“Outrageous!” exploded the owner. “Why, those mules are worth half of the price you offer for the whole outfit.”
56“Nonsense! Those mules have been used on crushers in the mines. Any one could see that by watching them mill about in a circle–”
“Five hundred dollars,” broke in the owner.
“Nothing doing, sir,” answered Tad. “Four hundred even.”
“I’ll make it four-fifty-five and not a cent less.”
“Come along, fellows. I know where we can get a better lot for the money, anyway,” declared Tad with a note of finality in his tone.
“Don’t I get my skate?” wailed Chunky.
“Not at the price he asks. Never mind, I’ll find you something better for the money.” Tad had already started away. His companions got slowly down from the fence and followed, while the owner of the stock stood mopping his forehead.
“Here, take ’em!” he cried. “I might as well give them away, I suppose. I need the money, but you’re getting them for nothing.”
“You are wrong. As it is we are paying you a hundred dollars more than the outfit is worth. Here is your money. Give me a receipt in full. We will get the stock out some time this afternoon.”
“You’re the hardest driver of a bargain I ever come up with,” protested the man.
57“You know you don’t mean that. If we hadn’t known something about horses you know you would have done us to a turn,” answered Tad, laughing. “Yes, I do believe in driving a bargain, but I wouldn’t ask a man to sell me a thing at a lower price than it was worth. Just keep these animals cut out if you will, unless you want to go to the bother of cutting them out again.”
“I got my skate,” grinned Chunky as they were walking back towards the hotel where they were to meet the Professor. The latter had given Butler the money for the stock earlier in the day, knowing full well that Tad could make a much better bargain than could he. Tad had made a fair bargain. He had obtained a good lot of stock and he planned, furthermore, to sell the animals after finishing their journey, which would reduce the cost at least to a nominal sum.
The rest of the day was devoted to gathering supplies and packing. The boys had brought their saddles, bridles and other equipment of this nature with them, including tents and lighter camp equipment. In the meantime they had looked about for a guide, but without success. They were told that no doubt they would be able to find a man for their purpose upon their arrival at Yakutat, a hundred miles 58further on. The trail to that place, their informant told them, was a post trail which they would find no difficulty in following. The post rider would not be going through for another three days, and at any rate he undoubtedly would travel faster than they cared to do. It was decided, therefore, that they should start out without a guide on the morrow and make their way to Yakutat as best they might.
The start was made in the early morning, the great mountains and the waters beneath it bathed in wondrous tints such as one finds nowhere outside of these far northern regions. The boys were light-hearted, happy, and were looking forward eagerly to experiences in the wilds of Alaska that should wholly satisfy their longings for activity and adventure.
59CHAPTER V
TRAVELING A DANGEROUS MOUNTAIN PASS
To the right the well-known Chilkoot Pass extended up into the mountain fastness, the pass that had been traveled by so many in the early rush for the gold fields. Chilkoot a long distance to the northeast intersects the White Horse Pass. It is a rugged trail, but an easier one to travel than the one chosen by the Pony Rider Boys for the first stage of their journeyings.
The object of Professor Zepplin in choosing the route to the northwest was to take the boys into territory that had been little explored, and to give them their fill of what is really the wildest and most rugged region of the United States.
“By the way,” called Rector after they had gotten well started and had dropped the village behind them, “what became of our friends?”
“The four gold diggers?” asked Butler.
“They must have gone on with the ship,” said Walter.
“Yes, they must have,” agreed Stacy.
60“No, they didn’t,” answered Tad. “I saw Dawson in town yesterday. Funny thing, but he seemed not to see me. In fact he tried to avoid me.”
“Did you let him?” questioned Chunky.
“Yes. Why should I wish to force myself on anyone who doesn’t want to see me? Not I. They are queer fellows. It isn’t because they don’t like us, but rather because they are suspicious. They are afraid someone will get a line on where they are going. Wouldn’t it be queer if we were to bump into them somewhere in the interior?”
“No danger of that,” spoke up the Professor. “I heard Mr. Darwood say they were going out the Chilkoot Pass for a short distance, from which they might branch off.”
