Chapter XVIII: The Diagram

"What's the use of being a philosopher and a thinker, Jeems," inquired Jim, after the roar of laughter had spent itself at his ludicrous remark, "if you can't invent some way to stop a mite of a pony like Mosquito?"

"There isn't any use trying to be a philosopher," said Jeems frankly, "when you are traveling with such a hair-brained gang as you fellows. A philosopher has to have time to think, and things keep happening so fast in your company, that you don't get time to breathe. If it isn't the mules running away it is Mosquito, and so it goes."

"Cheer up, Jeems," said Jo. "Just wait until we begin to cruise around the world on our yacht, then you will get lots of time to philosophize."

"Don't believe it," replied Jeems skeptically. "If it isn't pirates it will be sharks, and if it isn't them it will be octopuses."

"In your case it is more likely to be the _mal de mer_," put in Jim with his easy command of French. I believe he had one other phrase that on occasion he could use.

"I suppose that they say _de mer_ because they feel like demurring," said Jo glibly.

"_Sacre bleu_, Jo!" cried Jim, using his other phrase. "Don't be so smart."

"Can't help it," replied Jo.

"There will be a sudden and mysterious disappearance if you don't," said Jim darkly. By this time they had climbed into clear view of Jeems' cabin.

"Somebody has thrown a rock at your castle and caved the roof in, Jeems," declared Tom.

"Lucky I wasn't home," replied Jeems philosophically.

"It does look like an ancient ruin," said Jim, as they finally reached the little shelf on which the cabin was built.

The passing years had evidently done their worst, a large boulder had come down from the mountain above and crashed the roof in. The rudely built chimney had been partially destroyed, and rats and squirrels were making themselves at home. Jeems stood looking sadly at his former cabin, for Jeems had a strain of sentiment in him and he had spent three interesting and quite happy years at this spot.

"It's kind of like Rip Van Winkle returning home after his long absence, isn't it?" inquired Jo.

"Only I don't see my faithful dog," replied the shepherd, waking from his reverie.

"You must have built here for the view, Jeems," remarked Jim.

"I used to sit out here on the shelf many a summer evening," said Jeems, "and look off towards the east till it got dark. I suspect that's what helped to make me kind of dreamy; those years."

"Shouldn't wonder," said Jim.

It was a wonderful view, and it held the boys for a minute, accustomed though they were to unusual scenes. There was a vastness and freedom about it that would be hard to equal. Range after range extended to the eastward, pine-clad, with deep valleys intervening; to the south some great rocky summits, blue, impalpable, mysterious, upon the verge of the horizon. Far below over a granite chasm wheeled an eagle on darkening wings. The wonderfully clear air was full of the murmur of the pines; the tone that sings of the days of primeval mystery. Far down below the boys could see Juarez with the horses and mules.

"Hello, Juarez," cried Jim. Then in a few seconds came the answering call, clear and distinct.

"It's wonderful how far you can hear, in this country," said Jo.

"What are you fellows stopping so long to admire, scenery?" inquired Tom. "You would think that you never saw any before. Why don't you investigate the ruins and see if you can't find that plan of the 'Lost Mine.'"

"Don't get excited, Tommy," urged Jim. "Maybe you won't be elected President of 'The Lost Mine Co.' anyway."

"I'd rather be Treasurer anyhow," replied the practical Tom.

"You'll be the janitor of the company," said Jim severely, "because you have had so much experience shoveling coal on the _Sea Eagle_."

Tom's face flushed, and there was an early promise of a mixing up, when Jeems intervened.

"Come, boys, never mind about fixing up your company, I'll show you where I hid that plan about twenty years ago."

"It won't be any good now, after all that interval," declared the pessimistic Tom.

In spite of Tom's prophecy the boys went heartily to work to clear away the debris so they could get at the particular stone behind which Jeems had hidden the document.

"What shape was it?" inquired Jim.

"Something like this," replied Jeems, kicking a stone near his foot.

"Maybe that's it," said Tom.

"No, it isn't. That stone was some narrower than this." After a half hour's industrious work they finally uncovered it, and very carefully lifted it out of its place. They leaned eagerly forward while Jim swept his hand around trying to locate it.

"Hold a light so," he ordered.

"Aye, aye, sir," replied Jo. Then under the quick flare of a match, Jim eagerly gripped a piece of yellowed cardboard.

"This is her picture, boys!" he cried, with much sentiment.

"Let's see the other side," said Tom.

