The Trail Boys on the Plains; Or The Hunt for the Big Buffalo Read online

  Produced by Roger Frank and Sue Clark

  When the rifle spoke the huge head of the buffalo wasalmost under Poke's belly]

  THE TRAIL BOYS OF THE PLAINS

  OR

  THE HUNT FOR THE BIG BUFFALO

  BY

  JAY WINTHROP ALLEN

  ILLUSTRATED BY WALTER S. ROGERS

  NEW YORK GEORGE SULLY & COMPANY

  Copyright, 1915. GEORGE SULLY & COMPANY

  PRINTED IN THE U. S. A.

  Table of Contents

  I--SOMETHING ABOUT A BUFFALO II--AT THE SILENT SUE III--THE LAME INDIAN IV--THE ROCKING STONE V--THE BEARS' DEN VI--IN THE OLD TUNNEL VII--THE RESCUE--AND AFTERWARD VIII--CHET SHOOTS A HAWK IX--ON THE TRAIL TO GRUB STAKE X--MR. HAVENS HAS A VISITOR XI--THE FIRST ADVENTURE XII--A MAVERICK XIII--"THE DOG SOLDIERS" XIV--THE WARNING XV--"WHAT WON'T BE LED MUST BE DRIVEN" XVI--THE WOLF RING XVII--A MYSTERY XVIII--ROYAL GAME XIX--A FRUITLESS CHASE XX--A MIDNIGHT ALARM XXI--A STARTLING DISCOVERY XXII--AFTER THE THIEVES XXIII--THE FIRST BUFFALO XXIV--TIT FOR TAT XXV--CHET'S DETERMINATION XXVI--"THE KING OF THEM ALL" XXVII--DIG'S GREAT IDEA XXVIII--GREAT LUCK XXIX--PLENTY OF EXCITEMENT XXX--HOW IT ENDED

  Illustrations

  When the rifle spoke the huge head of the buffalo was almost under Poke's belly

  Dig spurred his horse over to the place and leaped down to give his chum a helping hand

  Then Chet saw the bear--a big black fellow, standing erect

  They fairly "wolfed" the venison steaks

  CHAPTER I--SOMETHING ABOUT A BUFFALO

  "Do you really suppose such a buffalo exists?" queried Chet Havens, whowas braiding a whiplash.

  "You've got me there, boy," said his chum, Dig Fordham, trying for thehundredth time to carve his initials in the adamantine surface of theold horse-block, and with a dull jackknife.

  "By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ireland! wouldn't it be justthe Jim-dandy adventure, Chet, if we could go out after this herd andcapture the king of them all? It would be _great_!"

  "It would be great enough, all right," admitted Chet, nodding. "But itwould be some contract to capture such a bull. According to all accountshe must be as strong as an elephant and almost as big."

  "Whew! do you think so, Chet?"

  "If he measures up anywhere near to the specifications that TonyTraddles gave us last week."

  "Oh--Tony!" returned Dig, in disgust. "If he saw a lizard sitting on alog in the sun he'd declare it was the size of a crocodile."

  Chetwood Havens laughed. He was a nice-looking, fair-haired boy withgrey-blue eyes and long, dextrous, capable hands. He braided the thongswithout giving them more than a casual and cursory glance.

  He was a tall boy, and slender, but with plenty of bodily strength.Digby Fordham was more sturdily built. He was square-set,broad-shouldered and thick-chested; and he had a broad, good-humouredface as well. His black hair was crisp; he had little, twinkling eyes;and usually his countenance wore a smile.

  "Well," Chet went on to say, following his chum's criticism of Tony'sreport, "there was Rafe Peters. Rafe is an old hunter, and he ought toknow what he's talking about when he says it's the biggest bull buffalothat he ever saw."

  "Aw--all the buffaloes have gone up into Canada, somewhere," growledDig.

  "No. I expect there are stray herds--small ones--hidden away in themountains. Something or other has driven this herd out upon the plains.I heard some of the men talking about making up a party to go out andshoot 'em; but they are all too busy just now in the mines."

  "I reckon Rafe was just trying to string us," said Dig.

