The Boy Inventors' Radio Telephone Part 11

"Wa'al, Smith was a curious feller, frum all accounts, and it was not till '49 when ther big gold rush came that he thought much more about those three b.u.t.tes with the gold lying round loose as dirt on 'em. Then he got ther gold fever. He went to 'Frisco and gets up an expedition to find them three b.u.t.tes.

"They got down inter ther desert country all right and locates Smith Mountain. But the dern Indians they had with 'em as guides cleaned out the camp one fine night, and they had a hard time getting back to civilization alive. Well, that's where Peg-leg Smith goes out of the story."

"Wasn't he ever heard of again?" asked Jack.

"No, siree, not hide nor hair on him. n.o.body never knows what became of him arter they got back to San Bernardino. Some says that he went back alone lookin' fer the three b.u.t.tes and was lost in the desert and that his bones is out thar some'eres to-day, an' others says that he got so plum disgusted he went back home to St. Louis. But n.o.body rightly knows.

"The next heard of ther three b.u.t.tes was many years later when an Indian, who worked on Governor Downey's ranch, not far from Smith Mountain, developed a habit of goin' away fer a few days and then comin' back with bits of black rock chock full of gold which he traded fer firewater and such. He didn't seem ter care if he got full value or not.

"'Plenty more where those came from,' he'd say.

"Wa'al, they set a watch on him and found that he always headed off inter ther desert by way of Smith Mountain, which would be the nat'ul way of gettin' ter ther three b.u.t.tes that Peg-leg had described.

"Guv'ner Downey he come to hear about this in course of time, and he come down frum Sacramento to question ther Injun. But in ther meantime ther pesky coyote had gone and got himself killed in a quarrel over cards and so there they was up agains' a blank wall ag'in."

The old prospector paused to fill his pipe.

CHAPTER XXIV.

"THE THREE b.u.t.tES."

"The Injun bein' dead, the guv'ner did the nex' best thing. He questioned his squaw. But she couldn't tell 'em much 'cept that the Injun told her he got his last water at t'other side of Smith Mountain and then traveled toward ther sun till erbout mid-afternoon when he found mucho, mucho oro.

"The guv'ner made two or three tries to locate them b.u.t.tes, but he failed. Then come along a man named McGuire, who said he knew where the b.u.t.tes was and showed black rocks with gold in 'em to prove it, jes' like the ones Peg-leg and ther Injun had found, they was. Well, McGuire he gets five other dern fools and off they starts and that's the end of them. They ain't never heard of ag'in.

"Then comes a prospector who gets lost, and in hunting for water finds these same three b.u.t.tes and the black, gold-specked rocks that are scattered about. But he wasn't bothering about gold just then, so he keeps on and in time finds the water hole at the foot of Smith Mountain.

"He comes back to Los Angeles and tries to organize a company to go to ther three b.u.t.tes. But he falls ill and when he learns he's goin' ter die he tells Dr. De Courcy, that's his physician, that he knows whar Peg-leg's lost mine is an' gives him a map an' directions. Arter ther man dies, Dr. De Courcy spends all his money trying ter find ther b.u.t.tes, but he fails. Then comes a young chap named Tom Cover of Riverside. He's wealthy and fits out a dozen or more outfits to hunt fer ther three b.u.t.tes. But after setting out on his twelfth trip he never comes back, so they know that Peg-leg Smith's mine has claimed another victim."

"Is there anything to prove that Peg-leg really ever found the Three b.u.t.tes?" asked Tom, whom this romance of the desert, like his companions, had strangely interested.

"You tell 'em, Zeb," said the old man. "Likely they wouldn't believe me."

"Proofs?" said Zeb, "plenty of 'em. The records of the old Bank of San Francisco show that McGuire deposited thousands of dollars' worth of gold nuggets there, and my old dad knew Peg-leg Smith and saw the black rocks with the gold fillings that he brought out uv ther desert. Them three golden b.u.t.tes is out thar somewhar's, and some day somebody's goin' to locate 'em and then there'll be another millionaire in the country."

Old McGee chuckled over his pipe. It was clear that, ancient and feeble as he was, he still believed with all the fanaticism and optimism of a prospector that he would be the one to find the three b.u.t.tes of gold.

"It stands ter reason thar's gold out thar," declared old man McGee, waving his pipe about argumentatively. "Ther good Lord never made nuthin' thet wasn't of some use, even ther fleas on a houn' dawg, for they keep him frum thinkin' uv his troubles. Very well, then, the desert is good fer nuthin' else but mineral wealth, and Providence made it so plagued hard ter git at so that everyone couldn't git rich at oncet."

The boys had to laugh at this bit of philosophy, but as they went to bed they could not help thinking of the toll of lives the great barren stretches of the Colorado desert has exacted from gold-seekers. In Jack's dreams he seemed to be traversing vast solitudes of sand and desolation dotted with bleaching bones, and he woke with a start to find that it was daybreak and that Tom was shaking him out of his sleep.

