Grace Harlowe's Overland Riders in the High Sierras

by Josephine Chase

  CHAPTER XI

  PONIES GET A BAD FRIGHT

  Up and up traveled the Overland party, the ponies here and there beingobliged to zigzag back and forth, picking their way like mountain goats.

  The members of the party were keenly interested in watching thepack-horses to see how they acted under these trying circumstances, and,to their satisfaction, found that the animals were thoroughly familiarwith their work. The saddle horses of the Overlanders, they had seen inaction before, and knew what they could do. Now and then the white marewould poise with all four feet bunched as if she were about to make aleap into space, then slowly one foot would reach out for a footing.Having found it, the other fore foot would follow, then the hind feet,Kitty all the time groaning dismally and wheezing like a leaky valve ona locomotive.

  Ordinarily, horses on a trail make an effort to keep within sight ofeach other, but in this instance Idler, the brown mare, did not appearto care whether she were within or out of sight of her companions.Hippy, when they made the noon luncheon camp, searched his kit for anarticle that he had brought along, thinking it might prove useful. Hedid not let the others see what it was, but secreted it on his person.This article was a pea-shooter, and he had the peas to use in it, too.

  When the party moved on after luncheon, Hippy dropped behind to betterobserve the pack-horses. Idler loafed, as usual. Hippy tried thepea-shooter on her, and the brown mare jumped at a critical point. Allfour feet went out from under her, and she landed on her back, greatlyto the detriment of her pack, and, had it not been that the pack wasvery strong, the outfit she carried would have been ruined.

  "Oh, the clumsy beast!" groaned Grace Harlowe.

  "What ails the silly creature?" cried Emma.

  "She has thrown a fit," Stacy informed her.

  Hippy, whose scheme had exceeded his expectations, sprang from hissaddle and ran to the fallen horse, which, by this time, had rolled overon her side. One foot further and Idler would have slipped down alongthe rocks a hundred feet or more.

  "Stacy! Sit on her head! Fetch me a rope, someone," urged LieutenantWingate.

  Passing the rope about the animal, they threw it around a tree above thetrail, then began removing the pack, which Tom had loosened by pullingon the pack-rope. Relieved of the weight on her back, Idler, aided by apull on the rope, struggled to her feet, and, after no little effort,she was gotten back on the narrow trail. About a hundred feet abovethem, perched on a pinnacle of rock, sat the Honorable Woo Smith, handslost in his flowing sleeves.

  "Hi-lee, hi-lo! hi-lee, hi-lo!" sang the guide.

  Stacy shied a pebble at him.

  "Will you stop that 'hi-lee' business?" he demanded. "It is lucky foryou that you are above instead of below me, or I'd roll a rock down onyou."

  "Let the cook alone!" ordered Tom Gray. "I don't understand what causedthat beast to lose her footing so suddenly."

  Hippy Wingate, however, understood only too well, but he did not thinkbest to enlighten his companions, who might have found unpleasantremarks to make. A full hour was lost in getting the brown mare and herpack in condition to proceed, then the journey was resumed.

  Later in the day, Lieutenant Wingate found occasion to use hispea-shooter again. The first effort in that direction had proved sosuccessful that he could not resist the second shining opportunity thatpresented itself. This time Stacy was the victim.

  Stacy was asleep in his saddle at the time, his pony moping along withhead close to the ground, when Hippy sent a pea straight at the tenderflank of the animal.

  The pony woke up suddenly, and then another pea hit it. The fat boy'smount bucked beautifully, and Chunky took a long flight, landinghead-first in a wild rose bush, howling and struggling, not rightlyknowing what had occurred.

  "Here, here! What's going on?" shouted Tom, turning in his saddle.

  "Stacy has come a cropper. Oh, please do it again, Stacy. It wasbeautiful," urged Emma enthusiastically.

  "I--I fell off," wailed the boy, raising a very red face above the topof the rose bush. "I--I transmigrated, didn't I, Emma?" Stacy grinnedsheepishly. "I'll trim the beast for that."

  "You will not," laughed Hippy. "The pony was not to blame in the least."

  As a matter of fact, the pony appeared to be even more amazed at themishap than were the Overlanders themselves. The excitement ended, andthe party once more under way, Chunky began to ponder over what hadoccurred, and the more he pondered the more convinced did he become thatsomeone had played a trick on him. He eyed each member of the partynarrowly, finally regarding Uncle Hip with suspicion.

  "I wonder if he did it?" muttered the boy.

