“Can’t we save him?” cried Jerry to Nestor. “He never took that horse. It’s all a mistake.”
“It’s no use to reason with those brutes,” said the miner. “They evidently believe they’re right. It’s too bad, but we’d only git into trouble if we interfered.”
“Bring him along, boys!” cried the leader. “There’s a tree that will do to swing him from, and I’ve got the rope!”
The boys were almost horror-stricken at the scene they were about to witness. It was bad enough to see any one hanged, but to witness the death of the little bug-hunting man they all believed innocent was too much.
The cowboys, with the poor professor in their midst, rode across the prairie to where a single tree grew. They had quieted down, now that their man-hunt was over. Jerry started the auto and steered it across the rolling land toward the scene of the prospective lynching.
“What are you going to do?” asked Nestor.
“I can’t desert him,” replied Jerry. “Maybe we can get the cowboys to let him go.”
Nestor shook his head pityingly. He knew the rough western men too well. They never let even a suspected horse thief escape.
Little time was lost in preparation. Once beneath the tree the men formed in a circle. The rope was thrown over a limb and a noose made. The professor was placed beneath it, and the other end of the rope was grasped by a dozen hands.
“Have you anything to say before we string you up?” asked the leader.
Aside from a little paleness, which hardly showed in the waning afternoon, Professor Snodgrass gave no sign of what must be a terrible ordeal for him. He did not seem to appreciate what was taking place.
Suddenly, as he stood beneath the fatal noose, he leaned forward. One hand sought the green box which was still strapped to his back. The other went out with a cautious gesture to the arm of the leader of the cowboys.
“Don’t stir! Don’t move for the world!” exclaimed the professor, in a strained whisper. “Just a second and I’ll have him!”
His hand closed on something on the leader’s coat-sleeve and he uttered a cry that was more of delight than fear.
“I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” he cried.
“Got what?” asked the cowboy.
“One of the rarest specimens of a prairie lizard that exists!” replied the professor, as, all unconscious of the dangling noose, he thrust the specimen into his green box. “This is certainly a lucky day for me.”
“I’d say it was particularly unlucky,” observed the leader, with a grim smile, adjusting the noose about the neck of the naturalist.
“Why, what’s all the fuss about?” asked the professor, noticing for the first time that he was in a crowd. “Has anything happened?”
“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” exclaimed Nestor, who overheard the conversation. “The poor professor is so absent-minded that he don’t know he’s been lassoed and is all ready to be strung up!”
“Hold fast!” exclaimed Jerry, suddenly. “I’m going to rescue him!”
“How?” asked Nestor.
“I’m going to run the auto in close to him. When I do, you reach out and grab him up.”
“Sure, I’m on!” said Nestor.
Jerry gave a loud blast on the horn. The cowboys, who did not know exactly what to do about hanging a man who didn’t seem to mind being lynched, turned to see what was going on, having forgotten all about the auto. There was a living lane between the men right up to where the bug collector stood.
Jerry sent the machine ahead with a rush. Straight at the professor he steered it. Then, when very close to the bug hunter he gave the wheel a twist.
Nestor, who was in the rear seat, on the side nearest Mr. Snodgrass, leaned over. As he swept past the professor the miner grabbed him up, box, basket, net and all, and lifted him into the auto.
“Full speed ahead!” yelled Nestor, and Jerry threw on all the power he had.
The little, bald-headed man was yanked from under the tree, and, as the noose was about his neck the rope came along with him, pulled from the surprised and unresisting hands of the cowboys.
They gave a great shout of astonishment, and several leaped on their horses to give pursuit. Others drew their revolvers and fired at the fast-vanishing auto, but the machine was soon out of reach of the bullets.
“That’s what I call pullin’ off a pretty neat trick,” observed Nestor. “They’d have hung you in another minute, professor.”
“I’m sure I’m much obliged to you,” observed the little man, calmly. “I hope my specimens are not injured, for I have some very valuable ones.”
“Well, he is the limit!” said Nestor, half to himself. “He gits pulled out of the very jaws of death an’ all he cares about is his bugs an’ butterflies!”
Soon they were nearly at the town where they were to stop overnight. The professor, who seemed a little dazed from what he had gone through, was gazing at the rope that had been taken from his neck and tossed to the floor of the tonneau. All at once he stood up and shot a glance at a horse that was grazing beside the road.
“Hold on!” he cried.
“What’s the matter—want to take another nag?” asked Nestor.
“No; but that is the horse I hired. I recognize him by the extra butterfly net I fastened to the saddle. I was afraid I might lose one. The other horse wasn’t mine.”
“Wasn’t yours?” fairly shouted the miner. “Then whose was it?”
“It must have belonged to the cowboys,” was the answer. “You see, I forgot all about my horse until I met you. Then I took the first animal I saw. I supposed, of course, it was mine.”
“Then you really were a horse thief after all,” said Ned, laughing, “though you didn’t know it.”
“And the cowboys were right, as far as they knew,” observed Jerry. “They saw you on one of their horses and naturally thought you stole it. However, it all came out right, and I guess I did the best thing when I rescued you, for they might have hanged you before the mistake was found out.”
The auto created no little surprise as it puffed through the western town, though a sign, “Gasolene for Sale,” exhibited in front of the drug store, indicated that machines sometimes paid a visit. The hotel where Professor Snodgrass was stopping was soon reached, and every one washed up and had supper.
The next morning, after a few minor repairs had been made to the auto, and the gasolene tank replenished, the travelers prepared to start away again. The professor was up to see them off.
“I wish I was going with you,” he said, with a pleasant smile, after they had told him something of the trip they had in view.
