The Motor Rangers Through the Sierras

"No need for him to worry, they are safe enough in the hiding place where Cal used to keep his dust when he had any," grunted Joe, still sitting erect and on the alert, however. Somehow he could not get it out of his head that outside the hut he had heard stealthy footsteps a few moments before.

The Motor Rangers and their friends had arrived at Cal's hut in the canyon that afternoon. Their first care had been to dispose safely of the box of precious stones in the hiding place mentioned by Joe. The evening before their last act at the camp by the ruined hut had been to consign the remains of the dead miner to a grave under the great pines. Nat with his pocketknife had carved a memorial upon a slab of timber.

"Sacred to the memory of Elias Goodale. Died – ."

And so, with a last look backward at the scene of the lonely tragedy of the hills, they had proceeded. Nat had not mentioned to his companions that he was sure that he had seen some one at the window, as they bent over the sapphires. After all it might have been an hallucination. The boy's first and natural assumption had been that whoever had peeped through the window was a member of Col. Morello's band, sent forward to track them. But then he recollected the burned forest that lay behind. It seemed hardly credible that any member of the band could have passed that barrier and arrived at the hut at almost the same time as the Motor Rangers. Had Nat known what accurate and minute knowledge the colonel possessed of the secret trails and short cuts of that part of the Sierras he might not, however, have been so incredulous of his first theory.

The same afternoon they had reached a summit from which Cal, pointing downward, had shown them a scanty collection of huts amid a dark sea of pines.

"That's the place," he said.

Half an hour's ride had brought them to the canyon which they found had been deserted even by the patient Chinamen, since Cal's last visit. His hut, however, was undisturbed and had not been raided by timber rats, thanks to an arrangement of tin pans set upside down which Cal had contrived on the corner posts. The afternoon had been spent in concealing the sapphire chest in a recess behind some rocks some distance from the hut. A short tour of exploration followed. As Cal had said on a previous occasion, the camp had once been the scene of great mining activity. Traces of it were everywhere. The hillside was honeycombed with deserted workings and mildewed embankments of slag. Scrub and brush had sprung up everywhere, and weeds flourished among rotting, rusty mining machinery. It was a melancholy spot, and the boys had been anxious to leave it and push on to Big Oak Flat, ten miles beyond. But by the time they reached this decision it was almost dark and the road before them was too rough to traverse by night. It had been decided therefore to camp in Cal's hut that night.

"Pity we can't float like a lot of logs," said Joe, as he stood looking at the water roaring through the flume which was a short distance behind the hut.

"Yep," rejoined Cal, "if we could, we'd reach Big Oak Flat in jig time. This here flume comes out thereabouts."

"Who built it?" inquired Nat, gazing at the moss-grown contrivance through which the water was rushing at a rapid rate. There had been a cloudburst on a distant mountain and the stream was yellow and turbid. At other times, so Cal informed them, the flume was almost dry.

"Why," said Cal, in reply to Nat's question, "it was put up by some fellows who thought they saw money in lumbering here. That was after the mines petered out. But it was too far to a market and after working it a while they left. We've always let the flume stand, as it is useful to carry off the overflow from the river above."

Somehow sleep wouldn't come to Joe. Try as he would he could not doze off. He counted sheep jumping over a fence, kept tab of bees issuing from a hive and tried a dozen other infallible recipes for inducing slumber. But they wouldn't work. Nat, after his awakening, had, however, dozed off as peacefully as before.

Suddenly, Joe sat up once more. He had been electrified by the sound of a low voice outside the hut. This time there was no mistake. Some human being was prowling about that lonely place. Who could it be? He was not kept long in doubt. It was the voice of Dayton. Low as it was there was no mistaking it. Joe's heart almost stopped beating as he listened: —

"They're off as sound as so many tops, colonel. All we've got to do is to go in and land the sapphires, and the kid, too."

"You are sure they have them?"

"Of course. Didn't I see them in old Goodale's hut? You always said the old fellow was crazy. I guess you know better now. These cubs blundered into the biggest sapphire find I ever heard of."

