Bert Wilson in the Rockies

  Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Brian Janes, Mary Meehan andthe Online Distributed Proofreading Team athttps://www.pgdp.net

  BERT WILSON IN THE ROCKIES

  BY J. W. DUFFIELD

  Author of "Bert Wilson at the Wheel," "Wireless Operator," "FadeawayBall," "Marathon Winner," "At Panama."

  NEW YORKGEORGE SULLY & COMPANYPUBLISHERS

  Copyright, 1914, BySULLY AND KLEINTEICH

  Published and Printed, 1924 byWestern Printing & Lithographing CompanyRacine, WisconsinPrinted in U.S.A.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER

  I. A Desperate Encounter

  II. The Ranch in the Rockies

  III. "Busting" a Broncho

  IV. A Forest Terror

  V. The Grizzly at Bay

  VI. The "Ringer's" Downfall

  VII. The Wolf Pack

  VIII. With Teeth and Hoofs

  IX. The Indian Outbreak

  X. In Fearful Extremity

  XI. Within an Ace

  XII. Quick on the Draw

  XIII. Trailing the Outlaws

  XIV. The Race for Life

  BERT WILSON IN THE ROCKIES

  CHAPTER I

  A Desperate Encounter

  A shower of glass from the shattered windowpane fell over the floor andseats, and a bullet embedded itself in the woodwork of an upper berth.There was a shriek from the women passengers in the crowded Pullman, andthe men looked at each other in consternation. From the platform came thesound of a scuffle, interspersed with oaths. Then, through the narrowcorridor that bordered the smoking-room, hurried two men, pushing theterrified negro porter ahead of them. Each of the intruders wore a blackcloth tied over the lower part of his face, and before the bewilderedpassengers knew what had happened they found themselves looking along theblue-black barrels of two ugly revolvers.

  It was a startling break in an uneventful day. For several hours theOverland Limited had hummed along over the boundless prairies thatstretched away on either side with scarcely a break to the horizon. Theyhad time to make up, and on these open spaces the engineer had let it outto the limit. So swiftly and smoothly had it sped along that the "click,click" as it struck each separate rail had merged into one droning "songof the road."

  There had been no rain for a week past, and the dust lay thick on thegrass and cactus. The motion of the train drew it up in clouds that madeit impossible to keep the windows raised, and the sun, beating downpitilessly from a brazen sky, added to the general discomfort. Coolingdrinks were at a premium, and the porters were kept busy making trips tothe buffet car, from which they returned with tinkling glasses andcooling ices. Collars wilted and conversation languished. Women glancedlistlessly over the pages of the magazines. Men drew their traveling capsover their eyes and settled down for a doze. Here and there a commercialtraveler jotted down some item or wondered how far he dared to "pad" hisexpense account so that it would "get by" the lynx-eyed head of the firm.In the smoking-room a languid game of cards was being played, in aneffort to beguile the tedious monotony of the trip. Over all therebrooded a spirit of somnolence and relaxation.

  If there was life to be discerned anywhere, it was in a group of threeyoung fellows seated near the middle of the car. They would have drawnmore than a passing glance wherever seen. Tall, well set up, muscular,they served as splendid types of young American manhood. None of themwere over twenty, and their lean, bronzed faces, as well as the lithealertness of their movements, spoke of a life spent largely in the open.They were brimming with life and high spirits. Exuberant vitality shonethrough their eyes and betrayed itself in every gesture. That they werefriends of long standing was evident from the utter absence of ceremonyand the free and easy comradeship with which they chaffed each other.

  From the beginning of the trip they had been full of fun and merriment.Their college year had just closed, and they were like frolicsome coltsturned out to pasture. There was hardly an incident of the journey thatdid not furnish to their keen, unjaded senses something of interest andamusement. Their cup of life was full and they drained it in greatdraughts.

  But just now even their effervescence was calmed somewhat by the heat andspirit of drowsiness that hovered over the car.

