"It's sure coming down on us, Frank!" cried Bob, shortly, as he caught a strange mixture of terrifying sounds.
"Climb!" shouted back the other; for he knew they would have about all they could do to reach the shelf of rock before the mighty wave swept through that narrow channel between the high walls of the canyon, with a force utterly irresistible.
Bob was doing his best. He realized that the ledge was just above his head now, and also how necessary it was that they reach it before the rushing flood arrived to fill the gap.
Now his eager fingers clutched the edge, and he strove to pull himself up higher. But his breath was exhausted from his violent efforts, and the excitement attending the occasion.
Bob realized that the torrent was very close at hand. Its roar dinned in his ears so that he could hear nothing else. The rocks seemed to be quivering under the impact of the released forces. He felt a cold shiver pass over him as he was seized with a dreadful fear that the rock to which he clung was giving way.
Then something seized him by the back of the neck, and Bob found himself being helped up to a firm foundation. Frank had succeeded in gaining the ledge ahead of his chum; and naturally enough his first thought was to assist Bob.
Panting, and completely exhausted, Bob lay there on the shelf of rock. He could look down, and when the lightning played, see the oncoming of that foam-crested bank of mad waters that rushed pell mell down the canyon.
Now it was speeding past them, rising higher and higher with each second, until a new fear began to grip at Bob's anxious heart. He dreaded lest the wave might attain such a height that he and his chum would be swept from their perch, to be carried away, helpless victims on the crest of the flood.
It was raining now, in sheets. The boys were quickly soaked to the skin; but neither of them paid the least attention to this fact, which, after all, was of minor Importance.
"Frank, do you think it's going to reach up here?" called Bob, as he watched the rising line of water come within three feet of the ledge.
"I hope not," came the reply, and then Bob saw that his chum was moving along the ledge looking carefully above as though in hopes of finding it possible to climb higher, in case of necessity.
"Any chance of getting up the rocks, Frank?" he asked again, a minute later.
"Mighty little, Bob," replied the other, dropping beside him; "how's the water coming along?"
"Less'n two feet from us now, and still rising," reported Bob, disconsolately.
"But it comes slowly, you notice," Frank declared, with hope in his voice.
"I could just touch it the last time the lightning played; now I can put my hand clear in it!" Bob called, uneasily.
Another minute passed. The lightning was of considerable assistance to the trapped saddle boys, for it enabled them to see. Frank had lost his lantern during the climb, as it was torn from his belt by a rock he struck; so that only for this heavenly illumination they must have been in utter darkness. And when peril threatens it is some satisfaction at least to see the worst.
"Now it's only one foot down, Frank!" cried Bob.
"That's so," replied the other, instantly; "but I reckon it's about reached its limit. You see, the higher it rises the broader the channel becomes, and that takes a heap of the water. Bob, cheer up, I'm nearly sure it won't reach the ledge!"
"Oh! don't I hope it won't!" cried the Kentucky boy, a little hysterically; for his nerves had indeed been sorely tried during this night.
Five minutes more passed, during which the torrent continued to rush downward through the gorge with all the attendant clamor.
"It's at a stand!" shouted Frank, who had himself been making soundings with his hand.
"And only six inches from the shelf!" echoed Bob. "That's what you could call a close call; eh, Frank?"
"It sure is, old fellow," replied the prairie boy, himself more relieved than his words would indicate; for he had discovered, during his brief search, that there was absolutely no hope of ascending any farther up that blank wall.
"Shake hands, Frank! We're as lucky as ever, I tell you!" said Bob; and when their hands clasped neither of them thought it strange that he could feel the other trembling.
"Well, what are we going to do about it?" asked Bob, when some time had passed, and the flood still rushed through the canyon, although in diminished fury.
"I don't know that we can do anything except camp out right here on this rock-shelf, and wait for the storm to pass by," replied Frank.
"Even if it takes till morning?" Bob went on.
"Nothing else left to us; and morning won't be so very long coming, perhaps, Bob. You notice, don't you, that the thunder now is about all natural?"
"Well, that's a fact," declared Bob. "The geyser has stopped beating against the inside of the mountain, hasn't it? Got tired of the job, and quit for another rest, perhaps."
