CHAPTER VIII
HEADED FOR THE HIGH COUNTRY
"I have found a guide," announced Hippy next morning, walking into thepost office where he found all the other members of his party writingpostal cards to friends in the east.
"That's good. Where is he?" asked Tom Gray.
"If you will look up you will see him."
The Overlanders looked. Just to the rear of Hippy Wingate stood agrinning Chinaman, both hands hidden in the ends of his flowing sleeves.The Oriental was bowing and scraping, his queue animatedly bobbing upand down. Stacy uttered a loud "Ha, ha!"
"Permit me to introduce to you the Honorable Woo Smith whom I haveselected, subject to your approval, to accompany us on our journey tothe High Sierras," announced Hippy Wingate.
"But surely, Hippy, this man cannot be a guide," protested ElfredaBriggs. "We need a guide!"
"Perhaps he isn't, but you can't find anything else with a magnifyingglass in this burg. Should you folks think best not to accept him, we'llgo it alone. I've done the best I can. Remember, too, that I'm a sickman, that I've been mauled and keelhauled by a bunch of bandits and--"
"Do you speak English?" interrupted Grace Harlowe.
"Les. Me speak English velly fine."
"You say his name is Woo Smith?" questioned Emma.
"The Honorable Woo Smith," Hippy informed her.
"What has he done in the way of mountain work?" persisted Grace.
"I am informed that he has made frequent journeys to the mountains withprospecting parties and hunters as cook, guide and general handy man. Atone time he was out with a government survey party."
"As cook or guide?" interjected Nora Wingate.
"The former, I believe."
"This outfit needs a good cook," suggested Chunky.
"Woo, do you know horses?" asked Tom Gray.
"Les."
"That reminds me, Chunky, what have you done about the pack animals?"demanded Lieutenant Wingate.
"Got three dandies. I have learned that we must travel light. They saythat the trails are very rough in the High Country, and further, that wemust depend upon the country for our food, generally speaking. I don'tknow what Uncle Hip and I are going to do if it comes to short rations.Of course, as a last resort we can eat the pack-horses. They eat horsesin France, so why shouldn't we do the same, if we're hungry enough."
"That reminds me. One of the men out with us on our search for Hippydeclared that our ponies would not be suitable for this journey, andthat it requires animals accustomed to the peculiarities of theSierras," averred Tom Gray.
"Oh, pooh!" grunted the fat boy. "My pony could climb a tree."
"How much money do you wish, Woo?" questioned Tom.
"Five dollah a week."
"What do you say, good people?" asked Grace.
"I don't care what you do," exclaimed Hippy. "I want food and I wantsomeone who knows how to cook it fit for human consumption, that's all."
"I second the motion," agreed Stacy. "We can't all live onsoul-transmigration stuff. I'd get mental indigestion on that food inthirty seconds by the watch."
"We had a Chinaman on our journey across the Great American Desert, andhe was an excellent man," declared Elfreda Briggs. "I move that we takethis one."
The others agreed with her, and Grace, turning to Woo, told him that hewas engaged.
"What has been done about the general equipment?" asked Tom.
Grace said that experienced men had advised against the Overlandersburdening themselves with tents or any heavy equipment.
"We have slept in the open many times before, so I think we shall beable to get along very nicely," she added.
Stacy Brown protested vigorously. He declared that he would not sleepout of doors where bugs and other undesirable things could get at him,but, after discussing the matter further, every one agreed that thetents would prove an unnecessary encumbrance. They went over their listcritically, eliminating several articles that they thought they could dowithout.
"I have an idea!" exclaimed Stacy.
"Keep it," urged Emma. "They seem to be reasonably scarce with you."
"At least I don't transmigrate them," retorted Chunky. "As I was aboutto remark when interrupted, I have an idea that this outfit will have tobrowse with the horses if it wishes food."
"It would be a great flesh-reducer," murmured Emma, giving Chunky asidelong glance.
Elfreda suggested that they have a look at the pack-horses selected byStacy, so they all walked over to the corral, and expressed themselvesas well satisfied with Stacy's selections. One white, mischievous littleanimal, with a circle of delicate pink about each eye, they named Kitty.The name seemed to fit her. The other two animals they, decided to namelater on after learning their peculiarities.
"I've ordered pack saddles for them," announced Hippy, "and a pair ofkyacks for each horse."
"What is a kyack? Something good to eat?" questioned Stacy.
"A kyack is an alforgas," Emma Dean informed him. "I am amazed at yourignorance."
"I agree with you, Emma. For once I do," nodded Hippy. "For yourinformation, Stacy, a kyack is a packing outfit. These are made eitherof heavy canvas or of rawhide, shaped square and dried over boxes. Afterdrying, the boxes are removed, leaving the stiff rawhide or canvas, likesmall trunks, open at the top. They are in reality sacks--"
"Me savvy klyack," chuckled the Chinaman, rubbing his palms togethergleefully.
"Mr. Smith knows," nodded Hippy.
"The explanation is not satisfactory. Once more I rise to ask if thiskyack thing is some sort of dried beef that we are expected to eat whenreal food is scarce?" insisted Chunky.
"You and I, lad, would have to be pretty hungry to eat a kyack," laughedHippy. "The loops of the kyack are slung on each side of the horse. Theyare used to pack belongings over the mountains. I have also orderedsawbuck trees for the pack-saddles, together with pack-cinch, andpack-rope for each animal. I also took the liberty of buying blanketsfrom which to make saddle-pads. It will be cheaper than trying to getalong with horses with sore backs, I think. Then there are hobbles forthe horses, a couple of cow bells--"
"Are we going to take cows along with us?" wondered Chunky, opening hiseyes a little wider.
"Not quite. Only a calf or two," murmured Emma Dean.