  The trail was growing more difficult and perilous with the moments, andthe Riders were making not more than a mile-and-a-half an hour, and atone point it curved so sharply that the riders in the lead, in thisinstance Tom and Stacy, were directly above Lieutenant Wingate,traveling in the opposite direction.

  "Hulloa! What's Uncle Hip up to now?" wondered Stacy, casting suspiciousglances at him. Chunky saw something glisten in the hands of Uncle Hip;then he saw him place the glistening object to his lips and blow. MissKitty snorted and jumped, after which she quickened her pace.

  "So, that's the game, is it?" grinned Stacy Brown. "I reckon I know nowwhat made me come a cropper into the rose bush. Uncle Hip used apea-shooter on my pony. Wait till I get an opportunity! I'll make a showof him for that."

  Tom had halted at the summit, and, shading his eyes, gazed off over thescene before him.

  "What do you call that hole down there?" questioned Elfreda.

  "That? That is a box canyon," replied Hippy.

  "Are we going down there?" wondered Nora.

  "Yes."

  "We're going to do a giant leap for life to the bottom of the box in afew moments," Stacy Brown informed her.

  Tom removed his sombrero and mopped his forehead.

  "I see nothing that looks like a trail," he declared. "Woo, are youpositive that there is a safe way to get down?"

  Woo bobbed his head vigorously.

  "Him plenty good way. You no savvy tlail?"

  Tom shook his head.

  "Me savvy tlail. You come. Me show."

  "Never mind, Woo. We are going to find that trail for ourselves. Thisisn't the first time we have been in the mountains. You watch us,"answered Lieutenant Wingate.

  Hippy crawled down the mountainside for some distance, working along,first to the right, then to the left. He observed, at the same time,that the wall on the opposite side of the canyon had a more gradualslope. Climbing the other side would be easier than the one they werenow going down. There was no trace of a trail on the Overlanders' side,but Hippy found a way to get down.

  "Well?" questioned Grace, upon his return.

  "We can make it."

  "Of course we can make it. We shall have to jump, though," said Stacy.

  "Suppose you jump first, then, if the jumping is good, perhaps we mayfollow," suggested Emma.

  "Jump? Why, you wouldn't dare jump off from a silver dollar," declaredChunky.

  "Produce one and see whether I dare or not," offered Emma.

  "I--I don't think I have one," stammered Stacy amid laughter.

  "All ready," announced Lieutenant Wingate, mounting and starting downthe sharp incline. The others watched him for a few moments, thenfollowed, the pack animals taking their places without being urged, notat all disturbed over the perilous descent. Hippy was now taking azig-zag course, which was the only safe way, unless one preferred toadopt Stacy's suggestion and jump. To look at the mountain, travelingdown its steep side would seem to the novice an impossibility. However,ponies familiar with mountain climbing are sure-footed and unafraid, anddo some remarkable climbing, frequently going where a tenderfoot wouldhesitate to crawl on hands and knees.

  Here and there were small trees, with an occasional growth of bushes,which afforded more or less protection from a bad fall, but on otherparts of the trail
the rocks sloped away for hundreds of feet, lyingsmooth and glaring in the bright afternoon sunlight. The Overland Riderstook the descent without any display of nervousness, but Kitty, thepack-horse, groaned and grunted all the way down. One would imagine thatshe was suffering agonies, but it was simply habit with her, and she gotno sympathy, though now and then she did feel the sting of a pebble thatone or another of the party hurled at her.

  Lieutenant Wingate was making much more rapid progress than hiscompanions, he being eager to reach the bottom before the light failedthem, for it would not do at all to be caught on the side of themountain after dark. A shout from below told them that he had reachedthe valley. It was answered by another shout from above, then a "Hi-lee,hi-lo!" in the high-pitched voice of the guide. A stone came bumpingdown not far from Woo.

  "Stacy, did you throw that stone?" shouted Hippy.

  "I did."

  "Stop it! You might hit someone."

  "I want to hit someone. I want to wing that song-bird, and I'll do ityet," threatened Chunky.

  The safe arrival of the rest of the Overland party at the bottom of thepit put a stop to further gaiety at the expense of the guide. They foundthemselves in a valley about a quarter of a mile in width and of unknownlength. The place was a meadow in the heart of the mountains, carpetedwith the brown California grass that did not appeal to the appetites ofthe horses, and as soon as the animals were turned out they made hasteto climb the opposite slope in search of the succulent greens that theyseemed to know they should find up there.