"I've got my idea about that," Frank said "You can see how the water is still rushing along down there. It must be nearly ten feet deep, and for some time, now, I don't believe it's varied. Don't you understand what that means, Bob?"
"Good gracious! do you mean that the old geyser has turned into a river, and will keep on running like this right along?" cried the other.
"Looks that way to me," Frank replied. "It is a great big syphon, and once started, the water that has for centuries been wasting in some underground stream is now flowing down this canyon. Perhaps long ago it did this same thing, till some upheaval—an earthquake it might have been—turned things around."
"But I say, Frank!" Bob exclaimed; "If what you tell me turns out to be true, it looks as if we were bottled up in a nice hole, doesn't it? We can't get up any farther; and if we go down we'll just have to swim in a torrent that'll knock us silly. This is what I call tough!"
"Oh! don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Bob. This is a pretty good sort of a shelf after all; and we'll be glad to stick to it till morning comes. Time enough then to plan what we're going to do to get away."
"That's right, and I'm ashamed of complaining," the taller lad burst out.
"It is a grand old shelf; and if I wasn't afraid of rolling off I believe I could even snatch a few winks of sleep, wet clothes or not."
"Oh! I'll prop you up with some loose rocks If you want to try it," declared Frank; "but the chances are you'll get to shivering. Better sit up, and whack your arms around as I'm doing every little while. It makes the blood circulate, you see, and keeps you from going to pieces."
Bob saw the wisdom of this advice. He was beginning to shudder every minute or so. They were up the side of the mountain a considerable distance; and after the electrical storm the air had changed from hot to cold.
Time passed very slowly. Every now and then the boys would go through that motion of slapping their arms across their chests; and it never failed to start the chilled blood into new life.
"Was there ever such a long night?" groaned Bob, as he stretched his neck for the thirtieth time to look up at the narrow strip of sky that could be seen between the overhanging walls of the canyon, in hopes of discovering signs of the coming dawn.
"It won't be long now," said Frank, who carried a little watch along with him, and had several times struck a match to consult its face. "One good thing, Bob; it has cleared up. You can see the stars overhead."
"Yes, and how bright they look from here in this black hole. How long did you say now, Frank?" asked the anxious and weary Bob, yawning.
"Half an hour ought to see us through, and bring daylight."
"But Frank, that river is still running below us. However in the wide world will we get out of this?" asked Bob.
"No use crossing till you get to the bridge," laughed Frank. "Just you make up your mind there's going to be some way open for us to get out of this. And if the worst comes, I'm a boss swimmer, remember, Bob."
After another spell of waiting the Kentucky lad cried out:
"I believe it's getting light! Yes, you can see things now that were hid before!"
The morning came. Overhead the sun shone, for they could see that the sky was clear. And looking down they saw the rushing torrent that had not filled the bed of the canyon for perhaps centuries back.
When another hour had elapsed Bob began to grow impatient, and suggested various wild schemes for getting out of the difficulty. To all of these Frank shook his head. He himself was considering something, when he suddenly lifted his head as though listening.
"Some one shouting up yonder!" exclaimed Bob, pointing upward to the top of the canyon wall; whereupon Frank seized upon his gun, and fired several shots in rapid succession.
Then came answering shouts, upon which Frank repeated his signal for help.
"They hear you; they're coming closer! Oh! Frank, I believe that's Old Hank Coombs hollering!" exclaimed the excited Bob.
"Hello! down there, air ye all safe?" came a hail; and looking up the two boys on the shelf saw the grizzled head of the old cowman thrust into view.
After all, it was not a very great task, getting the two saddle boys up from the friendly shelf. Old Hank lowered his lariat; and after Bob had slipped the loop under his arms, he was pulled to safety. Then Frank followed.
They found that Hank had half a dozen cowboys with him, some of the most daring connected with Circle Ranch. Overtaken by the storm while at the base of the mountain, they had waited for daylight, and then started afoot to make the ascent. The presence of the new river in the bed of the long emptybarrancaastonished these cowmen exceedingly. And when they heard all that the boys had to tell they were almost of the opinion that they must have been dreaming.
