Chapter V: The Voice of the Mountain

"Hey! take care there, Bob!" shouted Frank, starting up from beside his little cooking fire in something of a panic; for that alarm signal is apt to send the blood bounding through the veins like mad, whenever heard.

"Don't bother!" came the reassuring reply of the unseen Bob, from a point near by; "I think I've got the beggar located, all right. Say, don't he sing though, to beat all creation? He's mad clean through, all right. I'm looking for a stick, so as to knock him on the head."

"Go slow, and keep your eye out for a second one," advised Frank, uneasily; "because they generally hunt in couples. That isn't a measly little prairie rattler either; but a fellow that's come down from Thunder Mountain."

"Nice warm reception for visitors, I should remark," laughed Bob, immediately adding: "there, I've found just the stick I want. Now, old chap, look out for yourself! I'm going to have that rattle of yours to take home, unless you give me the slip."

"No danger of that," remarked Frank; "because a rattler seldom runs away, once he shakes his old box, and gives warning. Hit him just back of the head, and let it be a good smart blow too, so that you break his neck."

Then came a swishing sound, twice repeated. The thrilling rattle immediately subsided.

"Get him?" demanded Frank, ready to take up his task once more, upon receiving a favorable reply from his friend.

"He's squirming some, but helpless," returned Bob, composedly. "I'll cut his head off, so that he can't turn around and jab me while I'm getting that rattle box of his."

Two minutes later he came back into camp, carrying the coffee pot, which he proceeded to place upon the fire Frank had started. The latter noticed that his chum was trembling a little, and could give a shrewd guess that Bob had been more startled than he had thus far admitted.

"Perhaps I'll get used to it in time," Bob remarked, presently; "but it sure does give a fellow a nasty shock to hear that sound burst out close by your feet, knowing as you do what a bite from those fangs means."

"Then it was a narrow squeak, was it?" asked Frank.

"I guess I never want to be closer to a diamond-back than that," Bob admitted, with a shake of his head.

Soon a delightful aroma began to steal through the air in the immediate vicinity of the little camp near the foot of the towering, mysterious mountain; as some bacon sizzled in the pan, and the crushed berry from Java boiled and bubbled most cheerily.

Besides, upon some splinters of wood Frank had thrust small pieces of venison, the last fresh meat they had brought from the ranch. As the heat from the red coals began to turn these to a crisp brown, Bob sniffed the added fragrance in the air after the manner of a hungry range-rider, or a boy with a healthy appetite.

"Seems to be plenty of game around here," he remarked. "I jumped two rabbits near the spring, and they went up the rise, as usual."

"Yes," remarked the cook, "the place looks good for game, and you'd wonder why those Injuns passed it by, only I happen to know. Ten to one there's a deer in that thicket of wild plum over there. And you can just believe an old grizzly wouldn't want a better hang-out than up yonder among the cliffs and crags of the mountain side."

"But to return to our mutton, which after all is antelope meat, when do we start operations? I'm nearly wild, with all these smells, and never a bite. The water just drips from my tongue, I give you my word, Frank."

For answer the other picked up the coffee pot, and set it aside for a minute, to let the contents settle.

"Grub's ready, Bob," he said, laughingly; "and I reckon we'll not bother banging on the frying pan with a big spoon to-night, range fashion. Sit down, and get your pannikin ready for some of this bacon and meat. How does that coffee look?"

"Say, it's got the color, all right, and if it only tastes half as fine as it looks you'll hear no kick coming from me," replied Bob, as he poured his tin cup full of the liquid.

As the boys ate they chatted on various topics, most of which talk had of course some connection with the big cattle ranch they had so recently left.

"I'd give a heap to know if Peg Grant meant business when he said we were riding to a fall if we thought we were the only pebbles on the beach," Bob remarked.

"Oh!" replied Frank, "I reckon he's going to make a try to solve that Thunder Mountain puzzle. But just think of a tenderfoot like Peg let loose on that fierce slope up yonder; will you?"

"Perhaps he's here already," suggested Bob.

"Wouldn't be one bit surprised," Frank continued, readily enough, as though he considered that a foregone conclusion anyway. "He and his cronies had time enough, unless Peg changed his mind. He might be wondering what happened to you, and thinking how the X-bar-X ranch would be safer, in case some of our boys chased after him to give him the tar and feathers he deserves for playing such a mean trick."

"But supposing they did come," said Bob; "Peg and Spanish Joe, and that other treacherous cowboy you told me about; we're pretty apt to meet up with them if we go prowling around here for the next few days."

"Just so, and we'll try to mind our business all the time," remarked Frank; and then his eyes flashed a little as he continued: "but if they try any of their ugly little tricks on us, Bob, they're likely to get hurt."

"I'm with you there, Frank," the other added, shutting his teeth in a determined way. "I can stand a certain amount of fun, and, I hope, take it the right way. Your cow punchers said that when they hazed me, you know. But I certainly do object to any such rough-house business as fastening a poisoned thorn under a fellow's saddle."

"That game has cost more than a few people their lives," Frank declared vehemently. "Cowmen draw the line at it. You noticed how angry old Hank became when he heard about that same thing. But your horse seems to be getting on all right, Bob."

"Sure he does. That ointment made by old Hank's like magic. Domino won't suffer much from that jab. But that was a bully good supper all right, and I don't care how soon we repeat it," he concluded with a laugh.

Finally both lads lay down to secure such rest as they needed after a long and tiresome day.

The drowsy chirp of crickets, and shrill voices of katydids in the lush grass near by, told of the summer night. Many times had Frank listened to this same chorus as he lay in his blanket on the open prairie, playing the part of night-wrangler to the herd of saddle horses belonging to the round-up party of cow-punchers.

He could hear some lurking rabbit slinking through the hazel bushes over at one side. Somewhere off on the level, where the sage grew so heavily, there must have been a prairie dog village; for the sound of the peculiar barking of these queer little animals frequently floated to his ears as the breeze changed.

The two horses were still feeding at the time Frank dropped off into a sound and refreshing sleep, but doubtless they would soon lie down. Bob was already breathing heavily, which would indicate that he had passed beyond the open door to slumber-land.

The minutes passed, and several hours must have gone.

Frank was dreaming of the excitement attending some of the many dashing gallops he had lately enjoyed in company with his chum, looking up stray cattle, helping to brand mavericks, watching the cowmen mill stampeding herds, or chasing fleet-footed antelopes just to give the horses a run.

He was suddenly aroused by a strange sound that seemed to cause the very earth under him to tremble. The trample of a thousand hoofs would make such a noise; if one of those old-time mighty herds of bison could have come back to earth again; or a stampede of an immense herd of long-horns might cause a similar vibration.

But Frank Haywood knew that neither of these explanations could be the true one, even as he thus sat upright on his blanket to listen. The ominous, growling, grumbling noise was more in the nature of approaching thunder, just as though one of those furious summer storms, tropical in their nature, and often encountered in this country where plains and mountains sharply meet, had crept upon them as they calmly slept.

And yet, strange to say, neither of the two boys jumped quickly to their feet in wild dismay, seeking to prepare for the rain that might soon burst upon them. On the contrary they continued to sit there, straining their ears to catch the rumbling reverberations that kept coming, with little respites between.

"Say, now, what d'ye think of that, Bob?" asked Frank, when silence again held sway for a brief period. "Nary a cloud as big as your hand in the sky; and yet all that grumbling oozing out of old Thunder Mountain! Looks like we might have the biggest job of our lives finding out the secret of that pile of rocks. There she starts in again, harder than ever. Listen, Bob, for all you're worth!"