"What's wrong with our skipping up-stairs and lying low?" Lanky wanted to know.
"Our only chance, boys!" jerked out Frank.
"Go to it then, fellows!" said Lanky, acting as if he meant to make a mad dive for the stairs, and go up helter-skelter. But Frank caught him by the arm.
"Slow and sure, Lanky!" came the warning. "Take things easy! Plenty of time to get there! If we all went in a mob those ricketty stairs would probably come down with a smash and dump us in a heap. You go first, Lanky, then Paul, and I'll bring up the rear."
"I'm game for anything, even a fight!" retorted the tall boy, as he put his foot on the first step and started upward.
Paul was listening. The hoofbeats sounded much closer than before, as if Zeke continued to make good progress toward the old tavern. How those stairs did wobble and creak and groan, even though Lanky was trying to climb as softly as possible.
Now he was at the top, and, beckoning for Paul to take his turn, Frank stood waiting until he saw that the time had come for him to follow. It was a queer feeling that gripped him as he felt the swaying movement under his feet, such as one might expect to encounter on a crude swinging grapevine bridge stretched across some torrent.
He felt considerable satisfaction when he gained the landing above without any accident spoiling the hastily conceived program.
"Now let's get in the room over that big one below stairs," he suggested, on the spur of the moment.
"Good scheme, Frank!" whispered Lanky. "It's got open seams in the floor, and we ought to be able to spy on Zeke. I'm curious to know what did bring him back, after laying that lid of his on the table and not seeming to notice he'd left it behind till the crowd had got some way off. Here he comes!"
A sharp hiss from Frank cut the garrulous one off. After that the three boys lay there on the floor,hardly daring to stir, since the slightest movement on any one's part caused the rotten boards to creak and give ominously.
They heard the pony come close to the door of the tavern, and then caught the heavy thud of heels as the rider jumped off. It was Zeke, just as they had expected. He came hurrying through the open door, going directly to the three-legged table, to pick up his hat and slap it on his bald head.
At the same time the boys saw him half double-up, bring a hand down with a slap on his knee, and laugh hoarsely. Evidently Zeke was pleased with the success of this expedient that permitted him to gallop back to the mining camp without arousing suspicion on the part of his mates.
Eagerly the unseen watchers in the loft above kept their eyes glued upon his every movement. Lanky, in particular, was filled with curiosity to learn the reason for such queer actions on the part of the gruff and tough-looking puncher.
He moved about as though accomplishing something that had been on his mind. Once Frank even saw him bend down and lift what seemed to be a trapdoor in the rotten floor below. Zeke stared down into the cellar there, and gave evidences of being considerably worked up.
Frank made up his mind, on witnessing the man'sgrim face, that whatever secret he had gripping his soul, it was connected with something that lay hidden down in the cellar of the abandoned inn.
They could hear him moving around after that, but he no longer came within the radius of their vision; those cracks had served their purpose fairly well, but there was a limit to their range.
Lanky fussed a bit, moving restlessly, discontented because he could no longer keep his eyes on the man. Frank almost feared his impetuous chum might feel inclined to creep over to the head of the stairs, in the hope of once more glimpsing Zeke and discovering what he was busy doing.
To avoid the possibility of unpleasant consequences, Frank laid a restraining hand on Lanky's arm.
Just then they again caught a fleeting glimpse of the man, who was heading toward the outer door. Evidently he had accomplished whatever mission it was that had brought him hurrying back, and was now making ready to gallop off.
This caused the boys more or less satisfaction. While Zeke was below there must always be a chance of discovery. If he had such a deep interest in what happened to lie in the cellar, why should this concern not go farther and cause him to start up-stairs?
But the suspense was about over, now that he hadcommenced to take his departure. Once again did the trio creep across the shaky floor to the window, so as to watch his going.
"There he is," whispered Lanky, breaking what had been a long and agonizing silence for a boy who liked to hear himself talk as much as he did. "Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest. So long, Zeke! Your room is better'n your company!"
"Hold on, Lanky," said Paul, very softly. "You're talking through your hat, I'm afraid. He's stopped right over there, turned his pony, and is sitting with one leg up over the pommel of his saddle, watching this same old house like a hawk. Do you think he suspects we're around?"
"Not on your life, Paul! I don't know why he keeps on sitting there, and looking so mighty well satisfied with himself; but like as not it's got something to do with his coming back."
"He's got a rifle across his knee," continued Paul, "and you'd think he was planning to throw a few bullets into this shack."
"Oh, rats! Nothing like that is going to happen!" sneered Lanky, for the horseman was far enough away to prevent their low voices from reaching his ears. "He's just taking a last look at the rookery here, that's all.
"What sort of a crackling sound was that just then?" demanded Paul suspiciously.
"Didn't happen to catch anything. What did it sound like?" asked Lanky, carelessly enough and continuing to watch the sitting Zeke.
"Just like you'd started your cooking fire, Lanky. And say, I smell smoke right now, I tell you!"
"That settles the question of why he's hanging around so!" exclaimed Frank. "He's set fire to this old hotel, and wants to see it blaze up!"
"Gee, whiz, that makes it look bad!" ejaculated Lanky Wallace, as he too grasped the serious dilemma by which they were now confronted.
CHAPTER XIX
SEARCHING FOR LOST MOUNTAIN
Ifthe three boys attempted to flee from the burning rookery they would of course be discovered and possibly fired upon by that grim watcher.
"Frank, do you reckon he guessed we were squatting up here and means to give us a chance to be roasted?" asked the now thoroughly alarmed Paul, not so capable of meeting trouble coolly, as Frank Allen had always shown himself to be.
"I hardly believe it's quite as bad as that," the other replied. "After firing the shack, he's felt inclined to hold up and watch how his work gets to moving."
"Then you think he may skip out in time to let us drop out of a window or slip down those ricketty stairs, do you?"
"Let's hope so, anyhow, Paul."
Lanky, however, was almost boiling over with poorly suppressed disgust.
"Huh! does that Zeke think we're a bunch of Thanksgiving turkeys that he starts a fire under ourfeet, which, given a little free scope is going to make this place feel like a Dutch oven? I object to being finished in such a cheap way."
He moved his gun menacingly as he said this.
"Do you mean you want to get a crack at Zeke, and tumble him off his pony out there?" queried Paul.
