Books: The Pony Rider Boys in New Mexico
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Frank Gee Patchin >> The Pony Rider Boys in New Mexico
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"Somebody'll be surprised. May not be the Professor and Santa Claus,
though," growled Ned.
Stacy had his own ideas on this question, but he did not confide them
to his companion.
The fat boy clucked to his pony, and the little animal started off. As
they moved along, Stacy used the persuasive spurs resulting in a
sudden burst of speed.
"Come on!" he shouted.
He heard Ned's pony pursuing him.
"Hi-yi-yi-y-e-o-w!" howled the shrill voice of the fat boy.
Professor Zepplin and Kris Kringle were sitting at opposite ends of
the table, with elbows leaning on it, engaged in earnest conversation.
There had been so much yelling out on the plain ever since the boys
left camp that the older men gave no heed to this new shout-- did not
even turn their eyes in the direction whence Stacy Brown and his pony
were sweeping down on them at break-neck speed.
Suddenly the two men started back with a sudden exclamation, as a
shadow fell athwart the table and a dark form hurled itself through
the air, while a shrill, "w-h-o-o-p-e-e!" sounded right over their
heads.
The fat boy cleared the table without so much as disturbing the fly to
which he had referred when making the arrangement.
Kris Kringle's face wore an expansive grin as he discovered the cause
of the interruption. But, Professor Zepplin's face reflected no such
emotion. He was angry. He started to rise, when a second shadow fell
across the table.
Ned Rector, not to be outdone by his fat little friend, pursed his
lips tightly, driving his broncho at the dinner table and pressing in
the spurs so hard, that the pony grunted with anger.
Up went the broncho in a graceful curving leap.
But the pony or its rider had not calculated the distance properly.
Both rear hoofs went through the table, whisking it off the ground
from before the astonished eyes of Professor Zepplin and Kris Kringle.
Both men drew back so violently that they toppled over backwards.
'Mid the crashing of dishes and the sound of breaking wood, the dinner
table shot up into the air, while the pony ploughed the ground with
its nose.
Ned Rector struck the ground some distance farther on; he slid on his
face for several feet skinning his nose, and filling mouth, eyes and
nose with dirt.
Then dishes and pieces of table began to rain down on them in a
perfect shower. A can of condensed milk emptied itself on the head of
Professor Zepplin, while a hot biscuit lodged inside the collar of
Santa Claus's shirt.
"Wow! Oh, wow!" howled the fat boy, falling off his pony in the excess
of his merriment and rolling on the ground.
CHAPTER XVII
IN THE HOME OF THE CAVE DWELLERS
Ned Rector sat up just in time to meet the wreck of the descending
table. Down he went again with Stacy's howls ringing in his ears.
A firm hand jerked Rector free of the debris as Kris Kringle laughing
heartily hauled Ned to his feet. At the same moment Professor Zepplin
had laid more violent hands on the fat boy, whom he shook until
Stacy's howls lost much of their mirth. About this time Tad and Walter
rode in, having hurried along upon hearing the disturbance in camp.
"Stacy Brown, are you responsible for this?" demanded the Professor
sternly.
"I'm more to blame than he is," interposed Ned.
"No, I-- I had an idea," chuckled Stacy, threatening to break out into
another howl of mirth.
"Next time you have one, then, you will be good enough to let me know.
We will tie you up until the impulse to make trouble has passed."
Tad and Walter could not resist a shout of laughter. Kris Kringle was
not slow to follow the example set by them, and all at once Professor
Zepplin forgot his dignity, sitting right down amid the wreck and
laughing immoderately.
Ned washed his face, and when, upon facing them, he exhibited a peeled
nose and a black eye, the merriment was renewed again.
Supper was a success, in spite of the fact that many of their dishes
were utterly ruined, as well as some of the provisions. But the lads
gathered up the pieces and made the best of a bad job. Fortunately
they carried another folding table that they had had made for their
trip, and this was soon spread and a fresh meal prepared.
"Well, have you two been getting into difficulties also?" questioned
the Professor, after they sat down to supper.
"No; we've been exploring, Walter and I," answered Tad.
"Exploring?"
"Yes. We discovered something that I should like to know more about."
"What is that?" asked Kris Kringle, looking up interestedly.
"We were over yonder, close to the mountains, which are straight up
and down, and half way to the top, we saw three or four queerly-shaped
rocks that looked like houses or huts. Did you ever see them, Mr.
Kringle?"