“Why can’t you?” inquired Jerry. “We are going into somewhat new territory, and you may be able to collect some fine specimens. We can easily make room for you.”
“I might go along with you on a horse,” ventured the little man.
“That’s too risky,” observed Nestor. “Take the boys’ offer and come along without a horse.”
“I believe I will; I have nothing to keep me here,” said the bug collector, and so it was arranged.
A good stock of provisions was laid in, the auto being piled with all it could hold and still leave room for the five passengers. Nestor said they would probably have to camp out a few nights, as on leaving Kansas and skirting down into New Mexico, settlements were few and far between. So some rubber and woolen blankets were added to the outfit.
So far the weather had been fine, but this morning there was a haze in the sky that denoted a storm. It did not worry any one, however, and made the professor smile.
“There’ll be so many more grasshoppers and bugs for me after the shower,” he observed.
An hour passed, and the auto was bowling along at a good pace on a level stretch of road. Soon Nestor, who was sitting in front with Bob, who was steering, jumped up.
“What’s the matter?” inquired Jerry. “One of the professor’s grasshoppers bite you?”
“The seat seems to be gittin’ too hot for comfort,” said the miner.
From beneath the auto there came a muffled explosion, followed by a big cloud of smoke. Then flames shot out, and the whole under side of the car was enveloped.
“We’re on fire!” yelled Bob, preparing to jump.
“Sit still!” exclaimed Jerry. “Don’t let go the wheel whatever you do!”
“Turn off the gasolene!” cried Ned. “The tank is leaking and the gasolene is burning!”
There was great excitement. The only person who kept his head was Professor Snodgrass. He did not seem to know the auto was on fire, but was calmly examining a small bug crawling on the cushion near him.
“What shall we do?” wailed Bob. “The auto will be destroyed!”
“We’re in a bad fix!” muttered the miner.
Bob reached over to shut off the power, and was making ready to jump.
“Sit still!” exclaimed Jerry.
“And be killed?” objected Bob.
The smoke became more dense and the flames spouted up higher around the car.
“Quick! There’s a small creek! Steer for it!” yelled Jerry, pointing ahead.
Bob saw the water and realized Jerry’s plan. He quickly turned the auto toward the water. There was a sort of ford turning off from the main road, which latter led over a small bridge.
Into the creek dashed the burning machine. There was a hiss as the water reached the flames, and clouds of steam arose.
Then, amid a swish of spray, the machine shot out on the opposite bank, only the machinery, as far up as the under side of the floor of the car, having been submerged. The fire was put out as good as if a whole city department had been called to battle with the flames.
Bob brought the auto to a stop under a big sycamore tree. The engine was still smoking, and there was considerable heat. Jerry jumped out and examined the car.
“Not much damage done,” he said, after a long inspection. “I guess we can fix it up.”
“Can we go on?” asked Ned, anxiously.
“It will take a good hour to mend things,” replied Jerry.
“That will give me a chance to gather some bugs,” observed the professor. “Pardon me,” he exclaimed to Nestor. “There is a beautiful specimen of a katydid on your leg,” and, with a deft gesture, the bug collector captured the insect and transferred it to his box.
“I hope you didn’t want it yourself,” said the naturalist, looking rather anxiously at the miner, who seemed surprised.
“Oh, land, no!” was the reply. “Help yourself whenever you see any of the crawlin’ things on me. It’s a favor, more than anything else. I hate bugs an’ things.”
While the professor wandered about with his net, Jerry proceeded to repair the leak to the gasolene tank. Bob and Ned decided they were hungry, and got out some lunch, of which, a little later, all were glad to partake.
“There,” announced Jerry, “I guess we can go on again.”
“There’s a good place to camp about twenty miles farther on,” said Nestor.
“What place is it?” asked Ned.
“Dead Man’s Gulch,” was the grim reply.
“Doesn’t sound very pleasant,” observed Bob.
“It’s a better locality than it sounds, Chunky,” went on Nestor. “There’s a little town there, if you want to sleep in beds.”
The boys decided to push for the Gulch, not that sleeping in beds was an inducement, for they rather liked the idea of resting in the open. But the gathering clouds indicated rain, and that would make camping out rather damp.
Without further mishap the machine was sent along. Ned was at the wheel and he turned on plenty of gasolene so that the car fairly skimmed over the roads. As they passed a stone post on the highway, Nestor called out:
“Good-by, Kansas!”
“What’s that for?” asked Ned.
“Because that’s the boundary mark between Kansas and Indian Territory,” replied the miner. “We are now on the old Indian ground, pretty soon we’ll be in Texas, and then we’ll land in New Mexico.”
“We’re getting to be travelers for fair!” remarked Bob.
The gathering clouds became blacker and a strong wind sprang up. There was every prospect of a severe storm, and Ned sent the machine ahead still faster. As it came to the top of a little hill, Nestor exclaimed:
“There’s Dead Man’s Gulch!”
Looking down into the valley, the boys saw a small settlement.
“Hold the machine back,” cautioned the miner. “It may get away from you on the grade.”
Ned shut off the power and coasted down. In half an hour they reached the level and started up the road, which led into the main street, and, in fact, the only thoroughfare in the town. Just as they reached the solitary hotel in the settlement the rain came down in torrents.
The auto was run under a shed and the occupants entered the hostelry, to the no small surprise of the inmates of the place, who had not heard the car come up.
“Howdy, strangers?” called the clerk, a big man, with an immense black moustache.
“Howdy?” responded Nestor, who seemed much at his ease, though the boys were rather startled to find themselves in what was evidently rough company.
“Where ye from?” asked the clerk.
“East,” replied Nestor.
“Where ye goin’?”
