Three Young Ranchmen: or, Daring Adventures in the Great West
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He held the match under some of the driest of the brush, and had the satisfaction of seeing it blaze up. He piled the stuff up, and on top placed several heavy sticks. Soon he had a fire which blazed merrily.
The light illumined the cavern, casting a ruddy glare on the rocks and the rippling water. It was a weird and uncanny scene, and he shivered involuntarily. He would have given a good deal to have been in the outer world once more.
Allen saw that the river had simply widened at the spot, and that a hundred yards further on it flowed into a narrow channel, as before. Only on the side which he occupied was there anything in the shape of a shore. Opposite the rocks stood straight up, and were covered with moss and slime.
"If I am to get out, it must be from this shore upward," Allen thought as he surveyed the situation. "I can never get back on the river. One could never row even a boat against that current."
The shore was not more than thirty or forty feet wide. It was backed up by rocks, but Allen was glad to see that they did not present an unbroken surface. There were numerous fissures, and in one place the opening was a dozen feet in width.
Selecting the brightest of the firebrands Allen, left the vicinity of the stream and started to explore this opening. He was in great hopes that it would lead upward and that he would thus be enabled to climb out of his prison – for to him that damp, dark place was nothing less.
The opening was filled with loose stones, and Allen had to be careful for fear of spraining an ankle, or worse. He moved along slowly, halting every few steps to survey the scene ahead.
Twenty yards distant from the entrance to the fissure Allen came to a turn to the left. Here was a narrow opening just large enough for him to pass through. Beyond was another cavern-like spot not over ten yards in width and height and of interminable length.
Fearful of losing his way, Allen hesitated about advancing. But presently he plucked up courage, and, holding down his firebrand, he allowed it to burn up again and then proceeded along the chamber.
The flooring was uneven and covered with loose rocks and stones. Huge stalactites hung down from overhead, and in several spots the moisture dripped down with weird hollow sounds.
"I would like to know how far underground I really am," was Allen's earnest mental speculation as he came to a halt beside a tiny stream which flowed from one side of the cavern to the other. "If there was only some slope which led upward it would be more encouraging. But it's about as flat as a bit of prairie land."
Allen hopped over the stream, and, assured that he could easily retrace his steps if necessary, continued on his search, his firebrand held over his head.
It was a discouraging journey when the end was reached. Before him arose a solid wall not less than twenty feet in height, at which elevation the cavern appeared to continue. Allen gazed up at the wall with a hopeless look on his face.
"Humph! How in the name of creation am I to climb up there?" he muttered. "It's as steep as the side of a house and twice as slippery. If I can't find some sort of stepping places I reckon I'm beaten and booked to go back to where I started from."
Waving the firebrand to make it burn the brighter, Allen began to scrutinize the face of the wall before him. He started at one end, resolved that not a foot of the surface should escape him.
He had traveled along some fifteen feet when he came to something that made him start back in astonishment.
"Great Caesar!"
Before him were a number of letters, cut in smooth rock, which was apparently quite soft. The letters read:
Barnaby Winthrop's Mine.
Allen stared at the letters on the rock as if he had not spelled out the words aright. But there was no mistake. They really read "Barnaby Winthrop's Mine."
"Well, if this isn't the most wonderful discovery ever made!" ejaculated the young man, finally. "So this is the place that Uncle Barnaby talked of as being the richest claim in Idaho. I wonder how he ever found it?"
While Allen stood close to the rocky wall he reached the conclusion that his uncle must have come there by the river, but whether a voluntary or involuntary passenger he could not decide. He knew Uncle Barnaby was exceedingly fearless, but was there any human being who would take the awful risk of a journey on that underground river, not knowing to where it led?
"He must have been caught, just as I was," said Allen to himself, at last. "And that being so, the question is, how did he manage, after he was once here, to get out?"
While Allen was debating this question he cast his eyes about for some means of scaling the wall. He walked along its face until the very end was reached, and there, to his joy, discovered a dozen rudely cut niches, some of them were close together and others nearly a yard apart, but, with the end of the firebrand between his teeth, he had no great difficulty in pulling himself up to the level of the flooring of the cavern above.