"No; but I think I know what you mean. They must be some of the cave
dwellings of the ancient Pueblos, or perhaps as far back as the
Toltecs. They built their homes in caves on the steep rocks for better
protection against their enemies."
"And nobody ever discovered these before?" questioned. Walter. "How
queer!"
"Perhaps these dwellings, if such they are, have been seen by many a
traveler, none of whom had interest enough in the matter to
investigate. Then again, they may have been fully explored. There's
not much in this part of the country that prospectors have not looked
over."
"May we explore these caves, Professor?" asked Tad.
"Please let us?" urged Walter.
"I see no objection if Mr. Kringle will be responsible for you. I
rather think I'll look into them myself. I'll confess the idea
interests me. Are they easy to get at?"
"I'm afraid not," answered Tad.
"Santa Claus will show us the way," interrupted Stacy
enthusiastically.
He was frowned down by the Professor.
"Why not start now?" urged Tad.
The guide consulted the sun.
"We might. It lacks all of three hours to dark."
There was much enthusiasm in camp. The idea that they were to visit
some unexplored caves, dwellings of an ancient people, filled the lads
with pleasant expectancy.
Before starting, Mr. Kringle sorted out some strong manila rope and
several tent stakes all of which he did up into two bundles. Then he
filled the magazine of his rifle, throwing this over his shoulder.
"What's that for?" questioned Ned.
"The gun?"
"Yes."
"Can't tell what we may run into in a cave, you know."
After a final look at the camp all hands set out for the place
indicated by Tad. It was only a short distance, so they decided to
walk.
Reaching the base of the mountain they gazed up.
"Yes, those are cave dwellings," declared Kris Kringle. "And they are
still closed. Probably they haven't been opened in two hundred years."
"I'd hate to live there and have to go home in a dark night," mused
Chunky.
"Yes, how did they get to their houses?" wondered the other boys.
"The question is, how are we going to get near enough to explore them?
How shall we get up there, Mr. Guide?" asked the Professor.
"We'll find a way. We shall have to climb the mountain, first."
All hands began clambering up the rocks. To do so they were obliged to
follow along the base of the mountain for some distance before they
found a place that they could climb.
Reaching the top, the guide examined their surroundings carefully.
"See those little projections of rock slanting down toward the shelf?"
he asked.
"Yes."
"Well, in the old days they probably felled a tree so it would fall on
them. The occupants of the cave probably cut steps in the tree trunk
over which to travel up and down. The tree has rotted away many years
since."
"And we can't get down, then?"
"We'll find a way, Master Walter. I thought I should be able to make a
rope ladder that would work, but I see it is not practicable."
"How shall we do it?"
"Try the old way, I guess, Master Tad."
"What's that?"
"The tree."
"But there are no trees near here?"
"Yes, there are, a few rods back. We are all strong and I guess we
shall be able to make a pretty fair pair of steps."
Kris Kringle had brought an axe with him. With this he cut some long,
straight poles which, he explained, were intended for pike poles such
as woodsmen use to roll logs. This done, he began industriously
chopping at the tree after deciding upon the exact position in which
he desired it to fall.
"It won't reach," declared Chunky, who, with hands in pockets, legs
spread wide apart, stood looking up at the flaring top of the great
tree.
The guide stopped chopping long enough to squint at the fat boy.
"It'll reach you all right, if you stay where you are," he said, then
resumed his vigorous blows.
Stacy promptly took the hint and moved a safe distance away.
"Get from under!" shouted the guide finally. One more blow would send
the tree crashing downward.
All hands scrambled for safety. One powerful blow from the axe, and
with a crashing and rending, the great tree began its descent. When it
struck the onlookers fully expected to see it broken into many pieces,
but the bushy top, hitting the rocks first, broke the blow, and the
body of the tree settled down gently without even breaking its bark.
"Fine! Hurrah!" shouted the boys.
"It won't reach to the edge. Going to pull it over?" questioned Stacy.
"Not exactly, but we're going to get it there. Perhaps we shall not
have it in place in time to explore the caves to-night, but we shall
be ready to do so early in the morning. It took our friends longer to
do this job, two hundred years or more ago, than it will take us. We
have better tools to work with."
"And better bosses," suggested Stacy.
Some little time was consumed in chopping the tree loose from its
stump, after which the guide worked the pike poles under the trunk at
intervals near the base. The others watched these operations with
interest.
"Now here is where you young gentlemen will have a chance to show how
strong you are. Each one grab a pike pole," Kringle directed.
"Shan't I go hold the top down?" asked Stacy.
"You just grab a pike pole and get busy!" laughed Mr. Kringle.