Tad chuckled softly.
“Why do you laugh?” demanded the Professor.
“Oh, I was just thinking of something funny.”
“Let’s hear it,” begged Stacy.
“I rather think I’ll keep it to myself,” answered Tad, smiling. “Let Stacy tell you one of his funny stories.”
“All right, I’ll tell you one,” agreed Chunky readily.
“Leave the telling until you get to camp,” 61advised the Professor. “This is a rough trail, and you need to give it your undivided attention.”
“The Professor is right. We would do well to watch out where we are going,” agreed Tad.
“Yes, I dread to think what would happen to our packs were one of those mules, in a moment of forgetfulness, to think he was traveling in a circle at the end of a sweep down in a mine,” said Ned.
The trail they were now following was narrow. In fact, it was a mere gash in the side of the mountain, winding in and out with many a sharp turn, and there was barely room for the ponies to travel in single file. Above them towered the mountains for thousands of feet. Below them was a sheer precipice of fully two hundred feet, getting deeper all the time, as they continued on a gradual ascent.
“I don’t think I should like to be the post rider on this trail,” decided Ned, gazing wide-eyed at the abyss.
“Especially on a dark night,” added Tad.
“Or any other kind of a night,” piped the fat boy.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” answered Walter. “On a dark night you couldn’t see the gorge. What we don’t know doesn’t hurt us, eh?”
62“There is some logic in that,” agreed the Professor.
Professor Zepplin was leading the way, dragging one mule after him at the end of a rope. Then came Ned with the second pack mule, followed by Tad and the other two boys. Butler wanted to follow behind the mules so as to keep watch of them, he not feeling any too great confidence in the worn-out old animals.
The Professor halted at a turning-out place, where the rocks had been worn out by the wash of a mountain stream sufficiently wide to enable two horses to meet and pass by a tight pinch.
“Young gentlemen, this is a wonderful country,” he said.
“It’s kind of hilly,” admitted Stacy.
“In the Indian tongue, Alaska means ‘the great country,’” added the Professor.
“Why, I didn’t know you talked Indian,” cried Ned.
“I always suspected the Professor was an Indian. Now I know it,” chuckled Stacy.
“Young men, if you will listen I shall be glad to enlighten you as to some of the marvels of the country we are now in. If my recollection serves me right, the country has an area of about six hundred thousand square miles.”
Chunky uttered a long-drawn whistle of amazement.
63“Some territory that, eh, fellows?” he said, nodding.
“If my recollection serves me right, Alaska is bigger than all the Atlantic states combined from Maine to Louisiana.”
“That’s where they have the ’gators,” said Chunky.
“And with half of Texas thrown in,” continued the Professor. “It has a coast line of about twenty-six thousand miles, a greater sea frontage than all the shores of the United States combined.”
“Why one would travel as far as if he were to go around the world in going over all the coast line, then, wouldn’t he, Professor?” wondered Tad.
“Exactly. Furthermore, it extends so far towards Asia that it carries the dominion of our great country as far west of San Francisco as New York is east of it, making California really a central state.”
“Oh, Professor. Will you please repeat that? I didn’t get it,” called the fat boy.
“You must listen if you wish to hear what I am saying. Your mind wanders.”
“I hope it doesn’t do much wandering here. I’ll surely be a dead one if it does,” retorted Stacy, peering down the sheer walls that dropped into the gloomy pass below him.
64“To give you another illustration, were you to combine England, Ireland, Scotland, France and Italy, you still would lack considerable of having enough to make an Alaska. Then, added to this, are the great mountains, thousands of feet high, and one great river–not to speak of the smaller ones–that flows through more than two thousand miles of wonderful country. I have given you a bird’s-eye-view of the country, a small part of which you have started to explore.”
“Yes, a fellow needs a bird’s-eye up here. He has to have or he’s a goner,” declared Chunky.
“And by the way, Professor,” said Tad. “Your pony is yawning with his left hind leg.”
“Haw, haw, haw! That’s a good one,” laughed the fat boy.
