Comrades of the Saddle Part 12

Exhausted from the excitement of their arrival and the long ride, Tom and Larry were so deep in slumber that though Mr. Wilder called them when he himself got up, they did not wake.

His own sons, however, heard his call and quickly crawled from their blankets.

"Come on, we'll get breakfast. Let Tom and Larry sleep," exclaimed their father. "Remember, they are not so accustomed to riding as you two are."

This caution was uttered just in time, for Horace was in the very act of yanking the youthful commander by the foot when his father spoke.

Not long did it take to prepare the food, and Bill was just pouring the coffee when Mr. Wilder aroused his guests.

"Wh--what is it?" gasped Larry, sitting up and staring about him dazedly.

"It's breakfast, that's all," said Horace. "Hey, Mr. Commander, you'll be court-martialed if you miss grub." And he proceeded to drag Tom from his bed of boughs by the heels.

Chagrined to think they had not helped with the meal, Tom and Larry quickly arose and ran to the brook to wash.

As they stood at the pool they forgot their ablutions in the beauty of the scene before them.

The gra.s.s of the prairie was heavy with dew and in the rose glow of the sky the particles of moisture sparkled and glistened like countless crystals.

"Seems like fairyland," whispered Tom, as though afraid if he spoke out loud the scene would vanish.

A call from Horace, however, roused them to action, and in a few minutes they were, eating heartily.

"What sort of a brook is that?" asked Larry. "I didn't see any outlet, yet water keeps running into the pool all the time."

"There must be some underground stream into which it empties,"

replied the ranchman. "There are two such subterranean rivers in these hills, and, I suppose this pool connects with one of them."

Discussion of such phenomena was prevented by his continuing:

"Hurry now and pack up. I'll bring up the ponies while you are getting ready."

Eager to begin the ascent of the hills, the boys worked rapidly, and by the time Mr. Wilder appeared with the horses everything was in the saddle bags, though Horace had dispensed with the formality of wiping the dishes.

It was the task of but a few minutes to make fast the saddle bags and blankets, and just as the sun flooded the plains with its golden light the hunters swung into their saddles.

Riding southward, Mr. Wilder followed the base of the hills for a good mile till he came to a well-worn trail.

"We'll follow this run for a while," said he. "Bill, you and Larry can ride at the rear. I'll keep Horace and Tom with me, so they won't be tempted to spoil our sport by shooting at the first deer they see, no matter how far out of range it is. For the benefit of you two," he added, addressing the brothers, "I will say that when you are riding a trail, and especially a mountain trail, always let your pony have plenty of rein. It's easier for him. He won't be so likely to stumble and fall, and a pony can generally keep a trail better than a man."

These instructions delivered, Mr. Wilder turned his pony into the run and the others followed in Indian file, the two elder boys bringing up the procession.

For an hour they rode, now with their ponies scrambling over rocks, now up such steep ascents that the comrades feared the animals would fall over onto them.

But by leaning far forward at such times, they had no mishaps and at last rode out onto a plateau from which they looked down into a vale some two hundred yards below.

A mist hovered over the basin, rendering it impossible for them to see the bottom.

The boys were disappointed and said so.

"On the contrary, it is lucky," declared Mr. Wilder. "There is a brook down there and it is a favorite drinking ground for deer.

Under the cover of the mist we shall be able to go down, and it will act as a blanket to keep our scent from the sensitive-nosed beauties."

"Going to ride down?" queried Tom, looking about for some trail.

"No, we'll leave the ponies here. Lively now and hobble them and don't talk."

The plateau was some hundred yards long by half as many wide, and quickly the hunters rode their horses to where the mountain again rose, turning the horses loose in some delicious gra.s.s.

"Be very careful, very careful in descending," cautioned the ranchman. "The ground is wet and the rocks are slippery, and if you once start to fall, there's no knowing where you will land."

All the boys had hunted enough to know that the safest way to carry a loaded gun is with the muzzle pointed to the ground, the b.u.t.t resting against the back of the right shoulder, with the arm akimbo, thus forming a rest for the barrel.

And in this fas.h.i.+on they set out.

After a few minutes' search Mr. Wilder exclaimed:

"Here's the run the deer use. Steady now. Mind your feet. Don't make a sound."

With almost no noise, the party descended. Now and then one of the lads slipped, but there was always a rock or a sapling at hand which they could grasp to steady themselves and no one fell.

As he reached the edge of the mist, Mr. Wilder held up his hand as a signal to halt.

Turning his head, he listened intently for some sound that might give him an inkling as to the whereabouts of the deer.

In his eagerness to locate them, Horace moved away from the trail to the left and then stopped.

Barely had he halted when a loud sneeze rang out from directly in front of him.

So sudden and so near was it that Horace cried out in fright.

At the same moment the antlers of a big buck appeared from the mist and then vanished as quickly, only to reappear a moment later, followed by its head and shoulders.

Whether the buck or the hunters were more surprised it would be hard to say. For several seconds they stared at one another.

Larry, Tom and Horace were trembling like leaves, victims of "buck fever," a species of stage fright which makes it impossible for any one to hold a gun steady, and Bill was in such a position behind the others that he could not aim his rifle unless he put it between the heads of the others.

The ranchman alone was where he could bring down the buck, and he hesitated, unwilling to risk a chance to get several other deer by dropping the one in front of him.

It was the buck himself that put an end to the remarkable situation. Of a sudden, with a snort of rage, he lowered his sharp p.r.o.nged antlers and charged at Horace.

With a yell of terror the boy turned to flee and stumbled.

In an instant the scene had changed from one of comedy to one of possible tragedy should the infuriated beast reach his victim.

But Mr. Wilder was equal to the occasion. Throwing his rifle to his shoulder, he fired.

True was his aim and the buck threw up his head, staggered and then toppled over.