CHAPTER X.
THE PONIES VANISH.
Ralph’s first act on wakening the next morning was to pull open theflap of the tent and gaze out. His next was to utter a shout ofsurprise. Of the ponies which had been turned out to graze the eveningbefore, not a sign was to be seen. As usual, they had been driven outwith old Baldy, the leader of the pack horses, as the “bell” pony. Likemost ponies in the wilds, they had hitherto stuck closely to Baldy who,for his part, was usually quite content to remain around camp so longas the grazing was good.
But although Ralph listened closely, he could not catch even thefamiliar tinkle of the bell that would have told him that Baldy and therest were somewhere near at hand.
“Well, this is a nice pickle,” he thought, as he set off to stir Jiminto wakefulness, “it means a day’s delay while we hunt for the ponies;however, there appears to be plenty of rock in this vicinity for theprofessor to explore and hammer away at, so I suppose he’ll be happy.”
Jim greeted Ralph’s news without much surprise. It appeared that inyears of packing he had grown used to such eccentricities on the partof ponies.
“We’ll track ’em down after breakfast,” he said, rolling out of hisblanket and pulling on his boots.
In the meantime Ralph had aroused the others, and they set off for acool plunge in the stream. The water was icy and made them gasp, butthey felt a hundred per cent. better after their bath. As Persimmonsput it, “They began to feel as if the world was made of something elsethan ashes.” While the professor made less strenuous ablutions, theboys rubbed each other into a warm glow and then indulged in a merrygame of tag on the springy turf, and yet they were ready to respondeagerly to Jim’s breakfast call of:--“Come and get it!” accompanied bya vigorous solo on the wash tin performed by Jimmie.
It was wonderful what a difference there was in the New York waifalready. The crisp mountain air had reddened his pale cheeks and therough but plentiful “grub” had had its effect in nourishing his skinnyframe. The old wistful look still lurked in his eyes, and all the boys’attempts to drag from him the reason for his desire to penetrate theRockies were in vain. So, perforce, they had to allow it to remain amystery till such time as the lad himself chose to enlighten them. Bitsof his history he had already imparted to them. The lad had enlivenedmany a camp fire with stories of his experiences in the saw-dust ring,and in selling papers in New York. Besides this, he had worked atpeddling soap powder and household goods, and he had some amusingnarratives of his experiences among the farmers of the Catskills wherehe had worked as an “agent.” And as he lived with the boys, he adoptedtheir language and ways as though he had been born to them.
“There’s a treat for you fellows this morning,” said Jimmie with amysterious air, as the hungry boys squatted down and prepared to passup their tin plates for their shares of bacon, bannocks and beans.
“What may that be, Jimmie?” inquired Ralph, while Mountain Jim grinnedexpansively.
Persimmons sniffed the air anticipatively.
“Seems to me I do smell something good,” he remarked.
“How would pancakes go?” inquired Jimmie.
“Great! Jimmie, you ought to be in Delmonico’s,” cried Hardwarehungrily.
“I’ve been on the outside lookin’ in, many a time,” said Jimmie witha grin, as he turned to the “spider” and began dishing up the thin,brown batter cakes.
Mountain Jim was on hand with a tin of maple syrup fashioned like aminiature log-cabin, the chimney forming the spout.
“Eat hearty, boys,” he said, as he passed it along, “and try to forgetthe black flies for a while.”
Early as the hour was, those pests were already at work, in spite ofthe “smudge” that Mountain Jim had built.
“Wish I’d put some of that black-fly dope on my hands,” mutteredHardware, “it’s great stuff.”
“Even if it does smell like cold storage eggs with the lid off,”laughed Ralph.
As he spoke he poured a liberal amount of syrup on his cakes. Withhearty appetite he cut off a big slice of the top cake and eagerly tookit into his mouth. For an instant a puzzled expression played over hisfeatures, and then he gave a yell.
“Wow! Oh!” he ejaculated, and bolted from the “table.”
“What’s up? What’s the trouble?” asked the others.
“Been bit by a snake?” asked Mountain Jim apprehensively. “Better getout your medicine chest, professor.”
Ralph was frantically gulping down several dipperfuls of water from thebucket Jimmie had brought from the creek. They watched him with somealarm, holding bits of pancake suspended on their forks.
“Oh-h-h-h!” sputtered Ralph, and then turned to Jimmie, who stoodlooking on with undisguised amazement.
“Say, you,” he gasped out, “did you put any of that fly dope on yourhands this morning?”
“Y-y-y-yes,” stammered Jimmie, a guilty flush spreading over his face,“I did and----”
“And you forgot to wash it off before you mixed the batter for thesecakes,” sputtered Ralph. “Fellows, pancakes flavored with fly dope arethe worst ever.”
“Shucks!” grunted Hardware, “and I was counting on pancakes!”
“Dancing dish rags!” growled Persimmons. “What sort of a cook are youanyhow, Jimmie? Flavored with fly dope,--wow! wow!”
Jimmie looked ready to cry, and sniffed his fingers remorsefully.
“Guess you’re right,” he admitted dolefully. “I’m sorry, fellows, but Ireckon as a cook I’m a failure.”
“I hope it isn’t poison, that’s all,” groaned Hardware, with a glanceat Ralph. “Feel any symptoms, Ralph?”
“None that can’t be stopped by plenty of coffee and a big plateful ofgrub,” laughed Ralph good-naturedly.