CHAPTER XIII.
THE VOLLEY IN THE CANYON.
Nat had stopped in the nick of time. As the auto came to an abrupthalt, almost jolting those in the tonneau out of their seats, there wasa roar like the voice of an avalanche. From far up the hillside a cloudof dust grew closer, and thundered past like an express train. In themidst of the cloud was the huge, dislodged rock, weighing perhaps halfa ton or more.
So close did it whiz by, in fact, just ahead of the car, that Nat couldalmost have sworn that it grazed the engine bonnet. The ground shookand trembled as if an earthquake was in progress, during the passage ofthe huge rock.
"Whew! Well, what do you think of that!" gasped Joe.
"I thought the whole mountainside was coming away," exclaimedDing-dong, startled into plain speech by his alarm.
Of course the first thing to be done was to clamber out of the car andexamine the monster rock, which had come to rest some distance up theside of the opposite cliff to that from which it had fallen, such hadbeen its velocity. Nat could not help shuddering as he realized thatif the great stone had ever struck the auto it would have been, in thelanguage of Cal, "Good-night" for the occupants of that vehicle.
"Ach, vee vould haf been more flat as a pretzel alretty yet," exclaimedHerr Muller, unslinging his ever ready camera, and preparing to take aphoto of the peril which had so narrowly missed them.
"This must be our lucky day," put in Joe, "three narrow escapes, oneafter the other. I wonder if there'll be a fourth."
"Better not talk about it, Joe," urged Cal, "the next time we might notbe so fortunate."
"Guess that's right," said Nat, who was examining the boulder with somecare.
Apparently it had been one of those monster rocks which glacial actionin the bygone ages has left stranded, delicately balanced on amountainside. Some rocks of this character it takes but a light shoveto dislodge. So perfectly are other great masses poised that it takespowerful leverage to overcome their inertia--to use a term in physics.
But the scientific aspect of the rock was not what interested Nat. Whathe wanted to find out was just how such a big stone could have becomeunseated from the mountainside and at a time when its downfall would,but for their alertness, have meant disaster and perhaps death, to theMotor Rangers. Nat had an idea, but he did not wish to announce it tillhe was sure.
Suddenly he straightened up with a flushed face. His countenance borean angry look.
"Come here, fellows," he said, "and tell me what you make of this markat the side of the rock."
He indicated a queer abrasion on one side of the stone. The livingstone showed whitely where the lichen and moss had been scraped aside.
"Looks like some cuss had put a lever under it," pronounced Cal, aftera careful inspection.
"That's what. Fellows, this rock was deliberately tilted so that itwould come down on us and crush us. Now there's only one bunch of menthat we know of mean enough to do such a thing and that's----"
_Phut-t-t!_
Something whistled past Nat's ear with a noise somewhat like thehumming of a drowsy bee, only the sound lasted but for a fraction of asecond.
Nat knew it instantly for what it was.
A bullet!
It struck the rock behind him, and not half an inch from a direct linewith his head, with a dull spatter.
The boy could not help turning a trifle pale as he realized what anexceedingly narrow escape he had had. Cal's countenance blazed withfury.
"The--the dern--skunks!" he burst out, unlimbering his well polishedold revolver.
"Reckon two kin play at that game."
But Nat pulled the other's arm down.
"No good, Cal," he said, "the best thing we can do is to get out ofhere as quickly as possible. One man up there behind those rocks couldwipe out an army down in here."
Cal nodded grimly, as he recognized the truth of the lad's words. Trulythey were in no position to do anything but, as Nat had suggested, getout as quickly as possible.
As they reached this determination another bullet whizzed by and strucka rock behind them, doubly convincing them of the wisdom of thiscourse. Fortunately, as has been said, the boulder had rolled clearacross the floor of the narrow canyon, such had been its velocity. Thiswas lucky for the lads, for if it had obstructed the way they wouldhave been in a nasty trap. With no room to turn round and no chance ofgoing ahead their invisible enemies would have had them at their mercy.
But if they could not see the shooters on the hillside, those marksmenappeared to have their range pretty accurately. Bullets came patteringabout them now in pretty lively fashion. Suddenly Herr Muller gave anexclamation and a cry of mingled pain and alarm. A red streak appearedat the same instant on the back of his hand where the bullet had nickedhim. But this was not the cause of his outcry. The missile had endedits career in the case in which he carried his photographic plates.
Nat heard the exclamation and turned about as the car began to moveforward.
"Where are you hurt?" he asked anxiously, fearing some severe injurymight have been inflicted on their Teutonic comrade.
"In der plate box," was the astonishing reply.
"Good heavens, you are shot in the stomach?" cried Joe.
"No, but seferal of my plates have been smashed, Ach Himmel vossmisfordune."
"I suppose you thought that plate box meant about the same thing asbread basket," grinned Nat, turning to Joe, as they sped forward. Aragged fire followed them, but no further damage to car or occupantsresulted. Herr Muller's horse, in the emergency, behaved like aveteran. It trotted obediently behind the car without flinching.
