by Zane Grey
IX. TAKEN INTO THE MOUNTAINS
We climbed to another level bench where we branched off the trail. Theforest still kept its open, park-like character. Under the great pinesthe ground was bare and brown with a thick covering of pine-needles, butin the glades were green grass and blue flowers.
Once across this level we encountered a steeper ascent than any I hadyet climbed. Here the character of the forest began to change. Therewere other trees than pines, and particularly one kind, cone-shaped,symmetrical, and bright, which Dick called a silver spruce. I was gladit belonged to the conifers, or pine-tree family, because it was themost beautiful tree I had ever seen. We climbed ridges and threadedthrough aspen thickets in hollows till near sunset. Then Stocktonordered a halt for camp.
It came none too soon for me, and I was so exhausted that I had to behelped off my mustang. Stockton arranged my blankets, fed me, and bathedthe bruise on my head, but I was too weary and sick to be grateful orto care about anything except sleep. Even the fact that my hands wereuncomfortably bound did not keep me awake.
When some one called me next morning my eyes did not want to stay open.I had a lazy feeling and a dull ache in my bones, but the pain had gonefrom my head. That made everything else seem all right.
Soon we were climbing again, and my interest in my surroundings grew aswe went up. For a while we brushed through thickets of scrub oak. Thewhole slope of the mountain was ridged and hollowed, so that we werealways going down and climbing up. The pines and spruces grew smaller,and were more rugged and gnarled.
"Hyar's the canyon!" sang out Bill, presently.
We came out on the edge of a deep hollow. It was half a mile wide. Ilooked down a long incline of sharp tree-tips. The roar of water rosefrom below, and in places a white rushing torrent showed. Above loomedthe snow-clad peak, glistening in the morning sun. How wonderfully faroff and high it still was!
To my regret it was shut off from my sight as we descended into thecanyon. However, I soon forgot that. I saw a troop of coyotes, and manyblack and white squirrels. From time to time huge birds, almost as bigas turkeys, crashed out of the thickets and whirred away. They flewswift as pheasants, and I asked Dick what they were.
"Blue grouse," he replied. "Look sharp now, Ken, there are deer ahead ofus. See the tracks?"
Looking down I saw little, sharp-pointed, oval tracks. Presently twofoxes crossed an open patch not fifty yards from us, but I did not geta glimpse of the deer. Soon we reached the bottom of the canyon, andstruck into another trail. The air was full of the low roar of tumblingwater. This mountain-torrent was about twenty feet wide, but itsswiftness and foam made it impossible to tell its depth. The trail ledup-stream, and turned so constantly that half the time Bill, the leader,was not in sight. Once the sharp crack of his rifle halted the train. Iheard crashings in the thicket. Dick yelled for me to look up the slope,and there I saw three gray deer with white tails raised. I heard astrange, whistling sound.
On going forward we found that Bill had killed a deer and was roping iton his pack-horse. As we proceeded up the canyon it grew narrower,and soon we entered a veritable gorge. It was short, but the floor wasexceedingly rough, and made hard going for the horses. Suddenly I wasamazed to see the gorge open out into a kind of amphitheatre severalhundred feet across. The walls were steep, and one side shelved out,making a long, shallow cave, In the center of this amphitheatre was adeep hole from which the mountain stream boiled and bubbled.
"Hyar we are," said Bill, and swung out of his saddle. The other menfollowed suit, and helped Dick and me down. Stockton untied our hands,saying he reckoned we would be more comfortable that way. Indeed wewere. My wrists were swollen and blistered. Stockton detailed theMexican to keep guard over us.
"Ken, I've heard of this place," said Dick. "How's that for a spring?Twenty yards wide, and no telling how deep! This is snow-water straightfrom the peaks. We're not a thousand feet below the snow-line."
"I can tell that. Look at those Jwari pines," I replied, pointing upover the wall. A rugged slope rose above our camp-site, and it wascovered with a tangled mass of stunted pines. Many of them were twistedand misshapen; some were half dead and bleached white at the tops. "It'smy first sight of such trees," I went on, "but I've studied about them.Up here it's not lack of moisture that stunts and retards their growth.It's fighting the elements--cold, storm-winds, snowslides. I supposenot one in a thousand seedlings takes root and survives. But the forestfights hard to live."
"Well, Ken, we may as well sit back now and talk forestry till Buellskins all he wants of Penetier," said Dick. "It's really a finecamping-spot. Plenty of deer up here and bear, too."
"Dick, couldn't we escape?" I whispered.
