[Illustration: THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES
_PHILADELPHIA_: PORTER & COATES.]
THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES.
FRANK AT DON CARLOS’ RANCHO.
BY HARRY CASTLEMON,
AUTHOR OF “THE GUNBOAT SERIES,” “THE GO-AHEAD
SERIES,” ETC.
PHILADELPHIA:
PORTER & COATES.
CINCINNATI, O.:
R. W. CARROLL & CO.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. All about Horses, 5
CHAPTER II. About Bears, 22
CHAPTER III. A Strange Story, 32
CHAPTER IV. “Old Davy,” 48
CHAPTER V. A Running Fight, 61
CHAPTER VI. Don Carlos’ Rancho, 76
CHAPTER VII. A Heavy Reward, 96
CHAPTER VIII. Archie Learns Something, 113
CHAPTER IX. Archie and Beppo, 127
CHAPTER X. Archie Makes a Bold Dash, 144
CHAPTER XI. A Companion in Trouble, 161
CHAPTER XII. Frank’s Adventures, 178
CHAPTER XIII. An Old Acquaintance, 197
CHAPTER XIV. The Don in Trouble, 216
CHAPTER XV. The Bridge of Clouds, 232
CHAPTER XVI. A Race In the Dark, 249
CHAPTER XVII. Conclusion. 265
DON CARLOS’ RANCHO.
CHAPTER I.
ALL ABOUT HORSES.
Archie Winters found that he had been mistaken in the opinions he had
formed concerning life in California. When he first arrived at his
uncle’s rancho, he had declared that the fun and excitement were all
over, and that he and Frank were destined to drag out a weary,
monotonous existence until the time came for them to return home. But
Arthur Vane, with the assistance of Pierre Costello and his band, had
made things exceedingly lively for him and Frank, and now they were
both willing to acknowledge that they had had much more than they
wanted of perilous adventure.
The time never hung heavily on their hands, for there was always
something interesting going on. First, Dick Thomas returned from San
Francisco, and he and Johnny Harris became constant visitors at Mr.
Winters’s rancho. Then came several unsuccessful hunts after a grizzly
bear, which persisted in breaking into the cow-pen every night, and
finally an incident happened that brought about a long string of
adventures, and raised Frank and Archie higher than ever in the
estimation of the settlers. On the morning on which we introduce them,
they, together with Johnny and Dick, were gathered in a room in Mr.
Winters’s rancho--the same room in which Frank had had one of those
memorable encounters with the highwayman--talking the matter over.
The boys were in a state of siege. Every opening, except the
port-holes, through which a breath of air might find its way in to
them, was closed, and the room was as hot as an oven. They were
perspiring like butchers; but not one of them thought of throwing open
a door or window. Frank was stretched out on the bed, drumming on his
guitar; Archie was walking restlessly up and down the floor,
thrashing his boots with his riding whip; Dick Thomas was looking up
at the pictures on the walls; and Johnny Harris was standing with his
face close to one of the port-holes, fanning himself vigorously with
his hat. Silence reigned in the room, broken only by the crack of
Archie’s whip, and light footsteps outside the door, with which were
occasionally mingled low angry growls, and the rattling of a chain.
None of the boys had spoken during the last ten minutes; and that, to
those who knew them, would have been sufficient evidence that they
were thinking about something exciting.
“Frank,” said Archie, at last, “why don’t you stop that noise? I don’t
see how you can lie there and pound on that thing. One would think you
were making merry over our misfortune.”
Frank very good-naturedly laid down the obnoxious guitar, and placing
his hands under his head, looked at Archie as if waiting to hear what
he had to say next.
“I would do something desperate, if I only had half a chance,”
continued the latter, shaking his fist in the air, and flourishing
his whip about so recklessly that Dick retreated into a corner, out of
his reach. “If I had those villains here I’d--I’d”----
“O, take it easy,” said Frank. “I don’t see the use of making any fuss
about it, for the mischief has been done, and we can’t help it.”
“Take it easy!” repeated Archie, in disgust, “how can I? It would
provoke any body in the world, except you, and you never get provoked
at any thing. I don’t believe you are even sorry.”