"Can't get out of work quite so easy as you thought," scoffed Ned.
"This is where we make you earn your supper."
"I don't have to earn it. Had it already."
"There are other meals coming," smiled the Professor.
"Now, heo-- he!"
All raised on the pike poles at the same time with the result that the
tree was forced down the gentle incline several feet. This was
repeated again and again, the boys pausing to cheer after every lift.
The tree being now perilously near the edge of the cliff Kris Kringle
called a halt. Next he fastened a rope around the top and another
around the base, taking a turn around a rock with each. One boy was
placed on each rope, the others at the pike poles, while the guide
stood at the edge giving directions.
The tree trunk gently slipped over under his guidance and a few
minutes later rested on the projecting rocks, that were just high
enough to hold it in place.
"Wouldn't take much to send it over, but I guess it will be perfectly
safe," he mused.
"May we go down now?" cried the boys.
"No; I'll make some steps first."
He did so with the axe, chopping out scoop-shaped places for steps,
until finally he had reached the rock in front of the cave dwellings.
The tree lay at an easy slope, its bushy top partly resting on the
ledge, the latter being some eight feet deep by ten feet wide.
Running up the log Mr. Kringle made another rope fast at the top,
throwing the free end over.
"Hold on to the rope while you are going down and you'll be in no
danger of falling," he warned.
The boys scrambled down the tree like so many squirrels, the Professor
following somewhat more cautiously.
The explorers found themselves not more than twenty feet from the
ground.
"Not much of a door yard. Where's the garden?" wondered Stacy, looking
about him curiously.
The entrance to the cave dwelling was blocked by a huge boulder, that
completely filled the opening. How it had been gotten there none could
say. The only possible explanation was that the boulder had been found
on the shelf and applied to the purpose of protecting the cave
dwellers' home.
"Now we're here, we can't get in," grumbled Ned.
"Nothing is impossible," answered Kris Kringle.
"Except one thing."
"What's that, Master Ned?"
"To hammer the least little bit of sense into the head of my friend,
Chunky Brown."
"You don't have to, that's why," retorted Stacy quickly. "It has all
the sense it'll hold, now."
"I guess that will be about all for you, Ned," laughed Walter. "At
least, Chunky didn't foul the dinner table when he jumped it."
The guide, in the meantime, was experimenting with the boulder,
inserting a pike pole here and there in an effort to move the big
stone. It remained in place as solidly as if it had grown there.
"There's some trick about the thing, I know, but what it is gets me.
Better stand back, all of you, in case it comes out all of a sudden,"
Mr. Kringle warned them.
All at once the boulder did come out, and it kept on coming.
"Look out!" bellowed the guide.
"Low bridge!" howled Stacy, hopping to one side and crouching against
the rocks.
The guide had sprung nimbly to one side as well. The big rock had
popped out like a pea from a pod. Instead of stopping, however, it
continued to roll on toward the edge.
"Hug the rocks! She's going down!" shouted the guide.
Go down it did, with a crash that seemed to shake the mountain.
Rolling to the edge of the shelf, it had toppled over, taking a large
strip of shelving rock with it.
"Wow!" howled Chunky;
The other boys uttered no sound, though their faces were a little more
pale than usual.
Kris Kringle stepped to the edge, peering over.
"No one will get that up here again, right away," he said.
"The cave, the cave!" shouted Walter.
Everyone turned, gazing half in awe at the dark opening that the
removal of the stone had revealed-- an opening that had been closed
for probably more than two centuries.
CHAPTER XVIII
FACING THE ENEMY'S GUNS
"Do we go in?" asked the Professor.
"Wait, I'll get some light inside first," answered the prudent guide.
"Can't tell whether we shall want to go in or not."
He built up a small fire within, then called to the others that they
might enter. They crowded in hastily, finding themselves in a fairly
large chamber, at the far end of which was a sort of natural alcove in
the rocks.
The remnants of a fire still lay at one side, where the last meal of
the ancient dweller had probably been cooked. Several crude looking
utensils lay about, together with a number of pieces of ancient
pottery.
"This is, indeed, a rare find!" exclaimed the Professor, carrying the
precious jars out into the light for closer examination.
Chunky, about that time, pounced upon an object which proved to be a
copper hatchet.
"Hurray for George Washington!" he shouted, brandishing the crude
tool. "The man who never told--"
"We've heard that before," objected Ned. "Give us something new,
Chunky, if you've got to talk."
