WATERSPOUTS AND BLIZZARDS.
"Hi! Nellie; get on, there! Strike a trot! We won't get to the mountains in seven years, at this gait."
It was Mr. Banta who spoke, and he emphasized his remarks by making the whip he carried in his hand crack loudly. The old, white bell-mare pricked up her ears and slowly quickened her pace, closely followed by all the pack-mules and horses belonging to the train.
"That old pack-mare knows where we are going as well as we do," said Banta, squaring around and throwing his leg over the horn of his saddle so that he could face the two boys whom he was addressing. "She has been up here so often that she knows every foot of the way. If we get hard up for deer meat, all we have to do is to take her bell off, and then we can go twenty miles out on the prairie, and she will bring us back home again. You can't get lost if you are on her."
"Why do you take the bell off when you want to go hunting with the mare?" asked Julian of Mr. Banta, who, by reason of his age and experience, acted as leader of the company. "Does the noise of the bell frighten the game?"
"That is one reason," replied Banta; "and the other is, we don't want all the pack-mules and horses to follow us. Wherever they hear the bell, they will go to it. If we were on the other side of a wide river, even though it was swimming-deep, and some of these mules don't like water any too well, and should sound that bell a few times, they would all come over. If anything should happen to that old bell-mare, and she should die, we'd send a man on with that bell, and the mules would follow him wherever he went."
It was Monday morning, and the sun was just rising. The cavalcade had been on its way for two hours, for they left the hotel, amid wishes for good luck from all who saw them go, at the first peep of day. They went directly past the hotel at which Julian and Jack had stopped to eat dinner when they first came there, and were now alone in the foothills which arose on all sides of them. There were at least a dozen miners in the company, and they had all set out for Dutch Flat in the hope of digging up a fortune before the winter's storms overtook them. Julian and Jack were there, dressed in rough miners' clothing, and the horse which bore their provisions and tools was with the others who were following the bell-mare.
Anybody could see at a glance that these boys were tenderfeet, and they did not attempt to deny it. Every other miner had a heavy Winchester slung at his back, while the only firearms the boys exhibited were Smith & Wesson revolvers, which they carried strapped to their waists. They did not look forward to the future with as brave hearts as most of the miners did. They could not get the idea out of their minds that the gold they wanted to find was protected by something which they did not want to see. The miners now and then cast curious looks at them, to see if they were not afraid of the prospect before them, but finally came to the conclusion that the boys were "going through with it." The miners were happy, and sang rude songs and cracked jokes with each other; but the boys were busy with their own thoughts, and took no part in what was going on around them.
"And I don't blame them, either," said one miner, in a low voice, to his companion. "I wouldn't take any part in the singing if I were in their place. They are brave enough now, but wait until they have been up to that mine about two days; then we will see them at our camp, frightened to death."
"Banta has rather taken them under his care, judging by the way he keeps watch over them," said the other miner.
"Yes; he was made acquainted with them by some high man in Denver, and so he keeps an eye on them. But he can't go up to their mine with them. More than that, those ghosts will not stop for him or anybody else."
Julian and Jack were not accustomed to being in the saddle from daylight until dark, and the ride was long and wearisome to them. They stopped at noon to eat their lunch and to let their animals crop the grass for a few minutes; but their packs were never removed from them until they halted for the night at a place which showed that there had been a camp before. Lean-to's were scattered around, partly unroofed by the storms of winter, and remnants of fires were to be seen; and Banta said that no one had been there since he and his party made the camp last fall.
"We made this camp while we were going down to the city," said he. "It was raining when we stopped here, and that accounts for the lean-to's. We had a waterspout that night, this little stream was filled twenty feet deep, and some of us began to look wild."
"A waterspout?" queried Jack. "What is that?"
"Why, I don't know that I can describe it so that you can understand it," answered Banta, scratching his head. "It is caused by the large quantity of water that sometimes falls among the hills up-country, and when it all rushes into these ravines—well, you can imagine how it looks, but I cannot describe it. This stream has not much water in it now—you can step across it anywhere; but I have seen it bank full from rains in the up-country, while there was not a drop of it fell here. I remember that night. I was sound asleep in a lean-to. I had told the boys that before morning we would have to get farther up the bank or run the risk of having some of our things carried off, and about midnight I awoke with a feeling that there was something going on. You don't know anything about that, do you? Well, you wait until you have acted as guide for two or three mule-trains, and then you'll know it. Everything depends upon you to see that the train comes out all right.
"I could not go to sleep again when once I woke up, and so I arose and went out. It was still raining heavily, but the brook didn't show much sign of it. I placed myself on the edge of the bank, and hardly had I got there before a long, creamy wave, which extended clear across this gully, crept with a hissing sound across the sand and rocks. Following with equal speed, and about a hundred feet behind it, was another wave, an unbroken mass of water at least five feet in height. It was not rounded into a wave, as at sea or on the lakes, but rose sheer and straight, a perfect wall of water. I knew that in five minutes this little creek would be brim full, so I raised a yell and awoke everybody in camp. The men I had with me were all veterans, and there was no need that I should explain matters. They took just one look at the water, and then grabbed their things and made a rush for the high bank behind the lean-to's. After placing them where they would be safe, they came back and made a rush for the horses. Pete, there, caught the bell-mare, and by dint of pulling and boosting we finally got them to that level spot you see up there."
Mr. Banta pointed to the bank, which seemed almost as straight as the side of a house, and the boys looked on with perfect astonishment.
"How in the world did you get the mules and horses up there?" inquired Julian.
