Ruth Fielding at Silver Ranch Part 10

"Give the reins to me!" she cried in Mary's ear, and seized the leathers just as they slipped from the hands of The Fox.

Ruth gripped them firmly and flung herself back into her own seat. Helen seized her with one hand and saved her from being thrown out of the pitching vehicle. And so, with her chum holding her into her seat, Ruth swung all her weight and force against the ponies' bits.

At first this seemed to have not the least effect upon the frightened animals. Ruth's slight weight exercised small pressure on those iron jaws. On and on they dashed, rocking the buckboard over the rough trail-and drawing each moment nearer to that perilous elbow in the canon!

Ruth realized the menacing danger of that turn in the trail from the moment the beasts first jumped. There was no parapet at the outer edge of the shelf-just the uneven, broken verge of the rock, with the awful drop to the roaring river below.

She remembered this in a flash, as the ponies tore on. There likewise pa.s.sed through her mind a vision of the chum beside her, crushed and mangled at the bottom of the canon-and again, Helen's broken body being swept away in the river! And The Fox-the girl who had so annoyed her-would likewise be killed unless she, Ruth Fielding, found some means of averting the catastrophe.

It was a fact that she did not think of her own danger. Mainly the runaway ponies held her attention. _She must stop them before they reached the fatal turn!_

Were the ponies giving way a little? Was it possible that her steady, desperate pulling on the curbs was having its effect? The pressure on their iron jaws must have been severe, and even a half-broken mustang pony is not entirely impervious to pain.

But the turn in the road was so near!

Snorting and plunging, the animals would-in another moment-reach the elbow. Either they must dash themselves headlong over the precipice, and the buckboard would follow, or, in swerving around the corner, the vehicle and its three pa.s.sengers would be hurled over the brink.

And then something-an inspiration it must have been-shot athwart Ruth's brain. The thought could not have been the result of previous knowledge on her part, for the girl of the Red Mill was no horsewoman. Jane Ann Hicks might have naturally thought to try the feat; but it came to Ruth in a flash and without apparent reason.

She dropped the left hand rein, stood up to seize the right rein with a shorter grip, and then flung herself back once more. The force she brought to bear on the nigh pony by this action was too much for him.

His head was pulled around, and in an instant he stumbled and came with a crash to the ground!

The pony's fall brought down his mate. The runaway was stopped just at the turn of the trail-and so suddenly that Mary c.o.x was all but flung headlong upon the struggling animals. Ruth and Helen _did_ fall out of the carriage-but fortunately upon the inner side of the trail.

Even then the maddened, struggling ponies might have cast themselves-and the three girls likewise-over the brink had not help been at hand. At the turn appeared Jib Pottoway, his pony in a lather, recalled by the sound of the runaways' drumming hoofs. The Indian flung himself from the saddle and gripped the bridles of the fallen horses just in season. Bob, driving the second pair of ponies with a firm hand, brought them to a halt directly behind the wreck, and Tom and Jane Ann ran to Jib's a.s.sistance.

"What's the matter with these ponies?" demanded the Indian, sharply.

"How'd they get in this shape? I thought you could drive a pair of hawses, boy?" he added, with scorn, looking at Tom.

"I got out to buckle a strap and they got away," said Tom, rather sheepishly.

"Don't you scold him, Jib!" commanded Jane Ann, vigorously. "He ain't to blame."

"Who is?"

"That girl yonder," snapped the ranchman's niece, pointing an accusing finger at Mary c.o.x. "I saw her start 'em on the run while Tom was on the ground."

"Never!" cried The Fox, almost in tears.

"You did," repeated Jane Ann.

"Anyway, I didn't think they'd start and run so. They're dangerous. It wasn't right for the men to give us such wild ponies. I'll speak to Mr.

Hicks about it."