Below, old man McGee was ready with his team and had already got on his wagon some of the crates from the freight shed. They made a hasty breakfast and then started out. There was hardly anybody about and they congratulated Zeb on his strategy in conducting affairs with such secrecy.

But as they pa.s.sed into the outskirts of the town, where the Mexicans and Indians lived, d.i.c.k Donovan uttered a sudden exclamation.

"Hopping horn-toads!" he gasped.

"What's up?" asked Jack, who sat beside him.

"Oh, nothing," said d.i.c.k, "the wagon gave an extra hard jolt, that was all, and I thought my head was coming off."

But the cause of d.i.c.k's exclamation had been this: From behind a squalid hut he caught sight of three shadowy figures, dimly seen in the half light, apparently watching the wagon and its occupants.

They quickly withdrew as they saw d.i.c.k looking at them, but not before the young reporter had received a startling impression that one of them at least was familiar to him. The wagon drove out over the desert and rumbled along till it came to a deep arroyo, or gulch, in which stood a deserted, bleaching hut.

"This is the place," said Zeb.

"Sure, you can stay thar fer a year an' a day an' nuthin' but tarant'las an' rattlers ull ever bother ye," said old McGee cheerfully.

The cases they had brought were quickly unloaded and lowered into the arroyo which led down to where they could see the turgid flood of the Colorado flowing between low banks. For at this spot the river is a very different stream from what it is above and below, where it makes its way to the Gulf of California between unscalable walls of cliffs and is a succession of cruel rapids and unpa.s.sable falls.

When old McGee drove back for the second and last load, for the Wonders.h.i.+p was constructed so as to "take-down" very compactly, d.i.c.k elected to go with him. When they arrived at the freight depot the young reporter took the first opportunity to wire his paper in Boston.

"Find out if Bill Masterson is in town," was the substance of his message.

They were not to return to the camp till after the mid-day meal, so he had plenty of time to receive an answer. This is it: "Masterson and two others left for the West five days ago."

"The same day that we did," mused d.i.c.k. "I wonder--but no, I'm sure. One of those three figures lurking behind that hut was Masterson, and he's planning some mischief, sure as a gun."

CHAPTER XXV.

INTO THE BEYOND.

"Well, this is something like camping," said Tom that evening, stretching himself out luxuriously under a mesquite bush.

"See here, young feller," said Zeb, who by unanimous consent had been put in charge of the adventurers. "Are you on a pleasure trip, jes' dropped in as a visitor like, or air you a part of this expedition?"

"I guess I'm a part of it all right," said Tom, with rather a sheepish grin. "At least I was under that impression."

"Same here," said Zeb dryly. "Thar's lots to be done yet afore we're all s.h.i.+pshape fer ther night. Ther's lamps ter be filled and tent ropes set right an' then I want a trench dug around ther tents."

"What's the trench for?" asked Jack, who had been busy with the three tents, for they had decided on Zeb's advice not to use the old roofless shack to sleep in.

"No tellin' what kind of varmints, from skunks to rattlers, ain't makin' a hotel out of it," he said, "not to mention tarant'las, which has a most unpleasant bite, and scorpions and centipedes that ain't much nicer bedfellows."

This was quite enough to make the boys willing, nay anxious, to set up the waterproof silk tents.

"What's the trench for?" asked Zeb. "Well, if it should come on ter rain in ther night it'll keep us dry to have a trench round each tent."

"Rain!" exclaimed Tom incredulously. "Why, it doesn't look as if it ever rained here."

"It doesn't, not more'n about two inches a year," rejoined Zeb, "but when it does you'd think ther flood gates uv heaven had been ripped wide open."

"Do you think it will rain to-night?" asked Jack.

"It looks uncommon like it," answered Zeb. "See them clouds off there yonder?"

He pointed to some heavy-looking ma.s.ses of vapor hanging above a dim range of saw-backed mountains off to the east.

"In my opinion they're plum full of rain," he said.

"In that case we'd better get ready with the trenches," declared Jack. He picked up one shovel and gave another to Tom. The latter made a wry face but said nothing. Tom liked hard work no better than most boys, but he realized that the work had to be done, and so tackled it with the best grace he could.

Secretly he wished himself to be with d.i.c.k Donovan, who had been a.s.signed to go fis.h.i.+ng to see if he couldn't get "something" fresh for supper. The professor, as usual, was off somewhere collecting specimens.

But the task of digging the trenches was not as arduous as it had appeared. The sand was soft and yielding, and the shovels made rapid work with it. Soon a fairly deep trench was dug round each of the temporary shelters.

By the time the lanterns had been filled, and Zeb had cut a goodly stack of mesquite wood, everything was ready to begin preparations for supper.