“West.”
“Ain’t much on the talk, be ye, stranger?” sneered the clerk.
“I am when it suits me.”
“Aw! he’s one of them stuck-up automobilists!” put in a tall, thin, dark-complexioned man, who was sitting in one chair, with his feet in another.
“An’ who might you be?” asked Nestor, turning to him.
“Pud Stoneham, at your service,” and the dark man bowed with elaborate grace, a sneering smile spreading over his face.
“Well, you’d better be mindin’ your own business!” snapped Nestor, turning away.
“What’s that!” exclaimed Stoneham, who was a gambler, hanging around the hotel on the lookout for victims. “I don’t allow any man to insult me!” and he reached his hand to his hip-pocket, with a quick gesture.
Before he could draw his gun, which was his intention, Nestor had him covered with a weapon.
“No shootin’, gentlemen!” called the clerk. “Against the rules. Put up your gun, stranger.”
“Not unless he agrees to put up his,” stipulated Nestor.
“I’ll make him,” said the clerk. And, with a scowl, Stoneham promised to be peaceable. In a little while he sneaked out.
Nestor and the boys registered and were assigned to rooms for the night. The hotel was not a very stylish one, but they were glad even for the rough accommodations when they heard the torrent of rain outside.
While they were washing up for supper, Ned suddenly called out:
“Hark!”
“What is it? The place on fire?” asked Jerry.
“I thought I heard an automobile horn,” replied Ned.
“Maybe some boys are monkeying with our machine,” came from Bob.
“No, it isn’t that, Chunky,” went on Ned, looking from a window.
“What then?”
“It’s another automobile coming up the road. My, how the mud and water splashes! And, say! Good land! Who do you suppose is in the car?”
“The President?” answered Jerry, sozzling his face in the water.
“It’s Noddy Nixon, Jack Pender and Bill Berry!”
“No!”
“Yes, it is!”
The others crowded to the windows to look. Sure enough, there were the three enemies of the Motor Boys. They ran their machine up under the shed where stood the red auto, and then Ned lost sight of them.
“Well, it’s a free country,” observed Nestor. “It looks as if they were following you, but there’s no law to prevent it. I guess they won’t stay here long, though, after that chap that robbed me knows I’m stopping at this hotel. Wait until I get my hands on him.”
“Perhaps it would be better not to let him know who you are,” suggested Jerry. “They may be up to some trick, and we can work to better advantage against them by keeping quiet.”
“Right you are,” admitted the miner, after thinking the matter over. “He wouldn’t know me if he saw me, since I got shaved. We’ll just lay low an’ watch.”
The Motor Boys, with Nestor and Professor Snodgrass, were the first ones down to the dining-room to supper. In a little while Noddy, Jack and Bill entered. The three latter started in surprise at beholding the Cresville boys, and for a moment seemed undecided what to do. Then, at a whispered word from Berry, they filed to the other side of the room and took their seats at a table.
“I wonder if they really followed us,” Jerry said.
“Must have,” was Nestor’s opinion. “But I reckon they didn’t expect to find you here.”
“But what can their object be?”
“I don’t think they exactly know themselves,” replied the miner. “I guess they hope to annoy you, or they may expect to get a line on what our plans are. But we’ll try to fool ’em.”
Before the meal was over, Pud Stoneham came in and took a seat at Noddy’s table. In a little while the gambler seemed to be on good terms with Bill Berry and his companions.
It was still raining hard when the three boys, with the professor and Nestor, went up to bed. The naturalist and the boys had two rooms, while Nestor was by himself. Noddy and his chums disappeared after the meal, Pud Stoneham accompanying them.
It must have been about midnight when Nestor was awakened by hearing voices in the room next to his. At first he paid no attention to them, for he was sleepy. But he sat up suddenly when he heard some one say:
“They’re on the trail of a rich gold mine. I know, for I heard the old man talking about it.”
“Are you sure, Bill?” asked a second voice, which Nestor recognized as Noddy’s.
“Sure as I am that my name is Berry,” was the reply.
“Then, count me in on the game,” said a third man, whom the miner had no difficulty in knowing was Pud Stoneham. “I’ve got money. We’ll go in this together and win out. I owe that miner something for insulting me, an’ I’ll pay him back, too!”
Nestor sat up in bed, listening with all his might. But though he could hear a murmur of voices in the next room, and though he was certain Noddy and his companions were plotting against him and his friends, the miner could hear nothing more definite.
“Forewarned is forearmed,” he said, softly. “We’ll see who’ll win out, Pud Stoneham!”
Nestor was up early the next morning. The weather had cleared and it was a beautiful day. The boys came down to breakfast with heavy eyes, for they had slept soundly. Professor Snodgrass, too, had arisen early, and was already searching for rare bugs.
“I want to get a red tree-toad,” he explained, as he strolled up at the sound of the breakfast gong, “but I am afraid they are not to be had.”
Suddenly he grabbed Ned’s arm as the boy was walking toward the automobile shed.
“One moment, I beg of you!” exclaimed the professor. “Steady now! Ah! I have the beauty. He was right on the back of your neck!” And he reached over and took from Ned’s coat a small insect.
“It’s an extremely choice specimen of a sand flea,” said the professor, proudly, popping the little animal into a glass case. “I hope I did not discommode you in removing it from you.”
“Not at all,” laughed Ned, and the others smiled at the simple earnestness of the bug collector.
“I want to have a talk with you boys after breakfast,” spoke Nestor.
His grave manner somewhat alarmed them, and they started to ask questions, but he would say nothing until after the meal. Then he told about what he had heard.