The Professor came in, searching for other curios just as Stacy went
out to examine his "little axe," as he was pleased to call it. He
tried the edge of it on the ledge to find out if the stone would dull
it, but it did not.
"I'll use that to cut nails and wire with when I get back home,"
decided the boy. "Guess I'll chop my name in the side of the mountain
here." Stacy proceeded to do so, the others being too much engrossed
in their explorations to know or care what he was about. He succeeded
very well, both in making letters on the wall and in putting several
nicks in the edge of his new-found hatchet.
He was thus engaged when all at once something struck the axe hurling
it from his hand. At the same instant a rifle crashed off somewhere
below and to the southeast of him.
"Ouch!" exclaimed the fat boy holding his hand. "Wonder who did that?"
His mind had not coupled the shot with the blow on the hatchet.
Bang!
A bullet flattened itself close to his head, against the rock.
With a howl, the lad threw himself down on the ledge.
At that instant Kris Kringle sprang to the opening of the cave.
"What does this mean?" he snapped.
"I don't know. Somebody knocked the axe out of my hand then shot at
me."
The guide discovered the trouble right there. A bullet snipped his hat
from his head; and, striking the ceiling of the cave-home, dropped to
the floor with a dull clatter.
Kris Kringle ducked with amazing quickness. Crawling back into the
cave, he reached for his own rifle and then sought the opening, taking
good care not to expose himself to the fire of the unseen enemy.
Stacy, on his part, had lost no time in getting to a place of safety
inside, though he was prudent enough to crawl instead of getting up
and walking in."
"What does this mean? It can't be possible that anyone is deliberately
shooting at us?" questioned Professor Zepplin in undisguised
amazement.
"If you doubt it step outside," suggested Kris Kringle. "Master Stacy
and myself know what they tried to do, don't we, lad?"
"We do."
The fat boy again swelled with importance.
"Look out you don't swell up so big you'll break your harness," warned
Ned.
"Better break it than have it shot off," mumbled Stacy.
"Who can it be?"
"I can't say, Professor."
"It's our friends from the fire dance," was Tad's expressed
conviction.
"Told you they'd be here," nodded Chunky. "Why don't you shoot at
them?"
"Going to, in a minute. Got to find out where they are first."
Now the lads were excited in earnest. Some one was shooting at them,
and the guide was going to fire back. This was more than they had
expected when they visited the home of the cave-dweller.
"Let me take a crack at 'em," begged Chunky. "I owe 'em one."
"Master Stacy, you will do nothing of the sort," reproved the
Professor sternly. "The idea!"
"No; if there's any shooting to be done I'll do it," announced Kris
Kringle.
"And Santa Claus isn't shooting with any toy gun, this time," chuckled
Chunky.
"Can you see the camp, to know if anyone is there?"
"Yes, but only part of it, Professor. I wish you would all get over
into the right hand corner there and lie flat on the floor. I'm going
to try to draw their fire so that I can locate them. Can't afford to
waste ammunition until we are reasonably sure where our mark is."
The others quickly got into the position indicated.
Placing his hat on one of the pike poles, Kringle slowly pushed it
outside.
There was no result, The ruse failed to draw the enemy's fire.
"Oh, they've gone. We're a lot of babies," jeered Ned, jumping up and
starting for the opening.
Kris Kringle gave him a push with the butt of the rifle.
"Want, to get shot full of holes? Wait! I'll show you."
The guide sprang up, showing himself out on the ledge for one brief
instant then throwing himself flat.
A sharp "ping" against the rocks, followed by a heavy report, told the
story. The guide had been not a second too soon in getting out of
harm's way, for the bullet would have gone right through him had be
remained standing.
Quick as a flash Kringle's rifle leaped to his shoulder, and he fired.
He had taken quick aim at a puff of smoke off toward the camp.
Not content with one shot he raked the bushes all about where the puff
of smoke had been seen, emptying the magazine of the rifle in a few
seconds.
Stacy Brown was fairly dancing with glee.
"Did you hit anything?" asked the boys breathlessly.
"Of course, I hit something; but whether I winged an Indian or not, I
don't know. If I did, he probably is not seriously wounded. You'll
hear a redskin yell when he's hit bad."
"That one I punched didn't. He was hit hard," volunteered Stacy.
"He didn't have time," grinned Tad. "You were too quick for him."
"Look out! There comes a volley!" warned Mr. Kringle.
The boys, led by the Professor tumbled into the corner in a heap,
while the lead pattered in through the opening, rattling with great
force like a handful of pebbles.
"They're getting in a hurry," averred the Professor.