  "Gee," yawned the youngest of the three, stretching out lazily. "Isn't itnearly twelve o'clock? I wonder when that dusky gentleman will come alongwith the call to dinner."

  "Always hungry," laughed one of the others. "The rest of us eat to live,but Tom lives to eat."

  "You've struck it there, Dick," assented the third. "You know they saythat no one has ever been able to eat a quail a day for thirty days handrunning, but I'd be willing to back Tom to do it."

  "Well, I wouldn't quail at the prospect," began Tom complacently, andthen ducked as Dick made a pass at him.

  "Even at that, I haven't got anything on you fellows," he went on, in anaggrieved tone. "When you disciples of 'plain living and high thinking'get at the dinner table, I notice that it soon becomes a case of highliving and plain thinking."

  "Such low-brow insinuations deserve no answer," said Dick severely."Anyway," consulting his watch, "it's only half-past eleven, so you'llhave to curb the promptings of your grosser nature."

  "No later than that?" groaned Tom. "I don't know when a morning hasseemed so long in passing."

  "It _is_ a little slow. I suppose it's this blistering heat and the longdistance between stations. It's about time something happened to breakthe monotony."

  "Don't raise false hopes, Bert," said Tom, cynically. "Nothing everhappens nowadays."

  "Oh, I don't know," laughed Bert. "How about the Mexican bandits and theChinese pirates? Something certainly happened when we ran up againstthose rascals."

  "They were lively scraps, all right," admitted Tom, "but we had to goout of the country to get them. In the little old United States, we'vegot too much civilization. Everything is cut and dried and pared andpolished, until there are no rough edges left. Think of the fellows thatmade this trip across the continent sixty years ago in their prairieschooners, getting cross-eyed from looking for buffalo with one eye andIndians with the other, feeling their scalp every five minutes to makesure they still had it. That was life."

  "Or death," put in Dick skeptically.

  "Then look at us," went on Tom, not deigning to notice the interruption,"rolling along smoothly at fifty miles an hour in a car that's like apalace, with its cushioned seats and electric lights and library andbath and soft beds and rich food and servants to wait upon us. We'repampered children of luxury, all right, but I'm willing to bet that those'horny-handed sons of toil' had it on us when it came to the real joy ofliving."

  "Tom was born too late?" chaffed Bert. "He doesn't really belong in thetwentieth century. He ought to have lived in the time of Ivanhoe, orYoung Lochinvar, or the Three Musketeers, or Robin Hood. I can see himbending a bow in Nottingham Forest or breaking a lance in a tournament orstorming a fortress by day, and at night twanging a guitar beneath acastle window or writing a sonnet to his lady's eyebrow."

  "Well, anyhow," defended Tom, "those fellows of the olden time had goodred blood in their veins."

  "Yes," assented Dick drily, "but it didn't stay there long. There weretoo many sword points ready to let it out."

  And yet, despite their good-natured "joshing" of Tom, they, quite as muchas he, were eager for excitement and adventure. In the fullest sense theywere "birds of a feather." In earlier and ruder days they would have beensoldiers of fortune, cutting their ways through unknown forests, facingwithout flinching savage beasts and equally savage men, looking ever fornew worlds to conquer. Even in these "piping days of peace" that they somuch deplored, they had
shown an almost uncanny ability to get intoscrapes of various kinds, from which sometimes they had narrowly escapedwith a whole skin. Again and again their courage had been severely tried,and had stood the test. At home and abroad, on land and sea, they hadcome face to face with danger and death. But the fortune that "favors thebrave" had not deserted them, even in moments of deadliest peril. Theywere accustomed to refer to themselves laughingly as "lucky," but thosewho knew them best preferred to call them plucky. A stout heart and aquick wit had "many a time and oft" extricated them from positions whereluck alone would have failed them.