“What worries me,” said the miner, “is that I saw about the hotel a fellow that tried to follow me an’ my pardner one day, and locate the lost mine. This chap’s name is Tom Dalsett, and I saw him talking to Stoneham, the gambler, just before we came in to breakfast. Some mischief is in the wind when two such fellows whisper together.”
“Do you suppose they will try to get to the mine ahead of us?” asked Jerry.
“I haven’t a doubt of it,” replied the miner. “We’ve got to look sharp from now on.”
“Had we better start right away?” inquired Ned.
“It will do no harm to wait until the roads dry up a bit,” was Nestor’s opinion. “In the meanwhile, see to the machine. Look over every part. They may have damaged it during the night. See to your guns, too. We’re going to have trouble from now on, or my name isn’t Jim Nestor.”
His words rather alarmed the boys, but they were not going to back out now, and rather relished, than otherwise, a conflict with their old enemy, Noddy Nixon.
Jerry went to the shed where the automobile had been left for the night. As he opened the door he uttered a cry of surprise.
“What’s the matter, have they taken our machine?” asked Ned.
“No, they haven’t done that, but they’ve skipped in their own,” said Jerry. “I wonder if they have done any mischief to ours?”
“That gang has stolen a march on us, all right,” spoke Nestor. “They’ve gone on ahead. Well, they may get to the mine first, but we’ll give them the hardest kind of a fight for the possession of it. I’m not going to lose a fortune if I can help it.”
Jerry soon ascertained that the red machine was not damaged. Nestor made inquiries and learned that the other party had left before daybreak, Pud Stoneham accompanying them.
“What became of that chap with one eye and a scar on his left cheek?” asked Nestor of the hotel clerk, the description fitting Dalsett.
“Oh, he went off with the others in the gasolene gig this morning,” was the reply.
It was plain now that Noddy and his gang were going to make a bold strike to discover the lost mine ahead of Nestor and his friends. How the Cresville bully had trailed the Motor Boys as far as he had was somewhat of a mystery, though it was afterward learned that he had been closer behind them after they left Chicago than they supposed. The meeting at the hotel was an accident, though.
A stiff breeze sprang up, and soon dried the muddy roads. An early dinner was eaten and once more the party started forward, this time in pursuit of Noddy.
“It’s too bad to have to leave without getting that red tree-toad,” said Professor Snodgrass.
“We’ll take you to a place where you can get horned toads,” said Nestor.
“Oh, that will be fine!” exclaimed the naturalist, with a boy’s enthusiasm.
The roads were none of the best, and the auto could not be speeded with safety. Nestor explained that the best plan would be to steer straight south for a while, after reaching New Mexico, and skirt around the edge of the mountain range, rather than attempt to make their way across the Rockies.
“It will take a little longer,” he said, “but sometimes the longest way ’round is the shortest way home. We’ll aim for Messilla, which is not far from El Paso, and it’s somewhat civilized there, so we can get supplies if we need ’em.”
The boys voted this plan a good one. By noon the auto had crossed the narrow stretch of land which is part of Indian Territory, lying between Texas and Colorado. Then they were in the big State of Texas, and, when night came on, they found themselves on a vast plain.
“It’s a case of camp out to-night,” said the miner. “Now we’ll see what sort of stuff you boys are made of.”
But if Nestor expected to find the Motor Boys tenderfeet, he was mistaken. They had camped out too many times before not to know what to do.
The auto was run under the brow of a little hill, and Jerry took charge of things. Bob gathered wood for a fire and Ned went on a hunt for water. He found a little stream that answered admirably. Jerry got out the coffee-pot and frying-pan, and soon had supper cooking.
There was fried canned chicken, with crisp slices of bacon, some thick biscuits, a jar of pickles and steaming hot coffee ready in a few minutes. Bob got out the tin dishes, and, seating themselves on the ground, the adventurers made a hearty meal.
“Well, I must give you boys credit for knowin’ a wrinkle or two,” spoke Nestor. “I couldn’t have done any better myself.”
“It’s a good thing I bought some of those canned goods,” said Jerry. “I thought that would be better than depending on what we could hunt.”
Supper over, and the things put away, the boys got out their blankets in readiness for the night. Nestor lighted his pipe and was puffing away, while in the fast-gathering dusk Professor Snodgrass went searching for rare specimens. He was successful in capturing two odd grass snakes, and seemed quite delighted. Then, as night settled down, each one rolled himself up in his blanket and fell asleep.
Ned awoke first the next morning, and soon had the fire going and coffee made. The aromatic smell of the beverage greeted the others as they roused themselves, and soon a simple but satisfying breakfast was served. Then the journey was continued.
It was a fine day, and the adventurers breathed in great whiffs of the pure air as their car dashed along. They passed through one or two small settlements, but inquiries failed to develop any traces of Noddy and his companions.
“They may be going straight over the mountains,” said Nestor. “Well, even if they do I think we’ll beat them in the race for the mine. Mountain climbing is mighty onsartin’ in one of these machines.”
But, had they only known it, Noddy and his gang were not aiming for the mountains, and were but a little way in advance of our friends. However, the Motor Boys soon learned, to their cost, where their enemy was.
It was well along in the afternoon, and dinner had been eaten at a rude shack of a hotel in a small village, that the auto was skimming along, due south. Off to the right were the foothills of the mighty Rocky Mountains, while to the left was a vast rolling plain. Jerry was steering, with Bob on the seat beside him, while in the rear were the others, Professor Snodgrass busily engaged in sorting over some of his specimens.
All at once a low, rumbling sound was heard.
“Is that thunder?” asked Ned.
“Can’t be,” replied Nestor. “There’s not a cloud in the sky.” Then he stood up and glanced behind him.
