CHAPTER XVIII--A DESPERATE CASE
Jane Ann and Tom Cameron had both offered to accompany Ruth; but for avery good--if secret--reason Ruth did not wish any of her young friends toattend her at the meeting which she hoped would occur between her andthe strange young man who (if report were true) had been hanging aboutthe Tintacker properties for so long.
She had written Uncle Jabez after her examination with the lawyer of themining record books at Bullhide; but she had told her uncle only thatthe claims had been transferred to the name of "John Cox." That was thename, she knew, that the vacuum cleaner agent had given Uncle Jabez whenhe had interested the miller in the mine. But there was another matterin connection with the name of "Cox" which Ruth feared would at oncebecome public property if any of her young friends were present at theinterview to which she now so eagerly looked forward.
Freckles, now as fresh as a pony could be, carried Ruth rapidly up thevalley, and as the two ponies galloped side by side the girl from theRed Mill grew quite confidential with the Indian. She did not like JibPottoway as she did the foreman of the Bar Cross Naught ranch; but theIndian was intelligent and companionable, and he quite evidently puthimself out to be entertaining.
As he rode, dressed in his typical cowboy costume, Jib looked thefull-blooded savage he was; but his conversation smacked of the East andof his experiences at school. What he said showed that Uncle Sam doesvery well by his red wards at Carlisle.
Jib could tell her, too, much that was interesting regarding the countrythrough which they rode. It was wild enough, and there was no humanhabitation in sight. Occasionally a jackrabbit crossed their trail, or aflock of birds flew whirring from the path before them. Of other lifethere was none until they had crossed the first ridge and struck into abeaten path which Jib declared was the old pack-trail to Tintacker.
The life they then saw did not encourage Ruth to believe that this waseither a safe or an inhabited country. Freckles suddenly shied as theyapproached a bowlder which was thrust out of the hillside beside thetrail. Ruth was almost unseated, for she had been riding carelessly. Andwhen she raised her eyes and saw the object that had startled the pony,she was instantly frightened herself.
Crouching upon the summit of the rock was a lithe, tawny creature with abig, round, catlike head and flaming green eyes. The huge cat lashed itstail with evident rage and bared a very savage outfit of teeth.
"Oh! what's that?" gasped Ruth, as Freckles settled back upon hishaunches and showed very plainly that he had no intention of passing thebowlder.
"Puma," returned the Indian, laconically.
His mount, too, was circling around the rock with mincing steps, quiteas unfavorably disposed toward the beast as was Freckles.
"Can it leap this far, Jib?" cried Ruth.
"It'll leap a whole lot farther in just a minute," returned the Indian,taking the rope off his saddle bow. "Now, look out, Miss!"
Freckles began to run backward. The puma emitted a sudden, almost humanshriek, and the muscles upon its foreshoulders swelled. It was about toleap.
Jib's rope circled in the air. Even as the puma left the rock, its fourpaws all "spraddled out" in midair, the noose dropped over the savagecat. The lariat caught the puma around its neck and one foreleg, andbefore it struck the ground Jib had whirled his horse and was spurringoff across the valley, his captive flying in huge (but involuntary)leaps behind him. He rode back in ten minutes with a beaten-out mass offur and blood trailing at the end of his rope, and that was the end ofMr. Puma!
"There isn't any critter a puncher hates worse than a puma," Jib said,gruffly. "We've killed a host of 'em this season."
"And do you always rope them?" queried Ruth.
"They ain't worth powder and shot. Now, a bear is a gentleman 'side of alion--and even a little old kiote ain't so bad. The lion's so blamedcrafty and sly. Ha! it always does me good to rope one of them."
They rode steadily on the trail to the mines after that. It was scarcelymore than fifteen miles to the claims which had been the site, someyears before, of a thriving mining camp, but was now a deserted town oftumble-down shanties, corrugated iron shacks, and the rustied skeletonsof machinery at the mouths of certain shafts. Money had been spentfreely by individuals and corporations in seeking to develop the various"leads" believed by the first prospectors to be hidden under the surfaceof the earth at Tintacker. But if the silver was there it was so wellhidden that most of the miners had finally "gone broke" attempting touncover the riches of silver ore of which the first specimens discoveredhad given promise.
"The Tintacker Lode" it had been originally called, in the enthusiasm ofits discoverers. But unless this strange prospector, who had hung aboutthe abandoned claims for so many months, had struck into a new vein, thesilver horde had quite "petered out." Of this fact Ruth was prettypositive from all the lawyer and Old Bill Hicks had told her. UncleJabez had gone into the scheme of re-opening the Tintacker on thestrength of the vacuum-cleaner agent's personality and some specimens ofsilver ore that might have been dug a thousand miles from the site ofthe Tintacker claims.
"Don't look like there was anybody to home," grunted Jib Pottoway, asthey rode up the last rise to the abandoned camp.
"Why! it's a wreck," gasped Ruth.
"You bet! There's hundreds of these little fly-by-night mining camps inthis here Western country. And many a man's hopes are buried under thelitter of those caved-in roofs. Hullo!"
"What's the matter?" asked Ruth, startled as she saw Jib draw his gunsuddenly.
"What's that kiote doing diggin' under that door?" muttered the Indian.
The skulking beast quickly disappeared and Jib did not fire. He rode hispony directly to the shack--one of the best of the group--and hammered onthe door (which was closed) with the butt of his pistol.
"Hullo, in there!" he growled.
Ruth was not a little startled. "Why was the coyote trying to get in?"she asked.
"You wait out here, Miss," said Jib. "Don't come too close. Kiotes don'tusually try to dig into a camp when the owner's at home."
"But you spoke as though you thought he might be there!" whispered thegirl.
"I--don't--know," grunted Jib, climbing out of his saddle.
He tried the latch. The door swung open slowly. Whatever it was heexpected to see in the shack, he was disappointed. When he had peered infor half a minute, he stuck the pistol back into its holster and strodeover the threshhold.
"Oh! what is it?" breathed Ruth again.
He waved her back, but went into the hut. There was some movement there;then a thin, babbling voice said something that startled Ruth more thanhad the puma's yell.
"Gee!" gasped Jib, appearing in the doorway, his face actually paleunder its deep tan. "It's the 'bug'."
"The man I want to see?" cried Ruth.
"But you can't see him. Keep away," advised Jib, stepping softly out andclosing the door of the shack.
"What is the matter, Jib?" cried Ruth. "He--he isn't _dead_?"
"Not yet," replied the Indian.
"What is it, then?"
"Mountain fever--or worse. It's catching--just as bad as typhoid. Youmustn't go in there, Miss."
"But--but--he'll die!" cried the girl, all her sympathy aroused. "Nobodyto help him----"
"He's far gone. It's a desperate case, I tell you," growled Jib. "Ugh! Idon't know what we'd better do. No wonder that kiote was trying to digunder the door. _He knew_--the hungry beast!"
Ruth Fielding at Silver Ranch; Or, Schoolgirls Among the Cowboys Page 18