Buffalo Roost Part 17

Later in the afternoon there was a great commotion a little distance up the trail, and Mr. Allen hastened to investigate the shouting and sounds of chopping. To his great disgust he found Sleepy dealing heavy blows to an old pine tree with an ax while the perspiration was running down his face. He was prancing about in great excitement.

"What on earth?" questioned Mr. Allen.

"I'm trying to get a squirrel. I saw him up in this tree just a moment ago," cried Sleepy.

"Is that all you can find to do to use up your energy?" asked Mr. Allen dryly. Sleepy looked at him sheepishly, then hung his head and slowly returned to the cabin, brought a pail of water from the stream, then crawled up into the bunk, out of sight.

By the time things were straightened around in the cabin so that the mason could build the fireplace it was time to be starting home, but every one was too tired from the day's work. They decided they would rest in the cool shade for an hour before beginning the tramp down. It would then be twilight.

Willis took this occasion to do a little exploring on his own account. He had worked faithfully all day and was very tired, but he did so want to find his father's mine before he went home this time. He slipped away un.o.bserved and took the lower trail, which followed up to the remains of the second bridge, then climbed to the tumbled-down cabin they had found the first day. Here he took the trail that led far up into the timber.

Finally he saw far up above him what appeared to be an old mine dump.

Quickly he clambered up over rocks and rotting logs toward it, and in a few moments he stood on the dump itself, which was of hard black stone, with the exception of just a little quartz. He was sure it was the same kind of stone he had seen on the old mantle at his grandfather's.

The quartz was apparently the last stone dumped.

At one side stood an old mine shaft, perhaps fifty feet deep, with an ancient hand-made windla.s.s still at the top. Then just to one side and entering the mountain was a great log door, put together with bolts. The lock was a strong powder-house lock, made of heavy bra.s.s. The place gave no appearance of having seen a man in many years. The hinges and hasp on the great door were heavily corroded, and an old metal wheelbarrow lay on the dump, rusted red. A tin sign fastened to a tree at the side of the tunnel had become a target for expert gunners. Willis tried the door, but could not force it a particle. Turning, he stood looking off into the canyon toward Cheyenne. "So this is the spot," he mused; "and it has never been touched in these ten years. Poor old daddy, poor old daddy!"

He leaned heavily against the log door, and his thoughts came thick and fast, only to conclude, as they always did, with, "Where is Tad Kieser and why does my uncle try to keep me away from this spot?"

He was standing where his father had stood many times, and the boy seemed to be very conscious of his presence just then. He wondered if, perhaps, there had not been something of just love for the place itself, as well as for the gold, which had drawn his father there so irresistibly. Such a spot for a long, quiet visit with one's self! Below him the stream and the little cabin; to one side, and a little farther up, the beautiful falls, with Cookstove in the background; to the other side the park, all resplendent in yellow leaves, with here and there a tall pine standing like a green island in a sea of gently-moving gold. Far away over the ridge was the blue outline of Cheyenne with its stage road creeping round the base. He sat down to rest and to think. He was suddenly awakened from his dream by seeing Mr. Allen closing and locking the cabin door below him. He rose and hastened down the trail. In a few moments he had joined the party, but he kept silent about where he had been and what he had seen.

"You'll have to let me in the cabin a moment, Mr. Allen," he called; "I left my coat up in the bunk--I forgot it." The door was unlocked and Willis entered, hastily climbing the little ladder up the side of the wall to the bunk. It was dark in the cabin, for the sun had set. As he stepped into the bunk he touched something, then jumped back with an exclamation. Sleepy raised up on his elbow and looked about him. In a terror-stricken voice he called out, "Who are you?" Willis laughed so heartily that the fellows came hurrying into the cabin to see what occasioned it. Then followed a great deal of fun at Sleepy's expense.

Sleepy only hung his head and tried to act as if his feelings had been badly hurt.

"Dirty trick, after a fellow's worked hard all day, to go and lock him in and start for home without him. I'd have starved in there, I suppose," he said gloomily, "and no one would have cared."

