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Pony Rider Boys in the Alkali

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<h3> CHAPTER XXII </h3> <h4> IN THE HERMIT'S CAVE </h4> The conviction that they did not know where they were grew upon Stacy as they proceeded. Not that Stacy cared particularly whether they were lost or not, but it gave him something to talk about. "Don't talk so much, Chunky," begged Tad, after they had gone on some distance. "You should keep your eyes out for signs." "What kind of signs?" "Water signs. Come, be serious for a little while. You can have all the sport you want when we get back. I think, Chunky, that we can both work to better advantage if we separate——" "What, you want to get rid of me so soon?" "No, no! Listen! You ride off there to the right, say half a mile. Keep within sight of me all the time, and watch carefully for what we are in search of. We shall be able to do twice as effective work in that way." "I see. I guess that would be a good idea. Got anything to eat in your pocket?" "Some dry bread. I'll divide with you. You should have brought something." The fat boy, well satisfied now, rode away to the north, munching the dry food that Tad had given him. So long as Chunky had plenty to eat, nothing else mattered. Tad soon espied what appeared to him to be a cloud on the horizon ahead. After a time he discovered that it was a range of irregular buttes. On some of them he eventually made out what looked like scattering trees. Tad increased the speed of his pony as much as he thought the animal would stand. If there were trees, there surely should be water as well, he reasoned. After a time he succeeded in attracting the attention of Stacy, whom he motioned to him. The fat boy put spurs to his mount, racing along one side of the triangle, heading for the range, for which he observed that Tad was riding. It was now a test of speed to see which one should get there first. Tad having the shorter distance to travel, made the mark ahead of his companion, though with little to spare. "You started before I knew what you were up to," laughed Stacy. "I can beat you on an even start." "Haven't any doubt of it, Chunky. But let's see what's to be found here. It looks promising. You hold the horses while I climb up among the rocks." "There's a man up there!" exclaimed Stacy. "What's he doing? I wonder if he's a hermit? Looks as if he might be." "I'll find out. If some one is living here, there's water," cried Tad triumphantly, leaping from his saddle and tossing the bridle reins to his companion. The lad ran lightly up the rocks toward the point where he saw the stranger standing, observing them suspiciously. As he drew nearer to the figure, Tad felt some apprehension. The man was thin and gaunt, a heavy growth of beard covering his face so completely as to hide everything except the nose and eyes. "I believe he's crazy," muttered the lad, when he got near enough to note the strange expression in the fellow's eyes. As yet, the man had not spoken a word. "How do you do, sir!" greeted the boy. The hermit, for such he proved to be, grunted an unintelligible reply. "We are looking for water. My friends are camped off yonder, a dozen miles or more, and our water is all gone. Please tell me where I can find some?" "Got money?" "Yes, yes, I've got money. I will pay you for your trouble if that is what you want. Let me have a drink first and take some to my companion; then I will do whatever you wish in the way of paying," begged the lad. The hermit eyed him with a steady, disconcerting gaze that gave Tad a creepy feeling up and down his spine. "You want water?" "Yes, yes." A moment's hesitation, then the hermit grasped Tad by the arm and strode rapidly back among the rocks. Pushing aside a growth of tangled vines he stooped to enable him to enter the opening that was revealed, dragging Tad in after him. <center> <ANTIMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-225.jpg" ALT="The Hermit Grasped Tad by the Arm." BORDER="2"> <H4 CLASS="h4center"> The Hermit Grasped Tad by the Arm. </h4> </center> "See here, where are you taking me?" demanded the lad, pulling back instinctively from the dark opening. The hermit made no reply, but tightening his grip, which was of vise-like firmness, jerked the boy into the center of the chamber. Tad observed by the single ray of light that penetrated the place through the mat of vines at the entrance that they were in a cave. "You want water?" snapped the hermit. "Yes, I do want water more than anything else in the world at this minute, but there is no necessity for dragging me to it. I can walk." "Water in there," answered the hermit, thrusting Tad into a dark recess. No sooner had he done so than the lad heard a heavy wooden door slammed shut and a bar thrown across it from the outside. Tad, instantly realizing that he was being shut in, threw himself against the barrier with all his strength. But he might as well have tried to break through the rocks which walled him in on the other three sides. He shouted at the top of his voice, hoping that Chunky might, perchance, hear him and come to his rescue. Chunky could use the rifle that hung in the holster on Tad's saddle and intimidate the hermit if he understood Tad's predicament. At that instant the lad's ears caught the faint trickle of water. The sound stirred him to sudden action. "Where was it?" he asked himself, his hands groping over the rocks about him. "Here it is!" he cried exultingly. What he had found was a tiny stream that was creeping down the side of the rocks. Tad pressed his lips against the cool stones, enabling him to lick a few drops of the precious fluid into his parched mouth. Never had anything tasted so refreshing to him. "A-h-h-h-h!" gasped the boy, taking a fresh breath preparatory to another