“What do you mean?” wondered the Professor.
“He is stretching himself. His left hind foot at this moment is suspended over several hundred feet of space. But don’t startle him for goodness’ sake,” laughed Tad.
The Professor glanced back. Afterwards the boys declared he had gone pale at the sight of that foot held so carelessly over the yawning chasm, but the Professor denied the accusation. He clucked very gently to the pony. The 65little animal lazily drew the foot in, and, after trying several places, at last found a spot that appeared to suit it and on which it placed the small foot. The boys drew a sigh of relief.
“My, but that was a narrow escape,” derided Ned. “Just think of it, Professor.”
“Gid ap,” commanded Professor Zepplin. “Look sharp that none of you does worse.”
Now and then reaching a spot where they could get an unobstructed view of the distance the boys were fairly thrilled by the sight of the jagged peaks, sparkling in the sunlight, many hidden in the clouds and too high to be seen. It was an awesome sight and at such times stilled the merry voices of the Pony Rider Boys as they gazed off over the array of wonderful heights.
“What are they?” asked Ned when he first caught sight of this vista of mountain peaks.
“The first one should be Mt. Lituya and the next Mt. Fairweather,” Tad replied.
“That is correct, according to the map,” spoke up the Professor. “The former is ten thousand feet high, the latter five thousand, five hundred.”
A series of low wondering whistles were heard from the lips of the boys. It did not seem possible that the distance to the tops of those mountains could be so great.
66“I should like to climb one of the highest,” declared Butler.
“You can’t,” answered the Professor sharply.
“Why not, Professor?”
“Because I shall not allow it.”
“And there’s another reason,” announced Stacy. “You can’t because you can’t. But if you did succeed in getting to the top think what sport you could have!”
“How so?” asked Butler.
“You could do a toboggan slide two miles long. I reckon it would land you somewhere over in Asia. Wouldn’t that be funny?”
“I don’t know about that,” reflected Butler.
“You wouldn’t know about it if you were to take the slide, either. But how it would surprise some of those Asiatics to see a Pony Rider Boy suddenly landing in their midst, coming from the nowhere,” chuckled Stacy.
“I rather think it would surprise almost anyone to have a Pony Rider Boy land in his midst,” answered Tad with a smiling nod.
“Is that some kind of joke?” demanded the fat boy.
“No, that’s an axiom,” spoke up Rector.
“An axiom?” reflected Chunky. “Oh, I know what that is. It is something that something else revolves around, isn’t it? That’s the 67sort of thing the world is supposed to revolve about. I know, for I read it in my geography.”
The boys groaned. The suspicion of a smile played about the corners of Professor Zepplin’s mouth.
“You had better go back to school rather than be traveling with real men,” advised Ned.
“Isn’t that an axiom, Professor?” called Stacy indignantly.
“It is not.”
“Then what is one?”
“You are a living example of one yourself,” was the whimsical reply. Stacy pondered over the Professor’s retort all the rest of that day. But when noon came and passed and no stop was made for a noonday meal, the fat boy began to grow restive.
“Don’t we stop for something to eat?” he demanded.
“I should like to know where?” answered Tad.
“Isn’t there a place wide enough for us, Tad?”
“There is not.”
“But when are we going to find one?”
“You know as much about that as I do. Remember none of us ever has been over this trail. For aught I know we may have to sleep standing up to-night.”
68“Well, I reckon I’d just as soon fall off before dark as after. Anyhow, I don’t propose to sleep on this trail as it looks to me now–”
“Hark!”
Tad’s voice was sharp and incisive. He was holding up one hand to impose silence on his companions. Walter Perkins’ face grew pale, the fat boy’s eyes were large and frightened. Professor Zepplin halted his pony sharply and turning in his saddle glanced anxiously back toward his charges.
“What is it?” stammered Rector.
“I don’t know,” answered Tad Butler. “It’s something awful, whatever it is.”
“Have no fear, young men. I know what that sound is. There is no danger here where we are, for–”
The Professor did not complete his sentence. The distant rumbling that had at first attracted their attention suddenly merged into a deafening roar, and the trail quivered under their feet. The ponies snorted and threw up their heads, chafing at the bits.
