Chapter XII: A Race with the Cloudburst

It was a scene of the wildest commotion, as the almost continually flashing lightning depicted. The three boys had it seared on their minds so that they would never forget the thrill of the occasion as long as they lived.

But for that rare forethought and preparedness on the part of Jerry Brime, it would have been many times worse. His arrangements for sudden flight allowed the party to make a move without wasting a single minute of precious time.

The ponies gave them some trouble, for they seemed to sense impending calamity, and were nearly frantic. But by now even the tenderfeet had learned how to manage frightened mounts; and as each one had his own cayuse to lead, once he got a firm grip on tin bridle near the bit it was not a very difficult task.

At least the lightning, coming so incessantly, proved of immense advantage to the party. Frank shuddered to think what dreadful stumbling, with resulting injuries, would have been their portion had they been compelled to make their way down the defile in utter darkness, with those flinty and jagged-edged rocks strewing their path.

So the camp was abandoned in much less time than it had taken them to arrange things. There was great need of haste, too, it soon proved.

"Oh! listen, Frank!" cried Paul, as he turned toward his chum, who managed to keep close by, ready to give a helping hand should the need arise.

"Yes, I hear it, Paul!"

"It sounds like a river broken loose!" continued the other, in an agitated voice.

"Just what it is, I reckon--a fresh river--the flood!" Frank told him.

"Faster, everybody!" called Mr. Wallace, conscious of the magnitude of their danger.

"Yep, move lively, 'case she's a-tearin' down the mountain like greased lightning!" Zander Forbes called out; lapsing into cowboy lingo, college graduate as he claimed to be.

As Jerry had to be in the van to serve as their guide, Zander had taken it upon himself to tow the pack-pony as well as his own mount. This was a tremendous responsibility under such conditions, and few punchers there were who could have managed it; but then Zander seemed to be little short of a wizard among animals.

The thunder still bellowed, while the rain fell in almost solid sheets, so that in all there was a hurricane of sound around the fleeing party. Still above this noise they could plainly distinguish that awful roar of rushing waters on the rampage, than which there can be no more terrifying sound possible.

Paul Bird had to clinch his teeth until his lips bled in order to master the deadly fear that gripped his very soul and made him feel sick. In imagination he was picturing the scene Lanky had drawn when he spoke so jokingly about "swimming down on the boiling flood to be swept out into the little valley with broken bones and life extinct."

So far as Frank could see, those grim and lofty and forbidding walls continued to hem them in on either side--utterly unscalable, and looking like the jaws of a trap that was destined to be their doom. But he felt positive that Jerry knew of some avenue of escape from the canyon, if only they were given the time required to reach the opening. Once the flood caught up with them, all would be lost.

He had never looked upon such a spectacle in all his life, but he understood that the first wave might be something like ten feet high, and making the descent of the abrupt mountainside with incredible velocity, so that it was bound to carry horses and human being off their feet when it struck them, and as the downpour still continued the chances were that the torrent would gain additional volume with every rod it rushed along.

On the fugitives pressed, making better time than could have been attained under any other conditions, for there is nothing equal to the dread of death to spur men and beasts on to herculean efforts.

Fortunately none of the ponies had thus far stumbled. Although the time lost by such an accident might be only the fraction of a minute, even such a brief delay was apt to cost them dear when the race was so close. Frank's pony seemed to lag a bit, having hit upon a section of ground that was rougher than the rest, being strewn with more loose rocks, and in this way the lad found himself the last member of the sextette.

In a flight such as this, it is usually every one for himself, since there is no time given to double-up. As Lanky would have stated it, "Every chap must look out for himself."

Jerry was calling out now at the top of his voice, and despite all the other booming sounds they could catch the drift of his words, meant solely to encourage them at this crisis.

"It's right ahead of us! We're bound to git thar all hunk! Keep a-goin' like hot cakes, fellers! I know whar I'm at, yuh kin bet yuh boots!"

He finished this rush of shouted words with his familiar old cowboy yell, as if to defy the rush of the flood and the fury of the summer storm.

If they attained their goal and managed to get out of reach of the avalanche of water, it would be by the skin of their teeth. Lanky could not have uttered a word just then, no matter how desperately he tried, for his lips felt as dry as those of a fever-stricken mule-skinner in a caravan, and his breath was coming in pants, as of a hound that had run a long race in chase of a hare.

Just when he was almost on the point of despairing and under the belief that Jerry must have miscalculated the time required to reach his escape valve from the canyon trap, Lanky heard the veteran give a joyous cry:

"Hyah she is, boys, and the kentry's saved!"

Never had such welcome words come to the ears of those fugitive treasure-seekers. It inspired them to keep up their efforts a fraction of a minute longer, though the closeness of the coming flood was enough in itself to urge them to astonishing agility.

Jerry and his mount were turning abruptly to the left. Lanky wondered how it came he had failed to notice this single break in the continuity of those cruel granite walls when they were slowly ascending the face of the mountain chain. But it was there, just the same, and a good thing for the hard-pressed outfit.

They straggled out of the canyon bed and climbed to higher ground with all the speed they could muster. There were not half a dozen seconds to spare, Lanky realized, with a shiver of horror, when he heard the sweep of the crest of the flood go rushing madly past, and even found his legs in water up to his ankles.

How thankful they must feel, and with what lighter hearts would they stick to their isle of safety until the flood went down again. Paul could not contain himself, even though his wind was scant after his recent efforts.

"Lanky, look! Oh, look! Here's Frank's pony close at my heels! But where is Frank?"

At the words all of the party came to an abrupt halt, a feeling like ice gripping every heart. The roar and sweep of the flood was not quite so frightful as before, since its crest had gone by but a new terror now seized them.

Was Frank caught in its terrifying grip?