CHAPTER VIII
LOST IN A PETRIFIED FOREST
Before the lynching party regained its senses Nat had rushed the car up alongside Herr Muller. Before that blonde pompadoured son of the fatherland knew what had occurred, Joe's strong arms, aided by Cal's biceps, jerked him off his feet and into the tonneau. But the long lariat which was already about his neck trailed behind, and the first of the punchers that realized what was happening darted forward and seized it as the car sped forward.
"P-ouf-o-o-o-f!" choked the unfortunate German, as the noose tightened. The cowpuncher who had hold of the other end of the rope dug his heels into the ground and braced himself. Herr Muller would have been jerked clean out of the tonneau by his unlucky neck had it not been for Ding-dong Bell, who, with a swift sweep downward of his knife blade severed the rope.
As the strain was abruptly relieved the cowpuncher who had hold of the other end went toppling backward in a heap. But at the same instant the rest came to their senses, and headed by the man who had threatened Nat, they clambered on their ponies and swept forward, uttering wild yells.
If this had been all, the occupants of the auto could have afforded to disregard them, but, apparently realizing the hopelessness of attempting to overtake the fleeing car they unlimbered their revolvers and began a fusillade.
Bullets whistled all about the Motor Rangers and their companions, but luckily nobody was hit. Nat's chief fear though, and his apprehension was shared by the rest, was that one of the bullets might puncture a tire.
"If it ever does – good night!" thought Nat as the angry, vengeful yells of the cheated punchers came to his ears.
But to his joy they now sounded more faintly. The pursuit was dropping behind. Right ahead was the feeding herd. In a few minutes the car would be safe from further attack, – when suddenly there came an ominous sound.
"Pop!"
At the same moment the car gave a lurch.
"Just what I thought," commented Nat, in a despairing voice, "they've winged a tire."
"Shall we have to stop?" asked Cal rather apprehensively, although a grim look about the corners of his mouth betokened the fact that he was ready to fight.
"Den maype I gedt idt a pigdure, aind idt?" asked Herr Muller, with what was almost the first free breath he had drawn since Master Bell slashed the rope.
"Good Lord!" groaned Cal in comical despair, "my little man, if those fellows ever get us you'll be able to take a picture of your own funeral."
"How would dot be bossible?" inquired Herr Muller innocently, "if I voss a deader I couldn't take my own pigdure, aind't idt?"
But before any of them could make a reply, indignant or otherwise, a sudden occurrence ahead of them caused their attention to be diverted into a fresh channel. The cattle, terrified at the oncoming auto, had stopped grazing and were regarding it curiously. Suddenly, one of them gave an alarmed bellow. It appeared to be a signal for flight, for like one animal, the herd turned, and with terrified bellowings, rushed madly off into the pine forests on the eastern side of the valley.
This was a fortunate happening for the boys, for the cowpunchers were now compelled finally to give up their chase of the automobile and head off after the stampeded cattle.
"I reckon we'd better not come this way again; it wouldn't be healthy-like," grinned Cal, hearing their shouts and yells grow faint in the distance as they charged off among the trees.
"There's one thing," said Nat as he brought the crippled auto to a halt a short distance off, "they won't worry us for some time."
"No. Among them pine stumps it'll take 'em a week to round up their stock."
And now all hands turned to Herr Muller and eagerly demanded his story. It was soon told. He had arrived in the valley a short time before they had, and, charmed by its picturesque wildness, had begun enthusiastically taking pictures. In doing so, he had dismounted, and wandered some distance from his horse. When he turned his attention to it again, it had disappeared. However, although at first he thought he had lost the animal he soon found it grazing off among a clump of willows by the creek. He had mounted it and was riding off when suddenly the cowpunchers appeared, and as soon as their eyes fell on the horse accused the German of stealing it.
"I dell dem dot dey is mistakes making, but der use voss iss?" he went on. "Dey say dot dey pinch me anyhow."
"Lynch you, you mean, don't you?" inquired Nat.
"Vell dey pinch me too, dond dey?" asked Herr Muller indignantly. "Howefer, I egsplain by dem dot dey make misdage and den a leedle bull boy – "
"Cowboy," corrected Cal with a grin.
"Ach, how I can tell idt you my story if you are interrupt all der time," protested the German. "Well as I voss saying, der bull-boy tells me, 'loafer vot you iss you dake idt my bony vile I voss go hunting John rabbits. Yust for dot vee hang you py der neck.'"
"What did you say?" asked Nat, who began to think that the absent-minded German might actually have taken a wrong horse by accident.
