The Motor Rangers Through the Sierras

It was followed by two other shots.

Bang! Bang!

The reports rang sharply, amid the silence of the desolate place, and sent an alarmed chill even to Cal's stout heart. He bounded back toward the fire just in time to meet Ding-dong, who came rushing in with a scared white face, from the opposite direction. At the same time Nat and Joe awakened, and hastily slipping on some clothes, seized their rifles and prepared for trouble.

"What's the matter?" demanded Cal, in sharp, crisp tones, of the frightened sentinel.

"Indians!" was the gasped-out reply, "the p-p-p-place is f-f-f-full of them."

"Indians!" exclaimed Cal, hastily kicking out the bright fire and leaving it a dull heap of scattered embers, "are you sure?"

"S-s-s-sure. I s-s-s-saw their f-f-f-fif-feathers."

"That's queer," exclaimed Cal, "I never heard of any Indians being in this section before. But come on, boys, it's clear the lad here has seen something and we'd better get ready for trouble."

An improvised fort was instantly formed, by the boys crouching in various points of vantage in the automobile with their rifles menacingly pointed outward. Herr Muller snored on serenely, and they allowed him to slumber.

They must have remained in tense poses without moving a muscle for half an hour or more before any one dared to speak. Then Nat whispered,

"Queer we don't see or hear anything."

"They may be creeping up stealthily," rejoined Cal, "don't take your eye off your surroundings a minute."

For some time more the lads watched with increasing vigilance. At length even Cal grew impatient.

"There's something funny about this," he declared, and then turning on Ding-dong he demanded:

"Are you sure you saw something?"

"D-d-d-didn't I s-s-s-s-shoot at it?" indignantly responded the boy.

"I know, but you actually saw something move?" persisted Nat.

"Of c-c-c-course I did. You didn't think I was go-go-going to s-s-s-shoot at a put-put-petrified tree, did you?"

"We'll wait a while longer and then if nothing shows up I'm going to investigate," declared Cal.

"I'm with you," agreed Nat.

As nothing occurred for a long time the Motor Rangers finally climbed out of the car, and with their rifles held ready for instant action, crept off in the direction from which Ding-dong's fusillade had proceeded. Every now and then they paused to listen, hardly breathing for fear of interrupting the silence. But not a sound could they hear. However, Ding-dong stuck stoutly to his story that he had seen something move and had fired at it, whereupon it had vanished.

"Maybe it was Morello's gang trying to give us a scare," suggested Nat.

"Ef they'd ever got as close to us as this they'd hev given us worse than a scare," confidently declared Cal.

By this time they had proceeded quite some distance, and Cal stopped Ding-dong with a question.

"Whereabouts were you when you fired?"

"I-I do-do-do-do-don't know," stuttered the lad.

"You don't know?" indignantly echoed Nat, "you're a fine woodsman."

"Y-y-y-y-yes I do t-t-t-too," Ding-dong hastened to amend, "I was here – right here."

He ascended a small knoll covered with grass, at the foot of one of the stone trees.

"Which direction did you fire in?" was Nat's next question.

"Off t-t-t-that w-w-w-w-w-way," spoke Ding-dong. "Wow, there he is now!"

The boy gave a yell and started to run, and the others were considerably startled.

From the little eminence on which they stood they could see, projecting from behind one of the pillars, something that certainly did look like two feathers sticking in an Indian's head dress. As they gazed the feathers moved.

"Shoot quick!" cried Joe, jerking his rifle up to his shoulder, but Cal yanked it down with a quick pull.

"Hold on, youngster. Not so fast," he exclaimed, "let's look into this thing first."

Holding his rifle all ready to fire at the least alarm, the former stage driver crept cautiously forward. Close at his elbow came Nat, with his weapon held in similar readiness.

"There is something there – see!" exclaimed Nat in an awed tone.

"Yes," almost shouted the guide, "and it's that Dutchman's old plug!"

The next instant his words were verified. The midnight marauder at whom Ding-dong had fired was nothing more dangerous than the horse of Herr Muller. It had broken loose in the night and was browsing about when the amateur sentry had come upon it. In the moonlight, and when seen projecting from behind a pillar, its ears, which were unusually long, did look something like the head dress of an Indian.

"Wow!" yelled Nat, "this is one on you, Ding-dong!"

"Yes, here's your Indian!" shouted Joe, doubling up with laughter.

"Whoa, Indian," soothed Cal, walking up to the peaceful animal, "let's see if he hit you."

But the merriment of the lads was increased when an examination of the horse failed to show a scratch or mark upon it.

"That's another on you, Ding-dong," laughed Nat, "you're a fine sentinel. Why, you can't even hit a horse."

"Well, let the Dutchman try and see if he can do any better," rejoined Ding-dong with wounded dignity.

CHAPTER X

ALONG THE TRAIL

"Voss iss dot aboudt mein horse?"

The group examining that noble animal turned abruptly, to find the quadruped's owner in their midst. Herr Muller still wore his famous abbreviated pajama suit, over which he had thrown a big khaki overcoat of military cut belonging to Nat. Below this his bare legs stuck out like the drum sticks of a newly plucked chicken. His yellow hair was rumpled and stood up as if it had been electrified. Not one of the boys could help laughing at the odd apparition.

"Well, pod'ner," rejoined Cal, taking up the horse's broken hitching rope and leading it back to its original resting place, "you're purty lucky ter hev a horse left at all. This yar Ding-dong Bell almost 'put him in the well' fer fair. He drilled about ten bullets more or less around the critter's noble carcass."