Jack Ranger's Gun Club: or, From Schoolroom to Camp and Trail

“Rest? I guess you mean rust,” said Mr. Pierce, his deep-set eyes sparkling with fun. “I sure would like to hit the trail again.”

“We would be very glad to have you come along with us,” said Jack. “We have plenty of shelter tents, and lots of grub.”

“I’d like it – I’d like it,” said Mr. Pierce musingly.

“Daddy!” expostulated his daughter.

She shot a somewhat indignant glance at Jack for proposing such a thing, but she was not angry.

“There, there, Mabel, of course I won’t go,” said her father. “I’ll stay home. My hunting days are over, I reckon, but I sure would like a chance to wrassle with a bear or draw a bead on a mule deer or a fine big-horn sheep. Say, if you boys ever get near Pryor’s Gap I’ll feel mortal offended if you don’t stop off and see us.”

“We’ll stop,” promised Jack heartily, and he looked into Mabel’s eyes, whereat she blushed again, and Jack felt his heart strangely beating.

“Masquerading mud-turtles! but that’s a fine view!” suddenly exclaimed Nat, who was looking from a window. “You can see fifty miles, I’ll wager.”

Mabel laughed heartily.

“What a funny expression!” she said. “Where did you get it?”

“Oh, he makes them up as he goes along,” explained Jack, while Nat was in some confusion.

“It must be some tiresome,” observed Mr. Pierce, while his eyes twinkled humorously. “But we sure do have fine views out here. You needn’t be in a hurry to look at ’em. There’s plenty where you’re going. But I meant to ask you boys how do you calculate to travel after you get to Fort Custer? I believe you said you were going there first.”

“We are,” replied Jack, “and from there we have arranged to go in wagons to Sage Creek and across Forty-mile Desert.”

“That’s a good route,” observed Mr. Pierce. “Who was you depending on to tote your stuff across the desert?”

“Why, a man named Isaac Blender,” answered Jack. “I wrote to him on the advice of my father, who heard of him through some Western friends he has.”

“Oh, you mean Tanker Ike,” said Mr. Pierce.

“Tanker Ike?” repeated Jack.

“Yes. You see, we call him that because he used to drive a water tank across the desert to the mining camps. So you’re going with Tanker Ike, eh? Well, that’s middlin’ curious.”

“Why so?” asked Sam.

“Because me and my daughter are going to take a short trip with him. I’ve got a sister I want to visit before I go back to Pryor’s Gap, and Mabel and I are going in one of Tanker Ike’s wagons.”

“Maybe we can go together,” spoke Jack quickly, and he glanced at Mabel, who suddenly found something of interest in the scenery that was rushing by.

“That’s just what I was thinking,” went on Mr. Pierce. “I’ll give you a proper introduction to Ike. Are you going to have a guide?”

“Yes,” answered Jack. “I wrote to Mr. Blender about it, and he promised to get an Indian guide for us. Do you think he can?”

“Oh, yes. There are plenty of Crow Indians that can be hired. I’ll see that he gets you a good one.”

“Thank you,” said Jack, secretly delighted that he could travel for some time longer in Mabel’s company.

The rest of the railroad journey seemed very short to Jack, and to his chums also, for Mr. Pierce proved an interesting talker, and told them many stories of camp and trail.

Finally they reached Fort Custer, found their camping outfit on hand, with their guns, tents and other necessaries, and there was Tanker Ike on hand to meet them.

“Hello, Ike!” called Mr. Pierce as he descended from the car.

“Well, bust my off wheel! If it ain’t Dan Pierce!” exclaimed the other. “Where did you drift in from?”

They greeted each other heartily, and then Mr. Blender approached Jack and his chums, Mr. Pierce doing the introducing, which was hardly necessary, as the man who was to pilot the boys across the desert was a hearty, genial Westerner, whom to meet once was to feel well acquainted with.

“And I want you to get these boys a good Indian guide,” said Mr. Pierce. “None of those lazy, shiftless beggars.”

“I’ve got Long Gun for them,” said Mr. Blender.

“Good!” exclaimed Mr. Pierce. “Long Gun is as good a Crow Indian as there is. You’ll be safe with him, boys.”

“Sanctimonious scalplocks!” exclaimed Nat. “Are we going to travel with a real live Indian?”

“That’s what, son,” replied Tanker Ike softly. “But don’t let off any more of them curious expressions than you can help. They might scare Long Gun, and he’s sort of timid – for an Indian,” and Mr. Pierce joined the wagon driver in a laugh.

“Well, if we’re going to start we’d better be going,” remarked Mr. Blender at length. “Let’s see. I guess I can get you all in one wagon, and pack the grub and camp truck in another.”

“Where will the Indian guide meet us?” asked Jack.

“The other side of the desert.”

“Do you think he’ll be there?”

“When Long Gun says a thing, it’s as good as done,” commented Mr. Pierce. “Well, Mabel, climb up, and I’ll get aboard in a few minutes.”

Jack made a start for the wagon.

“Where you going?” asked Nat quickly.

“I’m going to get in, of course.”

“But what about our stuff?”

“Oh, Mr. Blender will look after that, I guess.”

Jack kept on, following close after Mabel, and he took a seat beside her in the big wagon.

“Say, fellows,” remarked Nat in a low voice to the other lads, “what do you think of Jack?”

“He’s got ’em bad,” commented Sam. “But I don’t know as I blame him. She’s awful nice.”

“Cut it out! You’re getting sentimental in your old age, Sam,” objected Bony, as he cracked a couple of knuckles for practice.

CHAPTER XVI