"I say, 'Dot is my horse. I know him lige I know it mein brudder.' But dey say dot I iss horse bustler – "
"Rustler," muttered Cal.
"And dot I most be strunged oop. So I dake idt der picdures und gif dem my address in Chermany und den I prepare for der endt."
"Weren't you scared?" demanded Cal incredulously, for the German had related this startling narrative without turning a hair; in fact, he spoke about it as he might have talked about a tea party he had attended.
"Ach himmel, ches I voss scaredt all right. Pudt der voss no use in saying noddings, voss dere?"
"No I guess if you put it that way there wasn't," laughed Nat, "but you saved your camera I see."
He looked at the black box hanging round the German's neck by a strap.
"Yah," grinned Herr Muller, "I say I von't pee hanged if dey don'dt led itdt be mit der camera my neck py."
"No wonder they say, 'Heaven help the Irish, the Dutch can look after themselves,'" muttered Cal to himself as the entire party got out of the machine and a new tire was unbuckled from the spare tire rack.
The operation of replacing it was a troublesome one, and occupied some time.
So long did it take, in fact, that it was almost sundown by the time the shoe had been finally bolted above the inner tube, and they were ready to start once more. Just as they were about to be off Cal gave an exclamation and pointed ahead. Looking up in the direction he indicated the others saw coming toward them a saddled horse. But no rider bestrode it, and the reins were entangled in its forefeet. It whinnied as it saw them and came up close to the auto.
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Cal, as he saw it, "those cowpunchers had you right after all, Mr. Dutchman; this here is the plug you bought."
"Yah! yah! I know him now!" exclaimed Herr Muller enthusiastically. "See dere is my plankets diedt on py der saddle."
"So they are," exclaimed Nat, "at least I suppose they're yours. Then you actually were a horse thief and didn't know it. I suppose that when your horse wandered off that cowpuncher came along on his pony and left it while he went hunting jack rabbits. Then you, all absorbed in your picture taking, mistook his horse for yours."
"I guess dots der vay idt voss, chust a mistage," agreed Herr Muller with great equanimity.
"Say, pod'ner," said Cal, who had just led up the beast and restored it to its rightful owner, "you're glad you're livin', ain't you?"
The German's blue eyes opened widely as he stared at his questioner.
"Sure I iss gladt I'm lifing. Vot for – vy you ask me?"
"Wall, don't make any more mistakes like that," admonished Cal with grave emphasis, "folks out here is touchy about them."
As Herr Muller was going in the same direction as themselves he accepted a seat in the tonneau and his angular steed was hitched on behind as over the rough ground the car could not go any faster than a horse could trot. For some time they bumped along the floor of the valley and at last emerged at its upper end into a rocky-walled canyon, not unlike the one through which they had gained the depression in the hills. But to their uneasiness they could discover no road, or even a trail. However, the bottom of the canyon was fairly smooth and so Nat decided, after a consultation with Cal, to keep going north. A glance at the compass had shown them that the canyon ultimately cut through the range in that direction.
"We'll strike a trail or a hut or suthin' afore long," Cal assured them.
"I hope we strike some place to make camp," grumbled Joe, "I'm hungry."
This speech made them remember that in their excitement they had neglected to eat any lunch.
"Never mind, Joe," said Nat, "we'll soon come across a spring or a place that isn't all strewn with rocks, and we'll camp there even if there isn't a road."
"No, there's no use going ahead in the dark," agreed Cal, looking about him.
It was now quite dark, and the depth of the canyon they were traversing made the blackness appear doubly dense. But Nat, by gazing upward at the sky, managed to keep the auto on a fairly straight course, although every now and then a terrific bump announced that they had struck a big boulder.
"Wish that moon would hurry up and rise; then we could see something," remarked Cal, as they crept along. The others agreed with him, but they would not have the welcome illumination till some time later. They were still in the canyon, however, when a dim, silvery lustre began to creep over the eastern sky. Gradually the light fell upon the western wall of the gorge and soon the surroundings were flooded with radiance.
But it was a weird and startling scene that the light fell upon. Each occupant of the car uttered an involuntary cry of amazement as he gazed about him. On every side were towering trunks of what, at first glance, seemed trees, but which, presently, were seen to be as barren of vegetation as marble columns. Stumps of these naked, leafless forms littered the ground in every direction. In the darkness seemingly, they had penetrated quite a distance into this labyrinth, for all about them now were the bare, black trunks. Some of them reached to an immense height, and others were short and stumpy. All shared the peculiarity of possessing no branches or leaves, however.
"Where on earth are we?" asked Joe, gazing about him at the desolate scene.
