Frank at Don Carlos' Rancho

by Harry Castlemon

“Easy, easy,” replied the trapper. “I haint got done yet.”

The door was composed of at least a half a dozen stones (one above the other, some longer, and some shorter, in order to “break joints” in the wall), and when they had all been moved from their places, two openings were formed, the stones being in the middle of the doorway, one end pointing toward the creek, and the other toward the court. The space on each side was amply sufficient to admit of the passage of a horseman.

“You know ole Bob said, that arter them two fellers crossed the creek, they rid up the bridge of clouds, an’ went through the wall of the rancho,” remarked Dick. “Wal, they didn’t, ’cause they went in at the door. Bob swum the creek, an’ hunted high an’ low fur the door, but couldn’t find it; an’ that’s what skeered him.”

From the door, the boys turned their attention to the bundle of canvas before spoken of. It was neatly rolled up, and in the middle was a stick of round wood, to each end of which was fastened a small wheel, with a deep groove in the circumference. In each of these grooves was a rope, about the size of a clothesline, which was passed once around the wheel, and the longer end of which was coiled down on the ground, so that it would run out rapidly. The trappers pushed the canvas outside the door, made the shorter ends of the ropes fast to two rings in the wall, which seemed to have been placed there for that especial purpose, then gave the canvas a push, and it went rolling down the bank toward the creek. When it reached the water’s edge it had all run out, and of course it stopped. The strong breeze that was blowing gave to it a gentle undulating motion, and this it was that the old trapper had compared to the “rolling and tumbling of the smoke from the mouth of a cannon.” This was the bridge of clouds; and what a simple thing it was to have frightened a man like Bob so badly! The old veteran evidently thought so, for he leaned on his rifle and looked foolish enough. When the settlers had laughed at him to their satisfaction, he and Dick seized the ropes, and hauling in hand-over-hand, rolled up the canvas without going outside the door.

“Well! well!” exclaimed Archie. “Frank and I watched this thing as closely as ever two cats watched a mouse, and we couldn’t begin to see through it. It’s all plain enough now; but how about the boat?”

The trapper replied that he would soon show them all about that; and picking up a lantern, led the way into the underground portion of the rancho. After threading numerous passage-ways, and turning several corners, he ushered them into an apartment that might have been called the engine-room, for it contained the power that had propelled the flatboat so rapidly. It was not an engine, however, but a windlass, something like those used for moving houses. It was plain that it had been worked by horses, for there were prints of hoofs all over the floor.

The next thing was to find the boat; and that could be easily done by following the rope which was attached to the windlass. The rope led them through a long narrow passage-way, and when they arrived at the end of it, Dick opened a small door, about the height of his head from the floor, and the boys climbed up and found the boat before them. It was snugly hidden in a little cove, which had been dug into the bank, and walled up with stones to prevent it from caving in. The mouth of the cove was so effectually concealed by thick bushes, that a fleet might have sailed along the creek without discovering it. In the bow of the boat was a bundle of canvas, like the one already described, only it was much smaller; and the ropes with which it was rolled up were attached to a horizontal windlass, so that they could be controlled by one man.

The trappers and some of the settlers followed the boys into the boat, and assisted them in pushing it out of the cove. Frank got out the oar, and sculled it across, and, when it reached the opposite shore, Dick seized the canvas and ran up the bank with it, the canvas unrolling itself as he went.

“It’s all plain enough now,” repeated Archie; “but it seems to me that the Don put himself to a good deal of trouble for nothing.”