The Pike's Peak Rush Part 9

"You didn't see any stake, did you?" queried Terry.

"What stake?"

"To mark the stage line."

"What for would dey poot any stage line where dey ain't peoples?"

demanded the German.

"All right: how'll you sell your mining tools?" asked Harry, with alert mind. "You've no use for them."

"Mebbe I dig garden. But I sell dem to you for one dollar an' half--de whole lot."

"Done!" cried Harry. "And how about those sacks?"

"Dey iss goot potato sacks. But what will you gif me for dose sacks?"

"Four bits."

"Well, I guess you take dem. You t'ink to poot potatoes in dem? Nein, nein; you iss crazy. It iss as crazy as to t'ink to poot gold in dem."

When they left the German, who had resumed the soaking of his sore feet in the general pool, they were possessed of two new picks, two new spades, a cask of sauerkraut, and the bale of sacks.

"What'll we ever do with the sacks?" inquired Terry.

Harry scratched his long nose.

"Blamed if I know, yet," he admitted. "But you never can tell."

In about an hour they pa.s.sed the place where the "Litening Express" had turned about. Now there was no trail at all, except the endless buffalo trails. Somewhere they had lost even the hoof-prints of the three hors.e.m.e.n.

They made late and solitary evening camp on the farther side of a deep creek bed, whose banks had been broken down by crossing buffalo. There was so little water that Terry had to dig a hole, in order to get a pailful for supper and breakfast. But in wandering about searching for buffalo chips in the gloaming, he shouted gladly:

"Here's a stake--a new one! It says: 'Station 11'!"

Harry limped to inspect.

"Bully!" he enthused. "We don't care where the other ten are. This shows we're on the right road. Well, Mr. Station Master, I want supper and beds for two, and a guide to the next station. What's the tariff, and what'll you trade for sauerkraut and gunny-sacks? But I wish your company'd make your stations a little bigger, for this is a powerful big country."

However, tiny as it was, the stake appealed as a human token. There were signs, also, of an old camp, near the creek; and from the stake hoof-marks led away westward, as if to the next stake.

CHAPTER V

TOUGH LUCK FOR THE LIMITED

"I suppose," reflectively drawled Harry, in the morning at breakfast, "that by the looks of things we're in for a dry march or two before we strike the creeks on the other side. Anyway, we'd better fill the water keg, sure. And I opine you're to go ahead, to keep those horse tracks, while I follow with the cart."

"Pike's Peak or Bust," responded Terry.

They started early, to push on at best speed. Duke grunted, Jenny sighed, the cart creaked, Harry whistled, Shep scouted before and on either hand, sniffing at the buffalo trails and charging the prairie dogs and little brown birds, and Terry, trudging in the advance, faithfully kept to the hoof-prints.

Perhaps the Pike's Peak pilgrims who had turned off had been wise, for the water certainly was failing. Now there were only a few shallow washes, and these were dry as a bone, showing that the top of the low prairie divide was being crossed. Still, with a full water keg, which would give several good drinks to all, and with the horse tracks to follow, and the Republican side of the divide somewhere ahead, there was no cause for worry.

Duke and Jenny stepped valiantly. Terry felt a pride in the thought that the Pike's Peak Limited was the first overland outfit on the new stage trail. He wondered if they would beat the wheel-barrow man in to the diggin's. Maybe they would! He wondered when they would sight the mountains. Tomorrow? No, scarcely tomorrow. The horizon ahead was a complete half-circle, broken by never an up-lift. In fact, 'twas hard to believe that any mountains at all lay in that direction.

At noon Harry guessed that they had covered ten miles, and he figured on covering another ten miles before evening camp. He was anxious to reach the next water. The cart was not much of a drag, and both Duke and Jenny were strong. So at the noon camp everybody had a little drink, and Duke and Jenny had a little gra.s.s, and a little doze. Shep snored. A good dog, Shep.

"It's queer how little game we've seen, except measley rabbits,"

observed Harry, that evening. "Only some antelope, and one old buffalo bull at a distance."

"And no Indians, either," added Terry.

"Well, expect the Indians are with the buffalo or else begging along the main trails," reasoned Harry. "But we'd better hobble both animals short, anyway, so they won't stray off looking for water."

The sun had set gloriously in a clear and golden west. While camp was being located in the open, the broad expanse of rolling plain quickly empurpled; and in the twilight Terry staked out Duke, by a rope and a strap around his fore-leg, and Jenny by a rope around her neck. When supper was finished, and the dishes scoured with twigs to save the water, the first stars had appeared in the sky.

Just before closing his eyes to sleep, Terry from his buffalo robe gazed up and sighed contentedly. It was a fine night.

The coyotes and the larger wolves seemed unusually busy. Their yaps and howls sounded frequently. Several times during the night Terry was conscious that Shep growled, and that Duke and Jenny were uneasy; he heard also a low rumble, as of distant thunder, but he was too sleepy to sit up and look about. When he did unclose his eyes, to blink for a moment, he saw that the stars were still vivid in the blue-black sky overhead.

This was the last thought--and next he awakened with a start, to pink dawn and Harry's ringing shout:

"Buffalo! Great Scott! Look at the buffalo!"

Harry was up, standing near the cart and gazing to the east. Up sprang Terry, too, and gazed. The rumble was distinct. A miracle had occurred between darkness and dawn--all the plain to the east was black with a living ma.s.s which had flowed upon it during the night.

Buffalo!

"I should say!" gasped Terry.

"Must be ten thousand of them," called Harry.

"Look out for Jenny and Duke!"

Jenny was snorting, as the morning breeze bore the reek of the vast herd to her nostrils. No, mules did not like buffalo. Duke's head was high, as he stared. Harry had partially dressed; now he hurried to quiet the team. Terry drew on his trousers and boots and hastened after.

The buffalo were grazing, and seemed to be drifting slowly this way. The hither fringe was not a quarter of a mile from the camp. Bulls bellowed and pawed and rolled, calves gamboled and breakfasted, and around the ma.s.s prowled great gray buffalo wolves, waiting their chances. All was wondrously clear in the first rays of the rising sun.

Harry led the restive Jenny to the wagon and tied her short.

"I think we'd better get right out of here," he announced, as he helped Terry and Shep drive the equally restive Duke in. "The coast ahead is clear. But if we wait for breakfast or anything, that herd's liable to be on top of us."

"Let's hustle, then," agreed Terry. "They're coming this way, sure. I heard 'em, in the night, but I didn't know what it was."

"Same here," confessed Harry, as they hustled to put Duke and Jenny to the cart, and pitch the camp stuff inside. "Funny where such a mob rose from. Reckon something set 'em traveling."