CHAPTER XXV.
THROUGH THE FLUME.
Faster than he had ever travelled before in his life Nat was hurtledalong down the flume. Water dashed upward into his face, half chokinghim and occasionally his board would hit the wooden side with a bumpthat almost threw him off. His knuckles were bruised and bleeding andhis head dizzy from the motion. It was the wildest ride that the lad,or any other lad for that matter, had ever undertaken.
Suddenly, ahead of him--above the noise of the rushing water--cameanother sound, a deep-throated, sullen thunder. As he shot alongwith the speed of a projectile, Nat realized what the strange soundbetokened. The end of the flume. Cal had told them that the raisedwater-course discharged its contents into a big pool at that point.With a sudden sinking of the heart Nat realized that he had forgottento inquire how high the drop was. If it was very high--or if there wasbut little water in the pool below the flume--he would be dashed topieces, or injured so that he could not swim, and thus drown.
But even as the alarming thought was in his mind, Nat felt himself shotoutward into space. Instinctively his hands came together and he diveddownward, entering the water about twenty feet below him, with a cleandive.
For a space the waters closed above the lad's head and he was lost toview in the moonlit pool. When he came to the surface, out of breathand bruised, but otherwise uninjured, he saw that he was in what hadformerly been used as a "collection-pool" for the logs from the forestabove. He struck out for the shore at once and presently emerged uponthe bank. But as he clambered out, the figure of a Chinaman who hadbeen seated fishing on the brink galvanized into sudden life. TheMongolian was poaching in private waters under cover of the darknessand was naturally startled out of a year's growth at the suddenapparition.
With an ear-splitting screech the Mongolian leaped about three feetinto the air as if propelled by a spring, and then, with his stumpylegs going under him like twin piston rods, he made tracks for the town.
"Bad spill-it! Bad spill-it! He come catchee me!" he howled at the topof his voice, tearing along.
As he dashed into the town a tall man dressed in Western style, andwith a determined, clean-cut face under his broad-brimmed sombrero,stepped out of the lighted interior of the post-office, where the mailfor the early stage was being sorted.
"Here, Sing Lee," he demanded, catching the astonished Chinaman by theshoulder and swinging him around, "what's the matter with you?"
"Wasee malla me, Missa Sheliff? Me tellee you number one chop quickeetimee. Me fish down by old lumbel yard and me see spill-it come flumwatel!"
"What?" roared Jack Tebbetts, the sheriff, "a ghost? More likely oneof Morello's band; I heard they were around here somewhere. But hullo,what's this?"
He broke off as a strange figure came flying down the street, almost asfast as the fear-crazed Chinaman.
"Wow!" yelled the sheriff, drawing an enormous gun as this weirdfigure came in view, "Halt whar you be, stranger? You're a suspiciouscharacter."
Nat, out of breath, wet through, bruised, bleeding and with hisclothing almost ripped off him, could not but admit the truth of thisremark. But as he opened his mouth to speak a sudden dizziness seemedto overcome him. His knees developed strange hinges and he felt that inanother moment he would topple over.
The sheriff stepped quickly forward and caught him.
"Here, hold up, lad," he said crisply, "what's ther trouble?"
* * * * *
"One o'clock. We ought to be hearing from Nat soon."
Cal put his old silver watch back in his pocket and resumed his anxiouspacing of the floor. The others, in various attitudes of alertness,were scattered about the place. Since Nat's departure they had been, asyou may imagine, at a pretty tight tension. Somehow, waiting there foran attack or for rescue, was much more trying than action would havebeen.
"Do you guess he got through all right?" asked Joe.
"I hope so," rejoined Cal, "but it was about as risky a bit of businessas a lad could undertake. I blame myself for ever letting him do it."
"If Nat had his mind made up you couldn't have stopped him," put in Joeearnestly.
"H-h-h-hark!" exclaimed Ding-dong.
Far down the canyon they could hear a sound. It grew closer. For aninstant a wild hope that it was the rescue party flashed through theirminds. But the next instant a voice hailed them. Evidently Col.Morello had made up his mind that a siege was too lengthy a proceeding.
"I will give you fellows in the hut one chance," he said in a loudvoice, "give up that boy Nat Trevor and the sapphires and I willwithdraw my men."
Cal's answer was to take careful aim, and if Joe had not hastily pulledhis arm down that moment would have been Morello's last. But as Cal'swhite face was framed in the dark window a bullet sang by viciously andshowered them with splinters.
"That's for a lesson," snarled Morello, "there are lots more where thatcame from."
But as he spoke there came a sudden yell of alarm from his rear.
"We're attacked!" came a voice.
At the same instant the sound of a distant volley resounded.
"Hooray! Nat made good!" yelled Cal, leaping about and cracking hisfingers.
The next instant a rapid thunder of hoofs, as the outlaws wheeled andmade off, was heard. As their dark forms raced by, the posse headedby Sheriff Tebbetts and Nat, fired volley after volley at them, butonly two fell, slightly wounded. The rest got clear away. A subsequentvisit to their fortress showed that on escaping from the posse they hadrevisited it and cleaned all the loot out of it that they could. Theexpress box stolen from Cal's stage was, however, recovered.
As the posse galloped up, cheering till the distant canyons echoedand re-echoed, the besieged party rushed out. They made for Nat andpulled him from his horse. Then, with the young Motor Ranger on theirshoulders, they paraded around the hut with him, yelling like maniacs,"'For he's a jolly good fellow'!"
"And that don't begin to express it," said the sheriff to himself.
"He's the grit kid," put in one of the hastily-gathered posseadmiringly.
And the "Grit Kid" Nat was to them henceforth.
The remainder of the night was spent in the hut, Nat telling andretelling his wild experience in the flume. The next morning the posseset out at once at top speed for the fortress of Morello, the sapphirechest being carried in the auto which accompanied the authorities. Ofcourse they found no trace of the outlaws; but the place was destroyedand can never again be used by any nefarious band.
Nat and his friends were anxious for the sheriff to take charge of thesapphire find, but this he refused to do. It remained, therefore, forthe Motor Rangers themselves to unravel the mystery surrounding it.
How they accomplished this, and the devious paths and adventures intowhich the quest led them, will be told in the next volume of thisseries. Here also will be found a further account of Col. Morello andhis band who, driven from their haunts by the Motor Rangers, soughtrevenge on the lads.
Having remained in the vicinity of Big Oak Flat till every pointconnected with Morello and his band had been cleared up, the boysdecided to go on to the famous Yosemite Valley. There they spent somehappy weeks amid its awe-inspiring natural wonders. With them was HerrMuller and Cal. Bismark, as Cal had foretold, returned to the hotel atLariat and Herr Muller got his money.
But all the time the duty which devolved upon the Motor Rangers offinding Elias Goodale's heirs and bestowing their rich inheritanceon them was not forgotten. Nat and his companions considered it inthe nature of a sacred trust--this mission which a strange chancehad placed in their hands. How they carried out their task, and whatdifficulties and dangers they faced in doing it, will be related in"THE MOTOR RANGERS ON BLUE WATER; OR, THE SECRET OF THE DERELICT."
THE END.
The Motor Rangers Through the Sierras Page 25