Buffalo Roost Part 4

CHAPTER V

A Plan Is Evolved

"Well, by the Great Horn Spoon, you are the laziest bunch of fellows I've seen in many a long day. What's all this scheming and planning about that's going on here? Are one of you fellows trying to get a Presidential nomination?" Ham seated himself on a chair facing the fellows. They were lounging on a big window-seat in a corner of the game-room, talking earnestly in low tones.

"Come, now, let's hear about it. What's the game? Say, fellows, I just heard a rattling good story." "Well, now, Ham, let up on your stories for about two shakes and give us your attention. We have an idea, a real, first-cla.s.s scheme, if you please, and we want you to give us your expert opinion on it," said Shorty Wier, as he went and closed the door.

"All aboard; let her go! What do you want me to do? When are you going to do it? Hurry, I'm getting awfully excited."

"Well," continued Shorty, "Fat originated this idea, or at least he suggested it, and we have just been talking it over. How fine it would be if we owned a cabin, a good-sized log cabin, big enough to take care of at least twenty fellows over night. A place far enough from the city to keep it from being continually broken into by rowdies, and still within a couple of hours' walking distance from the car-line. With all of this great string of mountains and canyons, so well-forested and filled with streams, it ought to be an easy matter to find some such a place. Of course it would be ideal if we could find a cabin already built; then all we would have to do would be to rig it up. But we are game sports, every man of us, and if we can't find any such cabin built, let's locate an ideal spot and build one. Nothing real fancy or expensive, but just a typical mountain house that's weather-tight and warm. Of course we'd want a big fireplace like the one at Bruin Inn. It would be a great big job, but we could take our time to it. We'd have all winter, and more, if we needed it. Now, what we want is your suggestion, understand; we are just talking and planning about it yet."

"Gee, it would be an awful pile of work," complained Sleepy Smith, and he yawned and stretched himself. "Work! of course it would be work, you dub; but what do you ever get in this world that's worth while without real work, I'd like to know."

"Work! that's the best part of it; nothing in the world could bind us fellows together so tight as to do a big piece of real work together. We would show each other what we're made of. I always have wanted to build a cabin in the mountains. It would be a great deal better to build one than to get an old, tumbled-down shack. Besides, we don't want to work out a stunt that's just going to last for a year or two, and then be abandoned.

We want to build a real, permanent mountain camp. See?" added Chuck.

"What's the matter with the old Y.M. cabin up in Bear Creek, Shorty?"

"O rats, boys, we are not talking about a pill box now. We want a cabin."

"I think it would be a great thing to do, fellows; but we must go awfully careful. We'll have to finance the thing some other way than from our own pockets, and we don't know yet what Mr. Allen will say about it. He may think it's a big mistake and a waste of time and energy. Then, too, where would we camp while working on the new cabin?" said Willis. Then he slipped off to talk the plan over with Mr. Allen, and in a few moments brought the "Chief" back with him. Willis was talking.

"Now we are on the right track for sure, fellows. Mr. Allen has the proper suggestions about this matter. No telling what fool stunts we fellows would do if we didn't have Mr. Allen to keep our feet on the earth."

"Listen, fellows," said Shorty. "We have talked this thing all over from A to Z, and we believe Mr. Allen's advice is the thing; only before we decide to do anything definite we ought to have Mr. Dean's opinion. He has been in the army, you know."

"Mr. Dean, the physical director, been in the army? Why, I didn't know that," said Sleepy.

"Yes, and he's a mighty practical fellow. Fat, go out to his office and ask him to come in here a few minutes, will you?"

In a moment they came in together, Fat explaining their plans for a cabin. When every one was seated, Shorty continued:

"This is a very serious matter, fellows, and we don't want to make a mistake by being in too big a hurry. There are a few things that seem very clear after talking with Mr. Allen--

"First, we must make our cabin stunt an a.s.sociation enterprise, so we can have their help and backing. Let's make it a high school boys'

enterprise. Next, we must find an ideal place, where the work will have all the natural advantages possible--not too far away, not too close, near good water and a good supply of dead wood. It would be best to get somewhere on the old Cripple Creek Stage Road. Mr. Allen has suggested that we might help finance it in two ways: Organize a cabin company and sell stock at so much a share, all stockholders being privileged to use the shack, or we might give a circus in the gymnasium and use the money thus earned. He thinks the latter the better plan. The greatest trouble seems to be to find the ideal place. Mr. Dean, what do you think of the whole plan?"

