CHAPTER XXIVTO THE RESCUE
“Well, well; if this isn’t the biggest surprise ever! My, but it was perfectly great of you chaps to follow the racers.”
There wasn’t much chance for any one else to talk while Cranny kept rattling on.
The two lads, after a great deal of shouting, had been able to locate the searching party, which was riding in the direction taken by the “Ogden II.”
“Yes, I can hardly believe it, even yet,” went on Cranny. “An’ good old Dave here, too! Yes; it’s an honest fact, Tom; we have really seen Major Carroll and the others.”
“The good news you bring, and this reunion in the poetic moonlight is one of the most pleasant events in our whole experience,” murmured Dave.
“Ye sure done it ag’in, Bob!” Jed Warren spoke enthusiastically. “We’re proud o’ you, eh, Pete?”
The grizzled features of the old cow-puncher relaxed.
“Ye’re positive wonders, lads,” he said. “Thar ain’t nobody on the hull range with more grit’n you’ve got; an’ that’s sayin’ somethin’. Shake!”
They shook.
“But that don’t mean ter say, ye understand, that I believe in them thar arioplanes; ’cause——”
“It isn’t natural to fly, and it wasn’t ever intended,” grinned Cranny. “Now, fellows, let’s get over to your camp and talk about our plans. We can leave the plane till morning, eh, Bob? What’s that, Jed?”
“I were sayin’ as how them balloon fellers is sure ketched up thar on the old Eagle,” answered Jed. “That ledge ain’t j’ined as it had orter be; I reckon as how the job weren’t ever finished.”
“Ye’re sure right, pard,” assented Pete. “I know’d a hunter onct—he was after some mountain goats—he loses his footin’ an’ slips down onto that spur. An’, d’ye know, the old Eagle keeps him up thar three hull days afore his pards comes acrost him.”
“Have any trouble in getting out of his fix?” asked Tom, eagerly.
“None as I ever hears ’bout. That bald-headed old feller is a joker; he says: ‘If yer friends is good ’nuff to come arter ye an’ shy ye a rope, ye gits off easy; but ye can’t do nothin’ much by yer lonesome.’ Understan’? Inter the saddle, boys; an’ right after daybreak we starts off, an’ the old Eagle will git fooled ag’in.”
“Oh ho; isn’t it great the way things have turned out, Bob?” murmured Dave.
“Well, ra-ther,” answered Bob, springing up beside Jed Warren.
Tom Clifton’s sturdy little broncho was soon struggling along under the combined weight of the “Doctor” and Cranny. Progress was necessarily slow; but, at length, they were all gathered around the crackling flames.
Although the summit of old Eagles’ Peak reared itself, solemn and grand, against a star-studded sky, a high ridge shut from view the signal fire built on its spur.
The boys were tired that night and soon turned in, sleeping soundly until the firstgray streaks in the eastern sky heralded the approach of another day. They were aroused by the gruff voice of Pete Sanderson, who was already up, and cooking breakfast over a pile of red-hot embers.
“Pitch in, younkers, an’ git yer grub,” he commanded. “Mebbe them thar fellers ain’t got none, an’ the old Eagle has a chanct ter laugh ag’in.”
“Bob”—Dave Brandon yawned and rubbed his eyes—“really, it isn’t safe to leave the ‘Ogden II’ unguarded; now, even though it is a great sacrifice, you may borrow my pony, while I——”
“Ha, ha!” snickered Cranny. “And who will be obligin’ enough to lend me his bronc’?”
“Maybe——” began Tom.
“It’s all settled,” announced Cranny, complacently. “Thanks, Tom, old boy.”
Five minutes later, the departing horsemen waved an adieu to the two volunteer guardians of the “Ogden II.”
“A jolly hard tug ahead of us,” remarked Sam Randall to Tim Lovell.
“You bet there is,” answered Tim. “It’smighty lucky Pete and Jed are along. They know all the trails and short cuts; so we won’t find ourselves pocketed in some ravine or gorge.”
“We don’t let nature make sport of us like that,” grinned Sam. “Guess ‘Old Eagle’ isn’t the only joker around these parts.”
The cow-punchers, like generals in command, led the advance, while the five boys, at times riding almost abreast, at others strung out in single file, followed them over ridges, and around impenetrable masses of vegetation, or through the aisles of whispering pine forests. The early morning light sent a rosy glow climbing up the tree trunks or trailing over the ground; insects chanted; the songs of birds sounded above the trampling and crashing hoof-beats—all nature seemed to be full of brightness and serenity.
“Cracky; isn’t this fine!” called out Dick.
“Corking!” said Cranny. “Maybe those chaps won’t be glad to see us, eh?”
“You bet! Guess they aren’t used to such high livin’,” chuckled Tim.
Old Eagles’ Peak was evidently a great deal further off than it appeared. After an hour’ssteady march, the rugged heights still looked discouragingly distant.
“Oh, for the ‘Ogden II’ again, Cranny!” sang out Bob.
“It certainly does spoil a chap for traveling like a snail,” grumbled the big lad, wiping his perspiring face.