“Great Scott!” he yelled. “Put on all the speed you’ve got!”
“What’s the matter?” asked Jerry.
“Matter?” shouted the miner. “There’s a herd of stampeded cattle coming straight for us. If they’re not turned aside they’ll go over us like a locomotive over a fly! Quick! Turn over toward the hills! Maybe we can escape them!”
In terror, the boys looked behind them. Coming on with a mad rush, with a thunder of thousands of hoofs, and deep-mouthed bellows, were the steers, galloping like the wind!
Jerry headed the machine toward the foothills. Once among them the adventurers might escape. The auto was going almost at full speed, swaying from side to side on the rough road. Nestor, who was keeping watch of the herd, cried out:
“I’m afraid it’s no use. They have turned and are right after us!”
The steers had changed their course to follow the red auto, which they probably took for an enemy. The thunder of their hoofs came nearer.
Fast as the auto was going, its speed was not enough to take it out of reach of the infuriated animals, for the rough prairie was retarding it, but it was just the kind of country the cattle loved.
Even Nestor, familiar as he was with danger, seemed much alarmed at the plight. The boys’ hearts were well-nigh terror-stricken, but as for Professor Snodgrass, he did not appear at all frightened. He still kept on sorting his specimens.
The auto topped a little hill, having to slow up a bit at the grade. Down it went on the other side, but still the steers came on. A long level stretch of country appeared.
“We ought to be able to get away from them here!” cried Jerry, turning on more gasolene and increasing the current from the batteries. The auto seemed to jump forward.
“Look out! Stop!” yelled Nestor, seizing Jerry by the arm.
“We can’t! We’ll be killed if we do!” shouted the boy, thinking the miner had lost his head through fear.
“And we’ll be dashed to death if we keep on! We’re running straight for a precipice three hundred feet high! Shut down the machine or we’ll go over the cliff!”
With a yank at the levers, Jerry turned off the power and put on the brakes. And it was only just in time, for, not one hundred feet ahead, the prairie came to an abrupt end, terminating in a sheer bluff, over which the auto and those in it would have been dashed had not the miner’s practiced eye told him what to expect. He recognized the conformation of the land and knew what was coming.
The adventurers were now between two dangers. They could not go on because of the precipice, and their escape to the rear was cut off by the maddened steers that now were but a quarter of a mile away, thundering on fiercely. To turn to the left or right was impossible, as the line of cattle was a curving one, like a pair of horns, and to go to either side meant to run straight into the midst of the beasts.
“Let’s get out of the machine and shoot as many as we can!” cried Ned, drawing his revolver. “Maybe we can scare them away!”
“Don’t think of it!” exclaimed Nestor. “Cattle are used to seeing men only on horseback or in wagons. Once on the ground we’d be trampled under foot in an instant. Our only hope is to stay in the machine. It will protect us somewhat when they rush over us.”
“Shall we shoot?” asked Jerry.
“Our only chance is to turn them to one side, and shooting at them may do it,” replied the miner. “Get ready and we’ll all fire at once.”
Each one drew his revolver, even Professor Snodgrass taking an extra one Nestor had. The cattle were now about eight hundred feet away.
“Fire!” cried Nestor.
The five revolvers spurted slivers of flame, smoke and bullets. In rapid succession every chamber was emptied, but the rush of the steers was not checked. In fact, none of the cattle seemed to have been killed, or, if any were, they fell down and were trampled under the hoofs of the others.
“I guess we’re done for!” groaned Nestor. “Crouch down on the bottom of the car!”
The galloping animals were almost at the auto. Suddenly there sounded a fusillade of shots, mingled with wild yells. Jerry peered up over the edge of his seat. He saw a man on a horse, riding straight across in front of the line of cattle. In one hand the stranger held a big revolver, which he fired right into the faces of the steers. In the other he held his coat, which he was waving like a flag.
At the same time he was yelling like a man gone mad. The reins of his horse lay loose on the animal’s neck, but the beast knew what was expected of him.
It seemed that the stranger would be knocked down and trampled under thousands of sharp hoofs. But he did not seem afraid, riding closer and closer to the line of steers. He emptied one revolver and drew another, never ceasing to yell or wave his coat.
Suddenly, with wild bellows, the leaders of the cattle turned. They were frightened at the strange figure before them. For a few seconds there was great confusion amid the mass of steers. Those behind the line of leaders tried to go straight ahead, but the latter, once having made up their minds that they would turn to the left did so.
Then, like sheep following the bell-wether of the flock, the beasts took after their leaders. They rushed to one side, thundering past within twenty feet of the auto, while the stranger, pulling up his horse, still continued to wave his coat and shout.
“He’s saved our lives!” exclaimed Nestor. “He’s stampeded the cattle away from us in the nick of time!”
On and on galloped the steers until the last one disappeared over the rolling hills of the prairie. Then the man on the horse rode over to the auto.
“Howdy!” he called.
“Howdy!” replied Nestor.
“Got ye in kind of a tight place, didn’t they?” went on the horseman.
“We would have been killed only for you,” spoke Jerry and his voice told how thankful he was.
“Oh, shoo! That wa’n’t nothin’,” replied the stranger. “I seen ye comin’ up in that there shebang of yours an’ then I seen the cows chasin’ ye. I was a leetle afraid ye’d go over the cliff, but ye stopped in time. Then I see it was up to me to stop them critters, an’ I done it.”
“Lucky for us you did,” put in Nestor.
“I happened to be out huntin’,” went on the horseman, “or I wouldn’t have seen ye. I know cattle an’ their ways an’ I knowed there was only one way to head ’em off, an’ that was to skeer ’em.”
