The Frontier Boys in the Sierras Part 17

"This is a sure interesting country," remarked Juarez.

"I wish that we had time to look around a bit," replied Jim, "but I am afraid that those pesky mules are gaining on us right here."

"We are almost out of this nest of rocks," encouraged Juarez.

This was true, but now they had ahead of them a long slope with many fallen trees, but the boys could not stop for such trifles. Away they went, leaping the trunks of trees, twisting this way and that, but never slackening speed. If it was not for their anxiety, it would have been fun for the two of them, as there was enough danger and variety to make it interesting. Jim's big gray, which he had captured in Mexico and had named Caliente, jumped with great power and with remarkable lightness, considering his size, but Juarez's roan was as quick as a cat and just as light on its feet.

"See that notch in the ridge," cried Jim, "about half a mile ahead?"

"Yes," replied Juarez.

"There's where we will cross and try to get ahead of those bucks."

"We will make them hustle back," cried Juarez, grinding his teeth.

"Sure," agreed Jim with a grin.

In a short time they had reached the notch and found it to be something more than that, as it was quite a deep cut in the back of the ridge, and continued into a narrow ravine, which was quite heavily wooded, and down which ran a pretty little stream of the clearest crystal.

"We ought to see those mules soon now," said Juarez.

"There's the trail," said Jim, "just a bit of it high up."

"I see it," replied Juarez.

"We will cut it soon now," remarked Jim, "then we will head those Missouri runaways."

But before they did that, a lively dash was before them, for suddenly they came in full view of the upper trail for a mile or more.

"There are those rascals," cried Juarez, pointing with an excited hand.

"I see them," said Jim.

"Brethren," remarked the mule in the lead, to his long-eared comrades, "here come our masters to head us off. Let us run." He wig-wagged this piece of news with his long ears and a waggle of his short tail. They understood perfectly and acted in unison. They did not trot, but started at a swift, sharp lope down the trail. It was fortunate for the packs that the boys were old mountaineers and knew how to make them secure else they would have been jostled into the ravine below.

The boys cut loose at full gallop down the ravine, utterly reckless of what might be ahead of them. They tore through the brush, crus.h.i.+ng down every obstacle in their way, determined to head those mules or die in the attempt. They were mad through and through, and, for one, I can sympathize with them. They won the race by about twenty feet.

Caliente with one last leap was in the trail.

The mules saw that they were intercepted and came to a halt, and looked at Jim and Juarez with quiet unconcern, mingled with a slight surprise at being so rudely interrupted in their little jaunt.

"You blasted, long-eared, rat-tailed beggars, get back where you belong," yelled Jim; "you hustle."

"Give me a rock, I'll help 'em," cried Juarez.

He reached from the saddle and picked up a number of fragments of broken granite, and Jim did the same. Then they began to pepper those mules with carefully aimed stones, sometimes striking their haunches and sometimes their ears, keeping them at a steady jog trot up the grade.

"Take that, Missouri!" Jim would cry, flipping a stone at the leader.

"Here's one for you, Pike County!" laughed Juarez, aiming at the second target.

So they kept it up, thus getting even for all the trouble the runaways had made them, which was considerable. After a while they reached the top of the ridge, expecting to find Jo, Tom and Jeems waiting for them. But there was no sign of them anywhere.

"What do you suppose has become of them?" inquired Juarez.

"Maybe that mysterious stranger has stolen them," suggested Jim.

"Let's see if we cannot find their tracks," said Juarez. This was done without difficulty.

"Here's a track that looks like a gorilla's," remarked Jim, inspecting the dust of the trail.

"Must be Jeems'," grinned Juarez.

"These other tootsie tracks are Tommy's and Jo's, I reckon," said Jim.

"But why did they walk instead of ride?" inquired Juarez.

"They didn't intend to go far and thought it just as easy to walk,"

explained Jim.

Just then there came a faint halloo that caused the boys to look up.

"There's Jeems, the beanstalk," cried Jim.

"Where?" asked Juarez.

"See that shadow standing on that rock way over yonder?" inquired Jim.

"Yes."

"That's him."

"What do you suppose that they are doing over there?" asked Juarez.

"We won't be long in finding out," replied Jim.

"There's Jeems' castle," said Juarez, after they had ridden a few hundred yards, pointing to a speck high up on the mountain side.

Juarez was right, for Jeems and the other boys soon met them with the news that they had located the cabin where they hoped to find the plan that would give them a clue to the location of the Lost Mine.

"Have a hard chase after the mules, Jim?" inquired Jo as they climbed up a steep slope towards the cabin.

"You ought to have been along," remarked Jim significantly.

"I hope Juarez don't let 'em get away this time," said Tom.

"If you must worry, why don't you take something probable," remarked Jim severely. "Like Jeems running off to become a circus rider."

"You would have thought that he was a circus rider sure enough,"