The Motor Rangers Through the Sierras

by John Henry Goldfrap

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  THE HUT IN THE MOUNTAINS.

  The next morning they were off once more. As may be imagined eachone of the party was anxious to reach the canyon in which Cal's minewas located. There they would be in touch with civilization and in aposition to retaliate upon the band of Col. Morello if they dared toattack them.

  On the evening of the second day they found themselves not far fromthe place, according to Cal's calculations. But they were in a ruggedcountry through which it would be impossible to proceed by night, so itwas determined to make camp as soon as a suitable spot could be found.

  As it so happened, one was not far distant. A gentle slopecomparatively free from rocks and stones, and affording a good view ineither direction, was in the immediate vicinity. The auto, therefore,was run up there and brought to a halt, and the Motor Rangers at onceset about looking for a spring. They had plenty of water in the tank,but preferred, if they could get it, to drink the fresh product. Waterthat has been carried a day or two in a tank is not nearly as nice asthe fresh, sparkling article right out of the ground.

  "Look," cried Joe, as they scattered in search of a suitable spot,"there's a little hut up there."

  "M-m-m-maybe a h-h-h-hermit l-l-lives there," suggested Ding-dong inrather a quavering voice.

  "Nonsense," put in Nat, "that hut has been deserted for many years. Seethe ridge pole is broken, and the roof is all sagging in. Let's go andexplore it."

  With a whoop they set out across the slope for the ruined hut, whichstood back in a small clearing cut out of the forest. Blackened stumpsstood about it but it was long since the ground had been cultivated. Afew mouldering corn stalks, however, remained to show that the placehad once been inhabited.

  As for the hut itself, it was a primitive shelter of rough logs, theroof of which had been formed out of "slabs" split from the logsdirect. A stone chimney was crumbling away at one end, but it was manya year since any cheerful wreaths of smoke had wound upward from it.

  The boys were alone, Cal and Herr Muller having remained to attend tothe auto and build a fire. Somehow, in the fading evening light, thisruined human habitation on the edge of the dark Sierran forest hadan uncanny effect on the boys. The stillness was profound. And halfconsciously the lads sank their voices to whispers as they drew closer.

  "S-s-s-s-say hadn't we b-b-b-better go back and g-g-g-get a g-gun?"suggested Ding-dong in an awe-struck tone.

  "What for," rejoined Joe, whose voice was also sunk to a low pitch,"not scared, are you?"

  "N-n-n-no, but it seems kind of creepy somehow."

  "Nonsense," said Nat crisply, "come on, let's see what's inside."

  By this time they were pretty close to the place, and a few stridesbrought Nat to the rotting door. It was locked apparently, for, as hegave it a vigorous shake, it did not respond but remained closed.

  "Come on, fellows. Bring your shoulders to bear," cried Nat, "now thenall together!"

  Three strong young bodies battered the door with their shoulders withall their might, and at the first assault the clumsy portal wentcrashing off its hinges, falling inward with a startling "bang."

  "Look out!" yelled Nat as it subsided, and it was well he gave thewarning.

  Before his sharp cry had died out a dark form about the size of a smallrabbit came leaping out with a squeak like the sound made by a slatepencil. Before the boy could recover from his involuntary recoil thecreature was followed by a perfect swarm of his companions. Squeakingand showing their teeth the creatures came pouring forth, theirthousands of little eyes glowing like tiny coals.

  "Timber rats!" shouted Nat, taking to his heels, but not before someof the little animals had made a show of attacking him. Nat was tooprudent a lad to try conclusions with the ferocious rodents, which canbe savage as wild cats, when cornered. Deeming discretion the betterpart of valor he sped down the hillside after Ding-dong and Joe, whohad started back for the camp at the first appearance of the torrent oftimber rats.

  From a safe distance the lads watched the exodus. For ten minutes ormore the creatures came rushing forth in a solid stream. But at lastthe stampede began to dwindle, and presently the last old gray fellowjoined his comrades in the woods.

  "Great Scott!" exclaimed Joe, "did you ever see such a sight?"