“I’m Jim Nestor,” said the miner, and he told the names of his companions.
“Glad to meet ye,” said the horseman, dismounting and shaking hands with each one. “I’m Hank Broswick.”
Nestor told the hunter something of the trip they were making, and Broswick in turn related how he was a free-lance hunter, roving over the prairies and among the mountains as suited his whims.
“Had yer suppers?” Broswick asked.
“No; an’ I don’t see any place around here to git ’em,” spoke Nestor. “We’ve got some grub, though, an’ we’d be pleased to have your company.”
“Thanks. I can add my share to the meal,” replied Broswick. “I’d jest shot some prairie chickens afore ye come up, an’ we’ll roast ’em.”
While he went over to where he had left the fowls, Jerry backed the auto, turned it around, and sent it down the hill to the level plain.
“It’s a case of camp out again to-night,” observed Nestor.
“That suits me,” spoke Ned, and the other boys agreed with him.
A fire was soon made, the prairie chickens were prepared for roasting, coffee was set on to boil, and with some tinned biscuits the adventurers made a hearty meal.
Sitting around the camp-fire as night came on, the hunter told several of his adventures while on the trail. Once he had a terrible fight with a grizzly bear, the scars of the combat being visible on his face and arms.
“Are there any bears around here?” asked Bob.
“Not getting afraid, are you, Chunky?” queried Ned.
“No; I only just wanted to know,” replied the stout youth, looking over his shoulder in as careless a manner as he could assume.
“Waal, there’s a few now an’ agin’,” answered the hunter, “but they don’t bother me much, not while I have this along,” and he patted a rifle which he had left with his game before he rode out to stampede the cattle.
“Are you bound for any particular place?” asked Nestor of Hank.
“Nope; I’m my own boss.”
“Then, why not come along with us?” proposed the miner. “We may need your help, for there’s a bad gang ahead of us.”
He told something of the plans of himself and the boys, in regard to the gold mine, and related how there were enemies in front, and added that he might pay the hunter for his time.
“I’ll go ’long!” exclaimed the hunter, after a moment’s thought. “I used to be a prospector myself.”
More fuel was heaped on the fire, the adventurers wrapped themselves in their blankets and prepared to spend the night in the open.
It was past midnight when Bob was suddenly awakened by feeling some one trying to turn him over.
“Go ’way,” he said, sleepily. “Let me alone.”
Something cold and clammy was thrust against his face, and he heard the breathing and noted the peculiar smell of some wild animal.
With a shout of terror he sat upright. In the glow from the fire he saw, rearing up on his haunches before him, a big, black bear!
“Help! help!” screamed Bob.
The bear made a dive for him and the boy cast himself forward on his face.
“What’s the matter? What is it?” cried Hank Broswick, springing to his feet.
“Indians! Indians!” exclaimed Professor Snodgrass, rolling himself tightly up in his blanket.
“It isn’t Indians! It’s a bear killing Bob!” cried Jerry.
The animal, with savage growls, had pounced on the unfortunate boy and was trying to get hold of him with the powerful claws. Bob, after his first wild screams, became quiet, digging his fingers into the earth to hold himself down.
“Wait a minute! I’ll kill the brute!” cried the hunter.
He had seized his ever-ready rifle and rushed over toward the bear. But the fierce beast was so close to Bob that Broswick could not fire without danger of hitting the lad.
“Here, boy, take the gun!” yelled the hunter to Jerry. “If you see me getting the worst of it, fire!”
“What are you going to do?” exclaimed Jerry.
“I’m going to kill that brute with my knife!” cried Broswick.
Drawing a keen blade from the sheath at his belt, he jumped straight on the bear’s back. The beast, with a fierce growl of rage, turned and tried to bite the legs of the strange enemy that was plunging something terrible and sharp into his shoulders.
Ned threw some wood on the fire. It blazed up brightly and, by the light of it, the boys and Nestor saw the bear rear on his haunches, with Broswick still clinging to his back.
The hunter had one hand clasped in the shaggy fur of the brute, and the other was sending the knife, again and again, into the thick skin, trying to reach a vital spot.
Bob had rolled to one side, out of harm’s way, and suffered no more than a rough mauling by the brute. But Broswick was not to escape so easily.
With a sudden movement the bear turned, shook the hunter loose, and then, before the brave fellow could defend himself, the savage animal had clasped him in the terrible and powerful claws.
“Help! He’s squeezing me to death!” Broswick cried.
His arms were pinned to his sides and he could not get a chance to use his knife, which he still held.
Jerry saw his chance. Approaching close to the bear from behind, the boy placed the muzzle of the gun against the brute’s head.
There was a loud report, a last fierce growl, and the animal, with a convulsive hug of the hunter, dropped over, dead. Jerry had shot just in time.
Broswick, too, fell to the earth and at first the boys thought he was killed. But in a little while he arose and felt of his arms and legs.
“I’m all here,” he said. “Guess there ain’t much harm done, but it was a pretty tight squeeze!”
“I thought you were a goner,” spoke Jerry.
“That ain’t nothin’,” answered the hunter. “You ought to hev seen me fight a grizzly once!”
In the light of the fire, which was now blazing brightly, it was seen that the bear was a big specimen. As he lay stretched out on the ground he measured eight feet from his nose to his short tail.
“You know I tole ye there was a few bears now an’ agin’,” remarked the hunter, as he gave his former foe a kick. “Waal, I reckon some of ’em must ’a’ heard me an’ wanted to show I was tellin’ the truth,” he added, with a drawl.