"You needn't fret," said Jane Ann, sternly. "I'll tell Uncle Bill all right, and I bet you don't get a chance to play such a trick again as long as you're at Silver Ranch--"

Ruth, who had scrambled up with Helen, now placed a restraining hand on the arm of the angry Western girl; but Jane Ann sputtered right out:

"No! I won't keep still, Ruth Fielding. If it hadn't been for you that Mary c.o.x would now be at the bottom of these rocks. And she'll never thank you for saving her life, and for keeping her from killing you and Helen. She doesn't know how to spell grat.i.tude! Bah!"

"Hush up, Jinny," commanded Jib, easily. "You've got all that off your mind now, and you ought to feel some better. The ponies don't seem to be hurt much. Some sc.r.a.ped, that's all. We can go on, I reckon. You ride my hawse, Mr. Cameron, and I'll sit in yere and drive. Won't trust these gals alone no more."

"I guess you could trust Ruth Fielding all right," cried the loyal Tom.

"She did the trick-and showed how plucky she is in the bargain. Did you ever see anything better done than the way she threw that pony?"

Jane Ann ran to the girl of the Red Mill and flung her arms around her neck.

"You're just as brave as you can be, Ruthie!" she cried. "I don't know of anybody who is braver. If you'd been brought up right out here in the mountains you couldn't have done any better-could she, Jib?"

"Miss Fielding certainly showed good mettle," admitted the Indian, with one of his rare smiles. "And now we'll go on to the camping place. Don't let's have any more words about it, or your fun will all be spoiled.

Where's Ricardo, with the camp stuff? I declare! that Greaser is five miles behind, I believe."

With which he clucked to the still nervous ponies and, Tom now in the lead, the procession started on in a much more leisurely style.

CHAPTER XI-AN URSINE HOLD-UP

The party of young people were so excited by the adventure that they were scarcely in mind to appreciate the rugged beauty of the canon. The opposite wall was covered with verdure-hardy trees and shrubs found their rootage in the crevices between the rocks. Some beds of moss, far down where the spray from the river continually irrigated the thin soil, were spangled so thickly with starlike, white flowers that the patches looked like brocaded bedspreads.

Around the elbow in the trail-that sharp turn which had been the scene of the all but fatal accident-the driveway broadened. Far ahead (for the canon was here quite straight again) they could see the arching roof of rock, surmounted by the primeval forest, which formed the so-called natural bridge. The river tumbled out of the darkness of the tunnel, fretted to a foaming cascade by battling with the boulders which strewed its bed under the roof-rock. The water's surface gleamed ghostly in the shadow of the arch, and before the opening the arc of a rainbow shone in the spray.

As the girls' excitement subsided, Ruth saw this scene far ahead and cried aloud in rapture:

"Look! Oh, just look! Isn't that beautiful?"

"The waterfall," agreed her chum, "or cascade, or whatever they call it, is just a picture, Ruthie!"

"Mighty pretty," said Tom, reining in the pony beside them.

"The cavern is so black and the water is so white-like milk," cried Madge from the second carriage. "What a contrast!"

"I tell you what it looks like," added Heavy, who sat beside her. "A great, big chocolate cream drop that's broken and the cream oozing out.

M-m!"

They all laughed at the stout girl's figure of speech, for Jennie Stone's mind seemed always to linger upon good things to eat, and this comparison was quite characteristic.

"I'd be afraid to go down under that bridge," said Helen. "It's so dark there."

"But there's a path through the tunnel, Miss," said Jib, the Indian.

"And there's another path by which you can climb out on the top of the bridge. But the trail for a waggin' stops right yonder, where we camp."

This spot was a sort of cove in the wall of the canon-perhaps half an acre in extent. There was a pretty lawn with a spring of sweet water, the overflow of which trickled away to the edge of the precipice and dashed itself to spray on the rocks fifty feet below.

They had become used to the sullen roar of the river now and did not heed its voice. This was a delightful spot for camping and when Ricardo came up with the wagon, the boys and Jib quickly erected the tent, hobbled the ponies, and built a fire in the most approved campers'

fashion.