“Yes, I am. I feel as badly about it as you do. I would not have lost
Roderick for five hundred dollars. He carried me many a mile, and I
owned him so long that I had become greatly attached to him. He was
the swiftest and best trained horse in the settlement.”
“Except mine,” returned Archie, quickly. “Would your horse walk on his
hind legs, or pick up your hat or whip for you? Mine would; and if
Roderick was not once badly beaten by him in a fair race, no horse was
ever beaten in the world.”
Frank and Archie, as we know, had been rivals from their earliest
boyhood, and now they had enthusiastic opponents in Johnny and Dick.
Each one insisted that he owned the best horse, the best dog, and the
best gun; and that he could beat the others at riding, running,
jumping, wrestling, and throwing the lasso. They all made loud boasts,
claiming superiority in every boyish accomplishment, but that was done
merely for sport; for each of them knew that, in some things, he was a
long way behind the others. The honors were about equally divided, the
extra ones falling to the lot of Frank Nelson. He was the strongest
fellow, the swiftest runner, the best shot with a rifle or revolver,
and wonderfully expert in wrestling. Johnny Harris had once ridden a
wild mustang, which was so vicious and unruly that none of the other
boys could be induced to mount him, and consequently he was the
champion horseman. Archie was the best jumper, and, until within a few
days, had owned a horse that was equal to any trick pony the boys had
ever seen in a circus. Archie’s whole soul was wrapped up in that
horse, for he was the only one that had ever beaten Roderick in a fair
race. Dick Thomas was the happy possessor of a pack of splendid
hounds, and could boast that he never missed his mark with the lasso.
He had been a formidable rival for Archie in jumping, and for Frank in
shooting and running; but had, at last, been compelled to give up the
contest, and acknowledge himself beaten.
Frank and Archie were in great trouble--they had lost their horses.
The animals had gone the way a good many other chargers had gone
during the last three weeks, for nearly every farmer in that
neighborhood had to mourn the loss of some favorite nag, which had
disappeared, and left no trace behind. Every one said that there was
an organized band of horse-thieves around; but who they were, or what
they did with their booty, could not be ascertained. Large rewards had
been offered; the ranches had been patrolled of nights; the settlers
had turned out to a man, and searched every nook and corner of the
mountains they could get at; but, in spite of all their vigilance
valuable horses were stolen every night, and no traces could be
discovered of them or the robbers. The settlers seemed to have given
up all hopes of ever bringing the guilty parties to justice; for now,
when a horse was missing, there was nothing done, and but little said
about it. There was no blowing of horns, and gathering of armed men,
as had been the case a few days before. The farmers smiled, said that
misery loved company, and seemed to think no more about the matter;
but they were wide awake, and every man was watching his neighbor. Mr.
Winters had been a heavy loser, and now Frank and Archie had come in
for a share of the trouble. Roderick and King James (that was the name
of the horse that had taken the place of Sleepy Sam in Archie’s
affections) were gone, and of course the boys were highly indignant.
One thing that made Archie so angry was the fact that no one, except
Johnny and Dick, seemed to sympathize with him. Frank played lively
tunes on his guitar, and advised him to “take it easy,” while Uncle
James, when Archie reported his loss to him, poked him in the ribs
with his finger, and said: “Aha! now you can have the pleasure of
going afoot, like the rest of us.”
There was no danger that the boys would be obliged to go afoot. There
were plenty of fine horses on the ranch, and Dick and old Bob, and
half a dozen other Rancheros, were ready and willing to capture and
break any nag they might select; but was there a Roderick or a King
James among all these horses? The lost steeds were regarded by their
young owners as perfect specimens of their species. They were so
intelligent that they could be taught any thing that horses ever
learned; so swift that nothing in the settlement could keep pace with
them; so restless and fiery that they would never stand still long
enough for their masters to be fairly seated in the saddle; and yet so
docile that they could be managed, and driven any where, without a
bridle. Were there any horses on the rancho that possessed all these
good qualities? The boys were sure there were not.
We must stop here long enough to tell how Archie came by his horse,
and why he gave him that odd name.