But there was the evidence before their very eyes, and nobody could deny that the old-time river, that had been bottled up underground for so long, had finally found a way to break forth once more, aided by the geyser that for a century had beaten that tremendous tattoo every little while against the inner walls of the rocky mountain.
"Then there won't be no more racket, will there?" old Hank asked, as he lay there, looking down at the rushing current of the new stream that would no doubt readily follow its long abandoned course, until it reached the distant Colorado, somewhere along the Grand Canyon.
"The chances are against it," replied Frank.
"But let's try and find our horses," Bob suggested, after he had finished eating what food the newcomers had taken the pains to prepare for the lost ones.
"Yes, I'm anxious myself to find out how Buckskin's weathered the gale," Frank put in.
The two horses were found in good shape, but glad to once more see their masters, if the whinnies that greeted the coming of Frank and Bob might be looked upon as evidence of this.
And then another difficult task awaited them. To get the animals down to the level plain, now that the canyon was out of commission, taxed the ingenuity of even so expert a plainsman as Hank Coombs; but it was finally accomplished.
Then the horses of the cowboys were found, and the entire party started for the distant ranch, expecting to complete their jaunt before sundown.
Old Hank was deeply interested in what the boys had to tell about the band of rustlers passing, with all the led horses.
"Didn't git 'em from our ranch," he declared; "an' I reckons the X-bar-X must 'a suffered; or it might be the Arrowhead, over on the creek, was the one. But if so be Pedro Mendoza has been usin' that canyon to cross over the range with his stolen cattle an' horses, he'll hev to go further away now to do the same, 'cause his road's a rushin' river."
"We sure have had a great time of it," declared Bob, as they came in sight of the buildings of the ranch, and heard the loud calls of the cowboys who were driving some of the stock in from the range, to get it ready for shipment later.
"Yes, and think what we found out," Frank pursued. "First of all the mystery of Thunder Mountain is known, and from this time on those roaring sounds will never again be heard."
"And the Indians will be wondering why the Great Spirit is angry with his red children, so that he refuses to speak to them," Bob continued.
"And then there is that little affair about Lopez," Frank remarked, smiling at the recollection. "We have learned who Lopez is, and what his grandfather, Lemuel Smith, was doing in that cave. Think of Peg and his two guides getting out of the region without finding out a thing!"
"Say won't they be just as mad as hops, though, when they learn about what we saw and heard," chuckled Bob. "It's been a great time, all right. And Frank, we'll never again have anything like the fun we had in that oldbarranca. It makes my blood just jump through my veins to think of it."
"You're right," said Frank, "I don't believe we ever will!"
But like many other persons who cannot look ahead even one hour, and know what the future holds for them, both the saddle boys were very much mistaken. There were plenty of stirring adventures awaiting them ere many weeks had passed, some of which will be related in the next volume of this series, called "The Saddle Boys in the Grand Canyon; Or, The Hermit of the Cave." And those of our boy friends who have found more or less interest in the present story of life in the far Southwest, will doubtless be glad to read more of the doings of Frank Haywood and his brave Kentucky chum, Bob Archer.
That Peg and his guides reached home safely Frank knew shortly, when he happened to meet the bully on the trail. Peg was eager to hear at first hand all that had happened, and made friendly overtures with that design in view; but this did not deceive Frank in the least. He realized that Peg was more bitter than ever, and believed that if the opportunity ever came the bully would not hesitate to do anything that he thought would annoy the chums.
Frank had also found that the prospector, Smith, and his little Mexican granddaughter, had reached home in safety. The successful lode hunter purchased a ranch; and when Frank met him some time later he was riding around the country in a fine automobile, buying stock. Inez was with him, and never again would the brave little girl have to dress as a boy in order to carry supplies up into the canyons of the mountains.
Thunder Mountain never again uttered a sound of warning. The Indians marveled much, and consulted their greatest medicine men as to why the voice of Manitou called no more. But the whites knew; and a load was thereby taken from the mind of many a superstitious cowboy, who, when watching his charges through the vigils of the night, could look toward the rocky height without that feeling of uneasiness that had always been present when he believed the mountain to be haunted.