ABOVE THE CLOUDS
Rain, fog and wind form a decidedly unpleasant combination on the
sloping sides of a mountain.
The three Ramblers and their friend Jim Havens were not long in having
this fact impressed upon them. With surprising suddenness, the wind
increased to a gale, sweeping everything before it, and the boys,
crouching almost flat, had difficulty in avoiding the stones which
rattled down from above.
Presently, the ominous darkness was momentarily dispelled by a dazzling
gleam of bluish-white. Then followed a crackling sound, which merged
into a crash that seemed to jar the mountain.
The obscurity grew denser. Never in their lives had they been in such
a fog. It almost startled them to realize that they could scarcely see
each other--that they were, in fact, amidst the very storm-clouds.
Each moment they expected another blinding glare and solemn peal of
thunder, but it seemed as if nature had spent most of its electrical
energy. The next flash, which only came after a considerate interval,
was much less brilliant.
Dick Travers protected his precious camera as well as he could, but
several times it almost slipped from his grasp.
Chilled, and soaked to the skin, the boys could do nothing but wait.
The clouds kept swirling past, while the wind moaned and howled, making
conversation almost impossible.
About half an hour later, Dave Brandon eased himself slowly to his feet.
"Weather to-day threatening and showery, fellows," he remarked,
cheerily. "To-night, clear and colder."
"That will do, Chub," said Bob, ruefully. "Wow--but I am glad the rain
is letting up."
"And the wind going down," chimed in Dick, his teeth chattering. "I
feel worse than an icicle."
"It's colder than all outdoors," added Jim, with a tremendous shiver.
"What shall we do?"
"Nothing--just wait for things to get better," answered the
philosophical Dave.
The wind continued brisk, and the boys felt it so keenly that they were
glad to keep their chilled bodies in motion.
"It's so steep I don't see how we can get much higher," observed Dick
Travers. "Say--where are you going, Jim Havens?"
Their guide, his eyes bent on the rock, was crawling upon hands and
knees toward a ledge that overhung a steep declivity.
"Plenty of signs of goats, fellows," he cried. "Look!" And Bob, who had
followed, saw that the surface was worn and indented by the tread of
countless hoofs.
"By jingo, it must have taken years to cut into the solid rock like
that," he said, reflectively.
"Hundreds, maybe," returned Havens. "Goats," he explained, "have
regular beaten trails. You'll find plenty of them all over the upper
parts of the mountains."
The group continued cautiously along, on the lookout for a break in
the slope which might enable them to ascend.
"Down there is a mighty bad place."
Dick Travers pointed just below and to their left.
The steep declivity they were on led down to a ledge at the brink of a
precipice, on one side of which the rocks jutted out abruptly, forming
a spur.
"Think you could climb down it?" asked Jim, with a grin.
"I'd leave that for----" began the "poet"; then he paused, gripped
Havens' arm, and whispered,
"Softly, oh, soft! Let us rest on the rocks
And disturb not a goat that so actively hops,"
and having changed the lines to suit the situation, a broad smile
played over his face.
"Stoop down, everybody," commanded Jim, sharply. "A herd of goats on
the ledge, as sure as you're a foot high--the wind in our favor, too.
By George! They're running to beat the band."
"Must be something chasing them," murmured Dick.
Havens gripped his rifle, and lay low.
A savage growl reached their ears; then a lithe, gray mountain lion
appeared in view. With lashing tail, he crept steadily forward.
An old buck courageously planted himself between it and the retreating
flock.
"We're going to see something now," whispered Havens, excitedly.
"Brave old codger," murmured Bob, "but he doesn't stand any show."
"Of course not," breathed Dick. "Look--the scrap begins."
With a savage snarl, the panther leaped in the air. Had the buck
remained still, the cat would have landed squarely upon his back. But
the grizzled old warrior sprang quickly to one side; then, with lowered
head, dashed furiously at his foe.
The force was so great that the mountain lion, partly off its balance,
fell back. A horrid screech rang out--then another, as the buck landed
its hoofs viciously on the prostrate form.
But the tawny beast recovered himself quickly, crouched with flattened
ears, and fiercely attacked its prey.
Bravely the buck met the advance, but the powerful paws of the panther
soon brought him to his knees.
"That's the end of him," whispered Bob. "Christopher! No, he's up
again. Look at that!"
"Wish he'd send the old monster over the cliff," said Dick,
breathlessly. "He's doing wonders."