  And most of their adventures had been shared in company. The tie offriendship that bound them together as closely as brothers was of longstanding. Beginning at a summer camp, five years earlier, where chancehad thrown them together, it had grown increasingly stronger with everyyear that passed. A subtle free masonry had from the start made eachrecognize the others as kindred spirits. Since this first meeting theirpaths had seldom diverged. Together they had gone to college, where theirathletic prowess had put them in the first rank in sports and made thempopular among their comrades. On the baseball diamond they had playedtheir positions in brilliant fashion, and on the football gridiron theyhad added to their laurels. When Bert had been chosen to go to theOlympic games abroad, his "pals" had gone with him and exulted in hisglorious victory, when, in the Marathon race, he had beaten the crackrunners of the world. Nor were they to be denied, when his duty aswireless operator had carried him over the Pacific to meet with thrillingexperiences among the yellow men of Asia. In every time of storm andstress they had stood with him shoulder to shoulder, and faced life anddeath with eyes wide open and unafraid. They were worthy lieutenants ofa brave and intrepid leader.

  For, that he was their leader, they themselves would have been the firstto admit, although he would have modestly disclaimed it. He neverasserted leadership, but it sought him out of its own accord. He had theinstinct, the initiative, the quick decision, the magnetic personalitythat marks the born captain. It was not merely that he was endowed withstrength of muscle and fleetness of foot and power of endurance thatplaced him in a class by himself. He might have had all these, and stillbeen only a superb specimen of the "human animal." But, above andcontrolling these qualities, was the indomitable will, the unflinchingcourage, the gallant audacity that made him the idol of his comrades.

  The college year just ended had been a notable one, marked by victorieson track and field. Together with the high rank he had reached and heldin his studies, with which, unlike many athletes, he never allowed sportto interfere, it had taxed him heavily in mind and body. And it was withunfeigned delight that he now looked forward to a long season ofrecreation and adventure on the ranch in Montana, toward which he andhis friends were speeding.

  Mr. Melton, the owner of the ranch, was a Western cattleman of the oldtype, now rapidly disappearing. Bluff, rough and ready, generous andcourageous, his sterling qualities had won the admiration and affectionof the boys from the date of their first meeting the year before.

  That meeting had taken place under extraordinary circumstances. The"Three Guardsmen"--so called in joke, because they were alwaystogether--journeying to the opening of the Panama Canal had foundthemselves on the same train with Melton, as it wound its way throughCentral Mexico. A broken trestle had made it necessary for the train tohalt for an hour or two, and during this enforced stop Dick hadcarelessly wandered away on a stroll through the woods, tempted by thebeauty of the day and the novelty of his surroundings. At a turn in theroad he had suddenly found himself in the presence of twenty or moreguerillas, headed by the notorious El Tigre, whose name was spoken with ashudder throughout Mexico. They had bound him and carried him off totheir mountain retreat. Bert and Tom, an hour later, discovered the causeof his absence and immediately started in pursuit, determined to savetheir comrade or die with him. But first they had disclosed the situationto Melton, who had sworn in his rage to follow after them and aid them inthe rescue. How faithfully he had kept his word, how skillfully anddaringly he had led them on and rushed the camp just as Dick was steelinghimself to undergo the rattlesnake torture that the bandit chief hadplanned for him, was engraven indelibly on the memories of the boys.Until the day of their death they could never forget how the old warhorse, with everything to lose and nothing to gain, had come to theirassistance simply because they were Americans and in dire need of help.

  And on Melton's part the feeling was equally warm. He had taken aninstantaneous liking to these young countrymen of his who had playedtheir part so gallantly. They recalled to him the days of his own stormyyouth, when he had ridden the range and when his life had depended onhis iron nerve and his quickness with the trigger. Though older thanthey by forty years, they were all cut on the same pattern of sturdy,self-reliant American manhood, and it was with the utmost cordiality thathe had crushed their hands in his strong grip and urged them to visit himat his ranch in the Rockies. Since then he had been East on a businesstrip and had been present on that memorable day when Bert, with the balltucked under his arm, had torn down the field in the great race for thegoal that won the game in the last minute of play. Then he had renewedthe invitation with redoubled earnestness, and promised them the time oftheir lives. They needed no urging to do a thing that accorded so wellwith their own inclinations, and from that time on until the opening ofthe summer had shaped everything with that end in view. Now they wereactually launched upon their journey. That it held for them a new anddelightful experience they did not doubt. How much of danger andexcitement and hairbreadth escape it also held, they did not even dream.

