The Border Boys with the Mexican Rangers. Goldfrap John Henry
the second we dunno jus’ whar they air. Am I right?”
“Indeed, yes,” said the professor. “Boys, you should not be so impetuous. Julius Caesar, when he – ”
“Dunno the gent,” struck in Pete, “but my advice is to kind of hunt around this vicinity and maybe we’ll find some more clews. Go easy, now, boys, and make as little noise as possible.”
A few moments later the ashes of the camp fire near which Jack had so suddenly alighted were found, but of the outlaws no trace remained. As a matter of fact, Ramon’s shouts had attracted them, and as soon as they had rescued him the camp had been abandoned in a hurry. It did not suit Ramon just then to try conclusions with the Border Boys.
“Wall, here’s whar they camped,” muttered Coyote Pete, “we certainly had some close neighbors last night.”
The boys examined the camp site with interest, while the professor and Coyote Pete conversed earnestly apart. At the conclusion of their confab, Coyote Pete spoke.
“It’s up to us to go forward, boys,” he said. “Ain’t no use lingering ’bout these diggin’s.”
“But mayn’t the bad men have turned back down the canyon?” asked Ralph.
Coyote shook his head.
“Think agin, son,” he admonished, “the floor of the gulch is too narrow for ’em to hev got by us without our knowing it.”
“That’s so,” said Walt, while Ralph colored up a bit. He didn’t like to be looked upon as a tenderfoot.
It was some time later that they reached the volcanic-looking stretch of country into the pitfalls of which Jack had fallen.
“Ugh! What a dreary place!” stammered Walt, a bit apprehensively.
Somehow they all felt the oppressive gloom in the same way. It depressed and made them silent. When they spoke at all it was in hushed tones, like folks use in church or a big museum. This is the effect of most awe-inspiring scenery, be it beautiful and grand, or merely gloomy and threatening.
“In past ages volcanic energy was at work here,” said the professor, gazing about with interest; “the formation of yonder cliffs tells an interesting story to the scientist. I wish my geological hammer was not in the packs, and I could get some specimens of the rocks. They would be excessively interesting.”
“Not half so interesting ter me as a peek at Jack Merrill,” grunted Pete. “I wish your science was capable of finding that lad for us, professor.”
“Indeed, I wish so, too,” sighed the professor, “but that is outside the realm of science. She can tell you of the past but is silent as to the future.”
“I wonder if there are any volcanoes ’round about here now?” asked Ralph, looking about rather apprehensively.
“No, indeed, the fires are long extinct,” declared the professor, “this valley was formed at a remote period when no doubt hot water geysers and fires spouted through the earth’s crust. But that will never occur again. In fact – ”
“Look! Look there!” shouted Walt, suddenly pointing off to one side of the valley.
“By Jee-hos-o-phat – smoke!” yelled Pete, fairly startled out of his usual composure.
“A volcano!” cried Walt “Hadn’t we better be getting away from here?”
“This is most extraordinary,” exclaimed the man of science, “there is every evidence here that the internal fires have been long extinct and yet, as if to confound us, smoke comes pouring from that fissure yonder.”
“Wall, my vote is that we git right out of hyar quick,” declared Pete, “volcanoes and Peter de Peyster never did agree.”
But the professor, filled with scientific ardor, was already spurring his bony animal across the scarred and arid plain toward the smoke.
The others, watching him, saw him approach the fissure carefully and dismount. The next instant he uttered a yell that startled them all.
“Hez ther fireworks started?” asked Coyote anxiously.
The professor was waving his bony arms around like one of those wooden figures that you see on barns. He was evidently in a state of great excitement.
“What’s that he’s shouting?” asked Walt. “Hark!”
“Boys! boys! I’ve found him – Jack!”
This was the cry that galvanized them all into action. Without seeking for explanations, in fact, without a word, they spurred toward the professor’s side. They found him peering down into the fissure, the edge of which was concealed by grass and ferns. Craning their necks, they, too, could spy a figure in the depths of the crevasse.
“Jack! Jack, old boy! Are you all right?” they cried anxiously.
“Bright and fair!” came up the cheery answer, “but almost dead. I thought you’d never come. Got anything to eat?”
“Anything your little heart desires,” Walt assured him.
In the meantime Pete had been busy getting a lariat in trim to lower to the beleaguered boy. Presently it was ready, and after much hauling and struggling, they got their companion once more to the surface. Jack reeled for an instant as he gained the brink, but Ralph’s arms caught him. The next minute he had recovered his self-possession, however, and after eating ravenously of such provisions as could be got together hastily, he related the story of the strange things that had happened to him since leaving camp that morning.
“If I hadn’t thought of those matches in my pocket and of igniting a fire of that dried grass, I doubt if I’d have been here now,” he concluded.
“I think you are right,” said the professor gravely, “I am glad that that fire at least was not extinct.”
CHAPTER VII
THE CLOUDBURST
Our adventurers, after a council of war, decided to press right on. As Coyote Pete put it:
“We’ve got a plumb duty ter perform and we’ll see the game through, if it’s agreeable to all present.”
It was, and after Jack had fully recovered, which, aided by his natural buoyancy, did not take as long as might have been expected, the start was made.
“It’s a race for the Trembling Mountain, now,” cried Jack, as he once more bestrode brave little Firewater.
“So it is,” cried Walt Phelps.
“And may the best man win,” struck in Ralph rather pointlessly, as Pete reminded him.
“There’s only one bunch of best men on this trip,” he said, “and they’re all with this party.”
It did not take long to leave the dreary volcanic valley behind them, and they soon emerged on a rolling plain covered with plumed grasses of a rich bluish-green hue, on the further margin of which there hung like dim blue clouds, a range of mountains.
“There is our goal,” cried the professor, with what was for him a dramatic gesture. He waved his arm in the direction of the distant hills.
“Yip-yip-y-e-e-e!” exploded the boys, in a regular cowboy yell.
“A race to that hummock yonder!” shouted Jack.
The others needed no urging. After their rough journey among the mountains the ponies, too, seemed to enter into the pleasure of traversing this broad open savannah.
Off they dashed, hoofs a-rattling and dust a-flying. But it was Firewater’s race from the start. The lithe little pony easily distanced the others, and Jack, laughing and panting, drew rein at the goal a good ten seconds before the others tore up with quirts and spurs going furiously. Jack decided it was a dead heat between Walt and Ralph, and both declared themselves satisfied.
As the sun dropped lower, and hung like a red ball above the distant mountains, the question of finding a suitable camping place