AN EXCITING CHARGE
It was indeed a beautiful morning, with the sun shining with a clarity
that is characteristic only of the higher altitudes. There was quite a
procession coming up the steep mountain trail. As yet they could not
be made out distinctly, as they were so far down the mountain side.
Then they were lost to view in one of the folds of the slope.
"I wonder whom those tenderfeet are?" The voice came from a man who
was crouching behind a granite boulder. He had been watching the
approaching party intently for some time. "One thing, sartain,"
the voice continued, "them fellars will find trouble if they keep
traveling in this neck of the woods."
The speaker was not a prepossessing-looking party. He was of squat
figure, very strongly built. His face and neck burned to a brick red.
His shirt of a nondescript color was open at the neck, exposing a
hairy throat. A rifle was gripped firmly in one powerful paw, and
there was a knife and pistol in his belt.
He was an ugly-looking customer, and it was evident that his mission
was not a peaceful one. Once more he took a look down the trail. The
approaching party was much nearer now and he could count the
individuals.
"Five!" he exclaimed. "Looks like they might give the boys trouble.
That fellar in front has sartain got a fine horse."
Already the voices of the five came clearly to his ears, and it would
not be long before they would top the ridge, and the scout, for such
he was, would be discovered.
"It's time for me to scat!" he exclaimed.
And he did, taking long swinging strides that soon took him out of
sight of the ridge, into a belt of pines. Here the stranger stopped
again and watched for the tenderfoot party to put in an appearance. He
did not have long to wait, for there came the strong clear sound of
voices, and then he saw a gallant figure on a gray horse ride into
full view. This young fellow was dressed in blue, with a flannel shirt
of the same color, and a gray sombrero, which was pushed back from his
sunburnt forehead.
A perfectly polished rifle was hung across his back, and there was a
revolver in the holster at his hip. The young fellow rode his
splendid animal with an ease and mastery that showed long experience.
Behind the leader rode a shorter lad, but very stockily built, and of
extremely dark complexion, with heavy black hair, cut square across.
"That chap must be an Injun," remarked the watcher in the pines.
But the reader who is more intelligent and better informed, knows
otherwise, for he is acquainted with these riders and has been in
their company before, and it is not necessary to pass the entire
procession in review. The Frontier Boys were all there, and Jeems
Howell likewise. The man in the pines was deeply interested in these
mounted men, viewing them from his position back of a big pine, in
front of which was a screen of brush.
He saw that they were well mounted and armed, nor did they appear
entirely like tenderfeet either. There was something in the way they
rode and their general air that showed that they could take care of
themselves. Once or twice he partially raised his rifle as though
about to fire at the leader, but he evidently thought better of it,
and contented himself with a mere reconnoissance.
The Frontier Boys were unmindful that they were watched, but they
were not careless. Juarez, especially, seemed on the alert, and
even suspicious. He kept looking around and once he came to a halt.
Swinging off his roan, he began to examine the ground.
"Scent something, comrade?" inquired Jim gravely.
"Something wrong around here," he said.
"Panther, painter, or mountain lion?" inquired Tom.
"Look out, he will bite you," volunteered Jo.
Shaking his head, Juarez mounted his horse and took his place in line,
and the procession started again, but always the red-faced, red-necked
scout kept them in view for his own purposes. He did not have much
trouble to keep up, for the boys did not hurry their horses. They had
had a hard pull for several hours that morning, and Jim decided it was
best to let them take it easy, as there still was plenty of hard work
ahead.
"How soon will we reach your ancient castle, Jeems?" inquired Jim.
"In time for dinner, boss, I reckon," replied Jeems.
"Dinner be ready for us?" inquired Tom hungrily.
"Well, as I haven't seen my ancestral walls for nigh on to twenty
years," replied Jeems, "I'm much afeard that the dinner is petrified
by this time."
"We don't mind that," laughed Jo. "Haven't we eaten grub in Mexican
restaurants and along the border? Nothing is too tough for us."
