The Motor Rangers Through the Sierras

"We could never tell whether he was sus-s-s-singing over his work or moaning in agony," rejoined Ding-dong.

"Say, is that meant for a joke?" asked Nat amid a deadly silence.

"N-n-no, it's a f-f-fact," solemnly rejoined Ding-dong.

"That feller must hev bin a cousin to the short-haired Chinaman who couldn't be an actor," grinned Cal.

"What is this, a catch?" asked Joe suspiciously.

"No," Cal assured him.

"Oh, all right, I'll bite," said Nat with a laugh, "why couldn't the short-haired Chinaman be an actor?"

"Pecoss he voss a voshman, I subbose," suggested Herr Muller.

"Oh, no," said Cal, "because he'd always miss his queue."

"Reminds me of the fellow who thought he was of royal blood every time he watered his wife's rubber plant which grew in a porcelain pot," grinned Nat.

"I'll bite this time," volunteered Joe, "How was that, Mister Bones?"

"Well, he said that when he irrigated it, he rained over china," grinned Nat, speeding the car up a little grade.

"If this rare and refined vein of humor is about exhausted," said Joe with some dignity after the laugh this caused had subsided, "I would like to draw the attention of the company to that smoke right ahead of us."

"Is that smoke? I thought it was dust," said Nat, squinting along the track ahead of them.

The column of bluish, brownish vapor to which Joe had drawn attention could now be seen quite distinctly, pouring steadily upward above the crest of a ridge of mountains beyond them. Although they were travelling at a considerable height they could not make out what was causing it, but Cal's face grew grave. He said nothing, however, but if the others had noticed him they would have seen that his keen eyes never left the column which, as they neared it, appeared to grow larger in size until it towered above its surroundings like a vaporous giant or the funnel of a whirlwind.

CHAPTER XXI

THE FIRE IN THE FOREST

"Why, that smoke's coming up from those trees!" declared Nat as they topped the rise, and saw below them the familiar panorama of undulating mountain tops, spreading to the sky line in seeming unending billows.

Sure enough, as he said, the smoke was coming from some great timber-clad slopes directly in front of them.

"May be some more campers," suggested Joe.

"Not likely," said Cal gravely, "no campers would light a fire big enough to make all that smoke."

Nat did not reply, being too busy applying the brakes as the road took a sudden steep pitch downward. At the bottom of the dip was a bridge, made after the fashion of most mountain bridges in those remote regions. That is to say, two long logs had been felled to span the abyss the bridge crossed. Then across these string pieces, had been laid other logs close together. The contrivance seemed hardly wide enough to allow the auto to cross. Grinding down his brakes Nat brought the machine to a halt.

"I guess we'd better have a look at that bridge before we try to cross it," he said, turning to Cal.

"Right you are, boy," assented the ex-stage driver, getting out, "this gasolene gig is a sight heavier than anything that bridge was ever built for. Come on, Joe, we'll take a look at it."

Accompanied by the young Motor Ranger the Westerner set off at his swinging stride down the few paces between the auto and the bridge. Lying on his stomach at the edge of the brink, he gazed over and carefully examined the supports of the bridge and the manner in which they were embedded in the earth on either side.

Then he and Joe jumped up and down on the contrivance and gave it every test they could.

"I guess it will be all right," said Cal, as he rejoined the party.

"You guess?" said Nat, "say, Cal, if your guess is wrong we're in for a nasty tumble."

"Wall, then I'm sure," amended the former stage driver, "I've driv' stage enough to know what a bridge 'ull hold I guess, and that span yonder will carry this car over in good shape. How about it, Joe?"

"It'll be all right, Nat," Joe assured his chum, "in any case we are justified in taking a chance, for after what you told us about the colonel's gang it would be dangerous to go back again."

"That's so," agreed Nat, "now then, all hold tight, for I'm going to go ahead at a good clip. Hang on to Bismark, Herr Muller."

"I holdt on py him like he voss my long lost brudder," the German assured him.

Forward plunged the auto, Bismark almost jerking Herr Muller out of the tonneau as his head rope tightened. The next instant the car was thundering upon the doubtful bridge. A thrill went through every one of the party as the instant the entire weight of the heavy vehicle was placed upon it the flimsy structure gave a distinct sag.

"Let her have it, Nat!" yelled Cal, "or we're gone coons!"

There was a rending, cracking sound, as Nat responded, and the car leaped forward like a live thing. But as the auto bounded forward to safety Bismark hung back, shaking his head stubbornly. Herr Muller, caught by surprise, was jerked half out of the tonneau and was in imminent peril of being carried over and toppling into the chasm. But Joe grasped his legs firmly while Cal struck the rope – to which the Teuton obstinately held – out of his hands.

"Bismark! Come back!" wailed the German as the released horse turned swiftly on the rickety bridge and galloped madly back in the direction from which they had come.

But the horse, which was without saddle or bridle, both having been placed in the car when they started out, paid no attention to his owner's impassioned cry. Flinging up his heels he soon vanished in a cloud of dust over the hilltop.

"Turn round der auto. Vee go pack after him," yelled the German.

"Not much we won't," retorted Cal indignantly, "that plug of yours is headed for his old home. You wouldn't get him across that bridge if you built a fire under him."

"And I certainly wouldn't try to recross it with this car," said Nat.

"I should say not," put in Joe, "why we could feel the thing give way as our weight came on it."

"Goodt pye, Bismark, mein faithful lager – charger I mean," wailed Herr Muller, "I nefer see you again."

"Oh yes, you will," comforted Cal, seeing the German's real distress, "he'll go right home to the hotel stable that he come frum. You'll see. The man that owns it is honest as daylight and ef you don't come back fer the horse he'll send you yer money."

"Put poor Bismark will starfe!" wailed the Teuton.

"Not he," chuckled Cal, "between here and Lariat is all fine grazing country, and there's lots of water. He'll get back fatter than he came out."

"Dot is more than I'll do," wailed Herr Muller resignedly as Nat set the auto in motion once more and they left behind them the weakened bridge.

"No auto 'ull ever go over that agin," commented Cal, looking back.

"Not unless it has an aeroplane attachment," added Joe.

But their attention now was all centred on the smoke that rose in front of them. The bridge had lain in a small depression so that they had not been able to see far beyond it, but as they rolled over the brow of the hill beyond, the cause of the uprising of the vapor soon became alarmingly apparent.

A pungent smell was in the air.