Allen now found himself in an opening not over fifty yards square. The roofing was hardly out of reach, and the young man saw at a glance that the quartz rock was full of virgin gold and silver. It was a veritable bonanza.
"A million dollars or more!" he cried, enthusiastically. "Uncle Barnaby struck it rich for once. I wonder why he don't come back and begin operations. It's queer I didn't get word from him."
Allen could not help but spend some time in looking around, so fascinating was the sight of the precious metal as it shimmered here and there in the ruddy glare of the torch. His uncle would be rich indeed, and he knew that he and his brothers would not be forgotten by their generous guardian.
But soon the thought of escape came back to him. Was there an opening to the outer world, or was he entombed alive?
At the far end of the chamber, after a long search, Allen came to a narrow passageway, which he was compelled to enter on hands and knees. It led upward and he had great hopes that ere long he would emerge into the outer air once more.
But he was doomed to disappointment. The passageway led around numerous curves, and long before the end was reached his torch went out, and he was left in total darkness. He crawled on and on, until finally he brought up against a solid wall.
Much frightened, he lit a match to survey the situation. Saving in his rear, the rocks arose on all sides. But overhead was open, and up he went, very much as a sweep might climb a half-choked up chimney, up through weeds and brush and dirt.
He was half smothered by the dust which filled his nose and mouth, and he was forced to keep his eyes closed for fear of being blinded.
At last, after he was nearly ready to give up in despair, he felt a breath of cooling air blow over him. This was encouraging, and he commenced to climb harder than ever. Up and up he went, until suddenly opening his eyes, he found himself at the top of the hole, and looking almost directly into the face of the rising sun!
CHAPTER VIII.
Into a Snake's Nest
"All night underground!" murmured Allen to himself as he surveyed the scene before him in intense surprise. "Heaven be thanked for my escape!"
His climb had so exhausted him that for a long while he sat on the ground, unable to move. He felt both cold and hungry, but paid no heed. It was blessing enough for the time being to be safe.
When he felt stronger, he began to speculate upon where he was and how far he would have to travel to reach the ranch. The face of the country looked new and strange to him.
"I must mark this spot, so I can find the mine again," he thought. "Uncle Barnaby may not know of this opening."
Close at hand was a tall tree, and upon this Allen cut his initials in large letters. Then he walked to all the trees in the vicinity and cut hands on them pointing to the first tree.
"Now, I reckon it's all right," he said to himself. "And the next best thing is to strike out for home."
Climbing the tree, Allen took his bearings as well as he was able, and then struck off as rapidly as his tired legs and sore feet would permit.
He had covered perhaps half a mile when he came to a steep decline. He tried to proceed down this with care, but slipped and rolled with a crash through the brush to the bottom.
It was a bad fall and hurt him not a little, but that was not the worst of it.
The passage through the brush aroused half a score of snakes, some small and others a yard and over in length, and now they came after him, hissing angrily and several preparing to dart at him.
It was small wonder that Allen gave a yell. He knew the reptiles were, many of them, poisonous, and he had not the first thing with which to defend himself. He leaped back to retreat, but only to find himself surrounded.
No one who has never been surrounded by snakes can realize the terrible feeling which awakens in one's breast at such an experience. It is a feeling that, once realized, is never forgotten. Allen said afterward he felt as if his hair had lifted from his head and his heart had had a bath in ice water.
"Great Scott!" were the words which escaped from his lips. "This is the worst yet!"
He had no time to say more, for at that moment one of the snakes leaped through the air directly for his hand. He threw his hand up, caught the reptile by the tail and flung it, hissing, among its fellows.
Then he essayed to leap over those in front of him. But before he could do so one wound itself around the instep of his boot. It was a poisonous snake. Allen saw that at a glance. He tried to kick it off, but missed it.
Then out darted the terrible fang and up came that ugly head, with diamond-like eyes, toward the young man's knee!
For one brief second Allen fancied his last hour on earth had come. A single bite from that snake and all would be over, for it would be all out of the question to get rid of the poison.
