CHAPTER FOURTEEN – LOST IN THE BAD LANDS
The following day the guides led the way up and down the sides of mountains, sometimes the trail running beside steep cliffs that rose sheer above the tourists’ heads, and again past ravines where rushing, tumbling waters silenced all other sounds.
About noon of the third day after leaving Steamboat Springs, they reached the steepest climb of that trip. As they were nearing the top of the peak, Tally’s horse suddenly fell over on its side and kicked its heels wildly.
The guide managed to jump clear of the leather and wild kicks, but the other riders sat speechless with fear at what was going to be the result of this awful spectacle. Before any one had time to offer help, however, the horse Mr. Gilroy rode did the same. The scouts immediately started to dismount, for they feared what might happen if their animals rolled and plunged as the first two were doing.
“Are they having fits?” asked Julie, anxiously.
“No, the unusually steep climb and the altitude affects horses this way quite often,” explained Mr. Gilroy.
“I wish they’d let the rider know before they flop that way,” said Joan, “then we might jump clear of their hoofs.”
“If one had time to warn others of what was about to happen unexpectedly, very few people would have accidents,” laughed Mrs. Vernon.
In a few minutes the horses got upon their feet, shook themselves thoroughly, and then waited to proceed on the trail.
Another halfhour’s climb and they all reached the top of the peak. After leaving the timber-line, the riders found the scrub bushes grew scraggier and shorter, and finally the top of the peak was left as bare and craggy as any volcanic formation. From the top of one of these crags, Tally peered across an expanse of what looked like a rolling sea, but it was grey instead of blue-green.
When Mr. Gilroy saw this sea of sand, he quickly adjusted his glasses and gazed silently for a long time.
“Well, Tally, what do you make it out to be?” asked he.
“Him Bad Land – but I not know him in our way,” returned the guide, apologetically.
“That’s what I think about him – very bad land,” chuckled Mr. Vernon, shading his eyes with both hands and staring down at the desert.
“What does that mean, Uncle? Do we have to cross it?” asked Julie.
“Either cross it, or go back the way we climbed and try to go around it – that means several days wasted on back-trailing.”
“I can just discern the tiny thread of a trail that winds a way across that desert to the other side. We can easily follow the track and do it in one afternoon,” said Mr. Gilroy.
“You don’t think we shall be running any risks, do you?” ventured Mrs. Vernon.
“None whatever. If we were down at the base of this peak, right now, you would see how simple a thing it is to ride across the sand. The only danger in these Colorado wastes is when a storm threatens. But the sky is as clear as can be, and the day is too far spent now, for the sun to start anything going.”
“The only hazard we take in crossing the sand waste, is that darkness may overtake us before we reach the other side, and that might cause us to stray from the trail,” suggested Mr. Vernon.
“With two good guides to lead us, we take no risk on that score,” returned Mr. Gilroy.
“At least it will prove to be a novel trip – climbing mountains and riding over a desert of sand all in the same day,” said Julie, eagerly willing to try the experience.
Luncheon was hastily disposed of, and Tally led them all down the steep trail of the mountainside for several hours. Then they reached the lodgepole pine, which is the only timber that can hold out against desert storms in bad weather and in winter.
“Before we begin this desert ride, do let’s look for some water,” begged Ruth. “I’m thirsty as a sandpiper.”
“Quite appropriate, too, as long as we are going to be closely affiliated with the sand,” giggled Joan.
Tally and the two men had gone on before, and had not heard Ruth’s request, or they might have spared the scouts a great deal of unpleasantness. They had hoped to strike the trail they had seen across the desert, so they rode in different directions to locate it, and the captain and girls were left to amble slowly along until one or all of the men returned for them.
So it happened that Ruth and Joan wandered about in search of drinking-water, and shortly after they left the rest of the scouts, Mrs. Vernon heard Ruth call.
“Come here! We’ve found a lovely little spring!”
The girls quickly followed in the newly broken trail that was plainly seen, and reached the pool of water that was hidden by sagebushes and low lava-rock formation.
