The Border Boys on the Trail

by John Henry Goldfrap

  CHAPTER XIX.

  JIM HICKS, PROSPECTOR.

  The sharp eyes of Coyote Pete were not long in discovering the cause ofthe startling interruption to the adulation of Maud.

  Through a clump of brush some distance above the trail, a strange,wild face was peering at them. Yet, despite its tangle of beard, andthe battered hat which crowned its tangled locks, the countenance wasa kindly one, and there was friendliness in its blue eyes. Above all,it was the face of an American. Pete, and Jack, too, for that matter,would have thrown themselves rejoicingly on the neck of the mostdisreputable of their countrymen, if they had happened to meet him atthat moment.

  "Traveling?" inquired the stranger, coming out from his concealment anddisclosing a well-knit body dressed in plainsman's garb. The butt of arevolver glinted suggestively on his left thigh.

  "Reckon so," rejoined Pete.

  "Whar frum?"

  "South."

  "Whar to?"

  "North."

  "Ain't very communicative, be yer, stranger?"

  "Wa'al, you see, we ain't had a regular introduction," rejoined Pete,with range humor, a grin spreading over his countenance.

  "My name's Jim Hicks; I'm prospecting up through this yer God-forsakenplace."

  "Mine's Peter Aloysius Archibald De Peyster," rejoined Coyote Pete,and, although he then gasped in amazement, Jack was later to learn thatthis was the redoubtable cow-puncher's real name. In fact, he had hadmore than one fight on account of it.

  "Don't laugh," he warned.

  "Not a snicker," was the reply, "but that sure is a fancy name,stranger. Sounds like a Christmas tree, all lights, and tinsel, andglitter."

  "Humph," rejoined the cow-puncher, glancing sharply at the other, but,perceiving no sign of amusement on that leathern countenance, he wenton, "and this is my young friend, Jack Merrill, the son of Merrill, thecattle-man."

  "Say," burst out Jack, who had been doing some thinking, "are you J.H.?"

  "That is my usual initials," rejoined the prospector, bending a keenglance on the boy.

  "Ho--ho--ho!" laughed Pete, "I reckon we crossed your trail to-day. Didyou mislay a wash-pan?"

  "Why, yep," rejoined the other, a rather embarrassed look coming overhis face, and a bit of red creeping up under the tan, "you see, I wascamped down the trail last night, when the all-firedest thing happenedthat I ever bumped into."

  "What was it?" asked Jack mischievously, scenting here an explanationof the occurrences of the night.

  "Why, I was sound asleep down by the creek, when, all of a sudden, Ihear'n a fearful racket above me. I looked up and I seen a devil withred eyes and a blue tail, all surrounded by blue fire, coming towardme, and----"

  "Hold on, stranger--wait a minute. I ain't through yit. Wa'al, sir, Iout with my pepper box and let fly, but the critter, whatever it was,jes' giv' the awfulest laugh I ever heard, and vanished in a cloud ofblue smoke."

  "Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed Jack, while Pete joined in the merriment, holdinghis sides.

  The prospector looked at them suspiciously.

  "Why--why--why," gasped Pete, "barrin' the red fire and the trimmings,I reckon your devil was jes' our old mule, Maud."

  "That onery, one-eared critter yonder!" yelled the prospector, "thatperambulating, four-legged accumulation of cats'-meat scare me out oftwo years' growth! Stan' aside, strangers----"

  "Why, what are you going to do?" exclaimed Jack in a somewhat alarmedtone, as the prospector's hand flew to his six-shooter.

  "Jes' ventilate the promiscuous disposition of that animal of your'n,stranger."

  As he spoke, he coolly raised his pistol, preparatory to sweeping itdown and firing point-blank at poor Maud. But Coyote Pete was on himwith a wild yell.

  "Here, here, none of that in this camp, stranger," he bellowed, as hismighty arms bore the astonished prospector to the ground, and theyrolled over and over; "ef you've got any nuggets lyin' loose you don'twant, give 'em to us to decorate that noble creature, but you'll shootme afore you shoot Maud."

  As for Jack, after his first alarm, all he could do was to roar withlaughter at the two big Westerners rolling about on the ground, andfilling the air with vigorous expletives.

  "Here, here, get up," he cried at length. "Aren't you ashamed ofyourselves?"

  The two stopped their struggle for a moment and scrambled to their feet.

  "I'll take back my remarks about your mule," said the prospector,apparently unruffled by the sudden strenuous interlude.

  "And I'll withdraw my objection to you on account of that bullet youfired at us last night," said Pete solemnly.

  "Accepted," said the ranger with equal gravity, "and now, if you twofellers feels like scoffin'----"

  "Scoffing?" said Jack. "I thought we'd had enough of that."

  "He means eating," chuckled Pete. "What a question to ask!"

  "Wa'al, then, I'm camped about a quarter of a mile frum here, and willbe glad to have your company. I come down to find out what was thematter, when I hear'n that mule critter of yours a-singin' once more.Glad to have met congenial company."

  "We'll have to bring the mule," said Jack.

  "All right. So long as she don't fight with my outfit, I've noobjection," rejoined the prospector; "but come on, or that rabbit stewwill be getting burned."

  "Rabbit stew!" exclaimed Coyote Pete. "Oh, I never thought to hear themwords again."

  Rapidly they retraced their steps, leading Maud by her hitching rope.Soon they reached a small branch path, which they had not noticed ontheir way up. It led back into the brush where Jim Hicks, it appeared,had camped. As they neared it, a savory odor of rabbit stew becameapparent. Pete sniffed ecstatically.