draught. "It's almost worth being made a prisoner for this. I'll bet Chunky would wish to be in here if he knew. And I almost wish he were." As if in answer to his expressed wish, the door was suddenly pushed inward, a heavy body was hurled in, landing in a heap on the rocky floor. The door slammed shut and the bar once more fell into place. For the moment Tad could not determine what had happened. "I—I fell in," moaned a voice from the heap. "Chunky!" cried Tad. "How did you get in here?" "I—just dropped in," wailed the fat boy. "Get up! Don't be a baby! Come here and have a drink of water——" "Water? Water?" fairly shouted Stacy, leaping to his feet, bumping against a rock in his haste. "Where? Where?" "Here. Put your lips against the rock right here. There, you have it. Does it taste good?" "U-m-m-m." "Now, you've had enough for the moment. Tell me how you got here? How did you happen to come up?" questioned Tad. "The—the wild man—say, Tad, he looks like a monkey, doesn't he?" "I hadn't thought of it in that light. I guess you're right, though, Chunky." "Well, he went out on the rocks and motioned to me. I told him I couldn't leave the ponies. He said you wanted me right away, and he came down to help me stake the ponies. He was awful kind," mused Stacy, as if talking to himself. "Go on," urged Tad. "We've got to think about what's going to become of us." "That's all. He just led me up here. Said you were inside getting water. Then—then he threw me in. Think I hurt the floor when I hit it, Tad?" "I guess not quite so bad as that," laughed the lad. "I want you to strike a match while I look around the place." Stacy did so, taking his time about it. By the dim light thus made, they discovered a little pool of water in a far corner of the chamber, where the trickling stream had found it's way. With their drinking cups, which, with their canteens, the boys always carried, they dipped the pool almost dry, filling their canteens with the cool, refreshing water, after having first fully satisfied their thirst. "Got anything to eat?" questioned Stacy, his thoughts turning to food. "Yes, and I'm going to keep it," answered Tad promptly. "That's mean." "See here, Chunky. We are prisoners. We don't know when or how we are going to get out. I have a few crusts of bread left and I propose to keep them, because we may find ourselves starving later on. You'll be glad then that I saved the bread. What do you think the hermit intends to do? Did he say anything that gave you any clue?" "Nope." "We'll wait a while and if he does not let us out, we'll have to find a way for ourselves." For a time they made the best of their situation, Stacy grumbling now and then, Tad bright and cheery, though in his heart he felt far from cheerful. "I'm going to try to break the door down," announced Tad finally, after listening intently. "I can't hear anything. I believe the hermit has gone away and left us. Get up here beside me. Take hold of my hand and we'll rush it together." They did so, throwing their combined weight against the door. "Ouch!" yelled Stacy. "Never mind, try it again," encouraged Tad, laughing in spite of himself. Once more they hurled themselves on the obstruction. It resisted all their efforts. Tad lighted a match, examining the door carefully. The light revealed a heap of blankets in a corner of the chamber, where the old hermit slept. "Must be his bedroom," decided Chunky. "We've got to try something else," announced Tad. "Got your knife!" "Yes." "Out with it. We're going to whittle. Lucky for us that our knives are big and sharp. Hold a match while I mark out the spot we're going to try to cut out." Tad had sounded the door with his fist until he found the place where the bar on the other side held it. He also discovered sockets for an inner bar, by which the hermit probably locked himself in at night. Then he began cutting. "You start in here and keep to your side so you don't cut my hands," the lad directed. The crunching sound of their knives began immediately, the work going on more slowly in the darkness than would have been the case had they had light. Now and then the lads would pause to listen. Not a sound penetrated to their prison. Tad thought this very strange, unless perhaps the hermit might be lying in wait to fall upon them in case they did succeed in freeing themselves. "Say, Tad." "Well?" "I've got an idea." Chunky's knife had been silent for a few moments. "What is it?" "Let's burn down the old door." "How!" "I'll show you." Stacy scraped industriously for a time, then lighting a match applied it to the spot on which he had been working. The splinters caught fire burned up briskly then went out. Stacy repeated the process with a similar result. "I guess that will help a little," decided Tad, running his fingers over the spot. "Just like singeing the pin feathers off an old hen—the feathers burn, but the hen doesn't," grumbled Stacy. "Whew! the smoke's getting thick in here. We've got to stop the burning or we'll suffocate," warned Tad. "Wish I had an ax. I'd make short work of the old door." They then began working with a grim determination, Stacy ceasing his joking. At last a tiny ray of light showed through the heavy door. "Hurrah!" shouted Tad. "I see daylight." "Then give me some bread. I'm hungry." "Not yet. We're not out of our prison," laughed Tad. "Keep cutting. It will take all of an hour to make an opening large enough for me to get my hand through——" "I got my finger through," cried Stacy triumphantly. "Ouch!" he yelled as a club of some sort was brought against the door on the outside with terrific force, bruising the end of the lad's finger. "The hermit is out there waiting for us!" gasped Tad, with sinking heart. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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