CHAPTER XIV.
A "LOONITACKER" HORSE.
"I have it!" cried Nat suddenly.
"What, the same thing as Bismark?" shouted Joe, "here somebody, holdhim down."
"No, I know what's the matter with him--loco weed!"
He stooped down and picked up a small, bright green trefoil leaf. Calslapped his leg with an exclamation as he looked at it.
"That's right, boy. That's loco weed, sure. It's growing all aroundhere, and we was too busy to notice it. That old plug has filled hisornery carcass up on it."
By this time the German had crawled out of the water, and was poking adripping face, with a comical expression of dismay on it, through thebushes about the lake. Not seeing Bismark near, he ventured out a fewpaces, but the horse suddenly spying him made a mad dash for him. HerrMuller beat a hasty retreat. Even Bismark could not penetrate into thethick brush after him.
"Vos is los mit Bismark?" yelled the German from his retreat at theboys and Cal, who were almost convulsed with laughter at the creature'scomical antics.
"I guess his brains is loose," hailed back Cal, whose knowledge of theGerman language was limited.
"He's mad!" shouted Joe by way of imparting some useful information.
"Mad? Voss iss he madt about?"
"Oh, what's the use?" sighed Joe. Then placing his hands funnelwise tohis mouth he bawled out:--
"He's locoed!"
"Low toed?" exclaimed the amazed German. "Then I take him mit derblacksmith."
"Say, you simian-faced subject of Hoch the Kaiser, can't you understandEnglish?" howled Cal, in a voice that might have dislodged a mountain."Bismark is crazy, locoed, mad, off his trolley, got rats in hisgarret, bats in his belfry, bug-house, screw-loose, daft, looney--nowdo you understand?"
"Yah!" came the response, "now I know. Bismark is aufergerspeil."
"All right, call it that if you want to," muttered Cal. Then, asBismark, with a final flourish of his heels and a loud shrill whinny,galloped off, the Westerner turned to the boys.
"Well, we've seen the last of him for a while."
"Aren't you going to try to catch him?" asked Nat, as he watched thehorse dash across the meadow-like hollow, and then vanish in the beltof dark wood on the hillside beyond.
"No good," said Cal decisively, "wouldn't be able to do a thing withhim for days. That loco weed is bad stuff. If I'd ever noticed itgrowing around here you can bet that Bismuth, or whatever that Dutchmancalls him, wouldn't have left the camp."
Herr Muller, rubbing a grievous bump he had received when theungrateful equine turned upon the hand that fed him, now came up andjoined the party. He made such a grievous moan over the loss of hishorse that Nat's heart was melted. He promised finally that they wouldstay in the vicinity the next day, and if Bismark had not appeared thatthey would make a short search in the mountains for him.
This was strongly against Cal's advice, but he, too, finally gave in.The Westerner knew better even than the boys with what a desperate gangthey were at odds, and he did not favor anything that delayed theirgetting out of that part of the country as quick as possible.
"My mine is only a day or so's run from here," he said to Nat, "and ifonce we reached there we could stand these fellows off till help mightbe summoned from some place below, and we could have Morello's gang allarrested."
"That would be a great idea," agreed Nat, "do you think it could bedone?"
"Don't see why not," rejoined Cal, "but you'll see better when you geta look at the place. It's a regular natural fortress, that's what itis. My plan would be to hold 'em there while one of us rides off toLaredo or Big Oak Flat for the sheriff and his men."
"We'll talk some more about that," agreed Nat, to whom the ideaappealed immensely. In fact, he felt that there was little chanceof their really enjoying their trip till they were sure that Col.Morello's gang was disposed of. Somehow Nat had a feeling that theywere not through with the rascals yet. In which surmise, as we shallsee, he was right.
Supper that night was a merry meal, and after it had been disposed of,the waterproof tent which the boys had brought along was set up for thefirst time. With its sod cloth and spotless greenish-gray coloring, itmade an inviting looking little habitation, more especially when thefolding cots were erected within. But Herr Muller was in a despondentmood. He ate his supper in silence and sat melancholy and moodyafterward about the roaring camp fire.
"Ach dot poor horse. Maypee der wolves get der poor crazy loonitacker,"he moaned.
"Wall," commented Cal judicially, "ef he kin handle wolves as well ashe kin Dutchmen he's no more reason to be scared of 'em than he is ofjack-rabbits."
Of course watches were posted that night, and extra careful vigilanceexercised. The events of the day had not added to the boys' confidencein their safety, by any means. There was every danger, in fact, of anight attack being attempted by their enemies.