  "Bully old boy, Melton," commented Tom, playing lazily with a heavypaperweight he had bought at a curio shop at their last stopping place.

  "A diamond in the rough," assented Dick.

  "All wool and a yard wide," declared Bert, emphatically. "I wonder ifhe----Great Scott, what's that?" as a bullet whizzed through the windowof the Pullman.

  The question was quickly answered when their eyes fell on the robbers,who, with leveled pistols, dominated the car. And the threat of theweapons themselves was not more sinister than the purpose that glinted inthe ferocious eyes above the improvised masks. There was no mere bluffand bluster in that steady gaze. They were ready to shoot and shoot tokill. Their lives were already forfeit to the law, anyway, and in thatrough country they would get "a short shrift and a long rope" if theirplans went astray. They might as well be hung for murder as robbery, and,while they did not mean to kill unless driven to it, they were perfectlyready to do so at the first hint of resistance.

  The paralyzing moment of surprise passed, there was a stir among thepassengers. The first instinct was to hide their valuables or drop themon the floor. But this was checked instantly by the outlaws.

  "Hands up," shouted one of them with an oath. "I'll kill the first manthat makes a move."

  His pistol ranged over the car, flickering like the tongue of a snake,seeming to cover every passenger at once. Beneath its deadly insistence,hands were upraised one after the other. Resistance at that moment meantinstant death. The unwritten law of the West had to be obeyed. He "hadthe drop" on them.

  The leader grinned malignantly and spoke to his companion, without for aninstant turning his gaze.

  "Now, Bill," he growled, "I've got these mavericks covered. Pass roundthe hat. These gents--and ladies," he leered--"will hand over their coinand jewelry, and God help the one who tries to renig. He won't never needmoney no more."

  Taking his old sombrero from his head, the one addressed as Bill startedin to collect from the front of the car.

  "Only one hand down at a time to get your money," shouted his companion."And mind," he added ominously, "I'm watchin' that hand."

  Pocket books and rings and watches dropped into the hat. Women weresobbing hysterically and men were cursing under their breath.

  "Stung," groaned Tom disgustedly.

  "And our pistols in our bags," growled Dick.

  Bert's mind
had been working like lightning. He was always at his bestwhen danger threatened. Now his body grew taut and his eyes gleamed.

  "Be ready, you fellows," he said in low tones, scarcely moving his lips."Dick, back me up when I make a move. Tom, got that paperweight handy?"

  "Right alongside on the window ledge," muttered Tom.

  Still keeping his eyes in an innocent stare on the outlaw captain, Bertmurmured a few words. They caught his meaning on the instant and wereready.

  The man with the hat was getting nearer. There had been no sign ofresistance and the leader relaxed his caution ever so slightly. Thiswas easier than they had dared to hope.

  The sombrero was sagging now with the unwilling wealth poured into it,and the collector, relying on the vigilance of his companion, wascompelled to use both hands to keep the contents from spilling on thefloor.

  He held it out in front of Bert and Dick.

  "Your turn now," he snarled. "Fork over."

  They lowered their hands as though to get out their money. Then somethinghappened.

  Like a flash, Dick grabbed the pistol hand of the collector, while Bert'sfist shot up in a tremendous smashing uppercut. The man staggered back,and Bert and Dick were on him like a pair of wildcats.

  At the same instant, with all the power of his trained baseball arm, Tomhad hurled the heavy paperweight straight at the outlaw captain. Itcaught him full between the eyes. His pistol fell from his hand, goingoff as it did so, and he crumpled up and went down to the floor in aheap.

  It was all over in a second. The whole thing had been so perfectly timed,brain and hand had worked in such absolute unison that disaster had comeon the outlaws like a bolt from the blue. It was "team work" of thefinest kind.

