The Motor Rangers Through the Sierras
Page 5
CHAPTER V.
AN APPOINTMENT ON THE TRAIL.
"Something's up," whispered Joe, as if this fact was not perfectlyobvious.
"Hush," warned Nat, "that fellow who just came down the trail is thechap we noticed at supper."
"Alkali Ike?"
"Yes. That's what you called him."
"He must have a date here."
"Looks that way. If I don't miss my guess he's here to meet whoever iscoming on horseback down that trail."
"Are you going to stay right here?"
"We might as well. I've got an idea somehow that these chaps are up tosome mischief. It doesn't look just right for them to be meeting wayoff here."
"That's right," agreed Joe, "but supposing they are desperatecharacters. They may make trouble for us."
"I guess not," rejoined Nat, "we're well hidden in the shadow here.There's not a chance of their seeing us."
"Well I hope not."
But the arrival of the horsemen on the trail put a stop to furtherconversation right then. There were two of them, both, so far as theboys could see, big, heavy men, mounted on active little ponies. Theirlong tapaderos, or leather stirrup coverings, almost touched the groundas they rode.
"Hello, Al," exclaimed one of them, as the black mustached man cameforward to meet them.
"Hello, boys," was the rejoinder in an easy tone as if the speaker hadno fear of being overheard, "well, you pulled it off I see."
"Yes, and we'd have got more than the express box too if it hadn't beenfor the allfiredest noise you ever heard at the top of the trail all ofa sudden. It came just as we was about ter go through ther pockets ofthe passengers. Sounded like a boiler factory or suthin'. I tell you welit out in a hurry."
The speaker was one of the pony riders. As he spoke Nat gave Joe anudge and the other replied with a look of understanding. The men whostood talking not a score of paces from them had taken part in thestage-robbery.
The man on foot seemed immensely amused at the mention of the "terriblenoise" his companions said they had been alarmed by.
"Why, that was an automobubble," he laughed.
"A bubble!" exclaimed one of the others, "what in the name of thesnow-covered e-tarnal hills is one of them coal oil buckboards doin' inthis neck of ther woods?"
"Why, three kids are running it on a pleasure trip. The Motor Rangers,or some such fool name, they call theirselves. They hitched the bubbleon ter ther stage and towed her inter town as nice as you please."
"Did you say they called theirselves the Motor Rangers?" asked theother mounted man who up to this time had not spoken.
"That's right, why?"
"One of 'em a fat, foolish lookin' kid what can't talk straight?" askedthe other instead of replying.
Nat nudged Ding-dong and chuckled, in imminent danger of exposing theirhiding place. It tickled him immensely to hear that youth described insuch an unflattering manner.
"Why yep. There is a sort of chumpish kid with 'em. For the matter ofthat all three of 'em are stuck up, psalm singin' sort of kids. Don'tdrink nor smoke nor nuthin'."
"True for you. We're not so foolish," breathed Nat to Joe.
"Why are you so anxious about 'em, Dayton?" asked the other rider whohad remained silent while his comrade was making the recorded inquiries.
"Cos I know 'em and I've got some old scores to even up with them,"was the rejoinder. "Do you remember what I told you about some kidsfooling us all down in Lower California?"
"Yep. What of it?"
"Well, this is the same bunch. I'm sure of it."
"The dickens you say. Do they travel with much money about them?"
It was the black-mustached man who was interested now.
"I don't know about that. But their bubble is worth about $5,000 andone of them has a gold mine in Lower Cal. Then, too, they always carrya fine stock of rifles and other truck."
"They'd be worth plucking then?"
"I guess so. At any rate I'd like to get even with them even if wedidn't get a thing out of it. Ed. Dayton doesn't forgive or forget in ahurry."
Small wonder that the boys leaned forward with their ears fairly achingto catch every word. Nat knew now why the outline of one of the ridershad seemed familiar to him. The man was evidently none other than Ed.Dayton, the rascal who had acted as the millionaire Hale Bradford'slieutenant in Lower California.
Nat, it will be recalled, was captured on the peninsula and an attemptmade to force him to give up papers showing his right to the mine,which the gang Hale Bradford had gathered about him was working. I cantell you, Nat was mighty glad that he and his companions happened to bethere in the shadow; for, thought he to himself:--
"Forewarned is forearmed, Mr. Ed. Dayton."
But the men were resuming their talk.