But the night passed without any alarming interruption. And the morningdawned as bright and clear as the day that had preceded it. Breakfastwas quickly disposed of, and then plans were laid for the pursuit ofthe errant Bismark.
Cal was of the opinion, that if the effect of the loco weed had wornoff, that the horse might be found not far from the camp. There wasa chance, of course, that he might have trotted back home. But Cal'sexperience had shown him that in the lonely hills, horses generallyprefer the company of human kind to the solitudes and that if theinfluence of the crazy-weed was not still upon him the quadruped wouldbe found not very far off.
This was cheering news to the photographing Teuton, who could hardlyeat any breakfast so impatient was he to be off. Cal was to stay andguard the camp with Ding-dong for a companion. The searching party wasto consist of Nat, in command, with Joe and Herr Muller as assistants.
All, of course, carried weapons, and it was agreed that the signal incase of accident or attack, would be two shots in quick succession,followed by a third. Two shots alone would announce that the horse wasfound; while one would signify failure and an order to turn homeward.
These details being arranged, and Herr Muller thoroughly drilled inthem, the searchers set forth. The little meadow was soon traversed,and at the edge of the woods, which clothed the slope at this side ofthe valley, they separated. Nat took the centre, striking straightahead on Bismark's trail, while the other two converged at differentradii.
The hill-side was not steep, and walking under the pinons and madronesnot difficult. Occasionally a clump of dense chaparral intervened, sothick that it had to be walked around. It would have been waste of timeto attempt to penetrate it.
All three of the searchers, as may be imagined, kept a sharp look-out,not only for trace of Bismark but also for any sign of danger. But theytramped on, while the sun rose higher, without anything alarming makingitself manifest.
But of Bismark not a trace was to be found. He had, apparently,vanished completely. The ground was dry and rocky, too, which was bad,so far as trailing was concerned. Nat, although he now and then tumbledon a hoof mark or found a spot where Bismark had stopped to graze, sawnothing further of the horse.
At last he looked at his watch. He gave an exclamation of astonishmentas he did so. It was almost noon.
"Got to be starting back," he thought, and drawing his revolver, hefired one shot, the signal agreed upon for the return.
This done, he set off walking at a brisk pace toward what he believedwas the valley. But Nat, like many a more experienced mountaineer, hadbecome hopelessly turned around during his wanderings. While it seemedto him he was striking in an easterly direction, he was, as a matter offact, proceeding almost the opposite way.
After tramping for an hour or more the boy began to look about him.
"That's odd," he thought as he took in the surroundings, "I don'tremember seeing anything like this around the valley."
It was, in fact, a very different scene from that surrounding thecamp that now lay about him. Instead of a soft, grass-covered valley,all that could be seen from the ba
re eminence on which he had nowclimbed, was a rift in some bare, rocky hills. The surroundings wereinexpressibly wild and desolate looking. Tall rocks, like the minaretsof Eastern castles, shot upward, and the cliffs were split and rivenas if by some immense convulsion of nature.
High above the wild scene there circled a big eagle. From time to timeit gave a harsh scream, adding a dismal note to the dreary environment.
For a flash Nat felt like giving way to the wild, unreasoning panicthat sometimes overwhelms those who suddenly discover they arehopelessly lost. His impulse was to dash into the wood and set offrunning in what he thought must be the right direction. But he checkedhimself by an effort of will, and forced his mind to accept thesituation as calmly as possible.
"How foolish I was not to mark the trees as I came along!" he thought.
If only he had done that it would have been a simple matter to findhis way back. A sudden idea flashed into his mind, and drawing out hiswatch the boy pointed the hour hand at the sun, which was, luckily, infull sight. He knew that a point between the hour hand thus directed,and noon, would indicate the north and south line.
As Nat had begun to think, this test showed him that he had beenalmost completely turned about, and had probably come miles in thewrong direction.
The east lay off to his right. Nat faced about, and was startingpluckily off in that direction when a sudden commotion in a clump ofchaparral below attracted his attention. A flock of blue jays flew up,screaming and scolding hoarsely in their harsh notes.
Nat was woodsman enough to know that the blue jay is the watch-dogof the forests. Their harsh cries betoken the coming of anything forhalf a mile or more. Sometimes, however, they do not scream out theirwarning till whatever alarms them is quite close.
As the birds, uttering their grating notes, flew upward from the clumpin the chaparral, Nat paused. So still did he keep that he coulddistinctly hear the pounding of his heart in the silence. But presentlyanother sound became audible.
The trampling of horses coming in his direction!
The Motor Rangers Through the Sierras Page 14