No one felt much like sleep after this excitement, so they sat around the camp-fire until it began to get light. Then coffee was made, and the hunter proceeded to skin his prize. He cut off some choice steaks, which were broiled over the coals. The boys thought they had never tasted anything so good.
After breakfast the tires were pumped up, the baggage was packed into the auto and preparations made for the start.
“Where’s Professor Snodgrass?” asked Ned, noticing the absence of the naturalist. Then they all remembered that they had not seen him since the morning meal.
“He’s probably off gathering some bugs or stones,” said Jerry. “Let’s give a yell to call him in.”
In a chorus they gave a loud hallo, and in reply received a faint call from a small ravine.
“He’s over there,” said Broswick, pointing in the direction the voice had come from. “But hark! Sounds like he was in trouble!”
Faintly the wind bore to the adventurers the sound of the professor’s voice pleading with some one.
“Now, please don’t!” he was saying, or rather calling aloud. “You know you shouldn’t do that! Let me alone, I say! Get out of my way or I’ll throw a stone at you!”
“The Indians are after him!” exclaimed Bob.
“There are no Indians around here, Chunky,” spoke Jerry. “You must have redskins on the brain.”
Broswick and Nestor hurried over to the ravine. As they reached it they could be heard laughing long and heartily. Soon a small, wild goat was seen to run from the cut, leaping away over the plain. Out of the defile came the professor, Nestor and Broswick.
“The wild goat had him treed,” spoke Nestor.
“Truly that was a savage brute,” said the professor. “I was gathering some specimens, and had my arms full, when along comes this beast, with lowered horns, and nearly knocked me over. I had barely time to run for my life and climb a tree before he was after me again. His sharp horns scraped my shoe as I climbed. There I was, treed. I didn’t dare come down, for fear he would eat me, or horn me to death. I don’t know what I should have done if you gentlemen hadn’t come along.”
“Oh, we only scared him away!” said Broswick.
“Pardon me, just a moment,” interrupted the professor, making a quick motion toward Nestor and picking something from his shoulder. “There, I have it. I am very much obliged to you.”
“What sort of game did ye git this trip?” asked the hunter, somewhat amused at the naturalist.
“A rare specimen of the fly that lives in the wool of wild goats,” replied the professor. “The insect is very valuable. It must have jumped from the goat to you.”
After a little consultation the party started off, the auto making a pace slow enough so the hunter’s horse could easily keep up. For several days the journey was continued, with no accidents to mar the way. The adventurers had reached well down into New Mexico by this time and had about one hundred miles farther to go before they could make the spur of the mountain and avoid going over the range.
One afternoon, following a good day’s run, Ned brought the machine to a stop below a little hill, where it was decided to spend the night, as the place was sheltered.
Jerry happened to glance to the rear, over the back trail, as he was getting out the supper utensils, and uttered a cry.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to a long line of men that were filing along a road that joined the main one about where the camp was to be made.
“Looks like a procession,” observed Broswick.
“They’re miners, that’s what they are!” cried Nestor, after a long look. “Every one has his pack on his back, his washing-pan and his pick and shovel.”
“What are they coming this way for?” asked Ned.
“They are on the rush, seeking gold,” explained the miner. “Word has come to the camp where they were that rich pay-dirt has been struck in some locality. They all want to get at it, so they pack up and leave for the new field. Many’s the time I’ve done it.”
In a little while the foremost of the miners reached the auto camp. They seemed surprised to see the machine, but did not stop.
“What’s your hurry, mate?” asked Nestor, of one big, brawny chap who was walking fast.
“Want to make as many miles as I can before sundown,” was the reply. “There’s rich diggin’s ahead, an’ I want to stake a good claim.”
“Where might they be located?” asked Nestor.
“Why, ain’t you heard? I thought every one had,” answered the other. “They’re in the lower part of Arizona, in what they call the Hop Toad District.”
Nestor gave a start. The miner passed on, fearful lest even his brief stop would cost him his place in the cavalcade.
“The Hop Toad District!” muttered Nestor. “That’s the district where my lost mine is located! I hope that hasn’t been discovered. If it has it means all our work has gone for nothin’!”
On and on the stream of miners hurried. Several paused to stare at the automobile in wonder. Others passed by with never a glance. One man was mounted on a lame mule that made but little better speed than some of the pedestrians.
Three men, who seemed to form a party by themselves, came to a halt in front of the machine. They whispered together a few moments and then one stepped forward and addressed Nestor.
“Will you sell that machine for three thousand dollars?” he asked.
“I’m not the boss. You’ll have to speak to one of these boys,” replied the miner.
“How about it?” asked the man of Jerry.
“I hardly believe we want to sell,” answered the latter.
“That’s right,” whispered Nestor. “There’s some game afoot. Don’t sell. There must have been a big gold strike lately to cause this rush!”
The three miners saw that the boys would not part with their machine, which the prospectors wanted in order to make a quick trip to the new mining region. So they turned away and continued afoot on the trail.
For nearly an hour the stream of miners continued to march by. Then, as the last stragglers were lost to view, Nestor said:
“Boys, we’re in a tight place. We’ll have to hustle. Somehow or other news of the rich mining region near where my mine is located has leaked out. There’s a rush, and we’ll have to travel fast. We can’t stick to our original plan. We’ve got to go over the mountains.”
“Must we start right away?” asked Ned.
“The sooner the better,” answered Nestor. “We’ll have supper and travel night and day from now on. We’ll have to race against not only Noddy Nixon and his gang, but these miners who have gone on ahead of us.”
From what was intended to be a peaceful camp, that of the Motor Boys and their friends was turned into a mere resting place. Every one was filled with excitement, and Professor Snodgrass forgot to start on a collecting tour. He did not open his green box, and, with the others, ate a hasty meal.