"Bismark, I am proudt off you," smiled his owner, after the damage tothe plate box had been investigated and found to be not so serious asits owner had feared.
"We must have drawn out of range," said Cal, as after a few moredesultory reports the firing ceased altogether.
"I hope so, I'm sure," responded Nat, "I tell you it's a pretty meanfeeling, this thing of being shot at by a chap you can't see at all."
"Yep, he jes' naturally has a drop on you," agreed Cal. "Wonder howthem fellers trailed us?"
"Simple enough," rejoined Nat, "at least, it is so to my way ofthinking. They didn't _trail_ us at all. They just got ahead of us."
"How do you mean?" asked Cal, even his keen wits rather puzzled.
"Why they figured out, I guess, that we weren't going to be suchcowards as to let their attempts to scare us turn us back. That beingthe case, the only way for us to proceed forward from the Big Treeswas to drive through this canyon. I reckon therefore that they justvamoosed ahead a bit and were ready with that big rock when we camealong."
"The blamed varmints," ground out the ex-stage driver, "I wonder ifthey meant to crush us?"
"Quite likely," rejoined Nat, "and if this car hadn't been able to stopin double-quick jig-time, they'd have done it, too. Of course they mayhave only intended to block the road so that they could go through usat their leisure. But in that case I should think that they would havehad the rock already there before we came along."
"Just my idea, lad," agreed the Westerner heartily, "them pestiferouscoyotes wouldn't stop at a little thing like wiping us out, if it wasin their minds ter do it. But I've got an idea that we must be gettingnear their den. I've heard it is back this way somewhere."
"If that is so," commented Nat, "it would account for their anxiety toturn us back. But," and here the boy set his lips grimly, "that's onereason why I'm determined to go on."
"And you can bet that I'm with you every step of the way," was Cal'shearty assurance. He laid a brown paw on Nat's hands as they grippedthe steering wheel. I can tell you, that in the midst of the perilsinto which Nat could not help feeling they were now approaching, itfelt good to have a stalwart, resourceful chap like Cal along.
"Thanks, Cal. I know you'll stick," rejoined Nat simply, and that wasall.
The canyon--or more properly, pass--which they had been traversing sooncame to an end, the spurs of th
e mountains which formed it slopingdown, and "melting" off into adjoining ranges. This formed a pleasantlittle valley between their slopes. The depression, which was perhapsfour miles in circumference, was carpeted with vivid green bunch grass.Clumps of flowering shrubs stood in the centre where a small lake,crystal clear, was formed by the conjunction of two little streams.The water was the clear, cold liquid of the mountains, sharp with thechill of the high altitudes.
After the boys had selected a camping place on a little knollcommanding all parts of the valley, their first task was to bring upbuckets of water and clean off the auto which, by this time, as youmay imagine, was pretty grimy and dusty. Several marks on the tonneau,too, showed where bullets had struck during the brush in the canyon.Altogether, the car looked "like business," that is to say, as ifit had gone through other ups and downs than those of the mountainsthemselves.
An inspection of the big gasolene tank showed that the emergencycontainer was almost exhausted, and before they proceeded to anythingelse, Nat ordered the tanks filled from the stock they carried in thebig "store-room," suspended under the floor of the car.
"We might have to get out of here in a hurry, when there would be notime to fill up the tanks," he said. "It's best to have everythingready in case of accidents."
"That's right," agreed Cal, "nothing like havin' things ready. Irecollect one time when I was back home in Iowy that they----"
But whatever had occurred--and it was doubtless interesting--back atCal's home in Iowa, the boys were destined never to know; for at thatmoment their attention was attracted to the horse of Herr Muller, whichhad been tethered near a clump of madrone shrubs not far from the lake.
"He's gone crazy!" shouted Joe.
"M-m-m-mad as a h-h-h-atter in Mum-m-march," sputtered Ding-dong.
No wonder the boys came to such a conclusion. For a respectable equine,such as Herr Muller's steed had always shown himself to be, Bismarkcertainly was acting in an extraordinary manner.
At one moment he flung his heels high into the air, and almost at thesame instant up would come his forelegs. Then, casting himself on theground, he would roll over and over, sending up little showers of turfand stones with his furiously beating hoofs. All the time he kept up ashrill whinnying and neighing that greatly added to the oddity of hisperformance.
"Ach Himmel! Bismark is a loonitacker!" yelled Herr Muller, rushingtoward his quadruped, of which he had become very fond.
But alas! for the confidence of the Teuton. As he neared Bismark, the"loonitacker" horse up with his hind legs and smiting Herr Mullerin the chest, propelled him with speed and violence backward towardthe lake. In vain Herr Muller tried to stop his backward impetus byclutching at the brush. It gave way in his hands like so much flax.Another second and he was soused head over heels in the icy mountainwater.
"What in the name of Ben Butler has got inter the critter?" gasped Calamazedly. The others opened their eyes wide in wonder. All of them hadhad something to do with horses at different stages of their careers,but never in their united experiences had a horse been seen to act likeBismark, the "loonitacker."
The Motor Rangers Through the Sierras Page 13