With a desperate effort, the goat rose on its hind legs, and shook off
his antagonist. Backing away, the animal approached the edge of the
precipice.
"Wow!" gasped Dick, "he'll be over in a minute."
"The brave old buck deserves to live, after putting up such a game
fight," declared Dave. "Come on, fellows--to the rescue!"
The four began scrambling hastily down over the rocks toward the
combatants.
"Hey! Don't fire until I get a chance with my camera," panted Dick,
excitedly.
"All right, photographer--quick," said Havens.
The cat sprang again, and landed on the back of its antagonist; the
buck partly rose, the weight of the panther pulled him sideways, and
both goat and cat, struggling madly, fell in a heap upon the very edge
of the precipice.
The battle was no longer against each other--it was now to regain their
footing on the brink.
Breathlessly the boys watched; Dick Travers pointed his camera.
For an instant, the outcome was in doubt; then the buck, with wildly
waving legs, plunged backward into the abyss, dragging his snarling foe
with him.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Dave; "what a finish!"
"Great Cæsar!" cried Bob. "They'll be knocked into a thousand bits."
"By Jingo--both done for," added Havens.
Then something else happened.
Dick Travers, in his eagerness to get a photo, failed to notice a
projecting rock; he tripped, and found himself going forward.
It was a very sudden lurch, and the involuntary motion to recover his
balance resumed in the camera slipping from his grasp. Bumping and
sliding, it shot swiftly down the incline.
Bob Somers sprang forward to Dick's assistance, while Dave tried to
catch the instrument. The former was successful, but the stout boy had
no chance to intercept the camera.
With wild, staring eyes, Dick Travers watched the precious instrument
headed straight for the precipice. Nothing could save it.
"It's gone," he said, in a hollow voice.
An instant later, the official photographer's official instrument
sailed grandly over the brink, and followed goat and panther to the
rocks below.
Dick Travers was inconsolable.
"Never mind, old man," said Bob, soothingly. "My dad will send you out
another--honest, he will. You've got all your negatives safe."
"Fellows, look," remarked Havens, in a few minutes. He pointed to
several large birds circling above the chasm. "Vultures," he said,
briefly.
"After the goat and panther already?" exclaimed Bob, in surprise.
"Of course. I'd like to put a ball through the ugly rascals."
As soon as the great birds were hidden behind the precipice, the
Ramblers continued on.
"Here's a place where we can get up," observed Bob, at length.
He began scrambling over a pile of rocks, and the others followed.
After many difficulties, and assisting each other over places which at
first glance seemed impassable, the boys reached the snow.
"It's jolly fun to do this in summer, eh?" cried Bob, as he playfully
shied a lump at Dave.
"I should say so," laughed the stout boy, returning the compliment.
"I can't forget that camera," sighed Dick, gloomily. "Excuse me,
Havens, I didn't mean to soak you so hard."
Jim brushed a large quantity of snowflakes from around his neck.
"Oh, ho," said Dave, "this is a wonderful sight. A bit too cold to suit
me, though. Our friends, the goats, have been here, all right--see the
tracks?"
"And that's about all we will see of 'em," put in Havens. "They're
scary critters. Big horns the same way."
Cautiously, the four climbed on. A magnificent panorama was before
them--of valley and rugged mountains, of dark timber and rocks, all
in sunshine save where the shadow of some floating cloud dotted the
landscape.
The sun was now hanging just above a high peak, and within a short time
the shade would creep through the valley, the rosy glow fade from the
opposite mountains and the dense forests become sombre and gloomy.
Dave Brandon thought of this, and proposed returning, but the others
were anxious to reach the highest point.
"Come on, Chubby," protested Bob. "Don't talk that way until we have
balanced ourselves on the peak."
"Clouds coming up again, fellows," broke in Dick. "Gee, but aren't they
far below us?"
"Wish they would spread all around," said Bob.
"By jingo, it looks as if a fellow could walk on them without falling
through, doesn't it, Chub?" remarked Dick.
"Yes--makes it feel safe up here. Sort of holds us in."
"Funny to be looking down upon a pile of clouds," observed Bob,
reflectively.
In ten minutes, the slowly-moving clouds had again cleared almost
entirely away, and the boys, as they slipped and scrambled around a
huge snow-bank, came across a view which brought them to a sudden halt.
"Jiminy crickets!" cried Bob, with arm outstretched; "look--Mountain
Lake!"
"That's just what it is," said Dick, wonderingly. "Isn't it great,
though? Can see just the shape and everything. The two islands look
like a tiny little speck."