“I was so thirsty I just flattened myself out on the sand and filled up,” laughed Ruth, sighing with repletion.
Every one, the Captain included, drank freely of the warm water, and Julie made a remark that it tasted brackish for such an active spring.
“Maybe that is due to the sand and sun,” ventured Joan.
“While we are here, let’s give the horses a good drink,” suggested Anne.
“That’s a good idea. Then they will be fresh for the trip across the sand,” added Mrs. Vernon, starting back to get her horse and lead him to the spring.
But the horses refused to drink. They seemed thirsty enough, but every one of them backed away when the girls tried to make them bend their heads and drink.
“Why, isn’t that funny? Did you ever see them act like this before?” asked Julie.
Just then Tally’s voice was heard calling for them, and the scouts jumped back into the saddles and rode forward. When they explained about the animals refusing the water, Tally looked serious.
“Show me drink!” commanded he, hurrying his horse over to the spring where the girls had drank.
One taste of the water and he made a wry face.
“You say you tak him?” asked the guide anxiously.
“Yes, lots of it,” replied Ruth.
“Him mos’ bad as dem bad land. Dat alkali water.”
“What do you mean, Tally?” anxiously asked several girls.
“Him mak mucha ache here,” explained Tally, placing his hands over his stomach and bending low with an agonized expression.
But the damage was done and so the scouts had to make the best of the case. Consequently, it was not long before Ruth was tied into knots and hardly able to sit in the saddle. The others, according to the quantity they had taken, were griped also. This did not add anything to the pleasure of the ride across the hot dry sand. But as long as they had essayed to cross that day, they kept on going slowly, hoping that with each cramp the scouts would begin to recover from the effects of the water.
Tally and his friend had been so certain that they would reach the other side of the desert before dark, that no one felt the slightest apprehension on that score. But the slowness with which the scouts had to travel made it dubious whether the riders would gain the other side before night.
Here and there, scattered over the desert sand, were queer craggy formations of lava, as if some volcanic eruption had thrown the heaps of burnt-out lava broadcast, to rest for ages upon the sea of waste. There was a constant wind blowing across the desert, that carried the tiniest particles of sand with it, and these cut into faces and uncovered parts of the flesh of horses and riders. This stinging sand added no little to the misery of the suffering scouts.
The men and two guides felt very sorry for their companions, yet they had to keep on riding because it was necessary that they reach safety and shelter for that night. Thinking to divert their thoughts from their pain, Mr. Gilroy called attention to an unusually large crag of lava that stood up like a peak from the undulating sea of sand around it.
“Suppose you take a snapshot of that queer formation,” suggested Mr. Vernon, eager to abet his friend’s plan.
“You take it, Uncle – We have no need of pictures any more. This promises to be our last day on earth,” moaned Julie, her face drawn in pain.
They were quite near to the crag when Tally leaned forward in his saddle and held a hand to his ear in the attitude of one listening intently. Then he jumped from the horse and placed his ear flat down on the sand.
“What is it, Tally?” asked Mr. Gilroy, anxiously.
“Him blowin’ bad! Can Messer Gilloy see much wind thoo glass?” questioned the guide, hastily, pointing off to the left.
Mr. Gilroy adjusted the glasses and gazed in the direction Tally pointed. Even the suffering scouts watched his face with more anxiety than they had given to the cramps.
“I fear we are in for a sandstorm, girls. We must make for that friendly crag and cower behind its out-thrusts until the worst is over,” quickly advised Mr. Gilroy, as soon as he had satisfied himself that that was what the approaching cloud meant.
The two Indians urged their horses forward, and soon all were crouching down behind the meagre shelter offered by the ragged lava points. The horses were so placed that their bodies formed a screen for the riders, and the blankets and packs were arranged on the exposed sides of the animals to protect their skins from the stinging sand.
