CHAPTER XX
THE DOGS TREE A CAT
Walter and Chunky finally made out Tad, tattered and torn, but ridinghis pony proudly, approaching the camp. It was a warm welcome that thetwo boys extended to the returning horsemen, after they had finallydismounted and staked down their ponies. The plucky lad was kept busyfor some time telling them of his thrilling experience on the wildride of the night before.
"And now, I guess we had better lay up for the day," decided theguide. "You must be pretty well tired out after your little trip. Therest of us didn't get much sleep last night, either."
"No," protested Tad. "I never was more fit in my life. I am crazy tostart on our hunting trip."
"So are we," shouted the boys in chorus.
"All right, then. Pack up while Tad is getting something to eat. Hemust have a large-sized appetite by this time," smiled Lige Thomas.
"If I had a chunk of that bear meat that we got the other day, I'dshow you what sort of an appetite I have," laughed Tad. "There'ssomething about this mountain air that would lead a man to sell hisblouse for a square meal. Where's my rifle?"
"Over there by your bunk," answered Walter. "You go ahead andeat. We'll pack the pony for you while you are breakfasting."
Tad did so, and an hour later the Pony Riders were once more in thesaddle.
"I think I'll put the dogs on the trail of the fellow that upset ourplans so thoroughly last night," decided Lige. "He probably is a longway from here by this time, but it will be a good trail to warm thehounds up on."
Bidding the boys draw down the valley half a mile or so, where he saidhe would join them, Lige went in the opposite direction, and, pickinghis way along a ledge, sent the dogs on ahead of him. The hounds soonscented the trail, though on the bare rocks they had considerabledifficulty in picking it up.
After watching them for a few moments, Lige urged them out into thebrush, where he thought the scent might be more marked. His judgmentwas verified when, a moment later, a yelp from Mustard told him thefaithful animal had picked up the trail at last.
Turning back, the guide hastened to the foot of the mountain, whencehe galloped down the valley to join the boys, who, having heard thedeep baying of the hounds, were restless to be off.
"What are they doing?" called Walter, observing Lige approaching.
"They're after the cougar. Set your horses at a gallop."
The Pony Riders needed no urging, for they were keen for theexcitement of the chase. The hounds, by this time, had obtained quitea lead on them, though the boys still could hear their hoarse voices.
"They are following the ridge yet," decided Lige. "The fellow ought tocross over pretty soon. I think if we will turn to the left, here, andclimb the mountain, we may be able to save some distance. But don'tspeak to the dogs if they pass anywhere near you. It might throw themoff the scent."
Half an hour after they had turned off, they were rewarded by seeingthe dogs racing down the opposite hill, in great leaps and bounds,crossing the valley a short quarter of a mile ahead of the party.
The ponies, which had been walking since they turned off, were nowsent forward at a slow gallop again, soon falling in close behind thehounds.
"They've got him!" cried Lige.
"Got who?" asked Chunky.
"I don't know. The cougar, I presume. Don't you hear them?"
"I hear the dogs barking, that's all," replied Ned.
"And I hear more than that," said the guide, with a peculiarsmile. "Don't you distinguish a difference in the tone of one of thedogs' bark?"
"No, I don't," snapped Chunky. "All barks sound alike to me."
"Mustard is baying 'treed,'" said the guide. "Hurry, if you want to bein at the death. If you don't the dogs either will kill him or getkilled before we can reach them."
Putting spurs to their mounts, the hunters set off at a liveliergallop, and soon the deep tones of the hounds began to growlouder. Now, too, the boys were able to catch a new note--a notealmost of triumph, it seemed to them, in the dogs' hoarse baying.
"Stick to your ponies. Don't leave them. If it's a cougar, he isliable to stampede them again. And don't any of you shoot until I giveyou the word."
"There he is!" cried Tad, pointing to a low-spreading pinyon tree. "Ican see him moving around in the top there. May I take a shot at him,Mr. Thomas?"
"No; do you want to kill the dogs?"
"The dogs?"
"Certainly. That is one of the dogs up there. Probably Mustard," saidthe guide.
"What's that? Dogs climb trees?" demanded Chunky, laughinguproariously.
"Keep still! Do you want to spoil our fun?" growled Ned.
"The idea! Dogs climb trees!" And Chunky Brown went off into aparoxysm of silent mirth, his rotund body convulsed with merriment.
"Mustard can climb a tree as well as you can, if not better," answeredLige sharply. "Use your eyes, and you will see for yourself. That isone of the dogs that you see in the tree there--not a cougar. Ah!There goes the other one!" he cried, pointing with his rifle.