"That's so," agreed the chorus.
"This country begins to look very familiar," soliloquized Jeems.
"Here's a rock I've sat on many a time to rest coming home from a
hunt, and down there are the three pines struck by lightning, on the
Fourth of July, too----"
"Go on with you," jeered Tom, "don't give us any tall yarn like that."
"Halt! there he goes!" cried Juarez, bringing his rifle to his
shoulder and aiming it at a fleeting shadow among the pines down the
mountain slope. He did not fire, however, and without a minute's
hesitation the boys turned their horses down the steep mountain slope
towards the woods where the man had been detected by Juarez's
observant eye.
Away they went full tilt, and to an outsider it seemed certain that
some one was sure to get his neck broken. Jo's horse did stumble,
plowing its nose into the gravel, and sending Jo forward about a dozen
feet, landing on shoulder and neck. Pretty well shaken up, he was too,
but not injured.
Tom came near getting mixed up in the melee, for he was just back of
Jo, but missed him more by good luck than good management. There was
no attempt on the part of any of the boys to stop to pick up Jo or to
see how badly hurt he was. They presumed that if injured he would say
something about it. So on went the gallant 400, their steeds leaping
rocks and fallen trees, crashing through brush with powerful
recklessness.
A haze of dust soon hung above the cavalry charge, which was destined
to come to an end when the line of pine trees was reached. But it
seemed that Jim's Caliente was not going to halt for the solid pines
even, for he charged full speed ahead, with all his fighting blood
aroused.
"Ahoy there, Jim!" yelled Tom, "better anchor your yacht."
But James could not head him, pull as hard as he would, and he ducked
his head low under a branch which threatened to brain him, scraped
between two tall and massive pines, and finally brought his panting
horse to a full stop in a dense clump of brush.
But Jeems Howell seemed to be having the most interesting, if not the
pleasantest, time of all. He was not a natural centaur anyway. He had
tried his best to keep his little rat of a bay from joining in the
chase, but without success. With his long legs stuck out in front and
his eyes wide open with astonishment, he was pulling with all his
might, but with no effect.
It was a comical sight, the long-legged man yelling "Whoa!" "Whoa!"
and the little pony scampering at top speed down the steep and sunny
slope with the dust flying back at a great rate. Then of a sudden, the
pony leaped right from under the long-shanked Jeems and he sat down
upon the warm gravel, while the animal went on into the woods. As for
the man, he made his escape into a neighboring gulch where he hid
himself under a ledge, and was safe enough.
That one movement which he had noted of Juarez's rifle when aimed at
him, was sufficient to give him an idea of the mettle of the Frontier
Boys. He was determined, however, not to get out of that section until
he had seen these travelers properly located, so he waited.
Meanwhile, the boys had got together, in a general council with only
one absentee, viz: Jeems Howell, who was seated contentedly, if
somewhat dazed, upon the mountain side. Then his absence was noted by
the other boys.
"Where is Jeems?" inquired Jo, who had recovered his horse and his
equilibrium likewise.
They looked around anxiously. "There's his pony over there," said
Juarez, "having a good time grazing."
"I suspect we will find Jeems grazing somewhere back here on the
mountain," said Jim. "Jo, you go look for him, if you think you won't
fall off, too."
With a grunt Jo turned his horse at right angles, and went back up
the mountain slope. He soon came upon Jeems seated placidly upon the
ground apparently enjoying the view.
"Lost something, Jeems?" he inquired.
"Yes, my pony," he replied.
"He is grazing down below," said Jo. "Why don't you get up?"
"I'm grazing here," replied Jeems.
"Gazing, I guess," grinned Jo.
"Is it morning yet?" inquired Jeems.
"It will be night before you get up, if you don't hustle," warned Jo.
"Better go and get your horse and join the family council."
"There shall be no vacant chair, I'll be there," and Jeems rose by
sections.