The sound of the wind as the storm rushed towards them, was awesome, but when the full fury of the simoon came, the sand was drifted quickly all about the horses and refugees. The wind fairly shrieked, as it tried to tear away the blankets and start a stampede of the horses, but the Indians were able to calm the poor animals’ fear.
The windstorm blew over as suddenly as it came, and the moment the going was safe, Tally led the horses from their drifts of sand and saddled them again. The riders crawled out, also, and shook themselves free of the clinging sand, then got back in their saddles, ready to ride onward.
The guides had not gone far, however, before they realized that the sandstorm had played greater havoc with the faint trail than with the riders. Such was the menace they now had to face: Night coming on apace, the scouts with cramps from alkali water, horses thirsty and sore from the beating of the simoon, and still an endless waste to cross, and no pathway to guide them.
“Oh, why did we ever come this way?” wailed Mrs. Vernon.
“We mos’ over him,” soothed Tally.
“Why, we’ve been riding for hours, and still there is nothing but sand to be seen,” complained Julie.
“All same, us fin’ end pooty soon,” returned Omney.
They rode on without much conversation after that, as no one felt cheerful enough to talk. The sun had set beyond the rolling sea of sand, and yet no welcome sight of trees or dwellings could be seen before them. Nothing but sand, sand, sand!
After the sun had completely disappeared, a chill crept into the air and in ten minutes time every one was shivering with cold. Tally spoke in undertones to Mr. Gilroy, and he in turn said to his companions, “Let every one get the guide-rope out and tie it to the saddle in front of you.”
“Why,” called Joan.
“Anything left in Pandora’s box for us poor creatures?” asked Julie sorrowfully.
“Tally thinks one of us might stray, if the darkness overtakes us as suddenly as it falls on these deserts sometimes,” said Mr. Gilroy.
Before every one was hitched securely to the horse in front, so that a long line of riders traveled in file, a soughing wind could be heard coming from the north.
“Now, what can that be? More trouble?” demanded Mrs. Vernon.
“We hope not, but Tally says that quite often, after a hot sandstorm, it returns with sleet and hail; so we’d better be ready in case this chill portends such a comeback,” explained Mr. Gilroy.
“What a fate! To drink poison, then fight a simoon, and at last to die in a desert blizzard!” cried Julie frantically trying to sit upright and defy the fates.
“Such is Rocky Mountain weather,” Mr. Gilroy laughed gaily, as if he must inspire his friends with his bravado.
The oncoming blizzard had darkened the sky even before its time, but Tally kept bravely on, encouraging the horses with
coos
and Indian words, until even the riders felt the spirit he manifested and felt braver to face what was impending.
Just before the sleet began to drive into their faces enough to blind them and shut out everything not two feet ahead, Mr. Gilroy shouted out cheerfully, “Ha! I see a light twinkling out ahead! We’ve reached a house, anyway!”
“Where? where?” asked a chorus of voices.
Then most of them discerned the faint little beacon, and urged their weary horses to renewed effort, and the animals seemed to understand that their work was almost done for that day, and actually moved faster.
But the blizzard struck before they could reach the refuge, coating everything with ice and cutting deep into tender hands and faces. The horses were soon stiff with the cold, and it took all of the riders’ energy, even so close to a promising haven, to keep the beasts moving.
Finally Tally shouted wildly, “Light ahead! Light here!”
And at the same time his horse stumbled down a steep grade into a rushing little brook. Omney saw the danger before his horse reached the bank, and warned all the others behind him. They crossed the water safely, and after scrambling up the steep bank on the other side, they found themselves in a barnyard.
They made such a noise at this discovery, that a man hurried from one of the low, long buildings with a lantern.
“Oh, welcome sight!” sighed Mrs. Vernon, ready to faint with joy and relief.
