CHAPTER XIIAMID THE GIANT SEQUOIAS
Stacy swept past, flinging back some unintelligible words, the ponies still tearing along after him. The Overland Riders shouted with laughter at the funny antics of the hobbled pack-horses. Kitty had forgotten to groan, and Idler was imbued with a new spirit of activity.
For the moment the outfit had forgotten all about Lieutenant Wingate. When finally they thought to look for him he was nowhere in sight.
“Hippy! Oh, Hippy!” hailed Tom Gray.
No answer came back from Hippy, who was stalking the mysterious something that had stampeded the ponies.
“What is it?” cried the Overlanders in one voice, as Stacy rode back to them wide-eyed.
“I don’t know. It was something big and awful. I couldn’t see all of it, but it looked to me like an elephant. Maybe it was a Bengal tiger, but I didn’t wait to see. If I had waited, the ponies would have run right over me. When I saw them coming I threw on the high-speed lever and lit out for home. I transmigrated. Where is my rifle? I am going back after that beast, whatever it may be and—”
“There goes Hippy across that open space,” cried Grace, pointing.
“Yes, and he is after something,” added Tom.
“Look! Oh, look!” cried Emma.
All eyes were turned in the direction indicated by Grace. They saw a dark object moving across the open space towards Hippy, then saw the lieutenant raise his rifle and fire. Still the object came on.
“It’s a bear! Hippy’s missed!” groaned Tom.
“I’ll wager my hat that Uncle Hippy didn’t miss,” answered Stacy. “He never misses—when he hits.”
Hippy raised his rifle and fired again.
“That was a hit!” cried Grace.
Stacy galloped his pony up the other side of the mountain.
“Came near making a meal of you, didn’t he, Uncle Hip?” called Stacy as he came up with Lieutenant Wingate.
Hippy shook his head.
“I tried to shoot him between the eyes, but he dodged as I pulled the trigger. Next time I couldn’t do any fine aiming because the bear was too close. Do you see what he is—a big cinnamon bear? I am going to have that skin. Go back and tell them to wait until I finish this job, and that we are going to have bear steak for supper to-night.”
Stacy galloped back with the message, then Tom rode out to assist in the skinning and to select such meat as he wished to carry with them. The bearskin proved to be very heavy, but Hippy insisted on taking it along, first, however, treating the skin so that it would keep until they reached a place where the curing and tanning might be continued.
Woo, upon observing the bear skin and the steaks taken from the animal, lapsed into song, which Stacy pretended not to hear. It irritated Chunky to listen to that “Hi-lee, hi-lo!” and put him into a fighting humor.
An hour after their delayed start they topped the rise on the opposite side of the canyon and paused to gaze over the peaks and rugged mountain-tops that lay before them in a vast panorama. Over yonder in the clouds hung the snow-capped peaks of the High Sierras, now and then taking on a purple shade from some tinted cloud.
“It doesn’t seem possible that we shall be able to make those mountains with our ponies, does it?” wondered Elfreda.
“Are we going there?” demanded Stacy.
“I believe so.”
“Hm-m-m-m!”
“Are you getting cold feet already?” teased Emma.
“Not yet, but I expect to when I get in those chilly looking snow-caps off yonder,” answered Stacy quickly. “This life is just one ridge after another.”
They had mounted ridges, and crossed broad and narrow valleys for some time without incident and the steady creak of saddle straps and girths was becoming monotonous, when suddenly Grace’s pony jumped clear of the ground with all four feet and began to back. Grace Harlowe, instantly understanding, called “Look out!” and whirled her pony about.
“What is the trouble, Grace?” called Tom, who was riding farther to the rear.
“A snake! I heard it, but do not know where it is.”
“Stay back. I will find him and dispatch him,” shouted Hippy, hurrying forward.
“Send him a message for me while you are about it. Tell him Emma Dean wishes him to transmigrate,” chortled Stacy.
Just then Lieutenant Wingate discovered the snake, and raising his rifle he aimed it over the head of his pony for a few seconds, then pulled the trigger.
“Did you get him?” shouted Nora.
“Of course he did. My Uncle Hip never misses anything,” declared Stacy.
“No. Not even food,” added Emma.
“You may all get off. I am going to skin the reptile. He is a fine specimen,” announced Lieutenant Wingate. “I propose to make a hat band of him. It isn’t everyone who can wear a rattler around his sombrero, you know.”
“I’ll say that was a fine shot,” declared Stacy.
“Yes, but not better than almost any other person could make,” differed Emma Dean.
“Velly fine. Me savvy fine shot,” interjected the Chinaman.
“Emma, in a way, is right,” spoke up Grace. “It does not take any sort of marksmanship at all to shoot the head from a rattler. Even a person who never has fired a gun in his life should be able to shoot one.”
Hippy laughed.
“You don’t believe it. Suppose you let Emma try it when next we meet a snake. Point your rifle at a rattler and he will line his head up with the muzzle. Move the muzzle from side to side and he will follow it, always keeping his head in line with it. Then, all you have to do is pull the trigger. Why, I believe I could shoot and hit one with my eyes shut. I think I should like to make the experiment next time we see a rattler,” said Grace.