  "Well, I've heard of places in which the rats gathered in immensenumbers, but I never knew before that such a thing as we have seen waspossible," replied Nat; "there must have been thousands."

  "Mum-m-m-m-millions," stuttered Ding-dong, his eyes still round withastonishment.

  "I suppose some supplies were left in there," suggested Nat, "and thatthe rats gathered there and made a regular nesting place of it afterthe owner departed."

  "Well, now that they have all cleared out, let's go and have a look,"said Joe.

  "Might as well," agreed Nat, "it's a good thing those creatures didn'ttake it into their heads to attack us, as I have read they have done tominers. They might have picked our bones clean."

  They entered the hut with feelings of intense curiosity. It was wellthat they trod gingerly as they crossed the threshold, for the floorwas so honeycombed with the holes of the timber rats that walkingwas difficult and even dangerous. The creatures had evidently gnawedthrough the sill beams supporting the floor, for the hearthstone infront of the open fireplace had subsided and sagged through into thefoundations, leaving a big open space. The boys determined to explorethis later but in the meantime other things in the hut attracted theirattention.

  There was a rough board table with a cracker box to serve as chairdrawn up close to it. But both the table and the box had been almostgnawed to pieces by the ravenous rats. Some tin utensils stood upon thetable but all trace of what they might have contained had, of course,vanished. Even pictures from illustrated magazines which had once beenpasted on the walls had been devoured, leaving only traces to show whatthey had been.

  Nat, while the others had been investigating at large, had made his wayto the corner of the hut where a rude bunk had been built. As he gazedinto its dark recesses he shrank back with a startled cry.

  "Fellows! Oh, fellows! Come here!"

  The other two hastened to his side and were scarcely less shockedthan he at what they saw. Within the bunk, the bed clothing of whichhad been devoured wholesale, lay a heap of whitened bones. A skull atthe head of the rude bed-place told all too clearly that the ownerhad either been killed or had died in the lonely place and had beendevoured by the rats. The grisly evidences were only too plain.

  The boys were almost unnerved by this discovery, and it was some timebefore any one of them spoke. Then Nat said in a low tone, almost awhisper:--

  "I wonder who he was?"

  "There's a tin box," said Joe, pointing to a receptacle beneath thebunk, "maybe there's something in that to tell."

  "Perhaps," said Nat, picking the article up. It was a much batteredcase of the type known as "despatch box." The marks of the rats' teethshowed upon it, but it had not been opened. A rusty hammer with thehandle half gnawed off lay a short distance away. With one sharp blowof this tool Nat knocked the lock off the despatch box. He gave a cryof triumph as he opened it. Within, yellow and faded, were severalpapers.

  "Let's get into the open air and examine these," suggested Nat, whowas finding the ratty odor of the place almost overpowering. Theothers gladly followed him. Squatting down outside the hut in thefading light, they opened the first paper. It seemed to be a will ofsome sort and was signed Elias Goodale. Putting it aside for furtherperusal, Nat, in turn, opened and glanced at a packet of faded lettersin a woman's handwriting, a folded paper containing a lock of hair,seemingly that of an infant, and at last a paper that seemed fresherthan the others. This ink, instead of being a faded brown, was blackand clear. The paper seemed to have been torn from a blank book.

  "Read it out," begged Joe.

  "All right," said Nat, "there doesn't seem to be much of it, so I will."

  Holding the paper close to his eyes in the wa
ning day, the boy read asfollows:--

  "I am writing this with what I fear is my last conscious effort. It will go with the other papers in the box, and some day perhaps may reach my friends. I hope and pray so. It has been snowing for weeks and weeks. In my solitude it is dreadful, but no more of that. I was took down ill three days ago and have been steadily getting worse. It is hard to die like this on the eve of my triumph, but if it is to be it must be. The sapphires--for I found them at last--are hid under the hearthstone. I pray whoever finds this to see that they are restored to my folks whom I wronged much in my life before I came out here.