"Well, maybe it'd do the job just as well if I shot the cayuse instead," Lanky suggested, drawing the line at taking human life, something that so far in his existence he had never tried to do.
"Hold your horses, Lanky," advised Frank. "He may be going in another minute or two, and it'll be some little time before that blaze can reach us. As a last resort, if all else fails, I'll agree to let you shoot at Zeke to cripple him or his bronc so that he'll not be able to ride away to warn Yesson, or, on the other hand, harm us here."
Three minutes more passed. So worked up were Lanky Wallace and Paul Bird that it seemed double that time to them.
The fire downstairs was now roaring, and the eyes of the boys began to smart because of the fumes of acrid smoke that ascended the open stairs.
"Oh, bully! Bully! He's whirled his pony around and is going off on a gallop!" announced Paul.
"About time, if he wanted to save his bacon; because I'd have got a bead on his pony in anotherminute," Lanky said in tones that breathed both jubilation and threats. "Me for the window and a long jump!"
"Take things coolly, Lanky," came from Frank. "You may break a leg if you go over in a hurry. The fire hasn't done much on this side of the house so far, and we can take our own time in getting down. Since the stairs are all ablaze, of course our only road is by way of the window. Here's a rope on this old bed mattress. If it's strong enough we can make good use of it."
A test proved this to be a fact, so Frank insisted that Paul go first, to be followed by Lanky Wallace. Then he himself left the room. His last glimpse of the interior of the upper story of the doomed hotel showed him that hungry tongues of flame were beginning to flash through the open doorway, as though reaching out for victims.
Once safely on the ground, the boys moved back, since the heat of the burning structure made it uncomfortable.
"Bully bonfire, all right!" declared Lanky. "Wonder if it's bound to tackle any of these other ghosts of shacks and clean off the whole of Gold Fork?"
"Let's hope not," Frank told him. "If there's any danger that way, we've got to get busy and hustle our stores out of the cabin where we hid the lot."
"You said something that time, Frank," declared Lanky. "After all, I'm not hankering for a diet of grizzly bear steaks, wolf chops, or gopher hash," and he looked at Paul with a sparkle in his eyes.
"Lanky," put in Frank, "you do love to stuff any gullible comrade, whenever the opportunity arises."
It turned out that fortune favored the boys in some ways. First of all, there was an utter absence of wind, so that the fire did not sweep wildly out toward the other dry and flimsy structures. Then again the recent downpour, called by Jerry a cloudburst, had thoroughly saturated the shacks.
Some three of those nearest the former hotel did succumb to the tremendous heat and burst into blaze but the boys saw they could not in turn communicate with the adjoining ones, since a wide space came between, over which the flames could not possibly jump unless a wind arose, something very unlikely to happen.
"Reckon that smoke will bring our folks back hot-footed," Lanky suggested, watching the billowing volumes soaring straight upward just before the utter collapse of the once busy hotel.
"They'll be all balled up trying to guess what's happened here at the mining camp," added Paul.
It came to pass that such was the case. Something like an hour afterwards Mr. Wallace and histwo companions were seen coming on a run, and looking more than anxious.
"No harm done, Dad!" called out Lanky, to relieve his father's mind.
"How did that fire start, son?" asked the other, looking dubiously at Lanky, who, however, shook his head vigorously as he replied:
"Not this time, Dad! It happened to be a man going by the name of Zeke—don't know the rest, because we didn't hear it mentioned."
"Zeke Spavin, I'd judge," put in Zander Forbes. "Was he a big brutish-looking fellow with a shiny bald top-piece?"
"Yes."
"Well, he belongs over with the Double Z outfit. Tell us what you've run across since we pulled out."
The story was soon told, and the boys found themselves praised for having handled a delicate situation so cleverly.
"What do you reckon, Zander," asked the curious and wondering Lanky, "that big gump had hidden down there in the cellar of the old hotel that he wanted burned forever from any prying eyes?"
The puncher squinted his eyes and frowned before giving his opinion.
"Course, I don't know for sure, and I wouldn't be bothered digging in the ashes of this shack just tosatisfy my curiosity. But as Jerry here will remember, some years ago there was talk around this section to the effect that Zeke Spavin had made way with another puncher named Hick Davis."
"They was seen together jest before Hick he disappeared," Jerry took up the tale; "an' a heap of us allers did b'lieve Zeke an' his pal must hev hed words, went firin' mad, clinched, an' thet Hick he got his. Mebbe now Zeke, bein' clost to this hyah place, done buried his man in the cellar o' the hotel thar."
"That would seem to explain his scared way of looking down into the cellar through the trapdoor in the floor," Frank observed. "And thinking he'd have an easier mind if all evidence was destroyed, the notion to burn down the hotel came to him. That was why he left his hat behind."
"What luck did you have, Dad? Found that Lost Mountain, I hope," said Lanky, after some further talk about the fire.
"I'm sorry to say we didn't meet with much success, son. But we've decided to go on a new track to-morrow, and hope for better luck."
They found a good place to make camp, avoiding the vicinity of the deserted town, lest their enemies return on some account and give them trouble. The ponies were not forgotten, and both Mr. Wallace and Zander admitted that Jerry's natural corral was the finest freak of nature they had ever seen.
Another day dawned, and once more the three men set out. It was a long day to the boys. Lanky put in a portion of his time in fishing for trout in a noisy stream of icy water that ran down the mountainside not far away.
When he came back about noon he carried a string of the fattest and freshest speckled trout Frank and Paul had ever seen.
"Game fighters, every one of 'em, in the bargain!" declared the fisherman. "You must go along with me this afternoon, boys, and we'll lay in enough to feed the whole bunch."
This they did, and with such success that the memory of that day's sport would remain with the young sportsmen as a fragrant memory.
"We sure must ask permission to get busy ourselves to-morrow," said Lanky, as they once more made camp. "If the men are knocked out again to-day it'd be only fair to give us a chance to best them. Our vacation's getting along, and soon we'll be on our way back to Columbia, to spend the rest of this blooming summer."
When Mr. Wallace listened to the appeal from Lanky, he agreed that since the three chums had had so much to do with finding the two maps and advancing the spark of their common cause, it should be as they wished.
Paul, however, was to be grievously disappointed,for his ankle, which he had sprained on first coming to Rockspur Ranch, began to trouble him again.