"A man can do a heap of things when he is working for his life and for things that he can't afford to lose," said Banta, with a laugh. "Pete has a heap of strength in those arms of his, and when I get hold of a mule's tail and begin to twist it, he goes somewhere as soon as he can. We got them up easy enough, and there we stayed for two whole days, until the water had all passed away. We didn't lose so much as a pound of bacon. But if I had been asleep, like the rest of the fellows were, we would have had a time of it; somebody would have had to swim for his life, and the current ran like lightning, too."
"I did not know you had to look out for water on the plains," remarked Julian. "Is there anything you don't stand in fear of out here? You see, we want to know it all."
"Well, a waterspout is one thing, and a blizzard is the next," said Banta. "I mean a blizzard where the clouds send down chunks of ice at you as big as your fist. Oh, you needn't laugh. Look at that."
Banta stripped up his leggings, and showed the boys a long, ragged scar which he had received in one of the commotions of nature referred to. The wound must have been a dangerous one.
"And the worst of it was, I did not have a doctor look at it for two weeks," Banta went on. "You see, I was out alone, and making the best track I could for the fort. The sky had all along been hazy, and on this day I had to go across the Twenty-mile desert, where there was not a willow-twig big enough for me to get under. When I was about half-way over it began to rain, and in less than an hour afterward the blizzard came a-ripping. My horse and mule were made so frantic by the pelting of the ice that I finally let them go; but before I released the horse I took my knife and cut the saddle and blankets off him. What did I do that for? Because I was too cold to use my fingers. I settled down there on the prairie, put the saddle and blankets over my head, and waited for the storm to cease; but before I did that, there came a big bunch of ice and struck me on the leg. I never had anything hurt so bad in my life."
"How long did you have to stay there?" asked Jack. "I hear that some of these storms last two or three days."
"This one lasted one day, and I was glad to see the ice quit dropping. I was thirty miles from the fort, and I'll bet I didn't do two miles of walking in all that distance. I left everything except my weapons and crawled all the way. This is the saddle, right here."
"I should keep that for the good it had done," said Julian. "Your saddle probably saved your life."
"It will stay with me while I live," said Banta, casting an affectionate look upon the article in question. "Now, boys, suppose you get ready and chop some wood and start the fire. I'll take the things off the animals and straighten up the lean-to. You boys don't know how to make a lean-to, do you? If you take a good look at this one, you will see how it is done."
There was one satisfaction the boys had in listening to Mr. Banta's stories—they were true, every word of them. If any of the "boys" tried to make things different from what they were, Banta always shut them up. That was the reason the boys thought so much of him, and anything he had to say in regard to working their mine was always listened to with the keenest interest.
The change that a few experienced men made in that deserted camp in a short time was wonderful. Every stroke of the axe counted for something, and every step the men made to and from the places they had chosen to make their beds seemed to count for something else; so that by the time Julian and Jack had cut wood enough to last them all night the lean-to's were covered with fresh boughs, those who did not choose to sleep under shelter had their beds made up under the protecting branches of trees, the animals were staked out, and two of the cooks were busy getting supper. It was all done without the least commotion, for each man knew what his duty was.
"If a rain-storm was coming up you couldn't have made this camp quicker," said Julian. "It beats the world how soon men can get ready for the night."
"Yes, but that comes from experience, you know," said Banta. "Do you know that I have been thinking of something? When we get up to Dutch Flat, and you get ready to go up to your mine, I believe I will go with you."
"That's the best piece of news I have heard for a long time," declared Julian, who was delighted beyond measure. "We don't ask you to go down in the mine, you understand, but if you will just stay there until we get things fixed you will confer a great favor upon us."
"Yes, I guess I had better see to your wants a little," said Banta. "You are tenderfeet, you have never lived alone in the mountains, and perhaps I can tip you a wink now and then that will be of use to you. You will need the mine cleared away—it has all grown up to grass by this time—and you will need a windlass and a lean-to; and maybe I can be of assistance."
"I know you can; and of great assistance, too. I tell you, I feel easier. I have often wondered how that mine looked, and how we were going to get it in shape to work it, but I don't worry about it now. We are much obliged to you for your offer."
"Oh, that's all right. I remember that I was a boy myself, and any such little help as I have offered you would have been a regular blessing to me. Now let us go and see if supper is ready."
Supper was almost ready, and the neat manner in which it was served up, and the way it was cooked, told the boys that if the miners could always get such food as that, they could work their claims to the best possible advantage.
"Can we help you a little?" said Julian to one of the cooks after the meal was over and the man began gathering up the dishes.
"What a-doing?" asked the cook.
"We want to help you wash the dishes," said Julian.
"Why, bless you, that's no trouble. There is only one way you can help us, and that is by sitting by and looking on. I never yet saw a tenderfoot that didn't get in the way. You will have enough of it to do when you get up to that ghost-haunted mine of yours and have to cook your own meals. You had better take my advice," said the cook, in a lower tone, "and stay down on Dutch Flat with us. There are no spirits down there."
"But it is ours, and I don't see why we can't work it," replied Julian. "If there is anybody there, we will make him show himself."
"You will see," said the cook, going to the camp-fire for a bucket of water. "The next time we see you, you will be all ready to go back to Denver."
The cook struck up a whistle as he began washing the dishes, and the boys, taking this as a gentle hint that he would rather be alone, walked off to another fire which had been kindled in the upper end of the camp. All the miners were gathered about there, and each one of them had a story to tell about some wonderful "find" which he had almost struck, and then ceased digging because he was discouraged by the way the gold "showed up." Banta was there, and after relating three or four stories of his own, he began to stretch and yawn as though he were sleepy, and finally arose and went into his lean-to. The boys followed him, hoping he would say something more about going up to their mine with them; but he talked on other topics until he got into bed, and then he became silent. He had already decided what he would do when they reached Dutch Flat, and there the matter ended.