"It's a capital idea, fellows; only it means real business. If you tackle a job like that, you want to finish it. I'd sure be in with you on any such a deal. Here's a suggestion. Why don't six or seven of you fellows take a week just before school opens, pack your grub and blankets, take a gun or two and a good camera, and make a trip on foot, looking over the possible locations? For instance--start up the old Stage Road, go as far as Daddy Wright's, then to the top of Cheyenne Mountain through that valley. There is a beautiful park there that might be suitable; then down Rock Creek, up around Black Mountain, back around St. Peter's Dome, then study the canyons along the railroad. They say there is a good cabin somewhere near Daniel's Pa.s.s, and several around Fairview. Get into all of those canyons that run into North Cheyenne, because that would be the handiest location for us to get to. It would be great if we could find an old prospector's cabin that we could remodel and add to. You see, we'd have a place to camp as we worked that way. Then, too, it would have this decided advantage--it would be a staked claim and not the open forest reserve. You would have to pay for all lumber you cut on the reserve, but on a claim you are ent.i.tled to a certain amount for building purposes.

You see, we could probably show mineral anywhere near a prospector's cabin. I am convinced there are many such cabins that would be almost ideal, if we could only find them."

"My father built a cabin in these mountains years ago," said Willis. "A miner's cabin; but I've never seen it. I don't know where it is, but it's near Cookstove Mountain. Some one has jumped the claim, though, now, so mother said."

"Wouldn't it be funny, Willis, if we should find that old cabin of your father's?" asked Mr. Allen. Ideas came thick and fast. Even "Sleepy"

Smith woke up to the fact that something unusual was going on, and roused himself so as not to miss it. After an hour's planning and discussion they decided what to do. A route was to be laid out and an investigation trip made under the direction of Mr. Allen. The party was to be limited to six fellows: Ham, Phil, Fat, Chuck, and Willis were the ones chosen to go. Definite plans were laid out, and the following Tuesday set as the day for starting.

As Willis was explaining the plans to his mother the next morning his Uncle Joe came into the room. He had seen an article in the morning paper to the effect that the Y.M.C.A. boys were to build a cabin, including the names and the probable route to be taken by the investigating party.

"What's all this nonsense about a cabin in the mountains, Willis? I saw an article in the _Gazette_ this morning concerning it. Now listen to me, boy. I don't want any relation of mine getting mixed up in any such a crazy, wild-goose chase. Do you hear? About the first thing you kids will do is to trespa.s.s on some one's mining claims, and then you'll be getting yourselves and some of the rest of us into trouble. It's a lot of foolish nonsense, such doings, anyway. Isn't home good enough for you?"

"Well, it seems to me you're kind of mad about nothing, Uncle. We're not going to carry off any one's gold mines," replied Willis. "Have you a few you are afraid we will steal?"

Mr. Williams flew into a fit of anger, saying something about, "If he was mine, I'll bet I'd see if he'd insult his superiors in that way. The next thing we know you will be off on a mountain picnic on Sunday, bringing disgrace on your respectable relatives," snapped Mr. Williams. "There are enough enemies now to a man's good name, without adding any more by foolish kids like you, with heads full of nonsense."

Mr. Williams stalked angrily out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Of all the strange men on earth, I think he is the strangest of them all," remarked Mrs. Thornton. "Something has upset him, and he has an ugly streak to-day. I heard him at the telephone, storming about some old prospector that has come back to the city to make life miserable for him.

He had seen him on the street, talking with a man he said was a detective. Lucy told me just the other day that Uncle Joe took awful chances on mining stock very often, and that she believed he would sell his very soul for a gold mine. It seems so strange--he has been angry at me every time I have let you go into the mountains. He works hard, and I suppose he thinks you ought to be doing something, too, and if we stay here through the winter, my boy, I think it would be well for you to look about for something to do after school."

As Willis left the house the next morning and started for the a.s.sociation to complete plans for the trip, he met two men coming in at his front gate. They asked for Mr. Williams. Willis directed them, then hurried on, rejoicing in his heart that he was to have a real gipsy trip in the mountains with his gang.

He spent the day getting his things together for the trip. He was to carry a small individual frying pan, a small granite bucket, knife, fork, and spoon, eight small cans of condensed milk, a little cloth sack of tea, one of sugar, one of oatmeal, and one of rice, two boxes of raisins, a loaf of rye bread, and b.u.t.ter packed in a small tin can with a cover.