"We're not likely to have a chance. But I say, Ken, how did you happento turn up? I thought you were going to hop on the first train forhome."
"Dick, you had another think coming. I couldn't go home. I'll have agreat time yet--I'm having it now."
"Yes, that lump on your head looks like it," replied Dick, with a laugh."If Bud hadn't put you out we'd have come closer to licking this bunch.Ken, keep your eye on Greaser. He's treacherous. His arm's lame yet."
"We've had two run-ins already," I said. "The third time is the worst,they say. I hope it won't come.... But, Dick, I'm as big--I'm biggerthan he is."
"Hear the kid talk! I certainly ought to have put you on that train--"
"What train?" asked Stockton, sharply, from our rear. He took us in withsuspicious eyes.
"I was telling Ken I ought to have put him on a train for home,"answered Dick.
Stockton let the remark pass without further comment; still, he appearedto be doing some hard thinking. He put Dick at one end of the long cave,me at the other. Our bedding was unpacked and placed at our disposal. Wemade our beds. After that I kept my eyes open and did not miss anything.
"Leslie, I'm going to treat you and Ward white," said Stockton. "You'llhave good grub. Herky-Jerky's the best cook this side of Holston, andyou'll be left untied in the daytime. But if either of you attempts toget away it means a leg shot off. Do you get that?"
"All right, Stockton; that's pretty square of you, considering," repliedDick. "You're a decent sort of chap to be mixed up with a thief likeBuell. I'm sorry."
Stockton turned away at this rather abruptly. Then Bill appeared onthe wall above, and began to throw down firewood. Bud returned from thecanyon, where he had driven the horses. Greaser sat on a stone puffing acigarette. It was the first time I had taken a good look at him. He wassmaller than I had fancied; his feet and hands and features resembledthose of a woman, but his eyes were live coals of black fire. In thedaylight I was not in the least afraid of him.
Herky-Jerky was the most interesting one of our captors. He had a short,stocky figure, and was the most bow-legged man I ever saw. Never onearth could he have stopped a pig in a lane. A stubby beard coveredthe lower half of his brick-red face. The most striking thing aboutHerky-Jerky, however, was his perpetual grin. He looked very jolly, yetevery time he opened his mouth it was to utter bad language. He cursedthe fire, the pans, the coffee, the biscuits, all of which he handledmost skillfully. It was disgusting, and yet aside from this I ratherliked him.
It grew dark very quickly while we were eating, and the wind that dippeddown into the gorge was cold. I kept edging closer and closer to theblazing campfire. I had never tasted venison before, and rather dislikedit at first. But I soon cultivated a liking for it.
That night Stockton tied me securely, but in a way which made it easyfor me to turn. I slept soundly and awoke late. When I sat up Stocktonstood by his saddled horse, and was giving orders to the men. Hespoke sharply. He made it clear that they were not to be lax in theirvigilance. Then, without a word to Dick or me, he rode down the gorgeand disappeared behind a corner of yellow wall.
Bill untied the rope that held Dick's arms, but left his feet bound. Iwas freed entirely, and it felt so good to have the use of all my limbsonce more that I pranced round in a rather liv
ely way. Either my anticsannoyed Herky-Jerky or he thought it a good opportunity to show hisskill with a lasso, for he shot the loop over me so hard that it stungmy back.
"I'm all there as a roper!" he said, pulling the lasso tight round mymiddle. The men all laughed as I tumbled over in the gravel.
"Better keep a half-hitch on the colt," remarked Bud.
So they left the lasso fast about my waist, and it trailed after me asI walked. Herky-Jerky put me to carrying Dick's breakfast from thecampfire up into the cave. This I did with alacrity. Dick and Iexchanged commonplace remarks aloud, but we had several little whispers.
"Ken, we may get the drop on them or give them the slip yet," whisperedDick, in one of these interludes.
This put ideas into my head. There might be a chance for me to escape,if not for Dick. I made up my mind to try if a good chance offered, butI did not want to go alone down that canyon without a gun. Stockton hadtaken my revolver and hunting-knife, but I still had the little leathercase which Hal and I had used so often back on the Susquehanna. Besidesa pen-knife this case contained salt and pepper, fishing hooks andlines, matches--a host of little things that a boy who had never beenlost might imagine he would need in an emergency. While thinking andplanning I sat on the edge of the great hole where the spring was.Suddenly I saw a swirl in the water, and then a splendid spotted fish.It broke water twice. It was two feet long.
"Dick, there's fish in this hole!" I yelled, eagerly.
"Shouldn't wonder," replied he. "Sure, kid, thet hole's full oftrout--speckled trout," said Herky-Jerky. "But they can't be ketched."