“Never mind; never mind! We will take your word for it,” protested Stacy Brown. “We do not need a public demonstration.”
“It surely would be interesting,” agreed Elfreda.
“Oh, all right. Just let me know when the show is coming off and I’ll have business on the other side of the mountain,” declared the fat boy.
During this temporary halt the pack-horses had plodded on alone. They made a detour of the spot where the snake was being skinned, seeming instinctively to know where they were expected to go, and soon after they started off, Woo Smith followed with his “Hi-lee, hi-lo!”
About midday they topped a range of hills, and before them saw revealed a vast forest that stretched over more miles of mountain country than they cared to try to estimate. At first they had no idea of the bigness of the trees; it was merely a great forest.
Lieutenant Wingate, who had been gazing inquiringly at the scene, fanning himself with his sombrero, turned to his companions.
“Good people, you are now gazing on some of the big trees of California of which you no doubt have heard or read much. Before you lies the world-famous Sequoia forest. Let us push on. When you are among the trees you will get a better idea of their great height.”
“You should have been a guide on a sightseeing bus,” averred Emma, as the Overlanders rode on.
The party reached the edge of the great forest some two hours later, where, in the cool shadows, they halted for a rest.
“I am told,” resumed Hippy pompously, “that this forest comprises more than five thousand specimens of trees.”
“And you will also observe,” announced Emma Dean, standing up in her stirrups and waving her sombrero, “that many of them are from ten to twenty feet in diameter. At the great height to which they grow, the least leaning either way would cause the trees to break off. You will observe, also, the perfect symmetry of the trees. They are perfect works of art,” finished Emma, resuming her seat on the saddle.
“Hooray!” shouted Stacy Brown. “Emma has transmigrated again.”
Emma’s companions looked at her in amazement, then burst out laughing.
“Where in the world did you learn all that, darlin’?” questioned Nora Wingate admiringly.
“I heard the postmaster at Gardner telling Hippy about it,” answered Emma meekly, amid shouts of laughter at Lieutenant Wingate’s expense.
The scene was so impressive that the laughter of the Overland Riders soon died away, for the great silence of this wonderful forest had taken strong hold on them. Whereas all other forests in which they had traveled, were continually nodding and murmuring, the giant Sequoias stood in absolute calm. Tom Gray explained this silence by saying that, owing to their great height, the trunks were solid, the branches rigid and the movement very slight. Even though there might be some slight murmurings, the tops were so far above the ground that the human ear could not catch the faint rustling up there.
As the party moved on through the silent forest aisles, the bigness of the trees grew Upon them.
“You savvy big tlees?” asked Woo Smith finally, after a long period of silence on his part.
The Overlanders nodded.
“Do you know where there is a spring or a creek?” asked Tom.
“Me savvy spling,” nodded Woo.
“Lead us to it. Is it far from here?”
The guide answered with a shake of his head.
An hour later, no water being yet in sight, Grace called a halt.
“Woo, I do not believe you savvy any spring at all,” she said. “I think we should camp right where we are. It will soon be dark, and if we keep on going we shall undoubtedly be worse off than if we remain where we are. Smith, have you lost the trail?” she demanded.
Woo did not reply at once, but gazed up at the tops of the trees, muttering to himself.
“You’re lost! That’s what’s the matter,” grinned Stacy.
“Woo no lost. Tlail him lost. Me savvy tlail lost,” chuckled the Chinaman.
“I thought so,” agreed Hippy gravely. “There being no objection, I second Grace’s motion that we camp here.”
“While you are making camp I will go out and prospect for water,” offered Tom, wheeling his pony about and riding off into the forest. Tom, being a forester by profession, an experienced woodsman, they felt no concern over his departure, but, as the hours following his departure wore on and Tom Gray did not return, the Overlanders began to worry.
At nine o’clock they began firing signals at intervals, and Woo Smith built up a blazing fire, but there was no response to either signal. Grace Harlowe was the least worried of the party.
“We will have supper,” she said. “Tom will be all right. Should he be lost it will not be the first time.”
“Yes, but what if he doesn’t find himself?” questioned Emma tremulously.
“In that event he will make camp and sleep in the forest, so you folks make your beds and turn in for a good night’s sleep, just as I am going to do,” urged Grace.
“Hi-lee, hi-lo!” chanted Woo.
“Stop that noise, will you!” commanded Chunky. “I am not in the mood for song this evening, and I might do you bodily harm,” he added, starting to prepare his bed. This he did by smoothing the ground with an axe swung adz-wise between his legs, then filling in the open space with dry pine needles. The Overlanders observed his work in interested silence.
“You do know how to do something, don’t you?” approved Emma.
“Someone in the outfit has to have a head with him,” retorted Chunky. “It makes me sleepy to look at it. If I weren’t sleepy I would make beds in the same way for you girls. Let Uncle Hip do it, I can’t keep awake long enough. Good night!” Stacy lay down, and the others quickly cradled under their blankets and went to sleep, watched over by the huge Sequoias that had stood sentinel on that very spot for hundreds of years.
Then, all at once, it was morning. The songs of birds filled the air, and a squirrel, whisking its tail nervously, chattered on a giant tree trunk, then darted up out of sight.