But with a strength and courage born of despair he bent down, and, reaching out, caught the reptile around the neck. The bright eyes almost paralyzed his nerve, and he was compelled to turn from them in order to accomplish his purpose.
Holding the snake with a grasp of iron, he leaped out of the circle of reptiles. Then he bent down and forcing the snake's head against a rock, ground it to pieces under his heel.
It was a highly dangerous bit of work, and when it was over the great beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. To him it was as if the last few seconds had been an age.
The other snakes had not followed him, but, nevertheless, he lost no time in leaving the spot on a run. Five minutes later he was nearly a quarter of a mile from the vicinity.
He had gone at right angles to the course he imagined would take him back to the ranch, and now he found he must make a detour around a hill covered with cactus and other prickly plants.
By this time Allen was thoroughly worn out and hungry to the last degree. Bitterly he regretted the loss of his favorite mare, Lilly.
"If I had her I imagine I could strike home inside of a couple of hours," he said to himself. "But on foot it will take me until noon or longer."
But there was no use to grumble, and after resting a spell the young man again started on his weary tramp through thicket and brush, over hills and through hollows. More than once he stumbled and fell, and it was all he could do at times to regain his feet.
"It's no fun to be afoot on the long range," he soliloquized. "A mile seems three times as long as when on horseback."
But there was no help for it; he must go on, and on he went, his feet now so sore in his wet boots that he could hardly take a regular step.
As he proceeded, he looked about for something to eat, but outside of a few half-green berries, found nothing. Birds were numerous, but without firearms they were out of his reach.
A less experienced person than Allen would have been much frightened by the solitude and loneliness. But the young ranchman was accustomed to being out alone for days at a time, and he did not mind it. He wished to get home more for bodily comforts than aught else.
At last, when Allen was beginning to congratulate himself that the roughest portion of the journey would soon be over he came face to face with a most unexpected difficulty. Emerging from a thicket, he found himself at the very brink of a gully all of ten feet wide and of great depth.
"Humph!" he muttered, as he came to a halt. "I can't jump that. How am I to get over?"
This question was not easy to answer.
Looking up and down the opening, no bridge, either natural or artificial, was presented to view.
"I'll have to cut a pole and use that," he thought. "There is no use to tramp up and down looking for a spot to cross."
His pocketknife was still safe, and he drew it out and went to work with a will on a sapling growing some distance from the gully's edge.
The sapling had just been laid low and Allen was on the point of dragging it away when sounds broke upon his ear that filled him with surprise. He heard human voices, and one of them was that of a man he had encountered on the road, the fellow who had been riding Chet's horse!
"I reckon you have missed the road, Saul," said the man in a disgusted tone.
"No, I ain't missed nuthin'," was the reply. "So don't you go for to croak so much, Darry."
"Well, we don't appear to be makin' much headway," growled the fellow addressed as Darry.
"We'll come out all right, never fear. It's this yere blamed gully bothers me. We might git over afoot, but we can't cross it on the hosses."
Allen crouched back behind a bush, and a moment later the two men appeared in the opening near the gully. The fellow called Darry still rode Chet's horse, while he addressed as Saul was astride of Paul's animal. Behind the pair came a tall negro, riding a mustang and leading two others, little animals looking much the worse for constant and hard usage.
"Dis yere ditch doan' seem ter git no narrower, nohow," said the colored man, with a good-natured grin. "I dun racken we might as well build a bridge an done with it."
"By the boots, but I reckon Jeff is about half right," cried Darry. "This split may last clear across the hill."
"It's not so easy to build a bridge," grumbled he called Saul, who appeared to be the leader of the trio. "We ain't got no axes."
"Well, I move we take a rest, anyway," said Darry. "I'm tired of riding a strange hoss over these yere hills."
"All right, we'll lay off and have a bite of the stuff in Jeff's haversack," replied the leader of the crowd.
They dismounted not over two rods from where Allen lay hidden in the brush, hardly daring to breathe. Being unarmed and knowing the temper of the rascals only too well, the young man kept himself covered and made not the slightest sound.
The negro brought forth an old army haversack and from it produced some crackers, jerked meat, and several other articles. Soon the trio were eating voraciously.
