THE FALLING BOWLDER
A few minutes before this, after a long uphill climb, the car had
entered a narrow ravine between two hills, the sides of which were
studded with great bowlders. One of these had become dislodged in
some manner, and it was the sight of the huge stone rolling and
clattering directly down upon them that had brought the cry of alarm
from the driver.
As it rolled down the precipitous slope, the big bowlder dislodged
tons of gravel and dirt, which came flying down with it, until it
was the center of a small landslide. To the Radio Boys, it seemed
that there was no escape for them, and they gripped the sides of the
car, prepared to jump out as a last resort, although it seemed as
though that could avail them little. The ground trembled, and a
noise like thunder filled the air.
It was impossible to stop, as this would leave them directly in the
path of the oncoming bowlder. Their only chance lay in putting on
speed and attempting to get past ahead of the huge stone, which was
now bounding downward at terrific speed, part of the time leaping
bodily through the air as it caromed off some obstruction in its
path.
The driver opened the throttle to the limit, but the car was heavily
laden, and accelerated sluggishly. For a few seconds their fate hung
in the balance. The great bowlder hurtled down upon them, and leaped
into the air directly above them. Looking up, the boys could see the
tremendous mass perhaps a hundred feet away, its shadow blotting out
the sun. The automobile seemed to be only creeping, and seconds
seemed like hours. Then, with a crash that made the ground quiver
and shake, the bowlder plunged to the road not fifteen feet back of
their car. Flying splinters of rock pelted over those in the
automobile, and they crouched low to avoid the deadly shower. Tons
of sand and gravel followed the bowlder and piled across the road
where their car had passed a few short seconds before, forming a
drift many feet deep.
But now the moment of dire peril had passed, and the occupants of
the car drew long sighs of relief. The driver kept on at high speed
until they had passed through the defile, and then pulled up and
shut off the engine. His hand shook, and several moments went by
before he trusted himself to speak.
“Whew!” he exclaimed finally in a voice that was not quite steady.
“That was what you might call a close shave, young fellers.”
“Too close for comfort,” said Herb, essaying a grin that somehow did
not look quite natural. “I wonder what we’d look like now if that
bowlder had landed on top of us.”
“That’s a nice, cheerful thought, I must say,” replied Bob. “We
would have the same general appearance as a dog run over by a steam
roller. I think we owe a vote of thanks to our driver for getting us
out of a tight place.”
The thanks were enthusiastically given, and in a short time, they
resumed the journey.
Not much was said for a long time, as each was busy with thoughts of
their recent narrow escape. Eventually the boys recovered their
usual care-free spirits, however, and they began to pay attention to
the country through which they were passing.
Starting over level roads, they were now in a rolling, hilly
country, thickly clothed with trees. Sometimes the road ran for
miles through dense woods, where the sun could penetrate only in
scattered patches through the heavy foliage and where the cool shade
was most welcome after the scorching sun that had beaten down upon
them along the stretches of open country. Soon they began to feel
hungry, and Jimmy was not long in proposing a halt for lunch.
“I suppose you fellows were so scared by that big rock that you
won’t be able to eat for a week,” he remarked. “To a brave gink like
me, though, danger only gives a keener edge to his appetite.”
“Fortune help us, then!” exclaimed Herb. “If your appetite is much
keener than usual, Jimmy, all our grub will be gone before we ever
reach Spruce Mountain.”
“Oh, well, if it is, I’ll go out and kill a bear or two every
morning, so don’t let that worry you,” replied Jimmy, airily. “Mr.
Bentley said there were quite a few bears around that part of the
country, and they seem to be my natural prey. When I can’t find any
lions to kill, I like to keep in practice on bears.”
“Huh! why didn’t you give us a demonstration when Tony’s dancing
bear chased us up on to the roof of Buck Looker’s bungalow?”
inquired Joe.
“From what I remember of that scrape, Jimmy seemed rather anxious to
avoid the bear,” remarked Bob. “The way he shinned up the front
porch you might almost have thought he was afraid of the poor
animal.”
“Aw, he was a tame bear!” protested Jimmy. “I like the wild ones;
the wilder the better. I wouldn’t hurt a tame one like Tony’s. I
only bother with the real fierce ones.”