The scenery was wild and impressive. Lofty peaks and gigantic crags loomed up on every hand. Fallen tree trunks and other obstructions seemed to challenge their efforts to advance. But the cowboys always found a way to master all difficulties, and by noon the bronchos clattered upon a slope which rose to a dizzy height above them.
Here they halted for lunch.
“It’s ’bout three hours more o’ tough work for the ponies, Bob,” remarked Jed Warren.
“They are certainly chuck full of courage,” said Bob.
He looked toward the little animals, whose nostrils and shaggy sides were sending up clouds of steam.
“Circle T Ranch has got the pick o’ the plains,” grunted Pete. “Fall to, younkers.”
The boys promptly obeyed his instructions,and when the march was resumed, a short time later, both they and the horses were considerably refreshed.
It was, as Jed Warren had said, hard on the ponies; at times, it seemed as if the obstacles which confronted them would prove insurmountable; but men, boys or animals never wavered. Stones were sent rattling down steep descents; ledges, with only a few yards between them and a plunge of hundreds of feet, crossed.
Scarcely exchanging a word, they climbed higher and higher. The snow on old Eagles’ Peak, in the full glare of the afternoon sun, fairly dazzled their eyes with its brilliancy. Halts were made with increasing frequency, and in the shadows of the pine forests they managed to find some relief from the oppressive heat.
But gradually the torrid zone fell behind them, and when, an hour later, Pete reined up, the atmosphere was cool and refreshing.
“We’ll hev ter picket the bronchos here,” he exclaimed.
The boys had been expecting this announcement for some time. They were nowat the edge of the timber. Above, they saw a steep, almost barren area of glistening rocks.
Bronchos were tethered to the trees, and, after saddle-bags and lariats had been slung over their shoulders, the party were ready for the final stretch. It was arranged that Sam Randall should remain to guard the animals.
“Close to the old spur now, younkers,” remarked Pete, encouragingly.
“Mighty tough work ahead of us, though,” said Bob.
Almost every instant one or another was obliged to drop on his hands and knees, or climb laboriously to the top of some obstruction. It seemed a long time before they scrambled around a bend, to see just ahead, at about their own level, the end of the slope cutting sharply against the tops of a dark forest of pines. Beyond, stretching out like a huge arm, the spur reared itself from the blue, hazy depths of the valley.
“Hooray!” shouted Cranny.
Three minutes later, the party was gazing upon the spur from a bold elevation that rose to a considerable height above it.
AN ANSWER ALMOST IMMEDIATELY FLOATED BACKAN ANSWER ALMOST IMMEDIATELY FLOATED BACK
AN ANSWER ALMOST IMMEDIATELY FLOATED BACK
AN ANSWER ALMOST IMMEDIATELY FLOATED BACK
“Hello—there’s the old ‘Border City’!” cried Dick. “Isn’t it the oddest-looking bundle you ever saw?”
“Yell, fellows, so as to let the Spurites know that the rescue expedition has arrived,” burst out Cranny. He put his hand to his lips. “Hello, Major Carroll! Whoop-e-e-e! Hello-o-o-o!”
The voices of the others joined in loudly.
An answer almost immediately floated back to their ears, and three dusky figures in the distance were seen coming toward them, the smallest and slightest keeping far in the lead.
“Wee Willie!” laughed Cranny, joyously.
Mr. Beaumont’s ward raced madly forward along the ledge.
“Goodness gracious, Cran, but maybe I’m not glad to see you!” he piped, in a shrill voice. “Was I scared?—Oh, kinder. But everybody said I had a whole lot of spunk—it’s an honest fact, Cran.”
“We thank you heartily,” the Major called up, his businesslike tones almost drowning Willie Sloan’s excited flow of words. “You have relieved us from a most embarrassing situation, and——”
“Oh, say, Cran, haven’t you brought a bite of somethin’ to eat an’ a drop o’ water?”
There was something so unconsciously humorous in Willie Sloan’s outburst that even Pete Sanderson guffawed loudly.
“We sartinly hev, lad,” said the latter, kindly.
While Jed Warren was lowering provisions by means of his lariat, explanations were exchanged, until both parties had learned all the particulars.
“Wal, this hyar ain’t doin’ nothin’,” broke in Pete Sanderson, abruptly, at last. “Arter ye git some grub, Major, I s’picion as how ye’d like ter hit the back trail with us?”
Major Carroll’s glance rested upon Bob Somers.
“I feel confident that, with a new set of batteries, the ‘Border City’ will fly as well as ever,” he said. “Now, Somers, I almost hesitate to ask such a great favor, but the skill you have shown in handling the ‘Ogden II’ is my justification; could you——”
Bob understood, and nodded.
“Certainly, Major,” he answered. “I’ll skip over to Border City in the biplane, andbring back whatever apparatus you may need.”
“You will place us under everlasting obligations,” said Major Carroll.
“I’m going, too, Bob Somers,” announced Cranny, decidedly. “Let’s start right away.” He crooked his finger, and this significant motion catching Willie Sloan’s eye, made the boy walk some distance away from Major Carroll and Kindale.
The big lad followed him along the edge of the rocks.
“Well, Cran?”
“See here, Willie, did you really write to dad?”