We have spoken of Captain Porter, an old fur-trader, who owned a
rancho a few miles distant from the one belonging to Mr. Winters. He
was a fleshy, jolly old gentleman, who always took a great deal of
interest in every thing the boys did, and listened to the stories of
their adventures with as much good nature as he exhibited in relating
his own. Having lived on the frontier from his earliest boyhood, he
had seen a world of excitement and adventure; and the easy way he had
of recounting his exploits over his after-dinner pipe, proved an
attraction too strong to be resisted by the boys, who scarcely allowed
a day to pass without a visit to his rancho. They had a happy faculty
of making friends wherever they went; and it was not long before the
old fur-trader began to show that they held a prominent place in his
estimation. He presented Frank with Marmion, the dog which had done
him such good service in his encounters with Pierre Costello, and
shortly afterward he treated Archie in a still more handsome manner.
One day the cousins rode over to dine with the captain, and while on
the way, Archie, who could never be persuaded to acknowledge that
Roderick was a swifter horse than Sleepy Sam, challenged Frank to a
trial of speed. The race came off, and Archie, as usual, was badly
beaten. When Frank dismounted at the captain’s door, his cousin was
not in sight.
“Where’s the little one?” asked the fur-trader, who was seated on the
porch, enjoying his long Indian pipe.
“He is coming,” replied Frank. “Whenever he is on horseback he can’t
be easy unless he is racing with somebody,” he added, to explain how
he came to leave him so far behind.
“And do you always beat him?”
“Always. He grumbles and scolds about it at a great rate, but it
doesn’t seem to help the matter any. He has tried every horse on
uncle’s rancho, too; but has never been able to find one that can beat
Roderick.”
The captain settled back in his chair, and looked at the mustang as he
was being led away by one of the Rancheros; and, when Archie came up,
trying to smile, but looking rather crestfallen over his defeat, he
winked at him, and nodded his head in a very significant manner.
Neither of the boys knew what he meant; but Archie found out when
dinner was over, for then the trader drew him aside, and held a
whispered consultation with him. Frank regarded them both with
suspicion, and when Archie looked at him, and wrinkled up his nose,
and made other mysterious signs, he became satisfied that they were
getting up some sort of a conspiracy. Nothing was said or done,
however, that threw any light on the matter until they were ready to
start for home; and then, when their horses were brought out, Frank
saw that Sleepy Sam was not there. In his place was a small,
clean-limbed animal, as black as midnight, which was pawing the
ground, and jumping about as if impatient to be off. While Frank stood
looking at him, and admiring his fine points, Archie seized the
bridle, and sprang into the saddle.
“Hallo!” exclaimed his cousin, who now thought he understood the
meaning of the mysterious winks and whisperings, “who owns that
horse?”
“He belongs to the subscriber,” replied Archie, highly elated.
“He is a fine-looking animal, but I don’t know what you are going to
do with him.”
“Don’t you? Well, jump into your saddle and I’ll show you. He was
presented to me by Captain Porter, on condition that I make him beat
that ugly-looking mustang of yours; and I am going to do it.”
“It isn’t my style to allow a challenge like that to pass unnoticed,”
said Frank, as he mounted Roderick. “Hold on! Don’t be in such a
hurry. Come back here, and give me a fair chance.”
The boys had a good deal of trouble in getting started, for Archie
showed a disposition to “jockey.” His expectations had been raised to
the highest pitch by the captain’s glowing description of the black’s
wonderful speed, but he knew what Roderick could do, and he did not
intend to allow his cousin to get the start of him by so much as an
inch. In order to prevent that, he managed to keep a little in advance
of Frank. But at last, after several false starts, they got off
together, and the trader witnessed a race that was worth going miles
to see. He entered heartily into the sport, clapping his hands, and
shouting and laughing at the top of his voice; and when the rivals had
passed out of sight of the rancho, he returned to his seat, his face
all wrinkled up with smiles, and his fat sides shaking with
suppressed mirth.
Archie had not overrated the powers of his horse. He took the lead at
the start, and, what was more, increased it at every jump. For half a
mile he went at an astonishing rate, carrying his rider faster than he
had ever traveled before on horseback; but then the furious pace began
to tell on him, and the mustang, which was good for a three-mile race
at any time, gained rapidly. Archie, who had kept one eye over his
shoulder all the while, noticed this, and knowing that Roderick’s long
wind would bring him out winner, if the race continued much farther,
pulled up his horse and stopped.