Joe was up now, and cautiously creeping about the room. One after another he awoke his sleeping companions. Before arousing Herr Muller, however, he clapped a hand over the German's mouth to check any outcry that the emotional Teuton might feel called upon to utter.

Presently the voices died out and cautiously approaching the window Nat could see in the moonlight half a dozen dark forms further down the canyon. Suddenly a moonbeam glinted brightly on a rifle barrel.

"They mean business this time and no mistake," thought Nat.

Tiptoeing back he told the others what he had seen.

"Maybe we can ketch them napping," said Cal, "oh, if only we had a telephone, the sheriff could nab the whole pack."

"Yes, but we haven't," said the practical Nat.

Cal tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack. If there had been any doubt that they were closely watched it was dispelled then.

Zip!

Phut!

Two bullets sang by Cal's ears as he jumped hastily back, and buried themselves in the door jamb.

"Purty close shooting for moonlight," he remarked coolly.

"What are we going to do?" demanded Joe.

"Well, thanks to our foresight in bringing in all the rifles and ammunition, we can make things interesting for them coyotes fer a long time," rejoined Cal.

"But in this lonely place they could besiege us for a month if need be," said Nat.

Cal looked grave.

"That's so, lad," he agreed, "we'd be starved and thirsted out before long. If only we could communicate with Big Oak Flat."

Nat dropped off into one of his deep studies. The boy's active mind was revolving the situation. It resolved itself into a very simple proposition. The colonel's band was well armed. They had ample opportunities for getting food and water. Situated as the Motor Rangers were, the others could keep them bottled up as long as they could stand it. Then nothing would be left but surrender. Nat knew now from what Joe had told him, that it was no fancy he had had at the hut. Dayton had been on their track and had unluckily arrived in time for his cupidity to be tempted by the sight of the sapphires. His injury when the man-trap fell must have been only a slight one. Nat knew the character of the outlaws too well to imagine that they would leave the canyon till they had the sapphire box and could wreak their revenge on the Motor Rangers.

True, as long as their ammunition held out the occupants of the hut could have stood off an army. But as has been said, without food or water they were hopeless captives. Unless – unless —

Nat leaped up from the bedstead with a low, suppressed: —

"Whoop!"

"You've found a way out of it?" exclaimed Joe, throwing an arm around his chum's shoulder.

"I think so, old fellow – listen."

They gathered around while in low tones Nat rehearsed his plan.

"I ain't er goin' ter let you do it," protested Cal.

"But you must, Cal, it's our only chance. You are needed here to help stand off those rascals. It is evident that they are in no hurry to attack us. They know that they can starve us out if they just squat down and wait."

"Thet's so," assented Cal, scratching his head, "I guess there ain't no other way out of it but – Nat, I think a whole lot of you, and don't you take no chances you don't have to."

"Not likely to," was the rejoinder, "and now the sooner I start the better, so good-bye, boys."

Nat choked as he uttered the words, and the others crowded about him.

"Donner blitzen," blurted out Herr Muller, "I dink you are der pravest poy I effer heardt of, und – "

Nat cut him short. There was a brief hand pressure between himself and Joe, the same with Ding-dong and the others, and then the lad, with a quick, athletic movement, caught hold of a roof beam and hoisted himself upward toward a hole in the roof through which a stone chimney had once projected. Almost noiselessly he drew himself through it and the next moment vanished from their view.

"Now then to cover his retreat," said Joe, seizing his rifle.

The others, arming themselves in the same way rushed toward the window. Through its broken panes a volley was discharged down the canyon. A chorus of derisive yells greeted it from Morello's band.

"Yell away," snarled Cal, "maybe you'll sing a different tune before daybreak."

In the meantime Nat had emerged on the roof of the cabin. It was a difficult task he had set himself and this was but the first step. But as the volley rang out he knew that the attention of the outlaws had been distracted momentarily and he wriggled his way down toward the eaves at the rear of the hut. Luckily, the roof sloped backward in that direction, so that he was screened from the view of any one in front.