Chapter XXII: Once More at Circle Ranch--Conclusion

After all, it was not a very great task, getting the two saddle boys up from the friendly shelf. Old Hank lowered his lariat; and after Bob had slipped the loop under his arms, he was pulled to safety. Then Frank followed.

They found that Hank had half a dozen cowboys with him, some of the most daring connected with Circle Ranch. Overtaken by the storm while at the base of the mountain, they had waited for daylight, and then started afoot to make the ascent. The presence of the new river in the bed of the long empty _barranca_ astonished these cowmen exceedingly. And when they heard all that the boys had to tell they were almost of the opinion that they must have been dreaming.

But there was the evidence before their very eyes, and nobody could deny that the old-time river, that had been bottled up underground for so long, had finally found a way to break forth once more, aided by the geyser that for a century had beaten that tremendous tattoo every little while against the inner walls of the rocky mountain.

"Then there won't be no more racket, will there?" old Hank asked, as he lay there, looking down at the rushing current of the new stream that would no doubt readily follow its long abandoned course, until it reached the distant Colorado, somewhere along the Grand Canyon.

"The chances are against it," replied Frank.

"But let's try and find our horses," Bob suggested, after he had finished eating what food the newcomers had taken the pains to prepare for the lost ones.

"Yes, I'm anxious myself to find out how Buckskin's weathered the gale," Frank put in.

The two horses were found in good shape, but glad to once more see their masters, if the whinnies that greeted the coming of Frank and Bob might be looked upon as evidence of this.

And then another difficult task awaited them. To get the animals down to the level plain, now that the canyon was out of commission, taxed the ingenuity of even so expert a plainsman as Hank Coombs; but it was finally accomplished.

Then the horses of the cowboys were found, and the entire party started for the distant ranch, expecting to complete their jaunt before sundown.

Old Hank was deeply interested in what the boys had to tell about the band of rustlers passing, with all the led horses.

"Didn't git 'em from our ranch," he declared; "an' I reckons the X-bar-X must 'a suffered; or it might be the Arrowhead, over on the creek, was the one. But if so be Pedro Mendoza has been usin' that canyon to cross over the range with his stolen cattle an' horses, he'll hev to go further away now to do the same, 'cause his road's a rushin' river."

"We sure have had a great time of it," declared Bob, as they came in sight of the buildings of the ranch, and heard the loud calls of the cowboys who were driving some of the stock in from the range, to get it ready for shipment later.

"Yes, and think what we found out," Frank pursued. "First of all the mystery of Thunder Mountain is known, and from this time on those roaring sounds will never again be heard."

"And the Indians will be wondering why the Great Spirit is angry with his red children, so that he refuses to speak to them," Bob continued.

"And then there is that little affair about Lopez," Frank remarked, smiling at the recollection. "We have learned who Lopez is, and what his grandfather, Lemuel Smith, was doing in that cave. Think of Peg and his two guides getting out of the region without finding out a thing!"

"Say won't they be just as mad as hops, though, when they learn about what we saw and heard," chuckled Bob. "It's been a great time, all right. And Frank, we'll never again have anything like the fun we had in that old _barranca_. It makes my blood just jump through my veins to think of it."

"You're right," said Frank, "I don't believe we ever will!"

But like many other persons who cannot look ahead even one hour, and know what the future holds for them, both the saddle boys were very much mistaken. There were plenty of stirring adventures awaiting them ere many weeks had passed, some of which will be related in the next volume of this series, called "The Saddle Boys in the Grand Canyon; Or, The Hermit of the Cave." And those of our boy friends who have found more or less interest in the present story of life in the far Southwest, will doubtless be glad to read more of the doings of Frank Haywood and his brave Kentucky chum, Bob Archer.

That Peg and his guides reached home safely Frank knew shortly, when he happened to meet the bully on the trail. Peg was eager to hear at first hand all that had happened, and made friendly overtures with that design in view; but this did not deceive Frank in the least. He realized that Peg was more bitter than ever, and believed that if the opportunity ever came the bully would not hesitate to do anything that he thought would annoy the chums.

Frank had also found that the prospector, Smith, and his little Mexican granddaughter, had reached home in safety. The successful lode hunter purchased a ranch; and when Frank met him some time later he was riding around the country in a fine automobile, buying stock. Inez was with him, and never again would the brave little girl have to dress as a boy in order to carry supplies up into the canyons of the mountains.

Thunder Mountain never again uttered a sound of warning. The Indians marveled much, and consulted their greatest medicine men as to why the voice of Manitou called no more. But the whites knew; and a load was thereby taken from the mind of many a superstitious cowboy, who, when watching his charges through the vigils of the night, could look toward the rocky height without that feeling of uneasiness that had always been present when he believed the mountain to be haunted.

THE END

End of Project Gutenberg's The Saddle Boys of the Rockies, by James Carson