"Why not?" I demanded. I had not caught little trout in the Pennsylvaniahills for nothing. "They eat, don't they? That fish I saw was a whale,and he broke water for a bug. Get me a pole and some bugs or worms!"
When I took out my little case and showed the fishing-line, Herky-Jerkysaid he would find me some bait.
While he was absent I studied that spring with new and awakened eyes.It was round and very deep, and the water bulged up in great greenishswirls. The outlet was a narrow little cleft through which the waterflowed slowly, as though it did not want to take its freedom. The rushand roar came from the gorge below.
Herky-Jerky returned with a long, slender pole. It was as pliant as abuggy-whip, and once trimmed and rigged it was far from being a poortackle. Herky-Jerky watched me with extreme attention, all the timegrinning. Then he held out a handful of grubs.
"If you ketch a trout on thet I'll swaller the pole!" he exclaimed.
I stooped low and approached the spring, being careful to keep out ofsight.
"You forgot to spit on yer bait, kid," said Bill.
They all laughed in a way to rouse my ire. But despite it I flipped thebait into the water with the same old thrilling expectancy.
The bait dropped with a little spat. An arrowy shadow, black and gold,flashed up. Splash! The line hissed. Then I jerked hard. The pole bentdouble, wobbled, and swayed this way and that. The fish was a powerfulone; his rushes were like those of a heavy bass. But never had a bassgiven me such a struggle. Every instant I made sure the tackle would bewrecked. Then, just at the breaking-point, the fish would turn. At lasthe began to tire. I felt that he was rising to the surface, and I put onmore strain. Soon I saw him; then he turned, flashing like a gold bar. Iled my captive to the outlet of the spring, where I reached down andgot my fingers in his gills. With that I lifted him. Dick whooped when Iheld up the fish; as for me, I was speechless. The trout was almost twofeet long, broad and heavy, with shiny sides flecked with color.
Herky-Jerky celebrated my luck with a generous outburst of enthusiasm,whereupon his comrades reminded him of his offer to swallow my fishingpole.
I put on a fresh bait and instantly hooked another fish, a smaller one,which was not so bard to land. The spring hole was full of trout. Theymade the water boil when I cast. Several large ones tore the hook loose;I had never dreamed of such fishing. Really it was a strange situation.Here I was a prisoner, with Greaser or Bud taking turns at holding theother end of the lasso. More than once they tethered me up short for noother reason than to torment me. Yet never in my life had I so enjoyedfishing.
By-and-by Bill and Herky-Jerky left the camp. I heard Herky tell Greaserto keep his eye on the stew-pots, and it occurred to me that Greaser hadbetter keep his eye on Ken Ward. When I saw Bud lie down I rememberedwhat Dick had whispered. I pretended to be absorbed in my fishing, butreally I was watching Greaser. As usual, he was smoking, and appearedlistless, but he still held on to the lasso.
Suddenly I saw a big blue revolver lying on a stone and I could evencatch the glint of brass shells in the cylinder. It was not close to Budnor so very close to Greaser. If he should drop the lasso! A wild ideapossessed me--held me in its grip. Just then the stew-pot boiled over.There was a sputter and a cloud of steam, Greaser lazily swore inMexican; he got up to move the stew-pot and dropped the lasso.
When he reached the fire I bounded up, jerking the lasso far behindme. I ran and grabbed the revolver. Greaser heard me and wheeled witha yell. Bud sat up quickly. I pointed the revolver at him, then atGreaser, and kept moving it from one side to the other.
"Don't move! I'll shoot!" I cried.
"Good boy!" yelled Dick. "You've got the drop. Keep it, Ken, keep it!Don't lose your nerve. Edge round here and cut me loose.... Bud, if youmove I'll make him shoot. Come on, Ken."
"Greaser, cut him loose!" I commanded the snarling Mexican.
I trembled so that the revolver wabbled in my hand. Trying to hold itsteadied, I squeezed it hard. Bang! It went off with a bellow like acannon. The bullet scattered the gravel near Greaser. His yellow faceturned a dirty white. He jumped straight up in his fright.
"Cut him loose!" I ordered.
Greaser ran toward Dick.
"Look out, Ken! Behind you! Quick!" yelled Dick.
I beard a crunching of gravel. Even as I wheeled I felt a tremendouspull on the lasso and I seemed to be sailing in the air. I got a blurredglimpse of Herky-Jerky leaning back on the taut lasso. Then I plungeddown, slid over the rocks, and went souse into the spring.