"Tell you what you fellows do," said the black-mustached man. "Just lieoff here in the brush for an hour or so and I'll go back to the hoteland look around. Then I'll come back and tell you if the coast's clear.They've got their auto out in some sort of a shed and if we could runit we could swipe the whole thing. Can you run an auto, Ed.? Seems tome I've heard you talk about them."
"Can a dog bark?" inquired the other, who if the memory of my readersgoes back that far, they will recall had at one time been a chauffeurfor Mr. Pomery.
"Very well then, that's settled. At all events it might be a good thingto smash up the car if we can't do anything else with it."
"That's right Al.," agreed Ed. Dayton's companion, "we don't want anynosy kids around in the mountains. They might discover too much."
"That's so, too. Well, you leave it to me, Al. Jeffries, and I'llbet you that after to-night they'll all be glad to go home to theirmammies."
But right here something happened which might, but for good fortune,have caused a different ending to this story.
Ding-dong Bell, among other peculiarities, possessed a pair of verydelicate nostrils, and the slightest irritation thereof caused him tosneeze violently. Now at the time of the year of which we are writingthe California mountains are covered with a growth, called in somelocalities tar weed. This plant gives off an irritating dust when itis shaken or otherwise disturbed, and the hoofs of the two riders'ponies had kicked up a lot of this pungent powder. Just as the rascalsconcluded their plans a vagrant puff of wind carried some of it inDing-dong's direction.
Realizing what serious consequences it might have, the lad struggledwith all his might against his immediate inclination to sneeze, but tryas he would he could not keep the ultimate explosion back.
"A-ch-oo-oo-oo-oo!"
It sounded as loud as the report of a cannon, in the silent canyon, andquite as startling.
"What in thunder was that?" exclaimed Ed. Dayton wheeling his ponyround.
He, of course, saw nothing, and regarded his companions in a puzzledway.
Al. Jeffries was tugging his black mustache and looking about himlikewise for some explanation. But he could not find it. In themeantime, the boys, in an agony of apprehension, scarcely dared tobreathe. They crouched like rabbits behind their shelter awaiting whatseemed inevitable discovery.
"Must have been a bird," grunted Ed. Dayton's companion.
"Funny sort of bird," was the rejoinder.
"That's right. I am a funny sort of bird," thought Ding-dong with aninward chuckle.
"Sounded to me more like somebody sneezin'," commented Ed. Dayton whowas still suspicious.
"It'll be a bad day for them if there was," supplemented Al. Jeffriesgrimly.
"Tell you what we do, boys," came a sudden suggestion from Ed.'scompanion, which sent a chill to the hearts of the boys; "let's scatterabout here and look around a bit."
"That's a good idea," was the alarming rejoinder.
Nat was just revolving in his mind whether it would be the betterexpedient to run, and trust to hiding in the rocks and chaparral, or toleap up and try to scare the others' ponies, and then escape. But justthen Al. Jeffries spoke:
"No use wastin' time on that
now, boys," he said, "it's gettin' late.You do as I say, and then in a while we'll all take a little spin inthat grown up taxi cab of the Motor Rangers."
To the intense relief of the boys the others agreed. Soon after thisthe trio of rascals separated. Ed. Dayton and his companions rode backup the trail while Al. Jeffries started off for the hotel.
As soon as their footsteps grew faint Nat galvanized into action.
"We've got a lot to do in a very short time," he announced excitedly."Come on, Joe! Shake a foot! We've got to beat Mr. Al. back to thehotel."
"How?" inquired Joe amazedly, but not doubting in his own mind that Nathad already thought the matter out thoroughly.
"We'll skirt along the mountain-side above him. If we are careful hewon't hear us."
"That is, if Ding-dong can muffle that nasal gatling gun of his,"grunted Joe. "Say, young fellow, the next time you want to sneeze whenwe're in such a tight place, just oblige us by rolling over the edge ofthe canyon, will you?"
"I c-c-c-o-o-ouldn't help it," sputtered Ding-dong sorrowfully.
"Couldn't," exclaimed the indignant Joe, "you didn't even try."
"I did too. But I couldn't remember whether the book said that youcould stop sneezing by pulling the lobe of your ear or rubbing thebridge of your nose."
"So you did both?"
"Y-y-y-yes; why?"
"Well, they were both wrong. You should have wiggled your right big toewhile you balanced a blade of grass on your chin."