During a momentary lull in the wind and sleet, they all rode up to the long, low ranch house, and shouted to the owners to help them. Soon every one was thawing before a roaring fire; and the poor horses were in the stable, enjoying food and rest.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN – BACK-TRAILING TO DENVER
The ill effects of the alkali water passed off in a few hours, and the scouts felt able to continue the ride in the morning. The sun was shining so brightly that no one would have dared say there had been a fearful storm the night before. As they all sat about the rough table for breakfast, the host explained to Mr. Gilroy how the guides missed the right trail on the mountains, and he sketched for them a rude map to help them find the point where the Medicine Bow Mountains and Frontal Range met in the Continental Divide.
When the horses were brought to the door, and all were ready to start on the ride again, Mr. Vernon insisted upon the good mountain rancher taking a gift for his hospitality, although the latter demurred for sometime before he was prevailed upon to take the recompense.
That day Tally led his party along the well-defined trail he had missed the day before, and by sundown they were nearing the wonderful altitude and mountaintops of the Frontal Range.
At night they camped in one of the wildest spots of the mountains, where the extensive view was as imposing as any to be found in Colorado. Tally had, with true Indian instinct, found a small lake of purest cold water, where they could pitch camp. A wild animal trail circuited this lake, and while the guides prepared the supper, the Captain suggested a ride around the sheet of clear water.
The scene was splendidly wild, and isolation hung like a curtain over everything down below in the valley, that was seen through the forest trees whenever the scouts climbed a prominence. Mystic sounds chirruped at them as they rode slowly along the narrow path, lending enchantment to the beauty of the place.
The fast-fading rays of purple and rose that sped in the wake of the setting sun, cast ever-changing gleams of color across the placid lake. As the twilight advanced, the silence of the forest was felt, and only now and then came a wildwood sound to startle the scouts.
As they followed the trail that skirted the lake, they came to a rippling stream that had to be forded. Just as Julie, always in advance, guided her horse down the steep bank, a crackling of dry twigs on the other side caused the horse to stop suddenly.
“O girls! Look! Look!” whispered Julie, tensely.
There stood a fawn as if cut from stone, with ears erect and nose sniffing at the strange creatures seen so near at hand. Even as the scouts gazed admiringly, the graceful thing flaunted its short tail and, with the stamping of a hoof to protest against this interruption of her drink, disappeared, without a sound of its going.
They crossed the stream and were keeping on the trail that ran along the shore, when from overhead, a loon shrilled a warning to its mate across the lake that there was a strange horde of life passing under her tree! But the male loon sent back his wild laughter at such unbased fears of his wife’s. All these incidents impressed the scouts with a sense of their being one with the wild creatures, and they regretted the fact that they were nearing camp again.
At the point where Tally had made the night camp, the reeds and grasses hugged the shore of the lake, and now a faint mist upcurled from the water like a transparent veil. Gradually this veil spread inland and quietly enveloped all things on shore. The bright fire dispelled the mist about the camp, and as the hungry scouts sniffed the odors of a good supper, the beauties of Nature were temporarily forgotten.
While the scouts were adventuring around the lake, Mr. Gilroy and Mr. Vernon had cut hemlock bows for bedding, so that all was ready for the night before supper was served. After enjoying Tally’s cooking to the utmost, the scouts sat down to listen to the various wild adventures of Omney and Talley. But one after another, they dozed before long, and Mr. Gilroy suggested they all retire for the night.
Talley knew not how long he had been sleeping when he was unaccountably aroused as if by a strange noise in camp. He sat up and listened, but all seemed quiet, so he soon was dozing again. The snapping of a twig, some distance away, however, made him open his eyes drowsily and wonder sleepily if the horses were securely hobbled.
He was too tired to keep awake long enough to get up and go in search of the animals. The thought of it, however, before he fell sound asleep caused him to dream fitfully all night.
He awoke very early and got up to reassure himself that all was well in camp. He could see no sign of any horse or mule, so he shook Omney, and the two ran in search of the strayed animals.
When the rest of the touring party woke up to find the sun shining into their eyes, no sign of guides or horses was seen. Mr. Gilroy began to prepare breakfast, and Mr. Vernon was sent to fish. The girls were each detailed on some work, and by the time the meal was ready, sounds of hoofs were heard along the trail.