"Hard luck, Paul," Frank told him, on taking a look at the painful joint. "You've gone and knocked that ankle against a root or a rock, and if you're wise you'll lay low for a couple of days."
So when the others started forth with fair hopes of accomplishing something worth while, poor Paul was left to tend camp.
"Be sure and make your way up to the corral along toward noon," Lanky told him: "so as to see that our ponies are O.K.—that is, if your ankle lets you limp that far."
"No trouble about it, I guess," returned the chagrined Paul, who naturally did not like to be left behind when his chums were going to be in harness and do some exploring.
"Cook yourself a fat lunch, too," advised Lanky, feeling sorry for the disappointed boy. "It'll help pass the hours away. At most, we expect to show up some time before sundown. By-by! Keep an eye out for those tough men, though I don't believe they mean to return here for days, if ever."
So Frank and Lanky went off, never dreaming that they were fated to pass through another wonderful experience before again setting eyes on the chum they left behind.
Lanky and Frank learned just where the othershad done most of their looking for the so-called Lost Mountain, in the depths of which, they understood, was the five-fingered cave that Josh Kinney used to visit regularly, to replenish his depleted treasury by a fresh haul from his deposit of gold nuggets.
Before leaving the camp Lanky and Frank, between them, had laid out a plan of campaign. Following this they now set off on a tangent with the course taken a short time before by Mr. Wallace, Jerry Brime and Zander Forbes.
"We'll try out our scheme," Lanky declared later on, as they continued to walk along; "and then if it fails to bring results, why, to-morrow we can skirmish over in the region they've been combing day after day."
The morning passed, and so far the boys had not run across a single thing to give them encouragement.
"We don't seem to be getting anywhere," observed Frank.
"Let's swing more to the left, along this dip in the mountain," suggested Lanky. "Then we'll be gradually getting back to camp, and at the same time nearing the region where dad and his gang are working.
"It's mighty wild and leery looking over in that quarter," observed Frank. "Looks to me as thoughNature had tried to turn things upside down many a time, in days long passed. Been landslides, too, that have changed the whole face of the country, carrying acres of trees and rocks down the mountain."
"That's one reason," observed the other eagerly, "I want to hunt there for the Lost Mountain which, you know, we decided was only a big mound. Remember, we figured it out from certain marks on the map that they stood for landslides? Let's go, Frank."
"A snack first, for I'm hungry, and then we're off," came the reply.
"All right. I've never yet declined to eat," laughed Lanky.
The boys found that the going became more difficult as one hour, and then two hours crept past. Still Lanky seemed to be growing more and more confident.
"Let me tell you, Frank!" he said later on. "Right now I firmly believe we're a whole lot closer to Lost Mountain than dad has ever been in three days' search. Why, any one of the several big humps we've run across might turn out to be the seat of Kinney's find."
"But, somehow," interjected Frank, who had been gazing anxiously heavenward, "I don't like the looksof the sky with all those black wind clouds scudding up so fast. We are bound to get some kind of a gale before a great while."
"Shucks! it may be only a wind storm," jeered Lanky.
"Maybe. But a wind storm can do as much harm sometimes as anything on this earth."
Five minutes afterwards an ominous roaring sound that chilled the blood in their veins came to their ears. The roaring grew in depth and intensity.
CHAPTER XX
THE AVALANCHE
"What'scoming down on us, Frank?" Lanky called out in a voice filled with apprehension, as the roaring sound rapidly grew more and more terrible.
"I don't know," came the reply. "Something we've never run up against before, I take it!"
"An earthquake?"
"Hardly that, Lanky. So far we haven't felt any movement to the mountain here. That wind, though, is whipping things something fierce. See that big branch of a cedar tree going off like a balloon! It's more like a cyclone than anything else, but I never heard of them in a mountain district."
"Grab hold of something!" bellowed Lanky, alarmed by the growing darkness and the wild clamor. "Did you ever see such a country for big things happening—first a cloudburst, and now—this whooper of a tornado!"
"I'm bothered most about something else," admitted Frank, though he had to say it in the ear of his chum to make himself heard.
"What is it, Frank?"
"A landslide!" came back, to make Lanky shiver afresh.
"Great Cæsar's ghost! do you reckon we're going to be caught by a slip of the mountain side, Frank?"
"I hope not, Lanky. But we're unfortunate to be in the path of that kind of turnover."
"Humph, I always said I'd be willing to try anythingonce," Lanky admitted, as if in contrition. "But say, I draw the line at getting in the path of a slide that could bury a whole town like Columbia. Frank, can't we do something to better our chances?"
"How?" demanded the other, a bit confused himself.
"Run for second base, and slide!" bellowed Lanky, who used this figurative language without intending any levity in the least, but because it came handiest to the tongue of a baseball enthusiast.
"If we only knew where the old thing was apt to come whooping down, Lanky, we might take a chance. But for all we can tell, it's as safe right here as anywhere else."
"Guess that's so," agreed the distressed Lanky. "But, shucks, it's hard lines to just hang around and wait to see whether you stick or get a free ride atop an avalanche!"
Nevertheless, there was absolutely nothing else for them to do. Indeed, the wind storm was by thistime so frightful that had the boys attempted to move along the side of the steep mountain they were apt to be snatched up and carried away like thistle-down on a summer's breeze.
"Gettin' worse and worse!" called out Lanky, a few minutes after the decision had been made to stay where they were and try to "duck" in case they were given any warning of the coming of a great slide.
From one particular quarter they now heard a dreadful confusion of noises that in Frank's mind could mean only one thing. There were also distinct vibrations of the rocks underfoot that convinced him of the truth.
"That's caused by a slide somewhere over to the right," he told Lanky, who was clutching a near-by tree in order to keep from being blown away.
"Don't see anything of it, Frank, do you?"
"Air's filled with all sorts of things—dead leaves, branches ripped from pinon and oak trees, all whirling around like mad," called back Frank. "But it's over that way, I'm sure."
"I'm glad it's gone past and didn't touch us out between the bases," cried Lanky. "Do you think that wind's letting up any?"
"Not a bit! Getting stronger, if anything! Worst's yet to come, I'm afraid, Lanky."
"Wow, that's tough luck!" shouted the other atthe same time trying to brace himself so as to seem like his old self, ready to snap his fingers at trouble and grin in the face of big odds. "Wonder if we'll pull through alive, Frank?"