  "As I write this I feel myself growing weaker. The timber rats--those terrible creatures--have grown quite bold now. They openly invade the hut and steal my stores. Even if I recover I shall hardly have enough to live out the winter. The Lord have mercy on me and bring this paper to the hands of honest men. They will find details in the other papers of my identity."

  "Is that all?" asked Joe as Nat came to a stop.

  "That's all," rejoined Nat in a sober voice. "What do you think of it?"

  "That we'd better tell Cal and see what he advises."

  "That's my idea, too. Come on, let's tell him about it."

  The Motor Rangers lost no time in hastening back to the camp and Cal'sface of amazement as he heard their story was a sight to behold. Asfor Herr Muller he tore his hair in despair at not having secured aphotograph of the rats as they poured out of the ruined hut.

  "I've heard of this Elias Goodale," said Cal as he looked over thepapers. "He was an odd sort of recluse that used to come to Lariattwice a year for his grub. The fellows all thought he was crazy. He wasalways talking about finding sapphires and making the folks at homerich. I gathered that some time he had done 'em a great wrong of somekind and wanted to repair it the best way he could. Anyhow, he had aclaim hereabouts that he used to work on all the time. The boys alltold him that the Injuns had taken all the sapphires there ever was inthis part of the hills out of 'em, but he kep' right on. I last heardof him about a year ago--poor chap."

  "Was he old?" asked Nat.

  "Wall, maybe not in years, but in appearance he was the oldest, saddestchap you ever set eyes on. The boys all thought he was loony, but tome it always appeared that he had some sort of a secret sorrow."

  "Poor fellow," exclaimed Nat, "whatever wrong he may have done hisdeath atoned for it."

  They were silent for a minute or so, thinking of the last scenes inthat lonely hut with the snow drifting silently about it and the dyingman within cringing from the timber rats.

  "Say!" exclaimed Joe suddenly, starting them out of this sad reverie,"what's the matter with finding out if he told the truth about thosesapphires or if it was only a crazy dream?"

  "You're on, boy," exclaimed Cal, "I think myself that he must hev founda lot of junk and figgered out in his crazy mind they wuz sapphires andhid 'em away."

  "It's worth investigating, anyhow," said Nat, starting up followed bythe others.

  It took them but a few seconds to reach the hut. Having entered theyall crowded eagerly about the hearthstone. Cal dropped into the holewith his revolver ready for any stray rats that might remain, but nota trace of one was to be seen. Suddenly he gave a shout and seized arough wooden box with both hands.

  "Ketch hold, boys," he cried, "it's so heavy I can't hardly heft it."

  Willing hands soon drew the box up upon the crazy floor, and Natproduced the rusty hammer.

  "Now to see if it was all a dream or reality," he cried, as he broughtthe tool down on the half rotten covering. The wood split with arending sound and displayed within a number of dull-looking, halftranslucent rocks.

  "Junk!" cried Cal, who had hoisted himself out of the hole by thistime, "a lot of blame worthless old pyrites."

  "Not py a chug ful," came an excited voice as Herr Muller pressedforward, "dem is der purest sapphires I haf effer seen."

  "How do you know?" demanded Nat quickly.

  "Pecos vunce py Amstertam I vork py a cheweller's. I know stones in derrough and dese is an almost priceless gollecdion."

  "Hoorooh!" yelled Cal, "we'll all be rich."

  He stepped quickly forward and prepared to scoop up a handful of therough-looking stones, but Nat held him back.

  "They're not ours, Cal," he said, "they belong to the folks named inthat will."

  "You're right, boy," said Cal abashed, "I let my enthoosiasm git awaywith me. But what are we going to do about it? Them folks don't livearound here."

  "We'll have to find them and----Hark!"

  The boy gave an alarmed exclamation and looked behind him. He couldhave sworn that a dark shadow passed the window as they bent above thedully-gleaming stones. But although he darted to the door like a flash,nothing was to be seen outside.

  "What's the matter?" asked Cal, curiously.

  "Nothing," was the quiet rejoinder, "I thought I saw another timberrat, but I guess I was mistaken."