“Dat Jolt, he makka all horse go way down trail. Omney an’ me fin’ dem miles down,” explained Tally, with a vindictive look at the mule. As if he fully understood the Indian, Jolt sent back an answering gleam from his wicked eyes and kicked up his hind legs in derision.
Mr. Vernon had caught more than enough fish in the overstocked lake, and when the fried mush, bacon, and fresh fish, bread, and fragrant coffee were served, the appetites displayed were such as would drive a New York boarding-house keeper distracted.
That day the scouts rode in forests where stately aromatic pines sheltered countless wild creatures, that peered from their cloistered haunts with wonderment at the strangers. Birds of every description sang from low-swinging branches, and lesser notes from unseen insects in the bushes and grass added music to this orchestra that rendered the grandest symphony ever heard.
That evening while seated about the camp supper, Julie said, “There’s one animal I’ve wanted to see in his natural haunts in the Rockies, and not one have we been able to glimpse.”
“What’s that?” asked Mr. Gilroy.
“The famous American buffalo of the plains,” returned she.
“Ah, it is the Captain’s fault that you girls were not able to see the bison at home,” retorted Mr. Gilroy. “Had she consented to your going with me to Yellowstone Park, you could have watched the animals grazing and wandering over their own fields.”
“Well, the buffalo will still be there next year, but the scouts cannot lose a month of school this fall just to go and watch the animals in Wyoming,” said Mrs. Vernon.
“Of course, your word is law to us all, but it does seem a pity, as I said before, that being so near the geysers, we should not take advantage of it,” remarked Mr. Gilroy.
The scouts expressed in their faces that they thought on this matter exactly as Mr. Gilroy did, but the Captain said, “If you continue to preach your mutinous ideas to my girls, I’ll leave you out of my plans next summer when we take a trip.”
“Wough! That threat will keep me quiet for all time!” laughed Mr. Gilroy, clapping a hand over his mouth to show his instant obedience.
Every one laughed, but Tally now joined the circle and asked for orders for the next day’s ride. After talking over various trails and plans, they got up and prepared to retire for the night.
“Did any one hang up the saddles to-night?” asked Mr. Vernon, before he turned in to sleep.
“Tally, did you look after the leather?” asked Mr. Gilroy.
Tally turned to Omney, “Did him fix harness?”
“Me do it, all light,” returned Omney, then he shuffled out of the circle of light cast by the fire and they heard him fumbling with heavy saddles and other trappings.
The glorious break of day in the mountains awoke every one, and soon the breakfast was under way. While the guides cooked, Mr. Vernon went for the horses. Mr. Gilroy decided to save time by taking down the harness from the trees where it was usually hung.
“Great Scout!” called he, summoning the Indians to the spot.
“What’s the matter?” asked the scouts, anxiously running after the two guides.
“A rascally porcupine has been at our leather last night!” declared Mr. Gilroy, angrily showing the ravages made on the harnesses.
Tally glared at Omney, “Why for you do dat? Don’ you know dem bad rats eat all up?”
Omney said nothing, but looked very penitent. Mr. Gilroy sighed as he began an inventory of the damage.
“Two sets of reins chawed to pieces; a throat latchet gone; three saddles with holes eaten through them, and two bridles cut to bits, all because of a little carelessness!”
“I fixa dem allight!” exclaimed Omney, eagerly.
“But that means a morning lost while you make repairs,” replied Mrs. Vernon.
Then Omney stiffened his spine and lifted his head in a majestic fury at the porcupines. He glowered down the trail and shook his clenched fist vengefully at the imaginary depredator, saying in hissing voice, “Him one bad darn beas’!”
Every one laughed at his suppressed fury, and the tame exclamation he had just used, but the poor guide felt better again.
The harnesses were finally mended with rope and bits of wire from Tally’s outfit kit, and by noon everything was in readiness for continuing the trip.
Toward the end of August, the tourists reached Estes Park again, and