“Hold fast to your horses!” shouted Tad. His voice was lost in the great roar that now overwhelmed them, sending terror to the hearts of every Pony Rider Boy on that narrow ledge of rock known as the Yakutat trail.
69CHAPTER VI
CAUGHT IN A GIANT SLIDE
Tad knew the meaning of that rushing, roaring sound now. A few particles chipped from the rocks far above them had struck him sharply in the face. He knew that a landslide was sweeping down.
His first impulse was to urge his companions forward, but upon second thought he realized that this might be the very worst thing they could do. His quick ears had told him that the center of the slide was ahead of them. That was his judgment, but he knew how easily it was to be mistaken in a moment like this.
Glancing up the boy could see nothing but a great cloud of dust that filled the air. His companions seemed powerless to stir, and it was fortunate for them that such was the case, else they might have done that which would have sent them to a quick death.
Tad unslung his rope with the intention of casting it over a sharp rock that extended some six feet up above the level of the trail and on the mountainside. In an emergency it would 70serve to anchor him. He motioned to the others to do the same, but either they did not understand or they were too frightened to act.
A sudden dust cloud obliterated the trail for fully five rods ahead of Professor Zepplin, then went shooting out into the chasm beyond, and a great mass of earth seemed to leap from the mountainside just above them. It hovered right over the center of the line of ponies for an agonizing second, then swept down on them.
The secondary slide, which this was, had but little width, perhaps a few feet. Furthermore, it had fallen only a short distance, so that it had not had time to gain great velocity. The mass smote the pack mule just ahead of Tad Butler. Tad saw the pack mule’s hind feet go out from under him. For the smallest fraction of a moment the animal stood quivering, then his hind hoofs slipped over the edge of the trail.
The little animal was making desperate efforts to cling to the trail with its fore feet, at the same time trying to get its hind feet back on solid ground. That effort was fatal. Little by little the frightened beast slipped toward the great gulf. Evidently realizing the fate that was in store for it, the mule brayed shrilly.
The Pony Rider Boys sat gazing on the scene with fascinated eyes. Even Professor Zepplin 71was at a loss for words, and at a greater loss for a remedy for the disaster that was upon them. Tad Butler’s brain was working, however.
Suddenly Tad raised his rope above his head and gave it three sharp twirls. Then he let go. The big loop dropped over the head of the unfortunate pack mule.
“Jump on him and hold him down,” shouted Tad. “Be careful that you don’t go over.”
The boys hesitated slightly. Perhaps they could not have accomplished anything, but Butler did not wait to see. He had slipped from his own pony with a sharp, commanding “Whoa” to the little animal, which served in a measure to reassure it.
The lad then sprang to the upright rock carrying the end of his rope with him. He did not make the mistake of making the end fast to his own body as he might have done in some circumstances. Instead he threw the rope over the rock, taking one quick turn about it. He had no more than taken that turn when the slack on the rope was suddenly taken up and the rope was drawn taut.
There was no need to look around to see what had happened. Butler knew well enough without looking. The pack mule had slipped over the edge and was hanging there with the boy’s 72lasso about its neck. The rope was tough rawhide, and Tad felt sure it would hold. Still, that would not save the mule, so he made fast and sprang to the other side of the trail. The mule, he found, was dying a terrible death.
The freckle-faced Tad comprehended the situation in a single glance. He knew now that it would not be possible to save the pack animal. Drawing his revolver he placed the muzzle close to the head of the unfortunate beast and pulled the trigger.
The report, in the walled-in pass, sounded like the discharge of a cannon.
“N-n-n-now you’ve done it,” chattered Stacy Brown.
“Tad, Tad! What have you done?” cried the Professor.
“I have put the poor thing out of its agony, that’s all,” answered Butler. His face was pale and his eyes troubled.
“But you’ve killed him,” protested Professor Zepplin.
“Didn’t you see that he was choking to death, Professor? Don’t you think it was better to end his sufferings with a bullet rather than let him slowly strangle?”