"It's growing dark. They want to finish us before then, so we can't
play any tricks on them after that. But, if they only knew it, and
they probably do, they've got us beautifully trapped. One man below
and another at the other end of our tree would be able to keep us here
till the springs run dry. If there's only two of them there, as I
suspect is the case, they may not want to separate. We'll see, the
minute it gets dark enough so that we can move about without being
observed."
Some of the sage brush that Kris Kringle had brought down to light up
the cave lay outside on the ledge. Using one of the poles, he
cautiously raked the stuff inside, heaping it up not far from the
entrance.
"What you doing that for?" questioned Stacy, unable to conceal his
curiosity.
"You'll see, by-and-by, when we get ready to do something else. You
don't think I'm going to stay here all night, do you?"
There was no further firing on either side, though Mr. Kringle showed
himself boldly several times.
Finally Tad tried it, and was greeted with a shot the instant he
appeared in the opening.
"Must be me they're after," he suggested, with a forced grin, falling
flat on the ledge, and wriggling back into the cave.
The twilight was upon them now. The guide had been able to see the
flash of the rifle below him, and had taken a quick shot at it when
the enemy attempted to wing Tad Butler. Kringle had no means of
knowing whether his shot had been effective or not.
"I'm going to try something else in a few minutes, now," the guide
told the Professor and the boys, "and I hope you all will do just as I
tell you."
"You may depend upon our doing exactly that," answered the Professor.
"I am going to crawl out of here. The rest of you remain here until I
call to you to come out, no matter if it is until morning. After I
have been gone about ten minutes, light a match and toss it into the
heap of sage there, but watch out that you don't get into the light.
Throw the match. You're liable to be shot if you show yourselves."
"Why should we make a fire and thus make targets of ourselves?"
protested Ned.
"That is to cover Mr. Kringle's retreat," Tad informed them.
"Exactly. Master Tad, you may come along with me if you wish."
Tad jumped at the offer.
"But not a sound. Ask me no questions. Follow a rod or so behind me,
and walk low down all the time. If you make a mistake it may result
seriously for you and your friends. And, another thing."
"Yes?"
"Should there be any shooting, throw yourself on the ground. You will
not be as likely to be hit there."
"I'll obey orders, sir."
"I know it."
"When do we start?"
"I guess we can do so now, as safely as at any time. The rascals will
not be likely to be on the mountain just yet, because it is not dark
enough. Yes; we'll go now."
Tad waited until Kris Kringle had crawled from the cave, then lay down
on his stomach and wriggled out on the ledge.
There were no signs of the enemy and the camp-fire of the Pony Rider
Boys glowed dimly down below. Tad, peering off into the gloom, for the
moon had not yet risen, thought he saw a figure flit by the fire. He
could not be sure, however. He wished he might tell the guide of his
fancied discovery; but, remembering the injunction for absolute
silence, he said nothing.
By this time, Tad's arms were about the log. From the slight vibration
he knew that Kris Kringle was somewhere between himself and the top,
yet not a sound did the guide make. Tad made no more, and they would
have been keen ears, indeed, that could have detected our friends'
presence by sound alone.
When the lad finally reached the top a hand was laid on his shoulder.
The touch gave him a violent start in spite of his steady nerves.
"You're all right," whispered the voice of Kris Kringle. "You'd make a
good Indian. I want to explain something that I didn't wish the others
to hear."
"Yes?" whispered Tad.
"I have only one shell left in my rifle. That's why I wanted you to go
along. If, by any chance, the rascals should get me, you lie low.
They'll make for the cave, as they know, by this time, that there is
only one rifle in the party. The minute they do, should such an
emergency arise, slide for the camp and get your gun. You'll know what
to do with it. It'll be a case of saving the lives of your companions
if it comes to that."
"I understand," answered Tad bravely; and without a quaver in his
voice.
"Mind you, I don't think for a minute that it will happen. I can
handle these fellows if I get the lay of the land. Keep close enough
to hear me."
"That's not so easy."
"No; but you'll know. When I stop you do the same."
CHAPTER XIX
OUTWITTING THE REDSKINS
Kris Kringle moved away without another word. His abrupt departure was
the signal for the Pony Rider boy to start, which he did instantly.
In a few minutes Tad was skulking along the top of the mountain, when
he ran into the guide again.
Just then the report of a rifle sounded down below them.
"Are they shooting at us?" whispered Tad.
"No; the boys have lighted the fire in the cave. Our friends down
below took a pot shot at the blaze. Hope they didn't hit anybody."
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