  The first surprise over, the other men in the car came crowding to theassistance of the chief actors in the scrimmage. But the danger was past.The leader was unconscious, and the other, badly beaten and cursinghorribly, was helpless in the grasp of the victors. Train men, rushingin, took charge of the prisoners and trussed them up securely.

  A posse was hastily organized among the passengers and, heavily armed,swarmed from the train in quest of the two remaining members of the band,who had been left to guard the engineer and fireman. The miscreants sawthem coming, however, and realized that the game was up. They emptiedtheir pistols and then flung themselves upon their horses and gallopedoff, secure for the time from further pursuit.

  The conductor, still pale and shaken from excitement, gave the signal.There was a scramble to get aboard, the whistle tooted and the trainonce more got under way.

  In the Pullman there was a wild turmoil, as the relieved passengerscrowded around the boys and wrung their hands in congratulation. Theycouldn't say enough in praise of the courage and presence of mind thathad turned the tables so swiftly and gallantly. The spoils were retrievedand distributed among the rightful owners, and then, with a bow of mockpoliteness, the old sombrero, empty now, was clapped on the head of thebaffled collector, who received it with a new string of blasphemies.

  By this time the victim of Tom's unerring aim had gradually struggledback to consciousness. His arms and feet had been securely tied and hisremaining revolver had been taken from his belt. Of a stronger mold thanhis accomplice, he disdained to vent his rage in useless imprecations andrelapsed into silence as stoical as an Indian's. But, if looks couldkill, the boys would have been blasted by the brooding hate that shotfrom under his jutting brows.

  "I'm glad it didn't kill him, anyway," said Tom, as, after the tumult hadsomewhat subsided, they once more were seated and the train was flyingalong at full speed.

  "It's a wonder it didn't," responded Dick. "It was a fearful crack."

  "Tom hasn't forgotten the way he used to shoot them down from third baseto first," laughed Bert. "That right wing of his is certainly a dandy."

  "It's lucky it is," said the conductor, who had just returned from givingdirections concerning the prisoners; "and talking about wings," he added,turning to Bert, "there's no discount on yours. That fist hit like asledgehammer. The way you fellows piled into him was a crime. I never sawa prettier bit of rough house.

  "But the beauty of it all," he went on, "was the way you worked together.If any one of you hadn't 'come through' at the same second, the jig wouldhave been up. Who figured it out?"

  "Here's the slow thinker that did it," said Dick, clapping Bert on theshoulder.

  "That's the bonehead, sure enough," echoed Tom.

  "Oh, come off," growled Bert, flushing a little and fidgeting uneasily inhis seat. "There was a whole lot of luck about it, anyway. If we hadn'thad the paperweight, all the thinking in the world wouldn't have done usa bit of good."

  "If you hadn't had the thinking, all the paperweights in the worldwouldn't have done us a bit of good," corrected Tom.

  "Well, there's glory enough for all," smiled the conductor. "The mainpoint is that you fellows have put me and the company under a load ofgratitude and obligation that we can never repay. Call it quick thinking,quick acting, or both--you turned the trick."

  "It had to be a case of 'the quick or the dead,'" grinned Tom.

  "Sure thing," assented the conductor. "You were the quick and those tworascals are the dead. Or will be before long," he added grimly. "I'llturn them over to the sheriff at the next station. There's a hand billin the baggage car describing a band of outlaws that the authorities ofthree States have been after for a long time for robbery and murder, andtwo of the descriptions fit these fellows to a dot. There's a price ontheir heads, dead or alive, and I guess they've reached the end of theirrope in more senses than one."

  He passed on and the boys relaxed in their seats. They were still underthe nervous strain of the stirring scene in which they had been the chiefactors. Tom's breath was coming fast and his eyes were shining.

  Bert looked at him for a moment and then nudged Dick.

  "Didn't I hear some one say a little while ago," he asked slyly, "that inthis little old United States there was too much civilization?"

  "Yes," replied Dick, still quoting, "nothing ever happens nowadays."