The Professor took off his sombrero, and, with an unsteady hand, wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
73“Too bad, too bad!” he muttered. “Yes, yes. You were right, Tad. You did right. You thought more quickly and more clearly than I did. We had better cut the rope and let him go. There is nothing else to be done, I suppose.”
“There is something else to be done, sir. There is something quite important to be done.”
“What do you mean?”
“The pack. Surely we are not going to send that pack crashing to the bottom of the pass. We shall have to go all the way back for more supplies if we do that, provided we ever find a place where we can turn around.”
“That is so. Still, lad, I am afraid it is hopeless. We never shall be able to get the pack.”
“I think it can be done, but how I don’t know yet. What time is it?”
“The afternoon is well along,” answered the Professor.
“It’ll be dark soon,” spoke up Ned. “We simply must get out of this before night or we are lost.”
“You forget about the length of the days up here at this time of the year,” reminded Tad with a faint smile.
“That’s so,” agreed Rector.
“You know it doesn’t get really dark until 74about eleven o’clock to-night. So you see we have plenty of time in which to get that pack and reach a camping place before the night gets too dark for us to see what we are about.”
Tad stepped to the edge of the trail and looked over the dead mule and the pack lashed to him. He saw that the pack already had slipped dangerously, and that a sudden jolt might send it hurtling into the chasm. The lad measured the distance to the pack, with his eyes, and also saw that he could not lean over far enough to accomplish anything. Then an idea occurred to him.
“Have you fellows got back your nerve so that you can help me?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” answered Chunky promptly. “Anything but jumping over. Don’t ask me to do that, please, or I shall be under the necessity of returning a polite refusal.”
“I shan’t ask you,” answered Tad shortly. “How about you, Ned?”
“I think I have got over my panic.”
“Good. Pass over two strong ropes here. We’ll have that pack in no time.”
“See here, Tad. I am not going to permit you to take unnecessary risks. Before you go farther in this matter I want to know what you propose to do,” insisted the Professor.
“I am going to secure one of these ropes 75to me. The boys will lower me over the edge and I will fasten a second rope to the pack. I will tell you what to do after that.”
“I can’t permit it!” answered the Professor decisively.
“Listen to me, please. There can be no possible danger. It is perfectly simple. Before I go over I’ll secure the rope to that rock, and in case the boys let go, which they’d better not, I can’t fall; the rope will hold me.”
After a moment’s reflection Professor Zepplin concluded that the task would not be attended with a very great risk after all. Besides, it was all-important that they get the pack and its contents, if this could be done without endangering any lives.
“How about it, sir?” asked Tad. “Time is precious.”
“You may try it, but I shall see to the fastening of the rope myself. Make your arrangements.”
Tad lost no time in trying out his plan. He first secured one end of their strongest rope to the rock that already had played such an important part in their operations at that point. He next fashioned a non-slip loop about his body under the arms, then taking the second rope in his hands announced himself as ready.
“Take a turn about the rock so you will 76have a leverage. Take up all the slack. That’s it. Now I’m all ready.”
The lad let himself over the edge of the precipice without hesitation. There really was no great danger, but it was not a pleasant position in which to be placed. He secured his rope to the pack lashings and tossed the free end up to his friends.
“How are you going to free the pack from the mule?” asked the Professor.
“Cut it.”
“But we can’t manage both you and the pack at the same time,” protested the boys.
“You don’t have to. Can’t you folks think of two things at the same time?”
“I can when my thinking apparatus is working,” returned Stacy. “The whole plant is idle at the present moment.”
“Listen! Fasten the pack rope to that rock. Do you get that?”
“Yes.”
“First take up all the slack or you may lose the pack after all. We don’t want any great jolt when I cut loose the lashings. Draw it up well. Tighter! There, that’s better. Now, have you got it so that it will hold?”
“It’ll hold as long as the mountain holds together,” answered Ned.
“Then watch your rope. Here goes.”
Tad Freed the Pack.
