Chapter XVI: An Exciting Charge

It was indeed a beautiful morning, with the sun shining with a clarity that is characteristic only of the higher altitudes. There was quite a procession coming up the steep mountain trail. As yet they could not be made out distinctly, as they were so far down the mountain side. Then they were lost to view in one of the folds of the slope.

"I wonder whom those tenderfeet are?" The voice came from a man who was crouching behind a granite boulder. He had been watching the approaching party intently for some time. "One thing, sartain," the voice continued, "them fellars will find trouble if they keep traveling in this neck of the woods."

The speaker was not a prepossessing-looking party. He was of squat figure, very strongly built. His face and neck burned to a brick red. His shirt of a nondescript color was open at the neck, exposing a hairy throat. A rifle was gripped firmly in one powerful paw, and there was a knife and pistol in his belt.

He was an ugly-looking customer, and it was evident that his mission was not a peaceful one. Once more he took a look down the trail. The approaching party was much nearer now and he could count the individuals.

"Five!" he exclaimed. "Looks like they might give the boys trouble. That fellar in front has sartain got a fine horse."

Already the voices of the five came clearly to his ears, and it would not be long before they would top the ridge, and the scout, for such he was, would be discovered.

"It's time for me to scat!" he exclaimed.

And he did, taking long swinging strides that soon took him out of sight of the ridge, into a belt of pines. Here the stranger stopped again and watched for the tenderfoot party to put in an appearance. He did not have long to wait, for there came the strong clear sound of voices, and then he saw a gallant figure on a gray horse ride into full view. This young fellow was dressed in blue, with a flannel shirt of the same color, and a gray sombrero, which was pushed back from his sunburnt forehead.

A perfectly polished rifle was hung across his back, and there was a revolver in the holster at his hip. The young fellow rode his splendid animal with an ease and mastery that showed long experience. Behind the leader rode a shorter lad, but very stockily built, and of extremely dark complexion, with heavy black hair, cut square across.

"That chap must be an Injun," remarked the watcher in the pines.

But the reader who is more intelligent and better informed, knows otherwise, for he is acquainted with these riders and has been in their company before, and it is not necessary to pass the entire procession in review. The Frontier Boys were all there, and Jeems Howell likewise. The man in the pines was deeply interested in these mounted men, viewing them from his position back of a big pine, in front of which was a screen of brush.

He saw that they were well mounted and armed, nor did they appear entirely like tenderfeet either. There was something in the way they rode and their general air that showed that they could take care of themselves. Once or twice he partially raised his rifle as though about to fire at the leader, but he evidently thought better of it, and contented himself with a mere reconnoissance.

The Frontier Boys were unmindful that they were watched, but they were not careless. Juarez, especially, seemed on the alert, and even suspicious. He kept looking around and once he came to a halt. Swinging off his roan, he began to examine the ground.

"Scent something, comrade?" inquired Jim gravely.

"Something wrong around here," he said.

"Panther, painter, or mountain lion?" inquired Tom.

"Look out, he will bite you," volunteered Jo.

Shaking his head, Juarez mounted his horse and took his place in line, and the procession started again, but always the red-faced, red-necked scout kept them in view for his own purposes. He did not have much trouble to keep up, for the boys did not hurry their horses. They had had a hard pull for several hours that morning, and Jim decided it was best to let them take it easy, as there still was plenty of hard work ahead.

"How soon will we reach your ancient castle, Jeems?" inquired Jim.

"In time for dinner, boss, I reckon," replied Jeems.

"Dinner be ready for us?" inquired Tom hungrily.

"Well, as I haven't seen my ancestral walls for nigh on to twenty years," replied Jeems, "I'm much afeard that the dinner is petrified by this time."

"We don't mind that," laughed Jo. "Haven't we eaten grub in Mexican restaurants and along the border? Nothing is too tough for us."

"That's so," agreed the chorus.

"This country begins to look very familiar," soliloquized Jeems. "Here's a rock I've sat on many a time to rest coming home from a hunt, and down there are the three pines struck by lightning, on the Fourth of July, too----"

"Go on with you," jeered Tom, "don't give us any tall yarn like that."

"Halt! there he goes!" cried Juarez, bringing his rifle to his shoulder and aiming it at a fleeting shadow among the pines down the mountain slope. He did not fire, however, and without a minute's hesitation the boys turned their horses down the steep mountain slope towards the woods where the man had been detected by Juarez's observant eye.

Away they went full tilt, and to an outsider it seemed certain that some one was sure to get his neck broken. Jo's horse did stumble, plowing its nose into the gravel, and sending Jo forward about a dozen feet, landing on shoulder and neck. Pretty well shaken up, he was too, but not injured.

Tom came near getting mixed up in the melee, for he was just back of Jo, but missed him more by good luck than good management. There was no attempt on the part of any of the boys to stop to pick up Jo or to see how badly hurt he was. They presumed that if injured he would say something about it. So on went the gallant 400, their steeds leaping rocks and fallen trees, crashing through brush with powerful recklessness.

A haze of dust soon hung above the cavalry charge, which was destined to come to an end when the line of pine trees was reached. But it seemed that Jim's Caliente was not going to halt for the solid pines even, for he charged full speed ahead, with all his fighting blood aroused.

"Ahoy there, Jim!" yelled Tom, "better anchor your yacht."

But James could not head him, pull as hard as he would, and he ducked his head low under a branch which threatened to brain him, scraped between two tall and massive pines, and finally brought his panting horse to a full stop in a dense clump of brush.

But Jeems Howell seemed to be having the most interesting, if not the pleasantest, time of all. He was not a natural centaur anyway. He had tried his best to keep his little rat of a bay from joining in the chase, but without success. With his long legs stuck out in front and his eyes wide open with astonishment, he was pulling with all his might, but with no effect.

It was a comical sight, the long-legged man yelling "Whoa!" "Whoa!" and the little pony scampering at top speed down the steep and sunny slope with the dust flying back at a great rate. Then of a sudden, the pony leaped right from under the long-shanked Jeems and he sat down upon the warm gravel, while the animal went on into the woods. As for the man, he made his escape into a neighboring gulch where he hid himself under a ledge, and was safe enough.

That one movement which he had noted of Juarez's rifle when aimed at him, was sufficient to give him an idea of the mettle of the Frontier Boys. He was determined, however, not to get out of that section until he had seen these travelers properly located, so he waited.

Meanwhile, the boys had got together, in a general council with only one absentee, viz: Jeems Howell, who was seated contentedly, if somewhat dazed, upon the mountain side. Then his absence was noted by the other boys.

"Where is Jeems?" inquired Jo, who had recovered his horse and his equilibrium likewise.

They looked around anxiously. "There's his pony over there," said Juarez, "having a good time grazing."

"I suspect we will find Jeems grazing somewhere back here on the mountain," said Jim. "Jo, you go look for him, if you think you won't fall off, too."

With a grunt Jo turned his horse at right angles, and went back up the mountain slope. He soon came upon Jeems seated placidly upon the ground apparently enjoying the view.

"Lost something, Jeems?" he inquired.

"Yes, my pony," he replied.

"He is grazing down below," said Jo. "Why don't you get up?"

"I'm grazing here," replied Jeems.

"Gazing, I guess," grinned Jo.

"Is it morning yet?" inquired Jeems.

"It will be night before you get up, if you don't hustle," warned Jo. "Better go and get your horse and join the family council."

"There shall be no vacant chair, I'll be there," and Jeems rose by sections.