The Pony Rider Boys in Alaska Part 24

"Then come and help me get the mule up."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm strung up."

Tad did not know what the trouble was, but he lost no time in getting to his companion. Butler gazed, then he burst out laughing. Chunky lay on his back on the ground, his eyes rolling. One foot was elevated as high as it could reach and still permit the boy's body to remain on the ground. The foot was caught in the crotch of a dwarfed tree, and was wedged in tightly, too.

"Gracious! How did you ever manage to get into that sc.r.a.pe?" questioned Tad between laughs. "Hey, Ned, is that you?" as a crashing in the bushes was heard near at hand.

"Yes. I'm coming. Is Stacy hurt?"

"No, but come here quick. Here's a sight for you!"

Ned threshed his way to them, then he, too, burst out into a roar of laughter.

"Ha, ha!" mocked Chunky. "That's right. Never mind me. I'm only the fat boy, taken along to do stunts to make the rest of you laugh. I'm quite comfortable, thank you. I can stand on my head here for any old length of time. Have your laugh out, then shoot me! I don't want to die a lingering death."

"I'll lift him up. You get the foot out, Ned," directed Tad.

This was not so easily accomplished. Butler tried different ways of doing this, but each time the fat boy's yells made him stop short. Every attempt to lift Stacy gave his foot a wrench, bringing forth a howl.

"Let me have your hatchet," demanded Tad. Ned pa.s.sed it over.

"What are you going to do? Going to chop my leg off?" demanded Stacy.

"Don't worry. It won't hurt but a moment."

"Pro-o-o-o-fessor!"

"Keep still, you ninny! We aren't going to hurt you," growled Ned.

Tad was already hacking at the tree, which was small, but very tough.

Every blow brought a yell from the fat boy. He couldn't have made much more racket had his companions in reality been amputating the leg itself.

At last Butler had chopped through. He grabbed the tree, but Stacy, jerking on his foot, pulled the tree right over on him, incidentally throwing Tad down. Then Chunky let out a fresh series of howls as the sharp sprouts smote him on the face and body. The foot, however, had come free with the falling of the tree, but the boy still lay there groaning, making no effort to help himself.

"Get up! You're all right," commanded Ned, jerking Stacy out by the collar. "See what you've accomplished now. You have done for our last mule. Had you not been along I don't believe the other one would have fallen off the trail."

"That's right. Save the donk, but never mind a Stacy Brown. He's a good joke, that's all," complained Stacy.

Tad had run to the pack mule which had got up, and was standing with nose close to the ground.

"He isn't hurt," cried Tad. "He is all right, Professor," he called.

"Both mules are all right. Hooray!"

"Eh?" growled Stacy, flushing hotly.

Anvik, who had been making his way down by a more roundabout way, now made his appearance. He grunted upon discovering the disheveled Chunky, and shrugged his shoulders as he observed the display of tin cans strewn about.

"Much heap big fool!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Indian.

"Are you addressing your remarks to me or to the mule?" demanded Stacy calmly.

"Huh!" That was the only reply Stacy got, and Anvik began gathering up the stuff that had been lost from the battered pack. This was no small task, owing to the way the provisions had been scattered. Butler, in the meantime, had gone over the pack mule carefully to see if there were any serious injuries.

"He's a lucky mule," announced the lad. "There are no bones broken, but I'll warrant he aches all over from the shaking up he has had. I shall have to sew up that gash on his side when we get him up."

"Let's get started and boost him up, then," urged Rector.

"No, let the beggar rest. I haven't the heart to drag him up that mountain again until he recovers from the shock. We'll tether him and help Anvik get the provisions up first. Stacy, are you able to work?"

"What you want me to do?"

"Carry some of these stores up."

The fat boy shook his head.

"My weak heart won't stand it," he answered. Thrusting his hands in his pockets he strolled off.

The two boys looked at each other and Tad shook his head hopelessly. Ned picked up a stone and savagely shied it at a tomato can. It hit the can and split it wide open.

"If you must give vent to your emotions I wish you would throw stones at a tree, or at something that won't deplete our stores," suggested Butler. "Now see what you've done."

Stacy had promptly rescued the split tomato can and carefully holding it before him stepped gingerly over to a rock on which he sat down and began eating of the contents of the can.

"I don't want to see. Stacy riles me so that I want to thrash him. I'll do it some day, too!" threatened Ned.

Stacy paid no attention to Rector's threats, but having finally emptied the can, he threw it at Ned, then began climbing the mountain to rejoin the outfit.

It was all of two hours ere they finished their work of bringing the damaged supplies up the mountain side. Then came a tug of war in getting the mule up once more, the brute hanging back, the boys pulling and pushing. The Professor had a new pack cover all cut and sewed by the time they had finished. The boys decided to camp where they were for an hour longer, then go on, making a late camp that afternoon, the days being so long that this could be done without night traveling, which was very perilous in that rugged section.

They finally took up their journey, making camp on a high plateau where Tad was destined to make an important discovery before they set out on the following day.

CHAPTER XV

THE STORY IN THE DEAD FIRE

It was an hour past daylight on the following morning when Tad, who had got up early, shouldered his rifle and stalked out of camp, returned.

The other boys were just out of their beds, heading for a spring to "wash their eyes open."

Tad did not show himself to them at once. There was no real reason for his caution, save that he was a woodsman and therefore always cautious as to the moves he made. Anvik caught sight of him instantly, and Tad beckoned. The guide did not appear to have observed the signal, but taking up his hatchet as if going out for wood, he strode from the camp also, and Butler seeing that the guide was coming, turned and walked briskly away from the camp.

The freckle-faced boy led for a short quarter of a mile straight over the plateau, a thickly wooded, rugged plain. Then he halted, waiting for the guide to come up. Tad pointed to a heap of ashes, the remains of a campfire.