“I’ll turn it over to the Mounted Police,” shouted Jim after him. “I guess they’ll be interested in finding the owner.”
They arrived at Donald Campbell’s new ranch shortly afterward, riding over a fairly good road. The old Scotchman told them that they were lucky that nothing worse had happened to them. The place was suspected to be a “whisky ranch,” and its owner had been in trouble with the police on two or three occasions.
“I guess he’ll be careful who he tackles next time,” remarked Jim with a grin.
The bargain for two tough, hard-looking ponies, broken to pack, was soon struck, and with good wishes from the old Scotchman they rode off. They reached the camp on the return journey that night, and all hands sat up late listening with absorbed interest to the story of their adventures.
The new ponies proved to be anything but tractable the next morning, but eventually they were subdued and their packs firmly “diamonded” to their plunging backs. This done, the way lay clear before the adventurers to the Big Bend of the Columbia River. Mountain Jim had told the boys that their route would skirt the bases of some of the peaks covered with eternal snow, among which the great white Rocky Mountain goat ranges. There might even be a chance, he declared, for a sight of the famous Big Horn sheep, although these animals are now so wild as to be almost inaccessible to hunters.
They set out in high humor, the new ponies being hitched to more sedate companions so as to keep their spirits within bounds. But notwithstanding this, the lively little animals plunged and leaped about till it appeared as if their packs would come off. Throughout the morning they progressed steadily toward the great snow-covered peaks that shone and glittered like diadems toward the northwest. Black ridges of rock appeared among the white coverings of their flanks, giving them an odd, striped appearance.
A stop was made for dinner at the side of a roaring torrent, whose green, cold waters came from the snow-capped peaks toward which their way now lay. While Jim cooked the meal, aided by Jimmie, the boys scattered in every direction gathering firewood or looking at the scenes about them. All at once there came a wild whoop of dismay from Persimmons, who had been entrusted with the duty of tethering Topsy, one of the new ponies.
The little animal had taken fright at the smell of the lion skin, which was rolled up on Baldy’s back, and before anyone could stop her she was off toward the torrent. Ralph was in his saddle in a second and after her, swinging his lasso in true cowboy fashion.
“Yip! yip!” he yelled, delighted at the prospect of a brisk chase.
But Topsy, although she hesitated a minute on the brink of the torrent, did not, as Ralph had surmised, turn and dash along the bank. Instead, she plunged right into the seething waters, pack and all, and struck out for the opposite shore.