"Don't talk that way!" he heard his comrade shout, as the gale howled and the mountain continued to tremble under the shock of thousands of tons of rock and earth and undermined trees. "We'll set our teeth and do our level best. Nobody on earth could do more!"
"You said something that time, Frank! But, gee whiz, it'sawful!"
The boys crouched there and waited, clinging to a hope that the avalanche they had heard crashing down the side of the mountain not half a mile away would be the only slip accompanying that storm.
Under most circumstances they could have done something to better their condition; but such was not the case now. Frank felt like a grain of sand on the seashore when confronting such convulsions. Earthquakes and the eruptions of vast volcanoes are the most terrible of all the convulsions of nature; and before them the bravest shrink, unable to cope with such colossal happenings.
Minutes appeared like hours to the two cowering lads. Their hearts seemed to jump into their throats at every fresh outburst of the warring elements, as though they feared the end had come, and theywould never again see the loved ones far away in the old home town.
"Don't believe I can stand this much longer, Frank!" complained Lanky. At the same time he realized how foolish it was to say such a thing, when so absolutely helpless to better conditions.
"Get a fresh grip on yourself, Lanky!" was all the other could say to comfort the shivering one, for Frank was far from feeling confident as to the outcome of their new and dreadful adventure.
"It's coming again, Frank!" shrieked Lanky a short time afterwards, as once more the side of the mountain commenced to tremble under their feet.
"Seems so," Frank, between stiff lips. "Keep a grip on yourself, Lanky. It will pass. I guess we'll pull through all right."
There is nothing more apt to carry a feeling of panic to the human heart than to feel the solid earth, which all his life he had deemed staple, quiver and writhe as if in agony. Small wonder then that stout-hearted Lanky Wallace found himself gripped with increasing fear.
Frank caught hold of his chum's arm. He knew that the touch of reassuring fingers was more apt to steady Lanky than any cheering words he might utter. Besides, talking under such appalling conditions was anything but an easy thing.
This second tremor also passed off, and again thetwo young prospectors found themselves safe. Lanky began to recover a part of his customary assurance.
"If only that's the wind-up of these slides, then everything'll look bright again," he called out. "Oh, Frank, there sure is a break in those black clouds nearly overhead, for I caught a glimpse of sunlight!"
"Yes, that's so," replied his chum, and then adding hurriedly: "Hold tight, Lanky, for here's where we get ours!"
The grinding noise came on once more, closer, more dreadful than ever, and the boys reeled like drunken men and held their breath with awe. Wildly did the side of the great mountain, home of slides, tremble and writhe. Above them the lads could hear the deafening noise of the oncoming mass of dislodged material, rushing down to find rest far below amidst the remnants of former similar catastrophes.
It seemed as though all creation must be in eruption, with massive rocks piling over each other and racing down the slide.
Lanky, completely overcome, fell down on his hands and knees as though exhausted and hopeless. For an indefinite space of time he felt himself moving, at first swiftly downward, then with diminished speed.
Then things came to an abrupt stop—and he was still alive!
The movement of the slipping mountain had ceased as suddenly as it had begun. Even the wild howling wind had discontinued, as though the wand of some magician had subdued its fierce clamor.
CHAPTER XXI
IN LUCK AGAIN
"Frank!Oh, Frank!"
No longer did Lanky feel that sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach at having the solid ground underfoot heaving and grumbling. So, almost unconsciously, he had shrieked out that one word—the name of his faithful chum, on whose arm he had come to lean as though it were indeed a tower of strength.
"I'm here close by you, Lanky!" he heard.
"But you're not badly hurt, I hope, Frank?" burst out the other, a new anxiety discernible in his quavering voice.
"Nothing to cripple me—a few bruises, and such things. How about you?"
"Not saying a word, I'm so tickled to be alive. The bumps I got were just gentle taps to what I might have picked up, if only we hadn't been just on the outer edge of the slide."
When once more they came in contact the grateful boys shook hands in mutual congratulation.
"As near a miracle as ever I expect to run across, that's right," Lanky asserted. "And, Frank, the wind storm that started all this business going has petered out."
It was indeed a fact, for no longer did the boys catch that roaring series of noises as the storm rushed over the mountains. The black clouds hid the heavens, however, and made such a pall that it was almost dark around them.
"Let's try to have a look-in," suggested the once-more eager Lanky. "We'll see what sort of new stamping ground we've lit on after our run down on the avalanche."
All about them great masses of rock and trees that had come down from above, were piled up in confused heaps, with strange looking gullies lying between that Lanky started to call coulees, after the Western way.
"One thing's sure," said Frank, after they had climbed around for a short time, with more or less difficulty; "we're not going to get back to camp this night. As darkness comes on it would be foolish for us to keep moving about in this wilderness of upturned things."
"I reckon you told the truth when you said that," admitted the other, grasping the still serious nature of their predicament. "Why, we might start another slide on the jump! Some of these bouldersseem to be set on a pivot and the least shove would set 'em rolling, knocking others off their perch, and—Frank! what's that long split off there that looks as if the face of the rocks had been burst open?"
"Just what happened here, Lanky; but not with this slide. It might be a thousand, or ten thousand, years ago when that big fissure was made. Let's crawl over that way and investigate."
"Well, I'm going to be prepared for anything," ventured the other. "I want to say that we were some lucky not to lose our guns when coming down on that toboggan slide. Sometimes these black-looking caves are dens for wild animals."
"All right," said Frank quickly. "Keep on your guard, then. But you mustn't forget we're out skirmishing for a cave; and on that account we ought to look this one over."
A brief investigation convinced the two boys that it was too big an undertaking for them to handle that afternoon.
"This is as good a place for us to camp in as any," suggested Frank. "If we're of the same mind in the morning, why, we'll put in some work here. I don't know just why I should feel that way, but some sort of hunch seems to tell me we'll find something worth our while if we go far enough."
"Wow! but it's as black as my pocket inside there, Frank." As he said this Lanky, on hands and knees,was staring past the guardian jaws of rock into the ugly looking fissure.
"That's why we'll have to wait for morning before we try to explore what lies inside the mountain," replied Frank.
"You mean we'll have to lay in some torches, so as to see our way—is that the idea, Frank?"