"We'll have a blow-out to-night," said Zeb. "Canned salmon, beans, crackers, cheese and canned fruit, but don't expect to get that right along. I've lived on beans and bacon for six months in this very neck of the woods, and thought myself lucky to get that."

"Hullo!" came a cry from the direction of the river.

"There's d.i.c.k!" exclaimed both boys, and then as the young reporter came into sight, "What luck, d.i.c.k?"

"What do you know about this?" and d.i.c.k held up a fine string of glittering fish. There were catfish, perch and two eels.

"Good; we won't go hungry," said Zeb. "Nothing better than fried eels and catfish."

He greased the frying pan with a strip of bacon rind and then skinned the scaleless catfish and eels as if he had been doing nothing else all his life. Soon the savory odors of the frying with crisp slices of bacon, and the aroma of coffee, filled the camp.

The boys were so busy setting out the tin cups and plates that it was not till Zeb beat on a tin basin with a spoon to announce that the evening meal was ready that anyone noticed that the professor was missing. Night was closing in and the sky was overcast.

The boys began to worry. They set up a loud shout.

"Pro-fess-or! Oh, pro-fess-or!"

The little gulch rang with it. But no answer came.

"Now what in the world has happened to him?" frowned Jack. "We must go and find him at once. He must have----"

[Ill.u.s.tration: Soon the savory odors of the frying with crisp slices of bacon, ...filled the air--Page 208.]

The sentence was never completed. At that instant Zeb set up a shout, and a ton of earth and rocks, more or less, came hurtling down the steep bank into the camp. The stones and dirt were mingled with mesquite bushes and in the midst of the landslide was a figure that they made out to be the professor.

Luckily, the avalanche had missed the camp-fire and the supper table, and when they had extricated the professor, and brushed him off, the boys learned that he had almost missed his way, and being shortsighted, in the dark had walked right over the edge of the steepest part of the arroyo instead of by a sloping path up above.

However, nothing was injured about him but his feelings, and since his bag of specimens was intact, the man of science, after a few minutes, was able to sit down and eat with as good an appet.i.te as any of them.

Zeb proved himself a good weather profit. About midnight it started raining, and such rain as the boys had never seen. It was not rain. It was sheets of water. Even the waterproof tents began to leak, and the fact that the trenches had been dug did not serve to keep the floors dry, for the hard, sun-baked earth did not absorb the moisture, and the downpour speedily spread half an inch or more of water over the ground.

"Turn out! turn out!" shouted d.i.c.k, who shared one of the three tents with the boys.

"What's the matter?" began Tom sleepily, and then splas.h.!.+ went his hand into the water.

"Gracious, has the river overflowed?" demanded Jack.

"No, but it's raining handsaws and marlin spikes," cried d.i.c.k. "Wow! my bed's wet through."

"Same here," cried Jack ruefully. "I guess we'd better get out of this."

Outside they found the professor hopping about barefooted in the water. He had on his pajamas with a blanket thrown round his shoulders for protection against the rain. The boys, despite their discomfort, could not help laughing at the odd figure. Zeb joined them, grumbling: "We made a big mistake in camping in this arroyo.

I ought to have had better sense. It's nothing more nor less than a river. All the desert up above is draining into it."

It was true. The water was almost ankle deep. Luckily, the old shanty in which their supplies were stored was raised above the ground, and the goods were all covered with a big waterproof canvas.

"Let's camp out in the shanty till daylight," suggested Jack.

"That would be a good idea if it had a roof," commented Zeb dryly.

"Why can't we spread some of the canvas over us?" asked Tom.

This was finally done, and thus pa.s.sed most of their first night on the desert. Yet none of them complained, but made the best of it. The boys knew that it is the wisest plan to meet all camping mishaps with a smiling face.

By morning the rain had ceased. The sky was clear and the sun shone brightly. Their wet bedding and garments were soon dried and then the work of unpacking the sections of the Wonders.h.i.+p was begun, for they were anxious to have the job completed and be on their way as soon as possible.

Old McGee had told the truth when he said they would not be molested.

An old Indian jogging by on a spavined horse and wrapped in a dirty blanket was the only person they saw all day. He was looking along the arroyo for a strayed burro. He stared at them in stolid silence for a while and then rode off, shaking his head. No doubt he was at a loss to account for such strange goings on.

That evening when d.i.c.k took his line down to the river, he met with unusually good luck. He had just added a fine carp to his pile of fish when, chancing to look up, he saw a boat coming round the bend.

In the craft were three figures, one of whom he recognized instantly as Masterson. The recognition was mutual and Masterson, who had the oars, started hastily to pull away from the place. But d.i.c.k shouted to him.

"Don't let me drive you away," he cried.

Masterson shouted back something about "fresh kid" but kept pulling up the stream, and soon he was round the bend and out of sight.

"Now, I wonder what he is doing out here?" mused d.i.c.k, "and those two cronies of his. They look sort of shady to me."