  "You're a Doubting Thomas," laughed his chum.

  "Well, why shouldn't I be? I've heard tell of buffaloes ever since I wasknee-high to a tin whistle, and never a buffalo sign have I seenyet--'cept those mangy old robes father's got in the barn. I'm beginningto be like the old farmer that went into the menagerie and saw thegiraffe. After he'd stared at it for an hour he shook his head, andsaid, 'Drat it all! there jest _ain't_ no such animile!'" and Digchuckled.

  Chet was reflective. "Strange how all those creatures have disappearedfrom the western plains, where they were once so plentiful," he said."Pete was telling me that he was once hired by a government expeditionto keep the men supplied with fresh meat, and that he often shot two andthree hundred buffaloes in a single day."

  "Whew!"

  "And he was only one white hunter who worked at that time on the herds.Some just killed the beasts for their hides--and the hides were as lowas a dollar apiece at one time. Then, the Indians slaughtered hundredsof thousands uselessly. Why, Dig! I was reading the other night thatwhen the first Spaniards came up from Mexico across the Great StakedPlains, they had to fairly push their way through the buffalo herds."

  "Whew!" said his chum again. "When was this, Chet?"

  "Some time before you were born, boy," returned Chet, dryly.

  "Did you ever _see_ a buffalo?" demanded Dig, suddenly.

  "Yes, at Nugget City when Wolfer Ben's Wild West showed there. He had abull and three cows; and lots of old plainsmen went to see the show justbecause of the buffaloes. They hadn't seen any of the creatures for acouple of decades."

  Dig was still chuckling. "Tell some eastern folks that and they wouldn'tbelieve you. You know, I've a cousin Tom down Boston way, and he'salways writing and saying he wants to come out here."

  "I've heard you speak of him."

  "Yep. Well, every time Tom gets mad with the folks at home, or sore onthe school he goes to, or the teachers, he writes me and says he's goingto run away and come out here. And he wants to know what kind of gunsand ammunition he'll have to buy, and if he'll have to wear abowie-knife and two pistols stuck in his belt. He, he!"

  "He must be a blockhead," said Chet, in disgust. "What does he thinkSilver Run is?"

  "Well, I tell you," proceeded Digby, "it's partly my fault. At first Itold him the truth--that we had churches and schools and a circulatinglibrary, and folks took a bath Saturday nights, if they didn't oftener,and wore boiled shirts on Sunday; and that a man who wore a pistol inhis belt would be taken in by the constable and examined as to hissanity.

  "But that didn't suit Tom--oh, no! He said he knew I was kidding him."

  "He did?"

  "That's what! So I got sick of being disbelieved, and I began to writehim the sort of stuff he wanted. I told him about the Comanchesattacking the town and we beating 'em off with great slaughter."

  "Dig Fordham! How could you? Why, we haven't seen a bad Indian inyears."

  "Never mind. That's what Tom wanted me to tell him. I told him all theminers wore red flannel shirts, and went about with their pants tuckedinto their boot-tops, and that they wore pistols in their belts, andbowie-knives in their boots-- By the way, Chet; what is a bowie-knife?"

  Che
t laughed. "A kind of long-bladed hunting knife, ground to an edge onboth sides of the point, and invented by Colonel James Bowie, of Texas.I got that out of an encyclopaedia."

  "Well, Tom knows all about 'em. I hope he comes out here some time,togged up in the way he thinks we dress at Silver Run. If he does, Iknow he'd scare a corral full of ponies into fits!" and Dig went offinto another spasm of laughter.

  The boys had gotten off the subject of the strange buffalo herd that hadappeared on the open plains between Silver Run and Grub Stake, a secondsilver mining town, deeper in the Rockies. Before Dig recovered from hislaughter at his own humorous conception of his cousin's appearance atSilver Run, Chet started up into a listening attitude.

  "What you cocking your ears for, Chet?" demanded Dig. "What's got you?"

  "Who's this coming?" demanded Chet, holding up his hand.