"I can't make out," rejoined Nat in a troubled tone, "it's sort of uncanny isn't it?"
The others agreed.
"Ugh; it remindts me of a grafeyardt," shivered the German, as he looked about him at the bare stumps rising black and ghostlike in the pale moonlight.
Suddenly Cal, who had been gazing about him, shouted an explanation of the mystery.
"Boys, we're in a petrified forest!" he exclaimed.
CHAPTER IX
THE MIDNIGHT ALARM
The boys would have been glad to explore the petrified forest that night had it been practicable. They had read of the mysterious stone relics of ancient woods, which exist in the remote Sierras, but they had never dreamed they would stumble upon one so opportunely. However, even had they been less tired, it would have been out of the question to examine the strange place more thoroughly that night.
As there did not seem to be any limit to the place so far as they could see, the boys decided to camp where they were for the night. The auto was stopped and the horse unhitched and turned loose at the end of a lariat to graze, his rope being made fast round one of the more slender stone trunks.
"Feels like hitching him to the pillar of the City Hall at home," laughed Joe, as he formed a double half hitch and left the horse to his own devices, first, however, having watered the animal at a small spring which flowed from the foot of a large rock at one side of the mysterious stone valley.
In the meantime, Cal had built a fire of sage brush roots, for there was no wood about, every bit of it having turned to stone long ages before. The pile, on being ignited, blazed up cheerfully, illuminating the sterile, lonely spot with a merry red blaze. The spider was taken out of the utensil locker, and soon bacon was hissing in it and canned tomatoes and corn bubbling in adjacent saucepans. A big pot of coffee also sent up a savory aroma. Altogether, with canned fruit for dessert, the Motor Rangers and their friends made a meal which quite atoned for the loss of their lunch. Even Ding-dong admitted that he was satisfied by the time Cal drew out a short and exceedingly black pipe. The former stage driver rammed this full of tobacco and then leisurely proceeded to light it. After a few puffs he looked up at the group around him. They were lolling about on waterproof blankets spread out on the rock-strewn ground, a portion of which they had cleared. In the background stood the dark outlines of the auto, and beyond, the mysterious shadows of the petrified forest, the bequest to the present of the long departed stone age.
"I've bin a thinkin'," began Cal, as if he were delivering his mind of something he had been inwardly cogitating for some time, "I've bin a thinkin' that while we are in this part of the country we ought to keep a good look out at night."
"You think that Morello's band may give us more trouble?" asked Nat.
"I don't jes' think so," rejoined Cal earnestly, "I'm purty jes' nat'ly sure of it. They ain't the sort of fellers ter fergit or furgive."
"I guess you're right," agreed Nat, "that man Dayton alone is capable of making lots of trouble for us. We'll do as you say and set a watch to-night."
"I vind und set my votch every night," declared Herr Muller, proudly drawing out of his pocket an immense timepiece resembling a bulbous silver vegetable.
"This is a different kind of watch that we're talking about," laughed Nat.
It was ultimately arranged, after some more discussion, that Joe and Nat should watch for the first part of the night and Ding-dong and Cal Gifford should come on duty at one o'clock in the morning. It seemed to young Bell that he hadn't been asleep more than five minutes when he was roughly shaken by Nat and told to tumble out of the tonneau as it was time to go on watch. Already Cal, who like an old mountaineer preferred to sleep by the fire, was up and stirring. It took a long time, though, to rout Ding-dong out of his snug bed. The air at that altitude is keen and sharp, and being turned out of his warm nest was anything but pleasant to the lad.
"L-l-l-let the D-d-d-d-dutchman do it," he begged, snuggling down in his blankets.
"No," said Nat firmly, "it's your turn on duty. Come on now, roll out or we'll pull you out."
Finally, with grumbling protestations, the stuttering youth was hauled forth, and, while Nat and Joe turned in, he and Cal went on duty, or "sentry go," as they say in the army.
"Now then," said Cal crisply, as the shivering Ding-dong lingered by the fire with his rifle in his chilled hands, "you go off there to the right and patrol a hundred feet or more. I'll do the same to the left. We'll meet at the fire every few minutes and get warm."
"A-a-all r-r-r-right," agreed Ding-dong, who stood in some awe of the stage driver. Consequently, without further demur, he strode off on his post. Having reached the end of it he marched back to the fire and warmed himself a second. Then he paced off again. This kept up for about an hour when suddenly Cal, who was at the turning point of his beat, heard a startling sound off to the right among the tomb-like forms of the stone trees.
Bang!
It was followed by two other shots.
Bang! Bang!
