CHAPTER XII
THE ELIXER CAVE
"Nifty hiding place—this," remarked Dick as the three rode side by side up "Smugglers' Glen," as they had jokingly named the defile.
"Sure is," agreed Bud.
"A man, or a band of men, if they wanted to, could hole up in here for the winter, slip out when they liked and raid a ranch, and get back again without any one being much the wiser," suggested Nort.
"Let's hope that doesn't happen," remarked Bud. "But it's just as well to know about this place. Some of our cows might wander up in here and, not finding them on the range, we'd think the rustlers had paid us a visit."
"That's right," came from Nort.
"Maybe rustlers have used this for a hiding place," was Dick's nest remark.
"Smugglers' Glen or Rustlers' Glen—it's about the same," commented
Bud. "If those fellows we fought last year, who were running the
Chinks over the Mexican border, had known of this glen they'd have used
it."
"That's the truth for you," agreed Dick. "And, speaking of Chinks, when are we going to get that Celestial cook we talked of?"
"I expect he'll be back at the ranch when we get there," was Bud's reply. "Fellow in Los Pompan promised to ship me out a good one."
"I won't be sorry!" chuckled Nort. "I'm tired of cooking and washing dishes."
The boys and their older companions had taken turns with the not very agreeable duties of housekeeping on the ranch. Old Billee Dobb was an experienced cook and Snake often said the old puncher could make beans taste like roast turkey. But Billee drew the line at washing dishes. Said he couldn't see any sense in cleaning plates only to muss 'em all up again. So when it came his turn to cook somebody else had to do the cleaning.
Talking of various matters, speculating on the mystery at Dot and Dash, and wondering what had caused the latest deaths, the boys rode on and on up into the depths of the glen. As they went on, the little valley seemed to shrink in width until it was barely wide enough for the three of them to ride abreast. On either side the grim, rocky hills, studded here and there with trees and bushes, rose high above their heads. Now and then they came upon a little stream meandering its way down the defile. Here and there it dropped over a ledge of rocks, making a pleasant, if miniature, waterfall.
Aside from the clatter of their horses' feet, the occasional fall of a dead branch or the rattle of loose stones and the tinkle of the stream, the only sounds were those of the boys' voices.
"This place sort of gives me the creeps!" remarked Nort with a little shiver and a backward glance. "We might as well have called it a Pirate Den as what we did."
"It is sort of dismal," assented Bud. "But I guess we aren't going to find out anything here, so we might as well turn back in a little while."
"Say after the next turn," suggested Dick, indicating a place where the defile swung around a shoulder of bare rock.
"Suits me," came from Bud.
They reached the big rock, swung around the narrowest section of the defile they had yet encountered and, a moment later, made a discovery which filled them with surprise.
Burrowing into the side of the gorge, just beyond the sharp turn, was a cave with an arched opening. At first glance it looked as if it had been cut by the hand of man, but it evidently had been made by the erosion of water through many centuries.
"Jumping flapjacks!" cried Nort, pointing to the cave. "Do you see that?"
"Why not?" chuckled his brother. "It's big enough to be seen."
"But did you know it was there?"
"I didn't," put in Bud. "Though that's nothing, for this is the first time we've ever been here. But dad said this was a wilder and different country than back home, and caves aren't anything unusual."
"No," assented Nort, "and I s'pose I might have expected to find one or more in these hills. But it sort of startled me. Wonder if there's anything in it?"
"Meaning bears, wildcats or other such varmints?" inquired Dick with a laugh.
"Yes," said Nort. "Or maybe rustlers might have hung out in there."
"The only way to find out is to go in and have a look," suggested Bud. And, urging on their steeds, which they had, involuntarily, pulled to a halt, they were soon at the cave entrance. It was big enough to give passage to a man on horseback—at least for a little distance within, but the boys did not think it would be safe to guide their ponies into the cavern. They were not certain of the footing.
Dismounting, then, at the opening, and tethering their horses, the three boys entered the dark hole, not without some trepidation. For it was very dark; the outside light, which was not strong on account of the darkness of the defile, only penetrating a short distance inside the cavern.
Their footsteps echoed eerily as they advanced, and the state of their nerves can be judged when Dick and Nort jumped and exclaimed aloud as Bud took out a flashlight and suddenly switched on the current, sending a brilliant, though small, shaft of illumination down the stretches of blackness.
"Did I scare you?" chuckled young Merkel.
"A little," Dick admitted. "I didn't know you had a lantern with you."
"Oh, I generally carry a small pocket torch," Bud replied. "Never can tell when you'll be caught out after dark."
The flashlight showed the cavern to be hewn out of solid rock, though how high the roof was, or how wide the walls from side to side, they could not judge, for their light was not powerful enough to penetrate. But the cave was, evidently, a big one.
Suddenly, as they walked along, Bud became aware of a growing sheen of light ahead of them. At first he thought it was but the reflection of his own torch on what might be crystals in the cave's sides or roof. But as they walked on the glow increased.