  When the boys were silent they could hear the pounding of heavily shodfeet on the hard road. The Havens lived on the outskirts of Silver Run,and the road to the mines passed by their corral fence.

  Chet sprang up, and even the slower Digby showed interest. The poundingfeet were coming rapidly nearer.

  The boys ran around the corner of the high board fence to the edge ofthe road. There, coming down the hill, and out from the belt of timberthat surrounded the mountain above the town, was a man in yellowoveralls and cowhide boots. He was without a cap, his shirt was open atthe throat, and every indication about him showed excitement.

  "Goodness!" gasped Chet. "What can that mean?"

  "It's Dan Gubbins--and he's so scared he can't shut his mouth!" observedDig.

  This seemed true. Dan Gubbins ran with his mouth wide open and fearexpressed unmistakably in his rugged features. He was one of the menworking in the mine in which Mr. Havens and Mr. Fordham were interested.

  "Hey, Dan! what's the matter?" shouted Dig, as the big miner camecloser.

  "She's caved!" croaked the man, his throat so dry he could scarcelyspeak.

  "Who's caved?" demanded Dig.

  "What's caved?" asked Chet, better understanding the vernacular.

  "The Silent Sue! She slumped in like rotten ice in February!" gasped thebig miner, leaning against the fence near the boys. "Oh, my Jimminy!It's awful!"

  Chet turned pale. Dig reddened and gulped back a sob with difficulty.

  "You--you don't mean the mine's all caved in?" stammered the latter.

  "The shaft," replied Dan.

  Chet, the practical, demanded:

  "How many are caught in the cave-in?"

  "There's five down there, besides--"

  Dan halted and stared at the boy with sudden apprehension. Then, after amoment, he whispered:

  "My golly, Chet! whatever am I to tell your mother? Yer dad's down therewith 'em!"

  "Father!" exclaimed Chet, seizing Dig's hand.

  "Is my father in it too?" cried Dig, ready to burst into tears.

  "Mr. Fordham warn't there noways," said Dan, getting his breath and ablenow to speak more intelligibly. "Whatever am I to tell your mother,Chet?" he repeated.

  "You won't say anything to her, Dan," replied the boy, firmly. "I'lltell her myself. But give me the particulars. We want to know how ithappened. Isn't there any hope? Can't we get at them down there?"

  "Dunno," returned the miner. "Rafe Peters is in charge, and they aredigging like prairie-dogs to get down into the gallery. Everybody downthere is all right so fur. Ye see, it was like this: There was a blastgoin' to be shot in Number Two tunnel. Ye know where that run to?"

  Chet nodded. "Over toward the old Crayton Shaft--that's open now--on theother side of the mountain. Father was saying the other day that theSilent Sue's Number Two must be getting pretty near the old diggings."

  "That's it," said Dan Gubbins, nodding, and wiping his moist foreheadwith the back of a hairy hand. "Well, they got ready that shot, whichwas a heavy one. The timbering of the lower part of the shaft didn'tsuit Mr. Havens and he told Tony to put in new cross-braces and some newplanks."

  "Tony Traddles?" demanded Chet.

  "Yes. An' he oughter be jailed for what he done," added the miner,bitterly.

  "How was that?" queried Digby, his eyes big with interest.

  "Mr. Havens," pursued the miner, "went down to see that all was clear inthe tunnel before the shot. He sings out to Tony and asks if thetimbering was all right; and the lazy rascal said 'twas."

  "And wasn't it?" snapped Chet, his eyes blazing.

  "No. He'd come up to fill and light his pipe and hadn't blocked andwedged his cross-beams. There was five of the boys 'sides your father inthe tunnel, and when the shot went off the shoring at the bottom of theshaft shook right out and she caved in! It was awful! I wonder youdidn't hear the rumble of it. And what I'm goin' ter say ter yourmother, Chet--"

  "You're going to say nothing to her, Dan," repeated the boy. "I'll tellher. You go and get a doctor, or two, Dan--and all the other help youcan. You saddle Hero and Poke, Dig. We must get up to the mine in ahurry. I won't be in the house long."

  He turned quickly away and started for the back door of his home. Theothers did not see his face.