"A whole lot of faggots that will burn, but not too fast," the other answered, having already mapped out this part of the scheme. "You can understand what a pickle we'd be up against, wandering around in an unknown cavern with our last torch flickering to its wind-up."
"That would be tough, I own up, Frank; I hope it doesn't come along. But we sure do seem to get our feet in a heap of stirring happenings. It's like jumping out of the frying pan into the fire with us these days. But say, when do we eat, I'd like to know?"
Frank chuckled as he went on to say:
"Finished the last crumb of our lunch at noon, you remember." At the words his companion in trouble emitted a groan and began to rub the pit of his stomach sympathetically. "But wait till you hear how manna seems to come down to us, as it did to the Children of Israel in the Arabian desert long years ago. Look over yonder, Lanky. What do you see, boy? Tell me!"
Lanky looked, started, and rubbed his eyes, half suspecting that he must be "seeing things" that had no actual foundation.
"Frank— Why, say, it er—looks like a deer!" he exclaimed.
"It is a deer—caught in the big jam and killed clean by that rock covering its head. A young buck in the bargain, I'd say, and just begging to be cut into slices for two hungry fellows' supper."
"Lead me to it, Frank!" ejaculated Lanky, as he drew his hunting-knife. "Talk to me about favorites of fortune, we're sure the luckiest fellows west of the old Mississippi. Venison for supper—plenty of it for a whole week—and thrown in front of us like that!" snapping his fingers. "Whoopee! what's the use worrying when things come tumbling along by themselves?"
So the two boys settled down to making camp then and there. Frank started his fire, with a vast abundance of fine fuel to be had for the picking up, while Lanky undertook to skin the deer. He then cut off steak and chops until Frank warned him they were only two in the mess, and not a whole regiment.
As evening drew near they sat down to enjoy a fine spread, cooked in genuine hunters' style, with no limit to anything save their own capacity.
The sky cleared as they sat there, and it was difficult for them to realize that only a few hours before all nature seemed to be reeling and rocking and being turned upside-down in a vast convulsion.
Morning arrived, and after a good breakfast they cooked quite a lot of the venison, to carry along with them in their exploration of the promising cave back of the jaws of the wide fissure.
Next they fashioned a pile of inflammable torches by the aid of Lanky's handy little camp hatchet, which he always carried attached to his belt and had often found valuable for use in emergencies like the present.
"All ready, Frank! Let's get a move on!" announced the impatient one, as he bound a large share of the torches to his back, picked up his gun, and awaited the word to make the plunge.
One torch at a time was all they intended to use, since it would give enough illumination for their purpose and almost double the capacity of their stock in hand.
"Fills the bill like fun," announced Lanky, after Frank had succeeded in lighting a billet of dry wood, the flare really illuminating the walled-in space between the rocky barriers. "Now to find out if this is going to lead two plucky prospectors to the corn-crib where they'll get their fill."
As the boys proceeded it became evident the strange fissure in the side of the rocky mountain was but a"breathing space," as Lanky called it, for much more wonderful things hidden further in the underground depths.
Sometimes Frank held the blazing torch, and then when a fresh one happened to be needed it would be Lanky who gripped it.
Several times they feared they had come upon the end of the passage. In each instance, however, a fresh way to continue was found, even though it was necessary for them to get down flat and wriggle along in snake-like fashion.
"Huh! we'll remember this last crawl as 'Fat Man's Misery,'" Lanky granted, after negotiating the difficult place successfully.
"It's got me guessing where we'll be apt to come out, what with all this twisting and turning," observed Frank, still later on, as they found themselves looking upon a capacious cavern, with a lofty ceiling where stalactites hung like immense icicles.
"And it's bothering me," spoke up Lanky, "how we could find any outlet at all, if our supply of torches or matches should give out. What with all this hard work, I'm as thirsty as—Frank, we made a foozle play after all!"
"Forgot to fetch any water along—that's a fact," admitted the other, realizing the mistake when it was too late to remedy it. Then, on second thought, he continued: "After all, we hadn't even a canteen tohold any supply. Besides, I reckon there's aplenty dripping from these stalactites and trickling down the walls. It ought to quench our thirst."
Lanky tried the plan and found there was no taste to the cold water, though it certainly must contain more or less lime, to make those odd formations.
They had left this monster cavern and were passing along another chain of queer-shaped pockets, all connected, when Lanky, who held the torch, came to a sudden pause, so that Frank bumped into him.
"What's the matter?" demanded Frank.
"I glimpsed a pair of yellow eyes ahead! And listen to the growling, will you?" gasped Lanky.
CHAPTER XXII
AN ENDLESS CAVERN CHAIN
"I seewhat you mean, Lanky, and hear the growling to boot!" exclaimed Frank Allen.
"Some sort of wild creature makes its den in these caves!" ejaculated Lanky. "Maybe it's a wolf, or else a big cat! It might even be a mountain lion."
"We can't do anything but make a stab at guessing," Frank told him. "One thing is certain—we've either got to turn tail and quit, or else——"
"Plug it!" snapped Lanky decidedly. "Here, Frank, hold my light so I can kneel down and sight between those twin yellow spots."
"It's a risky thing to do, Lanky. But, for one, I don't want to go back like a whipped cur, just because of a lone cat! Wait a minute! I've got an idea that may pay."
He took the burning torch and started to fix one end in a crevice about six feet up from the rocky floor.
"Bully for you, Frank! I get you," cried Lanky, grasping the idea in a flash. "Two guns ought to make surer work of the spitter than one. Now,count three when you've got your aim, and we'll fire together."
At the word both reports rang out with a deafening concussion echoing and re-echoing along the passage. There was no attack, but the boys, as they pumped another cartridge into each gun chamber, could detect a strange shuffling noise. Then all became deathly still again.
"Huh! got him that time, all right!" said Lanky triumphantly.
While he took the torch and started forward, cautious Frank held his gun in readiness for immediate work. But there was no need of another shot, for they found a wolf of unusual size lying where it had fallen.
"I'm sorry we had to do it," remarked Frank, "because it's a mother wolf, and like as not she's got a litter of whelps somewhere around here. If so be we happen to run across the bunch we'll have to knock them on the head, because they'll starve to death with the mother gone."