“Well, when we get to the lodge, we’ll see if we can’t borrow a trap
and catch a bear,” said Bob. “Then you can go and let him out of the
trap, Jimmy, and kill him with your bare hands, or by whatever
method it is that you use. The rest of us will climb the nearest
tree and get an idea of how it’s done.”
“What do you do, anyway, Doughnuts? Strangle the poor brutes, or
bite them to death?” inquired Herb, with every appearance of an
earnest seeker after knowledge.
“Never you mind; just wait until the bear comes along, that’s all,”
said Jimmy, with reprehensible vagueness. “I’m hungry enough to eat
one raw right now, hide and all. Here’s some chicken sandwiches my
mother put up, and if you Indians want any of them you’d better act
quickly.”
The others needed no second invitation, and the sandwiches, together
with a number of other home-cooked dainties, disappeared with
wonderful rapidity. When they had finished, the boys stretched out
luxuriously on the sweet-scented pine needles with which the ground
was strewn, and all felt as though life could offer them little
more. Jimmy took prompt advantage of the springy couch, and was soon
dreaming of a happy land where all the mountains were made of pies
and doughnuts. The others soon succumbed to the drowsy effects of
their hearty meal, and the shadows were gathering heavily before
they finally resumed their journey.
“We shouldn’t have stayed here so long,” said the driver, as they
started on again. “We’ve still a good bit to go, and it will be dark
in a few hours. This good road won’t last much longer, either.”
“Well, step on the accelerator while we still have the light, and we
may not be so late, after all,” suggested Bob. “If you get tired
driving, just say so, and I’ll take the wheel for a time and give
you a rest.”
But the driver would not hear of this. As he had foretold, the road
rapidly grew rougher, and at last it got so bad that they were
forced to proceed at an exasperatingly slow pace for anyone at all
anxious to get anywhere. The boys were thrown about here and there,
and had to cling to the sides of the car to keep from being thrown
out. Twilight changed to darkness, and, though on Spruce Mountain,
they were still many miles from their destination. Suddenly the
driver jammed on his brakes and the big car came to a shuddering
halt not two feet from a big tree that had fallen across the road.
The woods grew dense on either side of the road, so that there was
no possible chance of getting around the obstruction.
“Looks as though we were here for the night,” observed the driver,
scratching his head in perplexity. “This boiler can’t fly, and I
don’t see any other way of getting on the other side of that tree.”
“I do!” exclaimed Bob, decisively. “We’ve got axes in the car, so
why can’t we cut away a section of the trunk and go through sailing?
How about it, fellows?”
For answer the boys made a dive for the tonneau, and in a few
minutes the forest was ringing to the sound of their axes. The tree
was of fair size, but in less than an hour they had chopped away a
section of the trunk and rolled it to one side. This left an opening
wide enough for the automobile to pass through, and they were soon
bumping and jolting over the uneven road once more.
“I hope we haven’t got much further to go,” groaned Jimmy, after one
particularly hard jolt. “Seems to me I’ll have to spend most of our
time at Spruce Mountain in recovering from this trip. It would be
more fun to walk.”
“Oh, quit your grumbling. We can’t have very much further to go,”
said Joe. “I’ll have to admit I’ve ridden on better roads, though.”
But as Joe had said, their ride was almost at an end. A little
further, and the driver turned up a side road, jolted along for a
few hundred feet, and then, in the glare of the powerful headlights,
they could see the outlines of a low, rambling building that they
knew must be Dr. Dale’s bungalow. And sure enough, the key that had
been intrusted to Bob’s care fitted the big padlock that secured the
door, and the boys found themselves in the dim interior. They spent
little time in examining the place, leaving that until the following
day, but busied themselves in transferring their belongings from the
car to the house. This done, they ate a hearty supper, tumbled into
their bunks, and were soon sleeping the sleep that comes from an
exciting day in the open. But the next morning they were up bright
and early, for the man who had brought them up wanted to get an
early start back. After this the lads examined the place curiously
and spent the next day or two in getting settled and getting
acquainted with their surroundings.