"The bells are for the horses, so that they may be easily found in themorning," spoke up Tom Gray. "I thought you had been out before."
"I have, but never with such an outfit as this, especially thetransmigration end of it," retorted Stacy, giving Emma a quick look tosee if his shot had gone home. "I see," he added. "But every time I hearthe bells a-ringing, I shall think of home and a pitcherful of warmmilk."
"Perfectly proper food for the species to which I so recently referred,"observed Emma airily. "However, from all accounts, you will have nothingmore nourishing than snow-water from the tall peaks of the Sierras."
"Br-r-r-r!" shivered Stacy.
At Hippy's direction, the Honorable Woo Smith led the pack-horses overto the general store, and there, with Stacy to assist him, Hippy beganpacking their equipment, throwing a diamond hitch about each pack. Thegirls, observing the work, discovered that Stacy Brown was quite asfamiliar with "throwing packs" as was his Uncle Hippy.
"Mister Brown is not quite the fool he would have us believe," declaredElfreda Briggs. "It is my opinion that he believes in putting his worstfoot forward, keeping the other one hidden behind it."
A group of mountaineers were standing near, observing the operationswith interest. One stepped up and examined the much-worn saddle on HippyWingate's pony.
"Son," said he, "do ye reckon on climbin' mountains with that thing?"
"Why not?" demanded Hippy.
"I reckon it might be all right for the Rockies, but yer saddle'll be onthe critter's tail afore ye git half way to the top of the Big Sierras."
Hippy stroked his chin reflectively.
"You mean I
ought to have a double-cinch on the riding saddles? Is thatit?"
"I reckon."
"Thanks, Buddy. I'll fix it. I should have thought of that, but I am notat all familiar with the lay of the land up here."
"Ye will be, pardner, after ye've fell off it a few thousand times. Thelandscape in these here parts be rather sudden in spots," drawled themountaineer.
A yell from the Honorable Woo Smith interrupted the dialogue. Kitty, themischievous pack-horse, had playfully seized the queue of Woo Smithbetween her teeth and was jerking her head up and down, and, with eachjerk, the Chinaman was jolted backwards, howling lustily, chattering involleys in his native tongue. The street, near the village store, filledwith cowboys and citizens as if by magic. They set up yells, shouts andcat-cries that smothered the chatter of the new guide.
Grace, being nearest to the mischievous animal, sprang forward and gavethe white pack-horse a smart slap with the flat of her hand on Kitty'splump stomach. The mare instantly dropped the howling Chinaman, and,whirling on Grace with wide open mouth, looked as if she were about todevour the Overland Rider. The girl never flinched.
"Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Kitty?" she chided. "If ever I see youdo a thing like that again I'll surely have you punished. Do youunderstand?"
The mare's mouth closed slowly, her upper lip quivered, she nibbledgingerly at Grace Harlowe's sleeve, and looked as meek as was possiblefor a mischievous pony to look. The cowboys grunted disgustedly. Theywere disgruntled that Grace had spoiled their fun, disappointed that thewhite mare had not taken a large slice, either out of the Chinaman orGrace Harlowe herself.
"Grace, do you know, you have given us a most remarkable demonstrationof the transmigration of thought," declared Emma. "It was your thought,transmitted to the mentality of the white mare, that caused her todesist, to beg of you to forgive and--"
"Yeo-o-o-o-ow!" howled Chunky.
"Young man, your rudeness is inexcusable," rebuked Emma.
"That's what the white mare wanted to say to Grace," retorted Stacy.
While all this was taking place, Tom and Elfreda were talking with themountaineers, getting all the information they could about trails andconditions in the mountains. The result of the information gleaned wasthat the Overland Riders decided that they would take the "Cold StreamTrail" for the High Country, a section seldom visited, but which WooSmith declared he knew all about. The spectators were inclined to makesport of the explorers, and especially of the idea that women could ridethe Sierras. Even the postmaster sought to dissuade them from making theattempt.
"It's a bad country," he confided to Tom. "With that bunch of gals onyour hands, you'll starve to death, sure's you're a foot high."
"There is plenty of game there, is there not?" questioned Tom.
"Yes, for them that knows how to shoot."
"Then I reckon we will not starve. What other objection is there?"
"The Jones Boys. You watch out right smart for them."
"Who are they?" demanded Elfreda, who had been an interested listener tothe conversation between Tom and the postmaster.
The postmaster glanced about him apprehensively before replying, then,leaning towards Tom, spoke in a half-whisper.
"Outlaws!" he said. "I reckon you've heard of them. It is suspected thatthey're the fellows that held up the Red Limited the other night. Ireckon you know something about that affair." The postmaster squintedknowingly at Tom, who nodded.
"So, that's it, eh?"
"Yes. Better look out for them. They have their hang-out somewhere inthe mountains, but nobody has ever been able to trail them to it, and Idon't reckon no one ever will--and come back to tell about it. A squadof Pinkerton detectives went into the mountains looking for thosefellows, but not one of that bunch of detectives has ever been heardfrom since."
"It sounds shivery, doesn't it?" spoke up Elfreda. "However, we have noespecial reason to fear the bandits because there could be no object intheir interfering with us. We do not carry money with us--not enough tomake it worth their while to try to rob us--nor are we looking fortrouble."
"No object!" exploded the postmaster. "Lady, those fellows would killyou for two bits and a piece of string."
In his own mind, Tom Gray was not so positive that the bandits had noreason for interfering with them. On the contrary, if the Jones Boysknew that it was the Overland Riders who had assisted in driving themfrom the scene of the attempted train robbery, the Overlanders mightconfidently look for some stirring times in the High Sierras.
Grace Harlowe's Overland Riders in the High Sierras Page 9
