CHAPTER VI
A SECOND ALARM
"It's stopped again!" remarked Bob, after possibly five minutes hadpassed, during which time the ominous rumbling, accompanied by earthtremors, had kept up, now rising to a furious stage, and then almostdying away.
Frank gave a big sigh.
"It sure has," he admitted; "and I don't wonder now, after I've heardthe racket with my own ears, that the reds for a hundred years backhave always declared the Great Manitou lived in Thunder Mountain, andevery little while let them hear his awful voice."
"Then this thing has been going on forever, has it?" asked Bob.
"The Navajos say so; though even they admit that, of late, it's got abrand new kink to the growl," Frank answered. "They believe it's sureunlucky for any brave to be caught near the mountain after dark, andespecially when Manitou scolds. You see, that accounts for the hurryof that hunting party to climb out before sunset."
"Yes," Bob went on. "And now I understand what you said about theIndians never hunting near Thunder Mountain. Perhaps they believe allthe game that hides along the slopes, and in the deep gullies, belongsto the Great Spirit, and that he'll punish any warrior bold enough totry and get a line on it. But see here, Frank, do white men--cowboys,prospectors, and the like--believe this mountain is haunted?"
"Heaps of 'em do, and that's a fact," replied the other, chuckling."I've heard some of our cowpunchers talking about it more'n a fewtimes; and you remember how old Hank took it when we told him what wehad in mind?"
"They're a superstitious lot, as a whole, I take it," Bob ventured."Now, as for me, I never could believe in ghosts and all that sort ofthing. If there ever came a time when something faced me that Icouldn't understand, I just set my teeth together and vowed I'd neverrest easy till I had found out what it meant."
"Same here, Bob; and that's why I just jumped at the chance to beat Pegout in his game. The funny part about it is why I never thought ofthis racket before. But perhaps that was because I didn't have a chumto stand back of me."
"None of the boys on the ranch would go with you, then?" asked Bob.
"I should say not! Even old Hank would balk at that, and he's neverbeen afraid of thing that flies, runs or crawls. It was old Hank whotaught me all I know about range life. He showed me how to shoot,throw a rope, and do heaps of other things a prairie boy ought to know.Hank thinks lots of me, and honest now, Bob, that gruff old fellowwould willingly lay down his life for me."
"I reckon he would," assented the other, readily enough.
"But Hank's a rank believer in the Injun story of the mountain, andwould never come here of his own accord; but to keep an eye on me, and,stand between me and danger, he'd just crawl down the crater of a livevolcano."
"Seems like the show might be over for tonight," Bob suggested.
"The row has stopped, sure enough," Frank remarked, looking up at thedimly-seen outlines of the far-away crest of the rocky elevation, whereit stood out against the starry heavens.
"You don't believe, then, that there could have been some kind of stormup there; do you?" questioned Bob.
"Well, it's sure a great puzzle," replied his chum, with a long breath."My eyes are reckoned prime, but I can't glimpse any sign of a cloudthat would bring out all that noise. A mystery it's been these manyyears; and if so be we can learn the cause for all that queer roaringthat shakes the earth, we'll be doing more'n anyone else has ever donein the past."
"That's what we're here for, if Peg gives us half a chance," remarkedBob, with the healthy assurance of youth. "And as neither of us takesany stock in the fairy story about the Manitou's anger, we ought tostand some chance of locating the thing; or 'bust the b'iler trying' asold Hank would say."
Frank had crawled out of his blanket, and stood erect.
"What's on?" asked his camp-mate, presently, noticing that he washolding up his hand, after wetting his finger, a method much in voguewhen one wished to learn the direction of the passing air currents.
"Southeast; and blowing strong a bit ago up there on the mountain, Ireckon," Frank remarked. "You notice we happen to be sheltered more orless down here, when she comes out of that same quarter?"
"Meaning the wind," Bob remarked. "Yes, you're right, Frank. But whathas that got to do with the measly old grumble of the mountain, tellme?"
"Huh! I don't know that it's going to have anything to do with it,"came the answer; "but we want to know every little point as we go on.And Bob, just remember that the wind was coming out of the Southeast;and a clear sky overhead!"
"But look here, Frank, you've heard your dad talk about this ThunderMountain business, I take it?"