"I suppose you would," laughed Ham, "for you would be too lazy to cook you a meal after you found the food. We'll have to keep guard all the way home on Sleepy, fellows, or he'll fall into some ravine and go to sleep.

He worked so hard to-day, poor boy. I never did believe in this child labor business, anyway."

The fellows took turn about riding the donkeys home, and a unique experience it was, for pack saddles are not the most comfortable seats in the world, especially for a tired boy. Ham gave practical demonstration until the others caught on, then he walked. They were all too tired to chat much, so just jogged along homeward, happy that another day's work was done on the cabin.

"A few more like this trip and we will be ready to entertain," called Mr.

Dean.

CHAPTER XIII

Sleepy Smith has an Experience

Two weeks later another trip was made to the now-beloved cabin, but the party was small and, because of the lack of leadership, the amount of constructive work done was not great. Enough logs were cut and dragged in to complete the addition, a new layer of fragrant boughs added to the aerial bunk, and the dam improved and strengthened. The rest of the day was spent in hunting squirrels and chipmunks and in investigating the immense valley above St. Mary's Falls. School was keeping the fellows very busy, and because the fall social life had begun the young men found spare time very scarce. The autumn activities in the Boys' Department were also in full swing, demanding their share of time and attention. The standing committee for the coming circus were already appointed, and were scratching their heads for new and novel stunts.

The O.F.F. were to present the afterconcert, and Fat was busy on the program. The fall gymnasium was being entered into with great zest, and already there had been a call for basket ball. The Bible study groups were getting together for the winter, the new Cabinet had been elected, so that, someway, there was not a great deal of time left for the cabin.

Mr. Allen and a few picked fellows had made a trip the week before, primarily to take up a supply of food for the mason and his helper, and had gotten the entire frame of the addition up, ready to roof and shingle.

The next week another small group went up to roof the addition and close it in so as to keep out the snow, if, perchance, it might come before they were able to finish the improvements. They found the fireplace completed, crude but artistic, of jagged boulders with an immense cement hearth. The iron crane had been built in, and now hung lazily in the big fire-box.

Next came the cutting of the aspen poles for the floor of the addition.

They had hoped to get at least one layer of boughs on the great bed so that the next time a larger crowd could be accommodated, but the long autumn shadows warned them that twilight was approaching long before they started it, so consequently they had to go back without seeing that task accomplished. The curtains had been put on the windows, white oilcloth had been tacked on the board tables, and a mirror, if you please, was hung over the tin wash basin just inside the door. Hooks made of crooked branches were fastened upon the logs on which to hang coats and haversacks. The place had really undergone a genuine transformation.

"Well," said Ham, as he took a long drink from the bucket of fresh water that stood on the kitchen table, "that's the best water that ever flowed down a mountain side. There's life and health in every shining drop of it. To tell you the real truth, fellows, I'm beginning to feel mightily at home here in this little shack. Shack! that doesn't sound right, though, does it? What are we going to call this place, anyway, Mr. Allen?

Y.M.C.A. Cabin is no good. It sounds too civilized. Now, does that old fireplace look civilized? And that iron crane, and those twisted rustic seats in the corner, and that bed out there big enough to accommodate twenty fellows? It reminds me of a home the old Vikings must have had long ago, way up in the great pine woods of Northern Europe. Someway, it has a look of health and strength about it that I like. Don't you see the smile on that old fire-box? Can't you hear the happy peasant children gathered there on that hearth singing their woodland songs and drinking their mugs of warm soup? Then, over yonder, all stretched out, his head to the fire, lies a great, gaunt dog, tired from the chase. Then the tap, tap on the wooden floor of the old woman's cane as she hobbles about the cabin. Can't you smell the bear haunch that's roasting there on that long spit before the fire? Don't you hear the merry music of the ax, just outside the door, as brawny arms swing it, cutting the great backlog for the long night? Civilized? Yes, in a way, but not in our way, is it? But what are we going to call this cabin?"