  In the meantime, preparations for making camp and getting supper weregoing on systematically down in the canyon. It was an ideal place forcamping, sheltered from storm, and from sunshine during the early andlate hours of the day. A clear, cold brook rippled merrily on their sideof the canyon, its waters leaping from the black rocks or lying insombre bank-shadowed pools; and, despite the apparent dryness of thelandscape, gorgeous bush-flowers bloomed, filling the air with theirperfume, the valley farther down being a riot of varied colors where thestream had left its banks and spread out over the lower land.

  "Oh, girls, isn't this fairyland?" breathed Elfreda Briggs.

  "Wonderful!" agreed Grace.

  "All but the fairies," answered Stacy.

  "We have a gnome," suggested Emma, glancing at Chunky. "Fairies don'tstuff themselves. They live on atmosphere."

  "This fairy doesn't live on atmosphere," retorted Stacy. "He takes hisbelt off, if necessary, too."

  "I would suggest that you take it off now and get to work. We haveplenty of it to do," reminded Tom Gray.

  All hands turned to, to help the cook, for they were hungry, and it wasnatural that they should be, for climbing mountains in the High Countryis hard, grilling work.

  Supper was a busy rather than a lively affair, but after supper theOverlanders found their tongues and were soon engaged in good-naturedraillery, but they were quite ready to turn in when Tom Gray whistled"taps." This time there was no hesitancy on the part of anyone tosleeping on the ground, and they dropped off to sleep with the tinklingof the bells of the pack-horses in their ears, the rich perfumes offlowers in their nostrils, their senses lulled pleasantly by the song ofthe locusts and strange insects that none remembered ever to have heardof before.

  The camp was awake shortly after daybreak. Once more Stacy Brown had tobe urged forth to wrangle the horses. He protested loudly when Elfredapointed to the opposite slope, which Chunky must climb, for the animalswere nowhere in sight.

  "I suppose I might as well go out. I always get the fag-end of thestick," grumbled Stacy.

  "Never mind, Chunky. I'll fetch the horses," offered Tom.

  "No, no. I just wanted to say something," returned Stacy, hastilystirring himself into activity and jumping on the bare back of his pony.No sooner was he on than he was off again, for the pony had never beenridden without a saddle, and promptly bucked when his owner mounted.Stacy landed flat on his back in the campfire, sending up a shower ofsparks and smoke, and it was only the quick action of Nora Wingate thatsaved him from being burned. As it was, his clothing was smoking when hewas dragged out. Hippy and Tom put Stacy's fire out by grabbing the boyup and throwing him in the creek, where Stacy rolled over whooping andhowling his disapproval of the entire proceeding.

  "You should have known better than to try to ride that pony without asaddle," rebuked Hippy.

  Stacy turned angrily on his now meek-eyed pony.

  "You donkey! Oh, you doddering idiot!" he raged, shaking a fist at theanimal. "You'll pay for that! You'll rue the day and the minute that youbucked me off your back. Where is my saddle?"

  "Never mind. I will get the ponies," grinned Hippy. "You aren't fit."

  "I am. I'm always fit. I'll get 'em myself."

  "Be sure to bring back the donkey," teased Emma.

  Stacy cinched on his saddle before starting, and this time the littleanimal offered no protest, but galloped away as docile as could bedesired. After he had left them, the Overlanders had a good laugh at hisexpense, then began packing in preparation for the day's journey.

  The Overlanders finally began to wonder what had become of Stacy, for hehad been absent much longer than seemed necessary, then, all at oncethey heard a yell on the opposite side of the canyon.

  "There he is! He is in trouble again," cried Tom, starting for his ownpony.

  "See him come! He will break his neck," worried Nora.

  Tom halted at his pony's side, for he had discovered something else.Right on the heels of Stacy's mount came the saddle-ponies and thepack-horses. The latter, being hobbled, were hopping like kangaroos,making long leaps, covering a great deal of ground in each leap andturning their heads to glance back with almost every jump.

  "What can be the matter?" wondered Grace, anxiously watching the descentof the fat boy. Every second she expected to see him come a cropper andfall the remaining distance down the mountainside, but Chunky didnothing of the sort. He stuck tightly to his saddle, now and thencasting apprehensive glances back at the horses that were tearing alongin his wake.

  Lieutenant Wingate, suddenly surmising what the trouble was about, ranfor his rifle.

  "Wha--at is it?" stammered Emma Dean.

  "They are stampeding. Something is chasing them. I think I know what itis," answered Hippy, darting across the canyon, clearing rocks and otherobstructions in a series of lively leaps, the others of his partystanding gaping, wondering, some of them a little fearful, especiallyfor the safety of the panic-stricken Chunky.