He was to wrap these things, and whatever else he wanted to take along, including a first-aid packet, in his blanket, army style. His pack must not exceed twenty pounds in weight, not counting gun or camera. His tincup was to be fastened to his belt, and his safety ax carried in his hip-pocket. They would sleep on spruce boughs at night, and each man would cook his own meals from his own store. The mountain raspberries were just ripe, and there were great quant.i.ties of them. They would have them with cream, and count on killing a few squirrels now and then, or perhaps some turtle doves for a change. Mr. Allen took a trout line and a few flies, in case they had a chance to have mountain trout to break the monotony of the diet.

By Monday evening all was in readiness for the start. The news of the proposed cabin scheme had spread all through the Department, and many were the suggestions offered by interested fellows for making the trip an entire success in every way.

"Remember, shelter and drainage and wood supply, along with good water and big trees, are what you are looking for, boys," was the advice of Mr.

Dean, as he left them. "I wish I were going along with you. Here's hoping you'll find the very best spot, and that soon."

CHAPTER VI

A Stage Road Journey

"Well, if you haven't any more brains than to be starting out on a mountain trip on a wet, stormy day like this, why I haven't anything more to say to you; but remember, I'm not one whit responsible for you," said Mr. Williams, as he arose from the breakfast table and pa.s.sed out into the hall.

It had been a stormy night. The rainfall had been heavy and the lightning sharp. It had been a typical electric storm of the mountains. Old Sol had tried in vain to force his way through the heavy rain-clouds earlier in the morning, but by breakfast time he seemed to have given up entirely, and to have withdrawn from the contest. At any rate, he was nowhere to be seen. Willis was visibly disappointed. He pushed his chair back restlessly and went to the window. The heavy, black clouds hung low on the ridge, and Pike's Peak was entirely hidden in the mists. Willis was thinking of the conversation he had had with his uncle that morning at the breakfast table.

"Mother," he turned to Mrs. Thornton, who was still seated at the breakfast table, "why is Uncle Joe so positive about it being a mistake for me to take this trip? Either he just wants to show his authority or he has some special reason. According to his talk, there isn't a more dangerous place on this earth of ours than around an old prospector's cabin. Rats! I don't believe a word of it. It's all bosh and, as far as cabins go, how could disease live in an old, open mountain shanty?

Anyhow, you might go for weeks in the mountains without even seeing a cabin. He thinks I'm a child and haven't any judgment of my own. My! I'm glad he isn't my father. He's just a blamed old hypocrite, that's what I think about him, anyway."

"Well, you won't be going if it stays so stormy, will you?" asked his mother.

"No, but it's going to clear up, mother; this is just a little summer shower--we weren't counting on starting until after dinner, though, anyway," replied Willis. Toward noon the clouds broke and melted away as if by magic. Their lifting was like the raising of some majestic curtain on a wonderful stage. The moisture from the recent storm still glistened on every twig and leaf, and the fresh-bathed air was as clear as crystal.

The summit of Pike's Peak was decked in a new covering of snow which sparkled like beautiful gems. The robins chirped gayly as they fed on the worms that had come to the surface during the night's rain.

Was there ever such a happy crowd of fellows' setting forth on any expedition? High boots, slouch hats, soft s.h.i.+rts, a rifle, a shotgun, two cameras, and a plenteous supply of food. Each fellow was equipped with a haversack, in which were his eating tools and other necessary articles, such as bachelor b.u.t.tons, cartridges, films, and other things.

They carried their frying-pans, small buckets, and tincups suspended from their belts. The handles of their safety axes extended from hip-pockets, making their pockets bulge suspiciously.

Mr. Allen took the lead through Stratton Park, and headed for the short cut that joined the old Stage Road just as it sneaked around the base of Cheyenne Mountain on its way to the top of the Continental Divide; then downward through mountain pa.s.ses and clinging close to canyon walls until it reached that most wonderful of all gold camps, the Cripple Creek District.

"It's just two o'clock," said Chuck, in answer to an inquiry as to the time. "And we will have to do some rapid walking if we are to get on top of Cheyenne Mountain to-night. We ought to make three miles an hour from here to the old road house. We'll have to rest there a little and have a drink from Daddy Wright's spring. That's the best spring in the Rocky Mountains, I do believe."