Willis had slipped out a few minutes before and had wandered up the canyon to the last point from which the cabin could be seen. There he stopped and turned to survey the valley. The air was clear and cool and was completely filled with the fragrant murmuring of the pines. Far down in a vista of shifting lights and shadows stood the cabin.

The next week brought the first signs of the approaching winter. The warm fall rains gave way to cold showers. The leaves fell in countless millions, and the voices of the feathered folk seemed to have blown away with the autumn leaves. Heavy white mists hung over the mountains, lifting occasionally to show curious eyes that the lofty summits were already being painted white. The gra.s.s lost its fresh, green color, and the wild purple asters dropped their lovely heads and slept. The first real snow came in the night.

The desire to go to the cabin on the part of a large number of healthy, stalwart boys was matched against a foot of fluffy snow. The fact that they had not seen the new, completed bunk-house, nor the fireplace, added greatly to their intense desire to go. Added to this was the natural boyish love for possible adventure, so, of course, it was decided to go, snow or no snow.

Twenty strong, they were on hand at the appointed hour. Soft shirts had given way to sweaters, outing shoes to high boots or leggings. Still the boys were just the same--happy, healthy, and free, ready for anything the trip might bring. Old Peanuts raised sad eyes as he was led forth and saddled. To think that such as he should tramp through all that snow on such a night. Tuberculosis was disgusted beyond all measure. It was only by much bribing from his bag of precious pinion nuts that Sleepy was able to get him to even move. The snow was dry and fluffy, so walking was not really disagreeable, but necessarily very slow. Somehow Peanuts seemed to have grown old with the season, and many times Ham almost gave up in desperation, declaring they would not reach the cabin by morning.

Darkness settled very early that night, and with it came the clear, cold breeze from the snowy peaks beyond. How white everything looked, and how quiet! Even the stream seemed to have been buried under a white blanket.

On the hogsback the snow had drifted badly, completely obliterating the trail. It seemed like it took hours to climb that rugged hill. Twice the donkeys slipped from the trail, floundered in the fluffy drifts, and then lay down. Twice they both refused to go another step; then darkness--the black darkness of a stormy winter night, settled about them just as they entered the Park. Who knew the trail--that narrow pathway that led between trees, around buried stumps, across shallow fords, and back again? Who could now general this little disheartened army and lead it on to warmth and shelter? Sleepy complained bitterly because the trail was long, and many times threatened to go back when he was taunted with "Baby!" First it was a false step, then a splash into the cold stream; next it was a false lead into the heart of an aspen thicket, only to return and try again. Ham broke the trail until he was too tired to go another step, while Mr. Allen brought up the discouraged rear.

It was a gloomy line that worked its way up the snow-filled canyon that night. Minutes seemed like hours, and already the cold winds were making every fellow weak and hungry. Ham was the life of the party, and kept the fellows hopeful at his end of the line, even when he was so tired from breaking trail that it seemed that he could not go another pace. Willis was behind him, ready to lend a hand whenever he tripped on treacherously-covered poles or slipped from the trail into the icy stream. At last the little belt of thick timber was reached, and Ham's heart rejoiced, for he knew the cabin was on the other side of it. Before long they stood on the high trail and looked down into the valley where stood the cabin, gloomy and gray, the light from the snow caught and faintly reflected by the windows. Ham gave a loud shout that cheered and strengthened every heart, and in another moment he was unlocking the door.

Ham's little pocket ax sang out in the winter night, and soon his efforts were rewarded by a tiny blaze on the hearth. He ordered his forces like a veteran, and they obeyed him without question--all save Sleepy, who chose a comfortable spot in the corner and sat down, refusing to move. Very soon the kitchen stove began to heat its end of the house, and the big tin teakettle sang and sighed over the flames. Mr. Allen was busy with supper and Fat was clearing a s.p.a.ce before the open fire so they could all sit down together. Some brought in the wood and piled it high in one corner, while others sc.r.a.ped the snow away from the lea of a big boulder, thus making a shelter for the donkeys. Ham smuggled a half a dozen frozen potatoes for them and a half loaf of rye bread.