Nort and Dick also noticed it, and Nort exclaimed:
"Guess this is more of a tunnel than a cave. I see daylight ahead."
"'Tisn't daylight—too red for that," objected Bud. "Looks more like a fire."
And, a moment later, as they rounded a turn, they saw that the light was caused by a fire. It was a fire blazing on the floor of the cavern. Over the fire, suspended on a tripod, was a black kettle, a veritable witch-caldron and, bending over it, if not a witch, was a good imitation of one. For it was the figure of an old man—a man with long, straggling white hair and a flowing white beard, as the flames revealed. It was the same old man who had called at the ranch with his sinister warning when he sold the Elixer of Life.
"Look!" murmured Bud, but he need not have said this. His two cousins were looking with all the power of their staring eyes.
"It—it's him!" murmured Nort, and the others knew what he meant.
"But what's he doing?" whispered Dick.
There was hardly need to ask that question. Undoubtedly the old man was brewing something in the kettle over the fire. There was a peculiar odor in the air, not unpleasant, but rather overpowering.
"He's making that stuff he bottles and sells," went on Dick. "The
Elixer. And maybe——"
He did not finish the sentence. Either the cautious talk of the boy ranchers, or some noise they made carried to the sharp ears of the old man.
He started back, out of the circle of light cast by the fire under the kettle. He seemed to be alarmed.
"Who's there?" he cried.
The boys did not answer. They did not know what to do. It was all so strange and startling.
A moment later the queer hermit, for such he seemed to be, had snatched the kettle off the chain by which it was suspended. With a quick motion of his foot he scattered the embers of the fire so that immediate section of the cave was obscured by smoke and fantastic shadows. Then the old man ran back into the darkness of the far reaches of the cavern and disappeared from view.
"There he goes!" cried Nort. There was no longer need of whispering.
"After him!" cried Dick.
"No! Don't go!" exclaimed Bud. "You don't know what he was doing, what he may be up to nor where he's gone. It isn't safe!"
This last was so evident that Nort and Dick at once agreed to the proposition and halted. But Dick added:
"We don't know, for sure what he was doing, but I can pretty near guess!"
"What?" asked Bud.
"He was brewing stuff to poison our cattle. He's the fellow that's been doing it. He's the cause of all the trouble at Dot and Dash. We ought to have him arrested, and we've got good proof against him!"
"What proof?" Bud asked.
"The bottles of stuff he sold us. Lucky we didn't take any of it! It's poison, sure! Come on, let's get back and then send word to the sheriff to come and arrest this old man."
It seemed to be good advice and the best thing to do under the circumstances, whether or not Dick's theory would be borne out by facts.
"We'll go back and have that Elixer analyzed," said Bud as he swung around with his cousins and began the retreat. "I meant to have it done before but there's so doggoned much to do here it slipped my mind. But I'll have it looked after now."
It did not take the three long to emerge from "Elixer Cave," as they named the place where they had seen the hermit over his brew. Their horses were patiently waiting and in a little while the boys were within sight of the ranch house.
But something seemed to be going on there. Snake, Billee and Yellin' Kid were standing near the cook house, whence came a series of wild, yipping yells.
"What's the matter?" cried Bud as he rode up to the group of cowboys.
"Who's doing all that yelling?"
"Fah Moo!" answered Old Billee Dobb.
"Who in the world is Fah Moo?"
"The new Chinese cook that come out from town soon after you boys left."
"But what's the matter with him?" asked Dick. "Doesn't he like it here that he's taking on like this?"
"Maybe he's singing for joy," suggested Nort as a louder series of yelping cries came from the cookhouse.
"More like he's in pain," remarked Snake Purdee. "I'm mighty glad I didn't drink any of it."
"Any of what?" asked Bud, wonderingly.
"That Elixer of Life the old gazaboo sold for a dollar a chunk. There was three bottles of it, you know."
"Yes, I know," assented Bud with growing uneasiness.
"Well," went on Snake, "you know I started to take a swig from the bottle I bought, but Nort wouldn't let me. Then Old Billee locked the three bottles in a cupboard."
"That's right," assented Bud.
"Well," resumed the cowboy, "we discovered, a little while ago, and soon after Fah Moo arrived to take charge of the kitchen, we discovered that those three bottles were gone. We found 'em in the new cook's department and the last one was empty."
"You mean he drunk all that Elixer?" cried Dick.
"Onless he used it for bathin', which I doubt!" chuckled Snake. "He must have been nosing around, discovered where the stuff was hid and he drunk every last drop. That's what makes him sing so, or cry—whichever way you take it."
"He's poisoned!" cried Bud, no less excited, now, than were his two cousins. "Poor Fah Moo is poisoned. We just discovered some of our cattle dead over on the south range. And we found a cave where the old man brews that Elixer. It's poison, sure. I guess it's all up with the Chink, but we'll try to get a doctor to save him. I'll 'phone in to town!"
Bud disappeared into the ranch house while the cowboys looked at each other's startled faces, and, meanwhile, Fah Moo continued to yelp, yap and yip in his high, falsetto voice.