It was an eager question, spoken in a low tone.
“I certainly did, Cran.”
Cranny’s eyes snapped; the aggressive tilt of his jaw became more in evidence.
“And what did you say?”
“Oh,—an awful lot. But you’re a good chap, after all. I’m—I’m——”
“Sorry?” snapped Cranny, with a dreadful frown.
“No; going to see if there’s anything more to eat.”
Willie thereupon ended the unsatisfactory conversation by hurrying away.
After Major Carroll had disposed of his cold lunch, a brief council was held. It was decided that the cow-punchers and boys should make a camp and await the return of Bob Somers and Cranny Beaumont from Border City.
“We ought to be able to reach here early to-morrow morning,” said Bob.
“And if everything goes as I hope it will, the ‘Border City’ will soon after set sail for the town,” remarked Major Carroll. “A thousand thanks, boys.”
Good-byes were said; and Bob and Cranny, with many expressions of appreciation and encouragement ringing in their ears, hurried away, leaving their friends to scramble back to the woods at a more leisurely pace.
The day passed; night came, with a brilliant moon shedding its luster over the magnificent scenery, and, finally, morning dawned.
But it was not until after one o’clock that a shout in Cranny’s familiar voice announced the near approach of the aviators.
The Ramblers and Jed Warren, uttering loud whoops of delight, plunged through the timber to meet them. They saw the two boys urging their weary ponies toward the camp.
“Had a bully trip!” yelled Bob.
“Rah, rah!” cried Dick. “Did you get all the stuff?”
“Everything.”
Their arrival created considerable excitement at “Eagle Camp.” Major Carroll and Kindale received the batteries with profuse thanks.
By means of lariats, which Pete had attached to heavy stakes driven into the ground, the boys lowered themselves one by one to the spur.
The Major strode toward the balloon, with the others almost at his heels.
Climbing up through the network of branches wasn’t an easy task, and the interested boys watched them with some trepidation, all uttering sighs of relief when a hail told them that the men had reached the “Border City” in safety.
During the next hour, there was a great deal of tinkering done by the two above thetree tops, and every sound excited an immense amount of curiosity on the part of those below. Encouraging reports, however, kept coming at intervals. Kindale finally stated his belief that the engine would work as well as ever.
“Here comes bulletin number fifteen,” said Tim Lovell, as the Major’s voice was heard again.
“We’re ready to free the propeller now, boys,” he shouted; “so let Willie come along.”
The crowd grew enthusiastic.
Willie, boosted up on Cranny’s sturdy shoulders, seized a low branch and began his climb. The big lad followed him from limb to limb. Mr. Beaumont’s ward soon reached the rope ladder, and presently Cranny had the satisfaction of seeing him peer downward from over the rail of the “Border City.”
Cranny, obeying instructions from Major Carroll, emptied the bag of sand, and released the ladder, which was promptly drawn up. Then, sitting astride a convenient limb, he watched the men clearing away the branches with hatchets and saws.
Cranny restrained his desire to give a rousingyell with difficulty, for he saw that the tugging captive was almost dragging itself free from the limbs, branches and masses of foliage that encompassed the car. Its great, long hull was considerably misshapen, but, apparently, had suffered no serious damage, and now swayed gently from a position almost vertically above the car.
Suddenly the tree tops were agitated, as if by a gale of wind; the dark object above Cranny’s head seemed magically lifted away; the guide rope reared itself from amidst the timber, and the “Border City” was free.
The boys dashed and leaped through the pine woods as if a pack of howling coyotes was after them. At the first clearing they stopped, and, although almost breathless, managed to give another shout when they saw the “Border City” high in the air, with the cable dipping down in a long curve.
“Well, they’re going some now,” remarked Cranny.
“And I’m real glad ter see it,” said Jed.
“Me, too—fur the first time,” added Pete Sanderson, with a sort of grunt, “though it don’t look no naturaler than it ever did.”
Bronchos were quickly saddled, and the descent begun.
After several hours of, at times, difficult and dangerous traveling, they finally came within sight of the “Ogden II” and Dave and Tom’s camp close beside it.
Of course the latter were delighted to see them, and, as they found a great deal to talk about, it was not until late in the afternoon that a start was made for Lone Pine.
The “Ogden II” carried Bob and his passenger high over the mountains, and, cutting swiftly through the air, reached the grim old ranch-house almost before the riders, following the lead of Pete and Jed, had left the last difficult pass behind them.
That evening they had a jolly reunion, in which the cow-punchers took a prominent part. The telephone between Lone Pine, Circle T and Border City was used very often, and many voices were sent over the wire. It had the pleasing effect of seeming to bring them and their friends, so far separated by the lonely, darkened prairie, close together.
The dirigible got back to town safe and sound.
“Isn’t it fine!” cried Bob. The receiver was against his ear. “Willie’s at the ’phone.”
“Say, Somers,” he heard, “the Major thinks a whole lot of you fellows. Wasn’t it awful odd how that little red book changed things for me? But for it I might be at Lone Pine now, scrapping with old Doc Cliffy. He’s a good chap, all right. But, look here, air-skimmers are certainly not in it with balloons.”