As soon as Jerry had finished his supper he gave the auto a thorough overhauling. Plenty of oil was put on the bearings, the water tank was refilled from a convenient spring and the tires pumped up. Then the holder for the carbide, from which the acetylene gas for the lamps was generated, was packed with the chemical.
“I’m ready when you are,” announced Jerry.
By this time each one had finished his meal. The dishes were placed in the basket, Professor Snodgrass stowed his specimens carefully away and Hank Broswick tightened the saddle girths on his horse.
“Forward!” cried Nestor.
With a series of chug-chugs the machine darted ahead. The hunter urged his horse on and the adventurers were once more moving toward the hidden mine. It was going to be a bright, moonlight night, as could be told by the silver disk that was already rising above the trees.
“We’ll hardly need the gas lamps,” observed Ned.
“But it’s better to have them,” remarked Jerry, who had been selected to do the steering.
Leaving the broad and level road that led south over the plains, the adventurers headed due west. In a little while it was evident that the machine was going uphill, for the motor began puffing laboriously, and Jerry shifted the gear to first speed.
“We’ve struck the foothills,” observed Nestor. “In a short time we’ll be going up the mountain. Then, look out!”
Broswick rode along just behind the machine on his horse. The animal was a steady trotter and managed to keep up to the auto, which was obliged to move slowly, as it had quite a heavy load on a steep grade.
For several hours the machine kept going. All the while the ascent became more and more steep until, at length, the adventurers found themselves well above the foothills and among the mountains.
“We’ll keep on until about ten o’clock,” said Nestor. “Then we’ll camp for the night. We must get some sleep or we’ll be all tired out.”
Up, up, up went the auto. After quite a climb a small plateau or level stretch was reached, and there the going was easier. Jerry took advantage of it to run on the second gear. It was quiet, save for the mournful hooting of an owl now and then, as the machine made little noise, and no one felt like talking. All at once there came from the rear seat a strange sound.
“What’s that?” asked Jerry.
“Chunky has fallen asleep and is snoring,” answered Broswick, who was riding beside the machine.
“I reckon it’s time we camped for the night,” put in Nestor. “Here’s a good stopping place. We’ll make an early start in the morning.”
The machine was halted, blankets were gotten out and a small camp-fire started. Tired and weary, the adventurers prepared for bed. Broswick, who carried his blankets on his horse, said he would stand the first watch, and Nestor agreed to take the second, so the boys could get a full night’s rest.
“I’ll do my share,” said Professor Snodgrass, anxious to be of service.
But Nestor said there was no need for the naturalist to sit up. To tell the truth, the miner was afraid that if the professor was left on guard he would forget what he was doing and wander off in search of specimens.
Silence soon settled over the little camp in the mountains. The three boys were slumbering peacefully, as was the professor. Broswick sat by the fire, keeping watch, and Nestor was rolled up in his blanket.
Suddenly, from down the slope up which the auto had come, sounded the blast of a trumpet.
“What’s that?” cried Nestor, springing to his feet, for he was a light sleeper. He came over to where the hunter sat.
“Sounded like Gabriel’s trumpet,” replied the hunter, quietly.
“No; it was an auto horn,” spoke Nestor. “A machine is coming up the trail. We must watch out. It may be Noddy Nixon and his gang.”
Once more silence settled down, but to the trained ears of the miner and hunter there came the faint throbbing that told an automobile was approaching. Nestor loosened the revolver in his belt and Broswick reached over for his rifle, which he always kept near him.
Nearer and nearer came the machine. It reached the level stretch on which the adventurers were encamped and then the speed of the engine could be heard to increase. Nestor threw some light wood on the fire. It blazed up brightly, and the miner quickly drew Broswick back into the shadows of a big oak tree.
“We’ll watch as they go past,” he said.
A minute later an auto dashed by.
“There they are!” exclaimed Nestor. “There’s that gambler, Pud Stoneham, and with him is Tom Dalsett, the man who knows where my mine is. I wonder how they got behind us. I thought they were ahead.”
“I reckon we can keep ’em behind if we want to,” whispered Broswick. He raised his gun.
“Hold on! we don’t want to murder any one!” exclaimed Nestor, in a whisper, knocking the weapon up.
He was too late, as the hunter had fired.
“I wasn’t goin’ to do any damage,” spoke the old man. “I only aimed to bust a tire. However, you spoiled my mark. The bullet went over their heads.”
“I thought you were goin’ to shoot one of them,” said Nestor.
Noddy, who, from the brief glimpse Nestor had, could be seen at the steering wheel, increased his speed at the sound of the report, as could be told by the faster explosions of the motor. The noise of the rifle going off awoke Jerry.
“What’s the matter?” he cried, sitting up.
“Your friend Noddy just passed by,” replied Nestor, “and the hunter gave him a salute.”
“I thought he was far away,” said Jerry.
There was nothing that could be done, and the camp again settled down to quietness and slumber. There were no more disturbances, and at midnight Nestor relieved Broswick. Almost before the boys knew it morning had come.
Then, after breakfast, they were off once more.
There were no signs of Noddy’s machine save the marks of the broad tires in the dust of the road. Leaving the plateau the adventurers were soon mounting toward the clouds again.
All the morning they hurried forward as fast as the auto could be urged. Broswick’s horse kept well to the trail, for it was used to mountain climbing. At noon a stop was made beside a swiftly running brook and dinner was eaten. Then, after a rest beneath the trees, the journey was resumed.
About five o’clock another halt was made for supper, thirty miles having been reeled off during the afternoon.
“We’ll do a bit of traveling as we did last night,” said Nestor.