As the boys ran across no sign of the wolf's den, however, it was concluded she must have had it in one of the numerous squatty side passages they had encountered every little while. These they could not have searched even had they wished, as they were too low to admit of their crawling through, though a wolf might be easily able to do so.
Twice they fancied they had been in certain caverns before, because of familiar signs. So to avoid repetitions, they took to marking their passage and seeking fresh avenues for making progress.
Hours passed in this way.
Their stock of torch-wood was commencing to lower, and Frank began to wonder if they would not display wisdom by discontinuing the exploration of those bewildering caverns until the others of the party could join in the work.
But there was so much fascination connected with the possibility of running upon what they sought at any moment, that he allowed himself to consent to Lanky's eager plea to "go on just a little further." Lanky, on his part, felt absolutely certain that they must be close to that mysterious five-fingered cave so plainly marked on the chart and would stumble on it soon.
"We've got to eat sparingly of this cooked meat," advised Frank, as they sat on a broken stalactite that had fallen from the roof and partook of a "snack," their stomachs having been calling for food for some time.
"Say," breezed Lanky, his mouth full of cold venison, "that sounds as if you might expect to be marooned down here in all these twists and turns and big vaulted halls for a whole week!"
"You never can tell," was the rather noncommittalanswer he received. "Better to make it last two whole days, even if we have to keep on short rations, than to gobble the last scrap and then go hungry."
"Oh, rats, Frank! Something seems to tell me we've reached the end of our hard luck and are nearly ready to fall in with our own at last. Anyway, let's find one more big cave, if not more; and after that when you say the word we'll throw up the sponge. But only for a time! I'm bound to light on that five-fingered cave, if I keep searching all the rest of the summer."
So they went along for another stretch of time. Finally Frank came to a sudden halt.
"Anything doing?" snapped his mate, bringing his gun up and peering earnestly into the half gloom lying beyond.
"Only that I'm about all in, and we both need rest after all we've gone through lately," Frank told him decisively.
"Just as you say, Frank," Lanky agreed. To tell the truth his own knees were shaky from so much crawling and bending down, in negotiating many of the low and sinuous passages.
"We're coming to another cave, I imagine from the way things run, Lanky, and no matter what it looks like, we'll manage to get some rest. While we sleep we'll be saving our stock of torches. Afterwe've got back our strength will be time enough to think of finding some sort of outlet to this queer old rambling underground place that makes me think of what I've read about those catacombs under the city of Rome."
"Sounds as though you didn't want to go back over our course and make use of that same crevice for an exit, Frank."
"As the cook says," Frank told him, with a little laugh, "when giving directions for stewing a rabbit: 'First get your rabbit!' That's the prime thing. With us it would mean find the crevice once more."
Lanky whistled on hearing Frank say that.
"I opine from the way you talk," he observed, "that you don't bank much on our chances for doing that!"
"Well, to begin with, Lanky, we've used two-thirds of our stock of fire-sticks up coming here, and long before we could make that crevice again we'd be groping in pitch darkness, also in danger of falling down one of the precipices we've been avoiding."
"Wow! that's tough luck I'd say, Frank! I've been so bent on finding that five-fingered cave I've let everything else slip out of my mind."
"And more than that," continued the other prospector, "I feel pretty certain we couldn't locate that crevice in a week of hunting!"
"Lost! Lost, like the babes in the wood!" groaned Lanky, in pretended dismay but some real anxiety.
"Well," Frank informed his chum, "here's our cave, just as I reckoned would be the case; so after a little look around we'll pick out the softest rock we can find and say good-bye to all our troubles for a time."
"I'm all to the good on the proposition," stated Lanky. "Some cave, believe me! With a low ceiling, too. No stalactites growing downward here, you notice."
"No. But clap your eyes on all those big bats hanging head downward from rough places in the roof. Must be hundreds, almost thousands of the ugly, winged, ratlike creatures. There, some are starting to whirl around now, seeing our light."
More and more of the bats swung in circles, both big and small. Lanky struck at them with what remained of his bunch of torches, and several times let out a screech of triumph when he made a good hit.
By degrees the bats vacated their sleeping chamber, and when quiet had been restored the boys looked for a promising place to lie down and sleep.
"We can take a closer survey after we wake up," suggested Frank, with a reason he did not care to explain just then. But as Lanky was dead for sleepand tired, he failed to ask questions, as was his custom.
They were not disturbed. If any of those fierce-looking winged denizens returned to their roost, neither of the boys knew of the fact, so deep was their slumber for some hours.
Frank felt confident that there was some opening not far away from this cave, because those hosts of bats could never have come from such a long distance as that crevice.
When Lanky opened his eyes he saw that Frank had lighted a torch and was coming toward him, bearing one in his hand.
"What time do you think it can be, Frank?" was his first question, and a very natural one too, since Frank carried a small wrist watch.
"About sunrise, I'd judge," Lanky was told. He noticed Frank looked unusually smiling, upon which he pointed a finger at him, and demanded:
"Here, what's all that grinning about? You've got something up your sleeve, Frank Allen, which you're meaning to tell me right off the handle. Go to it, now."
"For one thing," said the other impressively, "I noticed something before we lay down to sleep; but didn't mention it, because we were both tuckered out and needed rest most of all. Scramble up off your downy couch and come along with me."
Lanky trotted at his heels, all on edge, as he told himself.
"Is it another exit to this bunch of caves?" he asked.
"No," came the answer. "But I'm dead certain there must be one not a great way off. Those bats in here told me as much. Then, here's the other convincing reason. Look down, and not up, Lanky."
"Wow! A heap of ashes, eh? Shows that we're not the only chaps who've been wandering around for hours and hours in these passages."
"Notice what a lot of wood ashes there are," pursued Frank. "That would mean a fire has been burned many times. Long ago, too, I figure, though never a gust of wind disturbs the heap back here."
Lanky grew more deeply absorbed in the way Frank was putting things.
"See here!" he blurted out, "open up an tell a fellow just what you're hinting at, Frank. Do you think it may have been old Josh Kinney who used to camp out here from time to time? If that's so, as he must have toted all his wood from the outside, you're right about there being another entrance to the caves not a great way off which we can find if we hunt systematically."
"I've been poking around a bit this morning while you snoozed," continued Frank.
"Yes, and what've you discovered to make you look so pleased?"
"I suspected it when I saw these ashes, and now I know it's a dead open-and-shut thing."