78Tad slit the cinch girth. He was obliged to make several efforts before he freed the pack, which then swung out and away from the dead mule, swaying back and forth for a moment or so, but safe. The boys uttered a cheer.
“Now shall we pull you up?” cried Ned.
“Now, don’t be in a hurry. I’m not done yet. I want to save my lasso. You don’t think I’m going to throw that away, do you? Pass me another rope, please.”
This was done, after which Butler secured the third rope about the neck of the mule. He tossed the free end up as he had done with the other line.
“Make it fast. First see if you can’t give me a little slack.”
“Can’t do it,” called Walter.
“Yes you can. Try again. That’s the idea. A little more. You’re doing finely. You would make good sailors. Whoa! Make fast.”
Grunting and perspiring, and with aching backs, the boys made fast the advantage they had gained. The weight of the dead mule was now resting on the new rope which Butler had fastened about its neck. Some time was occupied in getting his lasso loose, which had drawn very tight under the weight of the mule.
“That’s what comes from having a good rope,” said Tad.
79“Well, are you coming up? You must like it down there,” cried Rector.
“I’m almost ready. There, now see if you can get me up. Take up all your advantage and hold it until I can get my hands on the ledge and help you a little.”
Hauling Tad Butler up, a dead weight, was not the easiest thing in the world. They drew him up an inch or so at a time, until at last he fastened his hands on the edge of the trail and curled himself up. The boys took up the slack and made fast at his direction.
“You needn’t pull any more, but stand by the rope. If I slip it will give me a hard jolt.”
“I should say it would,” muttered Ned. “How are you going to get up the rest of the way if we don’t haul you?”
“This way.”
Tad crawled up the rope hand over hand until he was able to swing one foot over on the trail. The rest was easy, and a moment later he was standing on the trail, his face red, his hair and shirt wet with perspiration.
“Hooray!” bellowed Chunky.
“Wait until we get the pack up. Don’t waste your breath,” grinned Tad. “We are only half finished.”
The lad surveyed the situation critically. Still he saw no other way than for them to haul 80the pack up by main strength. He told his companions to get ready for real work. The pack was heavier than Tad.
“I–I can’t do another thing,” wailed Chunky.
“Why can’t you?” demanded the Professor.
“My heart won’t stand it.”
“Oh, pooh!” scoffed Professor Zepplin.
“Did you ever have a thorough physical examination, Chunky?” questioned Ned.
“I don’t know. Why?”
“If you had you would no doubt have found that you hadn’t any heart at all.”
“Now, Ned, that isn’t fair,” chided Tad laughingly. “You know Stacy has a heart. He has shown many times that he has. The only trouble with it is that it isn’t as hard as it might be,” added the freckle-faced boy with a twinkle.
The fat boy wasn’t quite sure whether this was a compliment or otherwise. He decided to think about it and make up his mind later. But he most emphatically refused to pull a single pound on the rope. They compromised by making him look out for the stock.
Hauling the pack up was a slow and tedious process, for it was continually catching on points of rock and threatening to drop into the depths. Great patience was required to land 81it safely on the trail, but land it they did after working and perspiring over it for nearly half an hour. The Professor proposed that they move on at once, after having divided the pack. Tad shook his head.
“Not yet,” he said. “I’ve something else to do first.”
82CHAPTER VII
GOING TO BED BY DAYLIGHT
“Something else to do?” repeated the Professor. “I know of nothing more to be done except to get under way and try to find a safe portage.”
“I’ve got to bury the mule, sir.”
“Oh! Where?”
“I’ll show you. Stand clear of the rope, fellows,” ordered Butler.
Stepping to the edge of the trail he glanced down at the body of the mule, swaying with a scarcely perceptible movement. Looking back to see that the rope was clear, Tad drew his hunting knife and stooped over, his companions drawing as near to the edge as they dared.
Butler cut the rope that held the dead mule. The rope suddenly sprang back as the unfortunate pack mule’s body shot down into the shadowy pass. The other boys instinctively drew back. Their nerve was not quite equal to standing on the brink to watch the sight. With Tad it was different. He seemed not to be at all affected by great heights or great 83depths. He stood with the toes of his boots over the edge, gazing down until a faint sound from far below told him that the body had struck.