"Wish we had the Lick telescope," was Dave Brandon's remark. "Might see
Sam and Tom on the porch or fishing in the lake. And think," he added,
in tones which spoke of a troubled soul, "of all the weary tramping
we've got to do before we see it again."
"Freezing snowbirds, I can't do the standing act," chattered Dick.
Their way, however, was soon barred by a narrow ledge which sloped
abruptly downward on either hand.
"Never had any practice on tight ropes, and don't care to negotiate
it," announced Dave, firmly.
"If you please, Chubby, we know you are right up in big words, but
you'd better save 'em for Professor Hopkins," said Bob, with a smile.
"Very good," returned Dave; "but I am unalterably opposed to a
continuance of----"
A series of groans stopped him.
For a few moments they contemplated in silence the dazzling depths
below. Then Havens spoke up.
"Better be moving, fellows," he said. "There are some pretty tough
places to get down, and we want to spend the night in the cave again."
"That's so," said Bob, "and often it's worse than climbing."
"Makes me tired to think of coming all this way, and then find that you
just can't reach the top," exclaimed Dick Travers.
He looked longingly toward the summit, whereupon the other boys faced
about and began the homeward march.
"Wouldn't do you any good to plead for it," said Dave. "I'm satisfied
with being this far out of the world."
The descent, across sloping fields of snow, over slippery hillocks and
declivities, proved to be more difficult than they had anticipated.
Many anxious moments were spent at places where a slip or misstep might
have meant a terrible fall.
When the timber line was reached, Havens' trail was soon found, and the
four plunged into the thick pine forest.
"It's going to be blacker than pitch," remarked Dave, cheerily.
"Who cares?" said Bob. "We won't get lost--that's sure."
"And I wouldn't mind if we did," put in Dick, gloomily. "I can't get
over that camera."
"Brighten up, old man--the worst is always ahead of us," laughed Dave.
"Don't even whisper, fellows," said Bob, a moment later. "Our supper is
over there."
"Where--where?" came a low chorus.
"Don't you see a flock of birds in the open space beyond that old oak?"
"Sure," said Dick, in a stage whisper. "We mustn't miss anything like
that."
"And won't, either," asserted Havens. "Be careful now."
Cautiously, the hunters spread out, and began to creep along, avoiding
obstructions almost as well as Hank Merwin could have done. Not a word
was spoken.
Through every opening they eagerly peered, and saw the flock still
feeding, unconscious of danger. A little further, and four guns were
raised toward the glade. Then four reports echoed, almost in unison,
and almost instantly afterward the guns spoke in a more scattered
fashion, while a flock of ducks, with loud quacking, took wing and
disappeared amid the thick foliage.
"Hurrah!" yelled Bob Somers. "I told you so. We'll have a dandy supper."
Quickly they covered the ground which separated them from the glade, to
find three plump birds.
"That's bully," cried Havens.
"Um--um," said the "poet." He picked up a bird by the legs and held it
aloft. "Isn't that a daisy wood-duck?" he cried, admiringly. "Look at
the lovely color--it's the prettiest of all ducks."
"Right you are, Chubby, but it will look even prettier when it gets
over the fire. Come ahead--it's growing dark fast."
Already the light was beginning to fade from the sky, and before long
it would be difficult to find the trees which Havens had marked.
"It means a torchlight procession pretty soon," remarked Dave, and
this prediction was soon verified. When night came, four flaring
pine-knots flashed a pathway through the forest, and caused many of its
inhabitants to dash madly for the nearest thickets.
Strange sounds met their ears, the plaintive note of the whippoorwill,
the weird hooting of owls, and sometimes the cries of animals in the
distance.
Every one of the group kept his eyes and ears open for signs of any
dangerous beasts which might be lurking in their path.
Owing to Havens' forethought in "blazing" the trees at short intervals,
the trail was easily found, and the cave at last reached.
"Oh, how glad I am to get here," said Dave. "Nice late supper we'll
have, though I'm 'most too tired to eat."
"Isn't possible," said Dick. He lighted a fresh pine-knot, and
continued, "Let's take a look inside the hotel."
"See if my bearskin's safe," drawled Dave.
He propped his flaring torch between two stones and sank wearily down,
while Bob and Dick entered the cave.
A moment later, Dick Travers poked his head outside the opening,
and, in a voice that trembled with excitement, made this startling
announcement:
"Hello, Dave Brandon--it's gone!"