"Well, now, I reckon I have, heaps of times; but then you know, heisn't much on bothering about things that don't concern him. Thinkshe's got his hands full, looking after the stock, keeping tabs on thedoings of those rascally Mexican rustlers, that have been running offbatches of cattle every little while; and fighting that big syndicateof Eastern capitalists, headed by the millionaire, Mr. Grant, Peg'sfather, that wants to throw all the Southwestern ranches into a closetrust."
"But what I wanted to remark is this: you must have heard him give anopinion about this thunder sound?" Bob persisted in saying.
"Oh! he thinks the same as several gentlemen did who came out here afew years ago on some business. They declared that once, hundreds ofyears ago, perhaps, old Thunder Mountain must have been a volcano; andthat it still grumbles now and then, as the fires away down in theearth begin to kick up some of their old monkeyshines."
"Yes, I heard one man say that," laughed Bob. "He declared thatthere's going to be the biggest rumpus some fine day, when the firesinside get to going out of bounds. Then the whole cap of the mountainwill go flying into a million pieces; and good-bye to any unluckycow-puncher caught napping near this place."
"Well," remarked Frank, as he prepared to settle down again into hissnug blanket, "I reckon we're not going to be scared away by a littlething like that growl. Unless we hit a snag, or Peg Grant and hisguides break up our game, a few days ought to see us heading back toCircle Ranch with a story calculated to make the boys sit up and takenotice; or else----"
"Just pull up right there, Frank," interrupted his chum, with a laugh."There's nothing going to happen to knock us out. If that same Pegcomes around, making a nuisance of himself, why, he's due for a nicelittle surprise, mark me. Besides that; what could there be to maketrouble?"
"Oh, I'm not bothering my head over it, Bob," declared the other, as hedropped into the nest he had made in his blanket. "But say, did youtake notice of the way our horses acted while that thing was going on?"
"Just what I did," the other replied. "They must have been tremblingall over. I could hear your Buckskin snorting to beat the band, andpawing just like he does when he's worried. Reckon they didn't knowwhat to make of it, either, seeing that there's nary a sign of a stormcloud around. But both horses have quieted down again. They think alldanger of a howler has passed away."
Frank made no reply. He was already getting ready to resume hisinterrupted nap; and Bob lost no time in following his example, bothconfident that in the alert Buckskin they had a sentry capable ofgiving ample warning should peril threaten.
Once more Frank composed himself for sleep. The many noises of thenight, which had seemed to cease while that mysterious rumbling wasgoing on in the heart of the lofty mountain, had again resumed sway.The hum of insects; the melancholy hooting of the lonely owl, in somewillow or cottonwood tree near the base of the mountain; the far-offhowl of the prairie wolf; or the more discordant voice of the skulkingcoyote--all these things were as familiar music in the ears of the boywhose cradle had been the rich black earth of the grazing country eversince he was old enough to remember anything.
They all did their share in lulling him to sleep. And, no doubt indreams, he was once more galloping across the wide prairie on the backof his mount, his nostrils filled with the life-giving air of thesage-covered level.
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Frank slept, he never knew just how long.
This time it was not the rumbling sound and the fearful vibration ofthe ground that aroused the two saddle boys; but a far different cause.
When Bob sat up he found his comrade already erect, and apparentlylistening as though keenly alive to some approaching peril.
"Buckskin's uneasy, you see," remarked Frank in a whisper; "he's pawingthe ground and snorting as he always does when he scents danger."
As he said this, Frank dropped back again, and seemed to place his earto the ground, a trick known and practiced among the Indians from thedays of the early pioneers along the Ohio down to the present time;since sound travels much better along the earth than through theair--at least, in so far as the human ear, unaided by wirelesstelegraph apparatus, is concerned.
"A bunch of horses coming out of the Northwest!" announced the prairieboy, almost immediately; "and we can't get our nags muzzled any toosoon, Bob."
Apparently the other lad had been coached as to what this meant. Hesprang to his feet, snatching up his blanket as he did so. Togetherthey were off on the jump toward the spot where their animals had beenstaked out at the end of the lariats.
Arriving at the pins which had been driven into the ground each boysought to clutch the rope that held his restlessly moving horse; andhand over hand, they moved up on the animals, the blankets thrown overtheir shoulders meanwhile.
A few low-spoken words served to partly soothe Buckskin and his blackmate; then the blankets were arranged about their heads, and secured insuch fashion that no unlucky snort or whinny might betray theirpresence to those who passed by.