“That’s all, fellows,” he said, turning back to them. “I reckon we had better do as the Professor suggests, and get under way at once. I will confess that this bracing air is having some effect on my appetite.”
“Don’t speak of it,” begged Stacy. “I am trying to forget that I have an appetite, but it’s awful hard work.”
“Too bad about the mule, isn’t it?” asked Rector soberly.
Tad nodded.
“Yes, I should say it is,” agreed Stacy. “There’s eight dollars of my good money gone down into that hole.”
“Never mind. He was wind-broken and undoubtedly would have played out before we got through the mountains. I am glad it wasn’t the other one,” answered Butler cheerfully. “How is the trail ahead, Professor?”
“I haven’t looked.”
Bidding them wait until he made an inspection, Tad walked ahead. He found the narrow trail filled with dirt and shale rock; there were many tons of it heaped up on the trail.
“Oh, fudge!” laughed the boy. “Fate is determined 84to make us turn back. But we won’t! We are going through, even if we have to build a tunnel. Get out the shovel, Ned.”
This necessitated undoing the bundle that held all the tools of the outfit, and also entailed the unloading of the pack on the back of the remaining pack mule. Ned soon came trotting up with the shovel. He uttered a long-drawn whistle when he saw the blocked trail.
“We never shall be able to get through that,” he groaned.
“Oh, yes we shall. I’ll shovel until I am tired, then you take hold and make the dirt fly.”
“I’ll do that all right,” returned Rector. “I am too keen for my dinner and supper to delay matters any more than I am obliged to. We ought to make Chunky take a hand.”
“No, I wouldn’t risk it. Before he had finished he would have lost the shovel overboard. It is the only one we have. Here goes!”
Tad did make the dirt fly. He was a sturdy young man, all muscle and grit. He shoveled for twenty minutes, working his way through the great heap of dirt. Then he straightened up, his face flushed and perspiring.
“Go to it, Ned!”
Ned did, with a will. An hour and a half was consumed in clearing the trail, and, when 85they finished, both boys were wet with perspiration.
“I think we had better walk for the present,” suggested Tad. “We shall stiffen up if we ride in our present overheated condition.”
Ned nodded.
“I can’t be much lamer than I am. I feel as if I had a broken hinge in my back,” he declared.
They started on, moving with extreme care that they might not meet with another such disaster. The remaining pack mule was a much better animal than the one they had lost. He was possessed of better sense, too, and seemed to understand that great responsibilities rested on his shoulders.
As for the trail, it was the same rugged, narrow path that they had been following for hours.
“What if we should meet someone here?” wondered Walter apprehensively.
“Back up or jump over,” answered Ned.
Stacy shivered.
“I don’t like it at all,” he muttered.
The Professor uttered a shout.
“What is it?” cried the boys all together.
“Land ho!” was the answer.
The boys craned their necks to see what the Professor had discovered, but he was just 86rounding a bend beyond which they could not see. When they had made the turn the boys shouted, too. The trail, they saw, opened out into a broad pass. The ground there, though uneven, was fairly level, thickly wooded with slender Alaskan cedar, its yellow, lacy foliage drooping gracefully from the branches. Tall and straight, the cedars shot up into the air until it seemed as if their slender tops pierced the sky.
“How beautiful!” cried Tad.
“Wouldn’t they make fish poles, though?” chuckled Ned.
“Yes, we wouldn’t have to leave home when we went fishing,” answered Stacy. “We could just sit on the back porch and drop a hook in the water at the back of the old pasture lot.”
“How high do you think those trees are, Professor?” asked Tad.
“All of a hundred and fifty feet. A marvelous growth.”
“I think I can appreciate the beauty of it more after I get something inside of me,” spoke up the fat boy. “Do we get anything to eat or do we absorb landscape for our supper?”
“I reckon we had better get busy,” agreed Tad laughingly.