The horses had been tied to several trees in the vicinity, and while the men were eating and talking in low tones, Allen conceived the idea of gaining possession of one of the animals and riding off with it. He knew it would do no good to confront the thieves unarmed.
"I'll get on Paul's horse," he thought, "and if I can, I'll take Chet's animal with me. Then I'll have their horses back, even if I won't have my own."
Watching for a chance, when the backs of the men were turned, Allen crept from his cover and wormed his way toward Paul's horse. His knife was in his hand, and noiselessly he cut the halter. Another cut and Chet's animal was also free.
The horses stamped as they recognized Allen, who always made pets of all in the stable. Then Jasper let out a loud neigh of welcome.
The sound reached the ears of the leader of the horse thieves. He sprang to his feet, and a second later, Allen was discovered!
CHAPTER IX.
A Visitor at the Ranch
Let us once more go back to the ranch, where Chet and Paul, as well as the newcomer, Noel Urner, anxiously awaited Allen's return.
The night had been a long one to the two boys, neither of whom had slept a whole hour at a time. As Chet expressed it, "they felt it in their bones" that something was wrong.
At daybreak both rushed up to the roof of the ranch house, and with a field glass which Mr. Winthrop had left them, scanned eagerly in all directions.
"Not a man or horse in sight," said Chet in deep disappointment. "The chase must have been a long one indeed."
"Like as not Allen has gone on to some town," rejoined Paul. "But he ought to be back by noon; he knows we will be anxious to hear how he made out."
The two went below to meet Noel, who had just finished dressing. They set to work and a smoking hot breakfast was soon on the table.
"Well, I see nothing for me to do but to calmly wait for your brother's return," said the young man from New York. "I don't want to start out anywhere on foot, especially as I know nothing of the roads."
"Yes, don't go anywhere till Allen gets back," said Paul. "I want you to tell him yourself all you know concerning Uncle Barnaby."
The morning dragged by slowly, and at the passage of each hour the boys grew more anxious.
"It's a dangerous proceeding, this chasing horse thieves," explained Chet to Noel Urner. "A fellow is apt to get shot, unless he is careful. That is what worries us so."
"Unless something turns up right after dinner, I'm going off on foot with my rifle," put in Paul. "I may not discover anything, but it will ease my mind trying to do something."
It lacked half an hour of noon when the boys heard a cheery voice from the road hail them. They looked out and beheld Ike Watson, the hunter, from Gold Fork, resting in the saddle just outside of the semi-stockade.
"Whoop! Hullo thar!" cried the old fellow, who was hearty in both mind and body and full of fun. "Wot's the meanin' o' two healthy boys a-bummin' around the ranch sech an all-fired fine day as this yere?"
"O, Ike; I'm so glad you happened along!" cried Paul, as he ran out to meet him. "We were hoping some friend would come."
"Thet so?" Ike Watson's face grew sober on the instant. "Wot's the trouble?"
"Our horses have been stolen – "
"Gee, shoo! Hoss thieves ag'in! Wall, I'll be eternally blowed!" exclaimed Ike Watson, in a rage. "Who be they, Paul?"
"We don't know. Allen has gone after them."
"How many animiles did they git?"
"Only two – that is here – Chet's and mine. But they also stole the horse belonging to this gentleman, Mr. Noel Urner. Mr. Urner, this is our friend, Ike Watson."
"Hoss thieves is worse 'n pizen," growled Watson, as he sprang down and gave Noel Urner a hearty shake of the hand. "Thar ought ter be a law to hang every one o' 'em, say I!"
"Allen went off yesterday afternoon, and as we have not heard from him since, we are getting anxious," put in Chet. "We would have followed, but we haven't a single beast left in the barn."
"I see. Which way did the thieves go?"
"Allen took the trail over the brook," replied Paul.
"Humph!" Ike Watson scratched his head for a moment. "Wot's ter prevent me goin' after him, boys?"
"Will you?" asked Paul eagerly.
"Sartin. I ain't got nuthin' ter do, an' if I had, I reckon I could drop it putty quick ter do a favor fer Granville Winthrop's orphans. Give me a bite ter eat an' I'll be off ter onct."
