The Merriweather Girls in Quest of Treasure Part 14

The girls laughed heartily, and the echo of their voices came back to them from the walls of the canyon.

But soon they left the large stream and rode up over the mountain.

Tommy had his heart set on reaching Sombrero b.u.t.te, a high and inaccessible peak shaped like a huge cowboy hat, that rose above a flat-topped mountain. On reaching the foot of the b.u.t.te, the young people drew rein and dismounted.

"I'm glad to be on the ground again!" Joy exclaimed with a heavy sigh.

"I don't care for horseback riding very much."

"What do you like, Joy? I mean in the way of sports. What do you like to do more than anything else?" asked Enid Breckenridge.

"I like dancing. I'm not as much of an outdoor girl as the rest of you. I go along, not because I like it, but I like the company. Now it's different with dancing, I could dance all day and all night."

"She's the ladylike member of The Merriweather Girls' Club," smiled Bet with an affectionate glance toward Joy. "She's a b.u.t.terfly. As for me, I can't imagine why Fate played me such a mean trick as to send me into the world a girl, when I'd just love to have been a boy." Bet shot out the words with a vicious snap.

"Say, you girls don't know when you're well off." There was a wistful note in Tommy's voice. "People expect so much more of boys and are never satisfied with what we do, while you girls have your paths strewn with roses."

"Listen to him talk!" exclaimed Shirley. "I guess we girls have to struggle to live."

"And what girl wants her path strewn with roses anyway?" demanded Bet in disgust. "I want to have to fight my way, I want to do worth-while things. Right now, if I were a boy, I'd try to climb Sombrero b.u.t.te."

"Would you really do a silly thing like that, Bet Baxter?" asked Joy seriously. "I mean it. Tell me just why you'd do it?"

"I don't know why, but I'd do it because it would seem like a big thing to do. It would be hard work and when I accomplished it, I could always say, 'I climbed Sombrero b.u.t.te'."

"That's not much of an ambition. I should call that simply foolhardy!"

Joy could never understand such a desire. It was too far away from her own temperament.

"Then," continued Bet, "I'd travel. I'd discover things, I'd find a new continent or a river or something. I'd like to go to South Africa and dig for diamonds. That would be romantic."

Joy laughed. "Now I can half-way understand that. Diamonds are worth while. If you were a man, whom would you bestow those diamonds on?"

"You--most likely. Men who do big things always fall hard for a handful of fluff like you," returned Bet, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"And there you'd show your good sense," Joy smiled in a provoking way.

"I almost wish you were a man, Bet."

As everybody laughed Bet soon regained her poise. Such flare-ups were frequent with Bet, a sudden flash of fire and then calm. The girls understood her and did not resent her bursts of impatience.

Tommy Sharpe leaned over and picked up a small stone from the ground, exclaiming: "Look here, girls, while you're talking of discovering things, I find a treasure."

"What is it?" cried Bet grasping Tommy's closed hand. "Let me see?"

"An arrowhead!" Kit burst out contemptuously. "Not much of a discovery in that. I'm sick and tired of arrowheads."

"Why, I think it's wonderful to find one!" Bet examined the little sharpened piece of flint. "I wish I could find one."

"I'll let you have this one," Tommy offered.

"No, that wouldn't be the same. To make it a real treasure I must find one myself," answered Bet as she looked longingly at the stone.

The girls began to search the ground for arrow-heads, but Shirley was the only successful one and even her find was a doubtful treasure as it had a large nick in it.

"You don't need to worry, girls, you have all summer to find arrowheads, if that's what you want," laughed Kit.

"I have a cigar box full of them at home," said Tommy. "I'd like to give you some. But now we'd better be going. It will be dinner time before we get back to the ranch."

"Let's go!" Kit swung herself into the saddle and as Powder's spirit had returned he gave an exhibition of bucking and rearing that made Joy scream for she was certain that Kit would be dashed against the rocks.

At Joy's scream, Powder took fright and madly raced down the steep trail with Kit clutching the saddle horn for dear life.

"Oh, Bet, she's going to be killed, I know it!" sobbed Joy. "Oh, I hate horses. Bet, do something! Kit will be hurt!"

"Don't worry about Kit. Just watch her and see how she sits in the saddle, for all the world as if she were part of the animal." Bet was fascinated by the skill with which Kit handled her horse, and she urged her pony forward so as to watch Kit more closely. It took all of Enid's and Shirley's persuasions to get Joy into the saddle.

"Come on, Joy, don't be a silly! Kit's a trained cowgirl. That horse can't unseat her."

Knowing that she was headed toward home, Dolly kept up a steady trot that covered the miles rapidly. There was no more stopping to pant and blow. Dolly knew that food and drink was waiting at the ranch.

Just as they reached the end of the canyon and prepared to take the trail to the ranch house, a slouching figure rose from the side of the canyon.

It was Kie Wicks.

"Well, well, and what are you folks doing in the canyon this morning?"

he asked, for all the world as if he owned the whole district and feared that they were stealing from him.

"I took them over to Sombrero b.u.t.te," replied Tommy Sharpe. "I'm to show them all the interesting places in the mountains this summer."

Kie Wicks smiled, but the girls could see that he resented their presence there.

"That's a fine idea. I hope you'll bring them over to Cayuga. Maude will show them around," he invited cordially, yet as the girls turned their horses' heads up grade, Bet turned suddenly and was surprised at the look of hatred and distrust that was in the face of the storekeeper.

"I wonder why he dislikes us so much," thought Bet, but decided not to pa.s.s on her knowledge to the others. Joy would be sure to get nervous and Kit might get into an argument with Kie or Maude and Enid Breckenridge would certainly tell her father and he would insist on them having an escort, or not allowing them to go into the canyon again.

So Bet kept her secret, and the girls did not suspect that Kie was actively unfriendly, they thought him a brusque, ignorant desert dweller whose friendship they could depend on, if needed.

They had not yet learned that Kie Wicks could not be depended on for friendship or loyalty to anyone. He was a suspicious man, always believing the worst of people, and when The Merriweather Girls showed an interest in Lost Canyon, old Indian relics, and even the pleasure of finding arrowheads, Kie Wicks was certain that they had heard of the treasure of Lost Canyon and were going to hunt for it.

And Kie Wicks considered that to be his own special mission in life.

He believed implicitly in the old legend that there was a treasure buried in the canyon, and all of his spare time was used up in a search that had continued for ten years. Twice he had formed a company to locate the treasure, he had spent all the money subscribed and had failed. Still his faith held that he would eventually find it.

Maude usually tended the store and Kie spent days at a time drifting around the canyons and hoping that he would stumble upon a clue that would reveal the hidden gold.

He watched the girls ascend the steep hill, gazed after them until they disappeared over the summit, then shook his fist toward the place where they had been.

"Let them take care not to cross me. I can only stand just so much,"

he muttered.

Kie turned slowly away, mounted his horse and rode down the canyon toward Cayuga.

Ahead of him was a great hole in the rock, an undertaking of his dated some years before and financed by his friends. He frowned at the tunnel dug into the bank, then his frown became a scowl and a ferocious one, for a man was standing there studying the workings, so intent on it that he did not hear the approach of the rider.