"It's going to be difficult to make this out," remarked Jim, after close scrutiny. He sat down upon a rock and began studying it, with the other boys looking over his shoulder.

"That crooked line must mean a creek," said Jo.

"I think it represents the top of a ridge," remarked Tom.

"This other work of art below the ridge-creek appears to me to be a pine tree with a cross on one side of it."

"You are right, Skipper," said Jeems. "I got as far as that tree, but that was my limit. I could not make any headway beyond that."

"It looks to me as if that design further down were a pathway with a mill of some kind on one side and a cabin a little further down."

"Good head, Tommy," said Jim patronizingly. "But what are those stars near the end of the line?"

"They represent a snow storm, I guess," said Jo.

"Oh, they do!" said Jim. "I suppose that is a hint it will be winter before we find anything. But what do these numbers below the stars mean? 400 -- + 1500 -- 30. Is that yards, feet, dollars, or doughnuts?"

"Isn't that a cross marked before the 1500?" asked Tom the lynx-eyed.

"I guess you are right," said Jim, "but I don't see as it helps any."

"We might as well adjourn," remarked Jo, "we have got our plan, and we can spend some time studying it out. We have had plenty of exercise for one day and we can take our time to make a good camp."

"All right," agreed Jim. "To-morrow it's all hands to try to locate the Lost Mine."

It was clear sailing now for a ways, at least so it seemed, but things are rarely what they seem, and there was a certain party of men not many miles distant whose business in that part of the country was to locate the Frontier Boys, but of this they only had a dim suspicion from the sight of the man of whom Juarez had caught a fleeting glimpse.

It did not take the boys long to cover the ground between the cabin and the place where they had left Juarez with the horses and mules. It was a little over half a mile from the shelf where the cabin stood to the group of pines where Juarez was. The upper half of the slope was covered with tall tufted grass and scattered rocks. The lower part was a long slide of sand.

"I'll beat you tenderfeet down," vaunted Jim.

"Let's get an even start and I'll show you," said Jo, who was in truth a fleet runner. "Jeems will give us the send-off, as he is the only one who has his revolver with him."

So they lined up on the level place in front of the cabin, while Juarez, who felt that there was something in the wind, came out into the open and watched the proceedings with interest. He saw that a race was about to take place and he stood prepared to catch the winner.

"Are you ready?" inquired Jeems in a shrill voice, and the three admitted that they were; then he extended his pistol over his head and fired. There was a sharp report, and away the boys leaped as though they, too, had been shot out of a gun. Down the steep slope they went over the tufted grass and rocks like bounding jack-rabbits. Jim was ten feet in the lead, then Jo, and Tom five feet behind him.

My, but it was fun! I would give a good deal to be in that race. How the boys did jump! Jim with his long legs and stride seemed to have the advantage at first, but when they struck the long sand slide Jo began to pull up on his brother. Even the scout who was watching the race from a distant tree became so interested that he lost his caution for a moment and came into view.

"I bet the little varmint beats the lanky guy," he said to himself.

It seemed so, for half way down the slide the "little varmint" had crawled up even with Jim. They were going so fast that you could not see them for the haze, and the gravel and sand flew from before their feet like spray and they leaped fifteen to twenty feet at a stride. I tell you it was exciting work. Jo drew ahead and beat Jim about three feet, it was that close, and Tom "came tumbling after."

"I get the prize," cried Jo, as soon as he could get his breath.

"It's a silver water pitcher," said Juarez, giving him a big tin cup.

"Look out, here comes Jeems on the warpath," cried Jim.

They looked up and sure enough there he came full tilt, his long hair streaming in the breeze and his lanky legs reaching out like they were endowed with the wonderful seven-league boots. Here was fun.

"He's drunk!" cried Juarez.

"He is running away!" yelled Jim.

"Whoa, Mosquito, whoa!" screamed Jo and Tom in unison.

The scout who was roosting in the tree a quarter of a mile below, became so enthused at the sight of the lanky vision striding down the mountainside that he became convulsed with laughter. Just then Jeems, who was half way down the sand slide, accompanied by the wild yells of the boys who were watching him, struck, in one of his flying steps, a partially submerged rock.

The effect was instantaneous and surprising, such was his momentum that he bounced high into the air and sprawled out like a gigantic flying squirrel for thirty feet or more before he came to earth, or rather dove to sand, and was lost in a cloud of dust. The boys rushed to pick up the remains.