“Now see here,” exclaimed Frank, “this is not fair.”
“What isn’t?” asked his cousin, innocently.
“Why, to give up the race when I begin to gain on you. Come on; this
question isn’t decided yet.”
“I think it is,” replied Archie. “I am entirely satisfied. Didn’t I
keep ahead of you for half a mile?”
“Yes, but I want to explain.”
“A fellow who is beaten always wants to make some excuses or
explanations. I have beaten you fairly. I own the swiftest horse in
the settlement, thanks to Captain Porter, and I have just thought of
an appropriate name for him. The genuine Roderick, the rebel your
horse is named after, had things all his own way for a while, but met
his equal, at last, in King James, who whipped him in a fair fight.
Your Roderick has found his match now, and I don’t know any better
name for the gallant little nag that has beaten him, than King James.
That is what I shall call him.”
Frank had boasted loudly of the mustang’s victories over Sleepy Sam,
and now Archie paid him back in his own coin. It was of no use for him
to say that he would not acknowledge himself beaten--that Roderick was
a “long-winded” horse, and that in a race of three miles he would
leave the black one-third of the distance behind--for Archie would not
listen; nor could he be induced to consent to another trial of speed.
He was very proud of his victory, and loved every glossy hair of the
little horse which had vanquished the hitherto invincible Roderick.
But now he was gone. He was in the hands of some unknown thieves, who
had entered the stable during the night, and made off with him and the
mustang. The robbers must have known something about the merits of the
two horses, for there were several other fine animals in the stable,
but they were the only ones taken. The loss fell heavily on the boys,
for they had expected to ride those horses to the head-waters of the
Missouri during the coming autumn. Captain Porter was getting ready to
start northward, on one of his annual trading expeditions, and Frank
and Archie, and the two trappers, were to accompany him. It was the
captain’s intention to spend a few weeks in trapping on the Missouri
and its tributary streams, and, when cold weather came, to go into
winter-quarters in the mountains.
The cousins had nearly gone wild with delight when Uncle James decided
that they might join the expedition, and had looked forward with
impatience to the day set for the start. What splendid sport they
would enjoy! What multitudes of beavers and otters they would trap;
what havoc they would make among the buffaloes and antelopes; and
what fine opportunities they would have to listen to the trappers’
stories, when they were snug in their warm cabin in the mountains,
with a fire blazing cheerfully on the hearth, while the fierce winter
was piling up the snow-drifts without! Frank and Archie had often
talked of these things; but now the journey across the plains, and the
excitements attending a winter’s sojourn in the mountains, had lost
all charms for them. Indeed, during the last week, Archie had
repeatedly declared that he would not stir a step. If he could not
ride King James on the expedition he would not go; he would stay at
home.
“I can’t see why the farmers don’t wake up and do something,” said
Archie, who was so deeply engrossed with his troubles that he did not
notice that he was flourishing his whip in unpleasant proximity to his
cousin’s ears. “If they are willing to let their horses go without
making any attempt to recover them, I am not. The thieves are hidden
somewhere in the mountains--I am sure of that--and if I were a man I
would not sleep soundly until I had found them.”
“It isn’t often that I wish any body harm,” said Frank, “but I hope
Roderick will throw the man who stole him, head over heels, the first
time he tries to mount him.”
“Look out, fellows!” exclaimed Johnny, suddenly.
A heavy tramping was heard in the hall, which grew louder as the
footsteps approached the door. The sound had a strange effect upon the
boys, for they all uttered exclamations, and began running about the
room. Frank sprang up and perched himself upon the head-board of the
bed; Dick seized a chair, and thrust it out in front of him, as if
waiting to receive the attack of some enemy; while Johnny ran to one
of the windows, and endeavored to open the shutters. But the heavy
bar, with which they were fastened, fitted tightly in its place, and
seeing that the door of the wardrobe was ajar, he squeezed through it,
and shut himself in. Archie was the only one who stood his ground.