The reports rang sharply, amid the silence of the desolate place, and sent an alarmed chill even to Cal's stout heart. He bounded back toward the fire just in time to meet Ding-dong, who came rushing in with a scared white face, from the opposite direction. At the same time Nat and Joe awakened, and hastily slipping on some clothes, seized their rifles and prepared for trouble.
"What's the matter?" demanded Cal, in sharp, crisp tones, of the frightened sentinel.
"Indians!" was the gasped-out reply, "the p-p-p-place is f-f-f-full of them."
"Indians!" exclaimed Cal, hastily kicking out the bright fire and leaving it a dull heap of scattered embers, "are you sure?"
"S-s-s-sure. I s-s-s-saw their f-f-f-fif-feathers."
"That's queer," exclaimed Cal, "I never heard of any Indians being in this section before. But come on, boys, it's clear the lad here has seen something and we'd better get ready for trouble."
An improvised fort was instantly formed, by the boys crouching in various points of vantage in the automobile with their rifles menacingly pointed outward. Herr Muller snored on serenely, and they allowed him to slumber.
They must have remained in tense poses without moving a muscle for half an hour or more before any one dared to speak. Then Nat whispered,
"Queer we don't see or hear anything."
"They may be creeping up stealthily," rejoined Cal, "don't take your eye off your surroundings a minute."
For some time more the lads watched with increasing vigilance. At length even Cal grew impatient.
"There's something funny about this," he declared, and then turning on Ding-dong he demanded:
"Are you sure you saw something?"
"D-d-d-didn't I s-s-s-s-shoot at it?" indignantly responded the boy.
"I know, but you actually saw something move?" persisted Nat.
"Of c-c-c-course I did. You didn't think I was go-go-going to s-s-s-shoot at a put-put-petrified tree, did you?"
"We'll wait a while longer and then if nothing shows up I'm going to investigate," declared Cal.
"I'm with you," agreed Nat.
As nothing occurred for a long time the Motor Rangers finally climbed out of the car, and with their rifles held ready for instant action, crept off in the direction from which Ding-dong's fusillade had proceeded. Every now and then they paused to listen, hardly breathing for fear of interrupting the silence. But not a sound could they hear. However, Ding-dong stuck stoutly to his story that he had seen something move and had fired at it, whereupon it had vanished.
"Maybe it was Morello's gang trying to give us a scare," suggested Nat.
"Ef they'd ever got as close to us as this they'd hev given us worse than a scare," confidently declared Cal.
By this time they had proceeded quite some distance, and Cal stopped Ding-dong with a question.
"Whereabouts were you when you fired?"
"I-I do-do-do-do-don't know," stuttered the lad.
"You don't know?" indignantly echoed Nat, "you're a fine woodsman."
"Y-y-y-y-yes I do t-t-t-too," Ding-dong hastened to amend, "I was here – right here."
He ascended a small knoll covered with grass, at the foot of one of the stone trees.
"Which direction did you fire in?" was Nat's next question.
"Off t-t-t-that w-w-w-w-w-way," spoke Ding-dong. "Wow, there he is now!"
The boy gave a yell and started to run, and the others were considerably startled.
From the little eminence on which they stood they could see, projecting from behind one of the pillars, something that certainly did look like two feathers sticking in an Indian's head dress. As they gazed the feathers moved.
"Shoot quick!" cried Joe, jerking his rifle up to his shoulder, but Cal yanked it down with a quick pull.
"Hold on, youngster. Not so fast," he exclaimed, "let's look into this thing first."
Holding his rifle all ready to fire at the least alarm, the former stage driver crept cautiously forward. Close at his elbow came Nat, with his weapon held in similar readiness.
"There is something there – see!" exclaimed Nat in an awed tone.
"Yes," almost shouted the guide, "and it's that Dutchman's old plug!"
The next instant his words were verified. The midnight marauder at whom Ding-dong had fired was nothing more dangerous than the horse of Herr Muller. It had broken loose in the night and was browsing about when the amateur sentry had come upon it. In the moonlight, and when seen projecting from behind a pillar, its ears, which were unusually long, did look something like the head dress of an Indian.
"Wow!" yelled Nat, "this is one on you, Ding-dong!"
"Yes, here's your Indian!" shouted Joe, doubling up with laughter.
"Whoa, Indian," soothed Cal, walking up to the peaceful animal, "let's see if he hit you."
But the merriment of the lads was increased when an examination of the horse failed to show a scratch or mark upon it.
"That's another on you, Ding-dong," laughed Nat, "you're a fine sentinel. Why, you can't even hit a horse."
"Well, let the Dutchman try and see if he can do any better," rejoined Ding-dong with wounded dignity.