And, sure enough, it was.
"It's Ginger!" exclaimed Walter in amazement.
The hound was creeping cautiously up the sloping trunk of thespreading tree, following in the wake of his companion, whose presencein the tree was indicated only by the movement of the slender limbswhich he fastened upon to keep from losing his balance.
"What are they after?" asked Ned. "Perhaps a cougar. I can't tell,yet," replied the guide, keeping his eye fixed on the tree.
A yelp of pain and anger followed close upon his words, and a darkobject came plunging from the tree.
"There goes one of the dogs!" shouted Lige. "That's too bad."
The hound had approached too close to the animal in the tree, and amighty paw had smitten it fairly on the nose, hurling it violently tothe ground.
Mustard, nothing daunted, scrambled to his feet with an angry roar,the blood trickling from his injured nose, and pluckily began digginghis claws into the bark of the pinyon tree, up which he slowly pulledhimself again.
"Well, if that doesn't beat all!" marveled Chunky. "He is climbingthat tree!"
"He surely is," agreed Walter, his eyes fairly bulging with surpriseat the unusual spectacle. "And there's the other one away up in thetop there. Why doesn't he fall off?"
"He prefers to remain up a tree, I imagine," laughed Ned Rector,without withdrawing his gaze from the unusual exhibition.
A squall of rage from the tree top caused the boys to draw their reinstighter, the ponies champing at their bits and pawing restlessly. Theugly sound thrilled the lads through and through. The deep, menacinggrowl of the dog that was crawling up the sloping trunk voiced hisanxiety to take part in the desperate battle that was being wagedabove them.
"Ginger's got hold of him!" shouted the guide.
"Got hold of who?" demanded Chunky.
"You'll see in a minute," growled Ned.
"Look out! There he comes!" came the warning voice of the guide."Back, out of the way!"
From the dense foliage, as if suddenly projected from a great bow,leaped the curving body of the animal that the dogs had been harassing.
With a snarl of rage it landed lightly, almost at the feet of theassembled Pony Riders.
Stacy chanced to be nearest to the spot where the beast struck theground. As it did so, his pony rose suddenly into the air. The boy, sointently watching the battle, had carelessly allowed his reins to dropfrom his hand to the neck of his mount.
"I'm going to fall off!" yelled Stacy, grabbing frantically for thepommel of his saddle.
He missed the pommel and slipped from the leather. Striking the smoothback of the horse, he tobogganed down and over the pony's rump in aflash, sitting down on the ground with a suddenness that caused him toutter a loud "Ouch!"
"He-help!" gasped the boy.
Before the snorting pony's fore feet had touched the earth. Tadmade a grab for the bit, and was je
rked from his own pony as aresult. But still he clung doggedly to his own bridle rein with onehand, hanging to the other plunging animal with the other.
The others of the party were having all they could do to manage theirown horses, and hence were unable to offer Tad any assistance at thatmoment. So mixed in the melee of flying hoofs and plunging bodies wasTad Butler, that for a few seconds the onlookers were quite unable totell which was pony and which was boy.
Yet the lad was amply able to fight his own battles, and he was doingso with a grim determination that knew not failure. The ponies alreadywere lessening their frantic efforts to get away.
"It's a bob-cat!" shouted Lige, as soon as he had succeeded inswinging his horse about so he could get a good view of the animal,which was now bounding away.
Throwing his rifle to his shoulder, the guide took a snap shot at thefleeing cat, which now was no more than an undulating blackstreak. His bullet kicked up a little cloud of dirt just behind thebob-cat, which served only to hasten its pace. A moment more and thelittle animal had plunged head first into a depression in the groundand quickly crawled into a hole, probably its home.
"Too bad," groaned Ned Rector. "Now, we've lost him."
"Never mind," soothed Lige. "There are more of them in themountains. Besides, it's a good experience for you, before we tacklebigger game. We'll see if we can't bag a cat before the day is over."
Chunky pulled himself up ruefully, rubbing his body and pinchinghimself to make sure that no serious damage had been done. Satisfyinghimself on this point, he straightened up, gazing from one to theother of his companions pityingly.
"You fellows make me weary," he growled.
"The whole bunch of you can't do with guns what I did with a littlestick. Gimme my pony."
"It occurs to me," retorted Tad, after having subdued the ponies,"that you weren't doing much of anything, either. If I remembercorrectly, you were sitting on the ground during most of thecircus."