse had
received several deep scratches on the flank, and from these the blood
was still flowing. Randy and Jack attempted to wipe the blood away, but
the horse would not have this and acted as if he meant to “kick them
into kingdom come,” as Andy expressed it. So then they let him alone.
“What became of the wildcat?” questioned Randy.
“It wasn’t a wildcat. It was a young mountain lion,” declared Jack.
“Fred and I tried to get a shot at it, but it got away up the
mountainside before we could get our guns around to taking aim.”
“Didn’t the mountain lion hit you at all, Randy?” questioned his
brother anxiously.
“No, he missed me by a couple of inches,” was the reply. “I saw him
coming and I dodged. He went right over my shoulder and then struck
the horse. Of course Charley Boy wouldn’t stand for that, and he swung
around as if hit with a red-hot whip. That threw the mountain lion to
the ground, and what happened to the animal after that I don’t know
because I had my hands full with the horse.”
“Gee, I’m sorry we didn’t get a crack at that beast!” said Fred
regretfully.
“Well, there’s one thing sure,” returned Andy, and something of a grin
showed on his face. “We know that there’s one kind of game around here.
In fact, two kinds, if you’re going to count the fish.”
After the horse that had been attacked had been thoroughly subdued the
boys continued on the trail around the lake. Now, however, they kept
their guns handy, hoping they might get a sight of the mountain lion or
some other game.
But nothing appeared and, having come to the point from which they had
started, they climbed up the road leading to Sunset Trail. By this time
the sun was descending behind the mountains to the westward and they
thought it time to return to Gold Hill.
When they got back to the boarding house they found that Peter Garrish
had been busy during their absence. Evidently the mine manager had
called upon the colored man who kept the place, for Toby was no longer
as affable as he had been on their first appearance.
“Very sorry to tell you,” he announced. “But I’m expecting some other
miners in a day or two, so I’ll have to ask you all to give up your
rooms and go elsewhere.”
“Have you told my father this, White?” demanded Randy.
“I ain’t seen your father. He didn’t even come back for his dinner.”
“That’s because he had to go away on an errand,” answered Andy. “He
said he’d be back by supper time, and it’s almost that now. You had
better not try to do anything until you see him.”
“Well, I’ve got to have the rooms, that’s all there is to it,” answered
Toby White, and started to shuffle off.
“I suppose Mr. Garrish put you up to this,” called Jack after him.
“That don’t make no difference――I’ve got to have them rooms,” muttered
the colored man, and then went away.
A little later Tom Rover appeared and the boys at once acquainted him
with what Toby White had said. They had agreed to say nothing about the
encounter with the mountain lion, fearing that Tom might keep them
from going out camping as they had hoped to do.
“I expected something of that sort,” answered the twins’ father. “And
after I had sent off my telegrams I had a talk with Terwilliger,
the keeper of the store. He told me of a man who lives up on Sunset
Trail just a short distance from here――a man named Corning. I went
and saw this Corning, who used to run the Mary Casey mine. I made an
arrangement to stop at Corning’s house provided we were put out here.
Corning has his two old-maid sisters with him, and Terwilliger says
they are good cooks and good housekeepers, so I imagine we won’t miss
anything by making a change.”
“But don’t you want to keep an eye on this place?” questioned Jack.
“Yes, I’m going to keep an eye on it, and in a way Garrish little
expects. But I won’t be able to do much openly until I hear from Mr.
Renton and two other stockholders named Parkhurst and Leeds. If I can
get those three stockholders to act with me we’ll control a majority of
the stock, and then we’ll be able to run things here to suit ourselves.”
“Did you hear anything at all from Billings?” asked Fred.
“Not a word. He wasn’t seen around Maporah nor at Allways, the next
station. I am satisfied that he is either in hiding or else he’s met
with foul play.”
The meal served to the Rovers that evening was a fairly good one, but
it was plainly to be seen that Toby White was more than anxious to have
them take their departure. Tom said but little to the colored man,
fearing that the fellow was entirely under Garrish’s thumb.
“I don’t believe in staying where I’m not wanted,” he told Toby White.
“I’ll settle with you right now and we’ll leave as soon as we can pack
our things.”
“Sorry, Mr. Rover, very sorry,” said the colored man. “But you know how
it is here――this place is leased to me by the mining company and I’ve
got to keep my rooms for nothing but miners.”
“Yes, I know. And we’ll go.” And shortly after that the boys and Tom
Rover took their departure.
It was not a long journey to Cal Corning’s place, a long, low log cabin
containing eight rooms, all on the ground floor. Behind the cabin
were half a dozen outbuildings, for Corning was the only man in that
vicinity who kept any cattle.
“Well, I’ll say this is an improvement over Toby White’s place,”
remarked Jack, when they were settling down in the three rooms
assigned to them. Two were of fair size, and these were taken by the
boys, while the third, a smaller room, went to Tom Rover.
“I’ve made a deal with Corning,” announced the twins’ father, when the
Rovers were alone. “He is going to keep an eye on the office of the
Rolling Thunder mine.”
“The office?” asked Jack. “Is he an expert bookkeeper, or something
like that?”
“No, no! Nothing of that sort, Jack,” and Tom Rover smiled. “I’m simply
going to have him watch, so that Garrish doesn’t take it into his head
to have the records of the mining company carted away. I want to get at
the bottom of this deal with that concern that is getting a good part
of our ore.”
After that several days slipped by without anything unusual happening.
Tom and the boys took a look around the outside of the mine, and even
glanced in at the office. They saw Peter Garrish, but had no further
words with him.
“He can stew until I’m ready to move,” said Tom to the boys. “I’ll
wager he’s doing a lot of deep thinking right now.”
On the afternoon of the third day the boys rode over to Maporah to post
some letters, the post-office being in Gus Terwilliger’s store.
“Here are some letters for you fellows, and also a letter for Mr.
Rover,” said the storekeeper, and he handed the epistles over. “They
came in on the noon train.”
“Hurrah! That’s just what we’ve been looking for,” cried Fred.
Then the boys went outside and sat down on the stoop of the store to
read the communications.
“Here comes a fellow tearing along on horseback,” announced Jack,
looking up. “He seems in a tremendous hurry.”
The rider had come from a trail which crossed the railroad close to the
station. Now he sailed past the Terwilliger store at full speed. He
wore a miner’s outfit, and the flap of his broad-brimmed hat flew back
in the breeze. In less than a quarter of a minute he was out of sight
down a side trail.
“My stars!” ejaculated Fred, leaping to his feet. “Did you recognize
that man?”
“It was Tate――the oil man from Texas!” answered Randy.