They began unloading the packs at once. By 87the time the boys came in with the wood the spot had assumed a really camp-like appearance. The pots were filled with water and Tad began building a structure that was to be their campfire when he was ready to touch it off.
“Did you find any birch bark, Ned?” he asked.
“Yes, there it is.”
“Oh, thank you. The cedar will burn all right, but it is a good thing to have the birch. We shall have a supper worth while in a few minutes. Stacy, get busy and prepare the coffee.”
For once the fat boy did not demur. He was too hungry, and was willing to do almost anything that would hurry the supper along. Not a mouthful had any of them eaten since breakfast.
The ponies were browsing contentedly, but the mule had lain down and gone to sleep. The day was still bright, though the air had grown cooler than when the sun was at its height. Still, a warm glow suffused the faces of the Pony Rider Boys because they had been exercising. They usually were busy, and not one of the lads, unless it were Stacy Brown, had a lazy streak in him. Stacy was constitutionally opposed to doing anything that looked like real work.
88The cedar quickly blazed up into a crackling fire, consuming the foliage. Tad took some of the brands and made a small cooking fire that soon was a glowing bed of coals. Over this he broiled the bacon, toasted the bread, and cooked the coffee without the least apparent effort.
Stacy Brown sat regarding the operations. Ned said that Stacy reminded him of a dog watching the preparation of its dinner, but the fat boy took no notice of Ned’s comparison.
At last the meal was ready and the boys gathered around the spread that was laid near the campfire, and began to eat with good appetites. Ned nearly choked on a biscuit, and Tad swallowed a drink of water the wrong way, while Walter accidentally kicked over the coffee pot, the contents spilling over the Professor’s ankle to the great damage of the Professor’s skin at that point.
“Here, here! Is this a football scrimmage or are you young gentlemen at your meal?” demanded the Professor. “I’ve seen nothing to indicate the latter.”
“Oh, Professor,” begged Tad laughingly. “Aren’t you pretty hard on us?”
“You did perfectly right, Professor,” approved Stacy. “Their manners are bad and I am glad you have called them to account. 89Why, their example is so bad that I have been fearful all the time of getting into bad habits myself.”
Ned gave him a warning look.
“Wait!” warned Rector.
“I can’t. I’m too hungry.”
“Perhaps we have been rather rude, Professor,” admitted Tad. “I beg your pardon.”
“Show your repentance by making a fresh pot of coffee, as I have most of the first lot in my stocking,” reminded Professor Zepplin.
It seemed odd to be eating supper in broad daylight, whereas they ordinarily ate in the twilight or after dark. After supper, and when the remains were cleared away, the boys strolled about, talking. At ten o’clock the Professor called that it was time to turn in.
“But it isn’t dark yet,” protested Ned.
“The nights are short. Unless you turn in early you will not want to get up in the morning,” reminded Professor Zepplin.
“He never does,” averred Walter.
“I don’t want to turn in at chicken hours,” objected Stacy.
“Little boys should be in bed early,” said Tad smilingly.
“That’s what they made me do when I was a baby. They’d tuck me in my little crib and give me a bottle and sing me to sleep. What 90time does it get daylight, Professor?” questioned the fat boy.
“As a matter of fact it hardly gets dark,” answered the Professor. “We shall have only about three hours of real night, I think. That is about the way it has been since we have been in this latitude. You will find it more difficult to sleep with the morning light in your eyes than with this light, so go to bed.”
“I am thinking the same. Good-night, all. Don’t any of you boys dare snore to-night. Remember we are sleeping in rather close quarters,” reminded Butler.
“One of you may come in with me,” offered the Professor.
“No, thank you, we shall do very well as it is,” replied Tad.
Stacy had the usual number of complaints to make. The cedar odor prevented his breathing properly, the sharp stickers on the cedar boughs poked through his pajamas and into his skin. He voiced all the complaints he could think of, after which he settled down to long, rhythmic snores that could be heard all around the place, inside and out. The purple twilight merged into blue shadows, then into black, impenetrable darkness that swallowed up the pass and the two little white tents of the Pony Rider Boys.