Grace Harlowe's Overland Riders in the High Sierras

“Here I go. I’ve got to travel some if I am to catch them before dark,” he cried, starting away.

Darkness found Lieutenant Wingate wandering aimlessly near the place where the trail forked and where his companions were now discussing their further plans for the morrow. He concluded that he would have to spend another night in the open and alone, and had just ensconced himself on the highest ledge he could find when he caught sight of the light from Sheriff Ford’s camp-fire. Hippy gazed at it for some moments, then raised his revolver and fired three shots.

The camp-fire was suddenly blotted out.

“There! I’ve shot out the fire,” he grumbled. “Just the same, I don’t believe it is the bandit camp, and I’m going down.”

Moving with extreme caution, Hippy crept down the mountain-side until he believed that he was near the place where he had seen the fire.

“I reckon there’s nothing doing, boys,” Ford was saying. “Light the fire, but keep a sharp lookout.”

Hippy got up. Stacy’s keen eyes discovered him and the fat boy fired.

“Hi, there! Cut the firing! It’s Hippy,” called Lieutenant Wingate, ducking.

“Oh, wow!” howled Chunky.

A shout went up from the searching party when Hippy called out his warning, and he was fairly dragged into camp where Sheriff Ford hurriedly started a cook-fire and put over coffee as a starter. While this was being done, Lieutenant Wingate briefly related the story of his capture and escape.

“You say you know the man who was on foot when you were taken?” asked Tom Gray.

“Yes, I know him.”

“Give me one guess and see if I can name him,” spoke up Sheriff Ford, straightening up, frying-pan in hand.

“It’s yours. Who is he?” laughed Lieutenant Wingate.

“Our story-telling friend of the Red Limited, William Sylvester Holmes,” replied Ford confidently.

“You win,” chuckled Hippy. “How did you guess it?”

“I was suspicious of him all the time. At Summit my suspicions were, in a way, confirmed. He sent telegrams from there that, I now believe, informed the gang about the treasure car.”

“Was there really a treasure car on the train, Ford?” asked Tom.

“You might call it that. There was nearly three million dollars in gold on that car. Pretty good haul, eh? I reckon the authorities of this county will be glad to hear what you have to tell them. I will go to Gardner with you and we’ll have a confab with the sheriff there, if you will spare the time.”

“Sure we will,” spoke up Stacy. “We riders have to keep busy, you know.”

“It strikes me that you have been rather busy since I first met you,” returned the sheriff.

“What are your wishes, to go through to-night or wait until morning and get an early start?” he asked the two passengers.

“I’ll flag a train for myself down by the bend and you men can ride through. You can’t miss the way. There is a good trail all the way from here to Gardner, and you should be there by early afternoon.”

The two passengers said that, if the sheriff would flag the train for them, they would prefer to go by train too, as they were in haste to reach their destination on the coast, important business awaiting them there.

“All right. I’ll flag the next train after we get to the rails and put you two men aboard. I can then ride through with these three Overland men. I’d prefer a hoss to a Pullman any time.”

The party made themselves as comfortable as they could, sleeping on the ground, and before daylight next morning Mr. Ford had breakfast ready. Hippy was stiff and his hat hurt his head, but he made light of his discomfiture and was ready for the start which was made before sunup. Ford made good his word to stop the next train, which proved to be a local, and there was not so much grumbling by the train crew as there would have been had the train been a limited one.

The horseback ride that day was a hard one, but all were used to the saddle, and Sheriff Ford, himself a “rough-rider,” was interested in the riding of the three Overlanders. By this time he had grown to understand Stacy Brown better, and his laughter at the boy’s sallies was loud and appreciative. Late in the afternoon the delayed party rode into Gardner where a warm welcome awaited them from the Overland girls, who had already arranged for a posse to go out to look for the missing ones.

The authorities were keenly interested in the information that Sheriff Ford and the three Overland men had to offer, and declared their intention of starting out in an effort to round up the gang. That evening there was a genuine reunion of the Overlanders at which their further plans were discussed. It was left to Hippy to find a guide, while Stacy was to select the pack animals, and the girls the food and other equipment for the journey. The results of their quests were destined to furnish much amusement on the following day.

CHAPTER VIII

HEADED FOR THE HIGH COUNTRY

“I have found a guide,” announced Hippy next morning, walking into the post office where he found all the other members of his party writing postal cards to friends in the east.

“That’s good. Where is he?” asked Tom Gray.

“If you will look up you will see him.”

The Overlanders looked. Just to the rear of Hippy Wingate stood a grinning Chinaman, both hands hidden in the ends of his flowing sleeves. The Oriental was bowing and scraping, his queue animatedly bobbing up and down. Stacy uttered a loud “Ha, ha!”

“Permit me to introduce to you the Honorable Woo Smith whom I have selected, subject to your approval, to accompany us on our journey to the High Sierras,” announced Hippy Wingate.

“But surely, Hippy, this man cannot be a guide,” protested Elfreda Briggs. “We need a guide!”

“Perhaps he isn’t, but you can’t find anything else with a magnifying glass in this burg. Should you folks think best not to accept him, we’ll go it alone. I’ve done the best I can. Remember, too, that I’m a sick man, that I’ve been mauled and keelhauled by a bunch of bandits and – ”

“Do you speak English?” interrupted Grace Harlowe.

“Les. Me speak English velly fine.”

“You say his name is Woo Smith?” questioned Emma.

“The Honorable Woo Smith,” Hippy informed her.

“What has he done in the way of mountain work?” persisted Grace.

“I am informed that he has made frequent journeys to the mountains with prospecting parties and hunters as cook, guide and general handy man. At one time he was out with a government survey party.”

“As cook or guide?” interjected Nora Wingate.

“The former, I believe.”

“This outfit needs a good cook,” suggested Chunky.

“Woo, do you know horses?” asked Tom Gray.

“Les.”

“That reminds me, Chunky, what have you done about the pack animals?” demanded Lieutenant Wingate.

“Got three dandies. I have learned that we must travel light. They say that the trails are very rough in the High Country, and further, that we must depend upon the country for our food, generally speaking. I don’t know what Uncle Hip and I are going to do if it comes to short rations. Of course, as a last resort we can eat the pack-horses. They eat horses in France, so why shouldn’t we do the same, if we’re hungry enough.”