  "Say, stranger," he asked in a trembling voice, "is they--is theyonions in that stew, or does my nose deceive me?"

  "Mr. De Peyster," rejoined the prospector, "your organ of smelling iskerrict, sir. There is four of the finest Bermudas obtainable in thatrabbit stew."

  "Hold me," murmured Pete to Jack, a sudden look of lassitude comingover his weather-beaten face.

  "Why, why, what's the matter?" exclaimed Jack in some real alarm.

  "I--I think I'm going to faint, and I forgot to bring my smellin'salts," grinned Pete, favoring the boy with a portentous wink.

  The formality of the West did not permit Jim Hicks to ask any questionsof his guests. In fact, in that section of the country such a procedurewould have been adjudged a terrible breach of good manners. On theborder every man's business is his own, and no questions asked.

  When, however, three or more helpings of rabbit stew had become a partof Coyote Pete, and an equal number was being assimilated into theperson of Jack Merrill, the cow-puncher took advantage of the temporaryabsence of Jim Hicks--who had gone to see after his ponies--to ask Jackif he thought it wise to tell the prospector some of their story.

  "I certainly do," replied Jack. "He is a queer character, certainly,but under all his peculiarities he seems to be shrewd and kindly."

  "That's what I think, too," agreed Pete. "He may be able to help us."

  After Coyote Pete and Jim Hicks had their pipes lighted, therefore,for the prospector carried a good supply of "Lone Jack," Coyote Petebegan. The prospector listened with many exclamations of surprise totheir story, till they reached the part concerning the old Mission ofSan Gabriel. Then he jumped to his feet, and, dashing his pipe to theground, applied a few vigorous epithets to Black Ramon and his gang.

  "That's the bunch of coyotes that drove me out of there just as I wasabout to make my fortune," he cried.

  "Drove you out of there?"

  "Make yer fortune?" cried his two puzzled listeners.

  "Yep; listen," and Jim Hicks told them substantially the story, whichwe have already perused in his notebook, so providentially deliveredinto the hands of the prisoners of the old church. The man who willedit to him was a dying recluse he had aided.

  "And there the book is, written in with onion juice stuffed in a crannyof the wall for any one's finding
and nobody's reading," chuckledthe prospector in conclusion. "It was the only thing I could do. Yousee, I didn't know whether those greasers would catch me or not, so Iconcluded the best thing to do would be to take no chances, and hideit."

  "You think you can find it again?" asked Jack, fascinated by the oldprospector's strange story.

  "Why, I dunno, son. You see, I was in such a hurry to get away when Iheard them fellers coming, that I just stuffed it in a crack in thewall. If they got inquisitive they could easy get it out, but theywouldn't suspect nothing, for the book looked blank."

  "But how did you escape without their seeing you?"

  "Ah, you've got to trust an old borderer for that," grinned Jim Hicks."You see, when I got near the church, thinks I to myself, 'now, JimHicks, you don't want to burn your bridges behind you' so I just leftmy pony hidden in a little arroyo about half a mile away. When I heardthem coming by the front of the place, I slipped out the other sideand into the brush. After a lot of wrigging about through the scrub, Ireached my pony, and rode back up here to where I had my outfit cached."

  "Then you don't know whether there's treasure there or not?" asked Jack.

  "Wa'al, there's treasure there all right, no doubt o' that. ThatSpanish fellow--I told you how I helped him when he was dying--swore hedidn't lie to me, and I believe him. But he hinted at there being somesort of difficulty in the way of getting at it. The breath of death, Ithink he called it. Guess he meant the greasers' garlic."

  "I guess so," responded Jack; "how I wish that we could go with youright now and explore the secret tunnel."

  "Wa'al, we've got to get in communication with the ranch first,and then we can get the greaser troops and get after that band ofscallywags," said Pete.

  "And we must be two days' ride from it now," sighed Jack. "In themeantime, what will be happening to the others?"

  "That's the trouble," mused Pete, "if only we'd had a chance, we mighthave struck out and got the troops ourselves. But the greasers cut usoff, and we're of more use here, even as out of the way as we are, thanwe would be in Black Ramon's clutches."

  "Tell yer what," exclaimed Jim Hicks suddenly, "you don't hev ter rideall ther way to ther ranch."

  "What's that?" asked Pete.

  "No. I mean what I say. Use the telephone."

  "What?"

  Jack and Pete looked at the eccentric prospector as if they thought hehad gone crazy in good earnest.

  "Oh, I'm not locoed. Has your father got talk bo' at the ranch, boy?"

  "Yes," rejoined Jack.

  "Then it's easy."

  The prospector spoke with such easy confidence that, in spite ofthemselves, Jack and Pete began to pay serious attention to his words.

  "Oh, yes; I suppose we jes' climb a sugar-pine and asked Central tergive us Grizzly one twenty-three?" inquired Pete, sardonically.

  "Nope," rejoined the miner, quite unruffled; "but hain't yer neverthought that there's a telephone at the big water dam?"

  "Thunders of Vesuvius, that's right!" exclaimed Pete, leaping to hisfeet and executing a jig.

  "How do we get there, though?" asked Jack. "We must be miles from it."

  "Not so very far. I know a trail across the mountain that'll get usthere a whole lot sooner than you'd think possible."

  "Oh-didy-dd diddy-dum; Dum-dididdy-dee!" hummed Pete cutting all sortsof capers, "oh, now won't we get after those greasers."

  "When can we start?" asked Jack.

  "Sun up to-morrow."

  "Good. I won't rest easy till I know that we're on the way to saveRalph and the others."