"Whoopee! Do you mean—" blazed out the overjoyed Lanky.
"Just what I do!" broke in Frank. "Right now we're in that five-fingered cave we saw marked on the map!"
CHAPTER XXIII
KEPT UNDER COVER
"That'sbully news you're giving me, Frank!" exclaimed Lanky Wallace, as he impulsively gripped the hand of his loyal chum and squeezed it. "Let's get busy and try to locate Kinney's treasure chest."
"After we've had a bite to eat," Frank told him. "Long ago I made it my habit never, when I could help it, to start a day's work on an empty stomach."
They made quite a dent in their slender stock of meat, but both were now quite confident that it was only a matter of a few hours before they would be once more under the blue sky.
Frank and Lanky consulted that second little chart, and also conferred together. Then they started to search in the most likely locality.
Hours crept past and still the object of all this peering around and testing out all likely nooks in the five-fingered cave seemed to be as far from being discovered as in the beginning of the search.
Their stock of torches was growing gradually less and less, so that it began to look rather serious. Tobe left in utter darkness, without knowing which way to turn in order to gain the outer air, also with hunger commencing to make them uncomfortable! It was not a pleasant outlook, Lanky admitted.
Then, just when both boys were of a mind to give up further hunting for the secret hiding place of Kinney's hoard of nuggets, they ran across something that filled them with sudden hope.
Lanky managed to stumble over an unseen spur of rock jutting out from the wall low down, and when he threw out his hand to save himself from falling he thrust it into what seemed to be a narrow crevice that neither of them had before noticed.
That hand chanced to be clutching the torch, and almost mechanically Lanky leaned forward to thrust the blaze inside the crack. He immediately gave vent to a shout that echoed through the cave and set a dozen startled bats to swooping in circles overhead.
"Frank, what d'you think! We've hit it plum center!" he yelled. "Just peep in there and tell me what you see!"
"As sure as you live, Lanky, I do believe you stumbled on purpose and knew it was here all the while! Reach in, and see whether we're dreaming or not!"
Lanky hastened to follow the suggestion.
"That's the stuff, I tell you, Frank!" he screamed,holding some object up in his hand. "A real gold nugget and weighing as much as three ounces, at that; with plenty more snuggled down in there. Talk to me about luck! Why, the Wallaces have got them all whipped, hands down!"
"All right, then," said Frank seriously. "We know now where the cache is. Our business is to get out of this place, find the rest of the party, come with those strong gunny-sacks, and carry off the whole of Kinney's hoard."
"Gee whiz!" commented Lanky, "the old man must have been digging those nuggets right along, carrying a few away with him, and chucking the rest in his stone bank here. Shall I take this one with me, Frank?"
"Yes, we ought to have some evidence to show we're not bluffing when we reel off the story of our adventures. Each of us might put a few in our pockets. But go slow, and don't load yourself down, Lanky, became you might start another landslide, you know."
They were actually on their last sliver of torch-wood when they turned their backs on the queer five-fingered cave and plunged into a narrow passage. Frank, after a close examination, decided this must be the one the old prospector had used during his periodical visits to his secret claim.
Before they had gone far they found to their dismay that the light was failing. Lanky began to worry, but Frank cheered him up.
"I'm certain I can feel fresh air on my cheeks," he announced. "That of course, would indicate we're close on that exit right now. I've still got a little stock of matches in my safe, and we'll make them last as long as we can."
"Who's afraid?" Lanky broke out, with fresh animation. "After such luck in absolutely falling on to that cache of nuggets, we're not going to let little things knock us out. You're right, though, about that fresh air, Frank, because I can sniff the same every breath I draw."
The torch flickered, and went out.
"Look ahead, Lanky. What do you see?" called out Frank.
"Streaks of daylight, looks like to me."
So it proved to be, and a few minutes later the two boys emerged from the cave to find the sun shining brightly, with nothing in sight to diminish their overwhelming joy.
"We must mark this spot so we can find it again without any trouble," Frank suggested.
"Sure thing," agreed his chum. "And it'd be wise for us to sort of blaze our way to camp."
This they proceeded to do as they made their way along the side of the mountain. It was so rough,after that frightful jumble following the landslides, that they made but tedious progress.
"Never get the ponies in here," Lanky grumbled at one time. "So, like as not, we'll just have to tote all that stuff out on our backs. Whee! it's a bit heavy, even three small nuggets of the same."
"But you'd never have been happy if you hadn't found the cache, remember," Frank told him, at which Lanky grinned.
"That was all bluff, Frank, and you know it," he laughed. "Why, I'm fairly quivering with happiness, and feel like shouting for all that's out, to blow off steam. But when I think of that Nash Yesson and his gang, I shut down on all idea of making a racket."
It took them all of that morning to get close to the plateau where, as they well knew, Gold Fork was located, the former mining camp, taking its name from the clear little stream that ran down the side of the mountain another direction from the great canyon.
Great was the excitement in the camp when the two long overdue boys came in sight. Mr. Wallace and the men had sought for them all morning long, and were preparing to search in another direction when shouts told them the wanderers had been able to get back "under their own steam," to quote Lanky.
Then the story was told and the precious nuggetspassed from hand to hand, to prove it was an actual fact. Plans were immediately made to proceed to the cave in the morning in order to bring away the treasure. Mr. Wallace figured that they could transport it on their backs to the corral where their ponies were quartered, and then the journey back to Rockspur Ranch would be next in order.
Every one was to be in the party, even Paul, whose ankle, though still a bit painful, was not sore enough to keep him from feasting his eyes on that strange five-fingered cave, also the gold nuggets lying in the hiding place shrewd old Josh Kinney had chosen many years back as his treasure cache.
Thanks to the slashes Lanky had made on occasional dwarf oaks, they had no trouble whatever in attaining their goal. A large assortment of good torches had been prepared on the previous afternoon, consequently they lost no time in plunging into the passage so cleverly concealed behind a screen of thick vines hanging down the face of a small cliff.
When the last nugget had been drawn out from its depository and the entire collection fastened securely in some six stout gunny-sacks, the mouths of which were tied with strands of rope, they decided to lose no time in starting for the camp.
That was where they miscalculated, for something happened to interfere with their plans.
Zander Forbes, being in the lead, had just steppedout from behind the vines and turned an outlying rock when the smash of a gun was heard and he came backing into the hole again.