"Are you sufficiently armed?" questioned Noel Urner.
"Armed? Well, I reckon," and from his belt Ike Watson produced an old '49 horse pistol nearly two feet long. "Thet air's my best friend, barrin' the rifle."
Chet soon had dinner for the hunter, which was as quickly devoured, and then, after receiving some of the particulars of the case on hand, Ike Watson started off.
"You'll hear from me before another sun smiles on ye!" he called back. "An' don't ye worry too much in the between time!" And he then disappeared.
The boys felt much more comfortable after Watson had started off to hunt up Allen. They knew the old man would do all in his power to help their elder brother, no matter in what difficulty he might find him.
"A rather odd character, truly," observed Noel, as they again passed into the house.
"Yes, but with a heart of steel and gold," returned Chet. "Idaho does not contain a braver or better hunter than old Ike Watson."
Shortly after this Chet and Paul went out to care for the cattle about the place, for quite a few head had already been penned up ready for the early fall drive. The ranch did not boast of many cattle, and such as there was they desired to keep in the best possible condition.
Noel Urner accompanied them and was much interested in all to be seen and what was done.
"Such a difference between life out here and in the city," he remarked. "Actually, it is like another world!"
"You're right there," replied Paul. "And when you size it up all around, it's hard to tell which is the best – providing, of course, you can get a comfortable living at either place."
Just as the three were walking back to the ranch the sounds of a horse's hoofs broke upon their ears.
"Can it be Allen?" burst out Chet, but then his face fell. "No, it's not his style of riding."
"Oh, pshaw!" whispered Paul a second later. "If it isn't Captain Grady!"
"And who is he?" queried Noel.
"An old prospector who wants to get possession of this ranch. He claims that our title to it is defective, or not good at all. I wonder what he wants now?"
"Perhaps he's got more evidence to prove his claim to the place," groaned Chet. "Oh, dear! Troubles never come singly, true enough!"
With anxious hearts the two brothers walked forward to meet the new arrival, whose face bore a look of insolence and self-satisfaction.
Captain Hank Grady was a tall, evil-looking man of forty years of age. His title was merely one of favor, for he had neither served in the army nor the navy. But little was known of his past by the people of the section, and he never took the pains to enlighten those who were curious enough to know.
For years he had wanted the Big Bear ranch, as the Winthrop homestead was called, for neither by fair means nor foul had he heretofore been able to obtain possession of the property. But now he had been working in secret for a long while, and he came prepared to make an announcement that was designed to trouble the boys not a little.
"Hullo, there, young fellers," he called out roughly, as he dismounted. "I reckon you didn't expect to see me quite so soon again, did you?"
"We did not," rejoined Paul, coldly.
"Well, I confess I fixed matters up quicker than I first calculated to do," went on the captain. "I thought I was going to have a good bit more trouble to establish my claim."
"As far as I know you have no claim here to establish," put in Chet, sharply. "You may pretend – "
"See here, I ain't talking to you," retorted Captain Grady, cutting him short. "Your big brother is the feller I want to see – him or Barnaby Winthrop."
"Both of them are away," replied Paul, "and Chet and I are running the ranch just now."
"And if you do not like my manner of speech you need not stay here," cried Chet, warmly, his temper rising at the newcomer's aggressive manner.
"Ho! you young savage, don't you speak that way to me," roared Captain Grady. "I didn't come here to deal with a kid."
"I may be young, but I have my rights here, just the same," retorted Chet.
"My brother is right," added Paul. "If you wish to talk business you must do so with both of us."
The captain growled out something under his breath. He was about to speak when he caught sight of Noel Urner.
He started back as though a ghost had confronted him, and the words died on his lips. The young man from New York saw the action, but could not in the least account for it.
CHAPTER X.
The Captain's Setback
Captain Grady recovered in a few seconds. He glanced suspiciously about to see if there were others with Noel. Seeing the young man was alone, he plucked up fresh courage.
"All right, I'll talk business with both," he said. "Who is this?" and he jerked his thumb toward Noel.
"A friend of ours from New York," replied Paul.