A column of merry sparks rose from the chimney, while the candles threw weird, funny little shadows out on the snow through the barred windows.

Ham and Willis were watering the donkeys and discussing their trip up, when Ham, without any apparent reason, burst into a merry laugh.

"I have an idea, Willis, and it's a capital one, too. Will you help me carry it out?" and he laughed again.

"Well, that depends," returned Willis.

Ham put his hand to his ear and listened, then turned and looked eagerly toward the cabin. When he was satisfied they were alone he continued: "When I first came out here to feed the mules I heard an owl hooting up in that big tree. My, but it startled me at first, until I had time to think what it was. You know they shot a young mountain lion over on Black Mountain day before yesterday. Now, we aren't so far from Black Mountain, and if we are ever going to make a real, worth-while member for O.F.F. out of Sleepy Smith, we have got to begin soon, and, besides, I'm satisfied we will have to use a few extraordinary tactics. We have nursed him long enough; besides, his spirit is rotten. He has been sitting in there by that fire all evening and hasn't turned his hand to do a thing. He will probably want some one to put him to bed, yet, to-night.

All the way up the trail he whined and acted like a baby. You remember the tricks he pulled off the day we moved the stuff over from Fairview on the donkeys--sneaked up in the bunk after dinner and went to sleep.

You know how we nearly locked him in. He's hurting our crowd.

"We took him in, you know, because Mr. Allen thought there was so much in him worth saving. Someway, it hasn't come out yet, and we've got to operate, do you understand? We've got to scare Sleepy Smith out of his boots once or twice to see what's in him. Let's do it to-night. If we don't, next time we bring a crowd up here on a night like this there will be three or four sitting around the fire doing nothing, and the next time six or seven, until at last a few of us will be waiting on the whole bunch, do you see?"

"Yes, I see," replied Willis between chattering teeth; "but how on earth are you going to do it a night like this, with all this crowd?"

"Now, I'll tell you just what I want you to do. I'll pull off the game and you be my accomplice. We'll take Sleepy out for a snow-bird hunt. I never heard of one myself, but I'll fix that all right. We'll scare the life out of that boy this night or bust. All you have to do--there comes some one."

"Ham, Ham!" called Fat from the cabin; "come on to supper while it's hot." Then the door closed again. The two started toward the cabin, leaving old Peanuts braying hoa.r.s.ely in the night.

"All you have to do," continued Ham, "is to just swear to all I say.

You'll catch on after I get started. Be sure to watch for the chance.

I'll tell Fat the scheme, and if I can get Sleepy out of the house for a minute, I'll fix it up with the crowd." They were just about to enter the cabin when somewhere in the night came the weird hoot of an owl, and a pale, sickly moon peeped between the clouds.

"Well, fellows, how do you like that old stone fire-box, anyhow?" Ham questioned. "I haven't heard a fellow say a word about it yet. That big black pot hanging on that crane makes me happy all over. Why, we have Robinson Crusoe and that last polar expedition beaten a city block. I never do see a pot hanging over the fire like that but I think of some of the delicious stews that Jim Parker made for us the Christmas vacation we spent with him out on his ranch in Middle Park. s...o...b..rd stew good? O my! It has turkey beaten a thousand directions."

"s...o...b..rd stew?" questioned Chuck. "What in the world is it, Ham? Bacon creamed, or some such stuff?"

"Bacon creamed, nothing," replied Ham disgustedly. "s...o...b..rds, just plain s...o...b..rds. When I was out feeding the mules just now, I heard a whole flock of s...o...b..rds fly down the canyon. That's what made me think of the stew, I suppose."

"Well, if they're no bigger than the s...o...b..rds I've seen," remarked one boy, "you'd have to have a bushel of them for a meal."