"Those sneaks have spotted us on the way here, and are lying in wait to do us up!" he announced.
Every one knew without asking that he meant Nash Yesson, Lef Sellers—if the Columbia shirk still hung on to the gang that had been abusing him so shamefully of late—and the rough boys from the boisterous Double-Z Ranch.
"Shot like they meant business, too," added the indignant and angry Zander, as he ruefully rubbed a red line on his neck that indicated the recent passage of a hot bullet.
"Then it's a case of siege with us," said Mr. Wallace, very much displeased. "We might manage to find that other exit in time, if the boys can remember the course they took. But the chances would be against our transporting such heavy weights as these sacks along. What would you advise, Jerry?"
"Give 'em hot cakes!" was the emphatic retort of the old puncher and prospector. "If I kin spot that Zeke, I'd git him, an' wipe out a ole score!"
So the siege began, and hours passed without any change worth while taking place. Frequently either Jerry or Zander would amuse themselves by a few old tricks known to pioneers and Indians alike in the days when caravans used to trek across the plains.
Both of their hats were perforated several times by well-aimed shots, and it was lucky that their heads did not happen to be in the coverings at the time, but only the sticks the two punchers used to raise the hats into the range of vision of their enemies.
The boys were worried to figure just how they could give their enemies the slip, having suggested, and thrown aside, a number of plans, when something entirely unexpected came about to lend them a helping hand.
"Well, well, well!" Zander was heard to say, with both wonder are glee in his voice. "Say, boys, what d'you think? We've got allies up yonder on the mountain side. Saw a puff of smoke, and, will you believe me? that skunk of a Nash Yesson jumped out from behind a rock where he'd been hiding and shooting this way. He's whooping things up and tumbling all over himself, like he'd been wounded some."
Lanky, already peering out from his cover, gave a wild yell.
"They've had enough already, are getting away in a big hurry, carrying Nash along like a log. Guess he got his finish that time, for both arms are dragging on the ground."
"But who can it be willing to give us the glad hand?" Paul asked, rather bewildered, knowing that in all probability, besides themselves are the Yessoncrowd, there was not a single human being in that section of the country.
It was speedy Lanky who again made an important discovery.
"Look what's coming down from up there—two men carrying guns! No, unless my eyes are fooling me, one of them's a girl rigged out like a regular sport hunter! Frank—don't faint now—but I believe it's Minnie Cuthbert!"
CHAPTER XXIV
CONCLUSION
Itproved to be Minnie Cuthbert, although Frank had to rub his eyes several times before he could prove to his doubting self they were not playing him tricks.
With Minnie was no other than the ranch foreman, Lige Smith. Apparently Lige was mighty well pleased because that shot of his had taken the wind out of the sails of the persistent Nash Yesson, whom none of them would, in all probability, ever run across again.
Minnie, after shaking hands with every one, Frank Allen first of all, produced a letter that she had for Mr. Wallace.
"It came just as you thought it would, Mr. Wallace," she told him, "and I coaxed Mrs. Wallace to let me come along with Lige, who's been the finest kind of gentleman and guide. You see, I'd made up my mind I wanted to see the Rocky Mountain country at close range; and when some girls set out to accomplish a certain thing that is reasonable,—well, there are many ways to get there."
Lanky was watching his father closely, anticipating the hearing of important news.
"I reckon now, Dad," he finally broke out, "by the way you're smiling, the thing's come out about as you wished. Did they select you instead of Mr. Ambrose Gilman to be president of the bank when Mr. Carberry retires next month?"
"So this letter informs me, son," replied the gentleman. "I left my address at the bank, as a matter of course, for I'd heard rumors you know, that either Gilman or I were in line for the place. Thank you a dozen times, Minnie, and you too, Lige, for getting me the news with the least possible delay."
Before attempting to transport all that gold to the place where it could be loaded on the ponies, it was decided a reconnaissance should be made.
Accordingly, Jerry, Zander Forbes and Lige Smith set off to scour the country and learn if indeed their late enemies had passed down the canyon and dropped out of the search for the gold in disgust.
This was found to be the case, as the three experienced punchers were clever hands at discovering and reading signs that those less knowing in woodcraft might have passed heedlessly by.
One piece of good luck fell their way. In some fashion—they never knew how—two of the pack ponies belonging to the Nash Yesson outfit were left behind. Possibly they had wandered away. At anyrate, they were found close to the corral. Some intuition apparently had caused them, once loose, to go to the place where so many of their species were gathered.
The addition of this pair made the problem of getting that heavy weight of gold nuggets to faraway Rockspur Ranch a less knotty one.
It was no easy task to carry such burdens on their backs from the outlet of the five-fingered cave to the deserted mining camp. By resting at frequent intervals on the way amidst the wreckage caused by the slide, they managed the work successfully.
Three days afterwards they started forth, descended the canyon, and after putting the foothills behind, commenced the long ride toward home.
"We must keep a sharp lookout for signs of that ugly crowd," Mr. Wallace suggested that night. "Somehow, I have an idea they may hang around here for a week or two, in the hope of still surprising us and taking this treasure away. I hope you'll post sentries each night, Lige."
Lige, being foreman at the ranch and having come to join the party, must from that time on be reckoned with as the leader of the expedition. Nor was Zander Forbes in the least unwilling to have the responsibility shifted to other shoulders.
Nothing happened that night, but on the following day while they were resting in a patch of timbergrowing about a dry waterhole, they had reason to believe they might be in for further trouble. Zander Forbes sighted a clump of horsemen cantering along, whom he recognized as the bunch they had outwitted.
"If they try for water here," Mr. Wallace remarked, as he too lay in the scrub along the border of the cottonwoods and watched to ascertain which way the wind would blow; "there's going to be a battle royal, and somebody's likely to get badly hurt."
Fortunately the lawless crowd kept straight ahead.
"They still have Nash along," said Paul. "Anyway, some sort of bundle's fastened on the back of their single pack-horse. But where can Lef Seller be?"
"Oh, I'm not worrying about that hard case," chimed in Lanky. "He's the slipperest fox I ever met, and you can trust him to know when he's got enough kicking around."
"Do you think, Frank," continued Paul, "he could have started back for his old home to eat humble pie and, with his mother to back him up, get another chance to walk straight?"
Frank shook his head.