L. Frank Baum_Aunt Jane 06 (9 page)

Our friends had hoped to make the little town of Gerton for the night,
but the road was so bad that Wampus was obliged to drive slowly and
carefully, and so could not make very good time. Accidents began
to happen, too, doubtless clue to the hard usage the machine had
received. First a spring broke, and Wampus was obliged to halt long
enough to clamp it together with stout steel braces. An hour later the
front tire was punctured by cactus spines, which were thick upon the
road. Such delays seriously interfered with their day's mileage.

Toward sunset Uncle John figured, from the information he had received
at Prescott, that they were yet thirty miles from Gerton, and so he
decided to halt and make camp while there was yet sufficient daylight
remaining to do so conveniently.

"We might hunt for a ranch house and beg for shelter," said he, "but
from the stories I've heard of the remittance men I am sure we will
enjoy ourselves better if we rely entirely upon our own resources."

The girls were, of course, delighted at the prospect of such an
experience, for the silent, solitary mesa made them feel they were
indeed "in the wilds of the Great American Desert." The afternoon had
been hot and the ride dusty, but there was now a cooler feeling in the
air since the sun had fallen low in the horizon.

They carried their own drinking water, kept ice-cold in thermos
bottles, and Uncle John also had a thermos tub filled with small
squares of ice. This luxury, in connection with their ample supply
of provisions, enabled the young women to prepare a supper not to be
surpassed in any modern hotel. The soup came from one can, the curried
chicken from another, while artichokes, peas, asparagus and plum
pudding shed their tin coverings to complete the meal. Fruits, cheese
and biscuits they had in abundance, so there was no hardship in
camping out on a deserted Arizona table-land, as far as food was
concerned. The Interior of the limousine, when made into berths for
the three girls, was as safe and cosy as a Pullman sleeping coach.
Only the men's quarters, the "lean-to" tent, was in any way open to
invasion.

After the meal was ended and the things washed and put away they all
sat on folding camp chairs outside the little tent and enjoyed the
intense silence surrounding them. The twilight gradually deepened into
darkness. Wampus kept one of the searchlights lit to add an element of
cheerfulness to the scene, and Myrtle was prevailed upon to sing one
or two of her simple songs. She had a clear, sweet voice, although not
a strong one, and they all—especially Uncle John—loved to hear her
sing.

Afterward they talked over their trip and the anticipated change from
this arid region to the verdure of California, until suddenly a long,
bloodcurdling howl broke the stillness and caused them one and all
to start from their seats. That is, all but Wampus. The chauffeur,
sitting apart with his black cigar in his mouth, merely nodded and
said: "Coyote."

The Major coughed and resumed his seat. Uncle John stood looking into
the darkness as if trying to discern the creature.

"Are coyotes considered dangerous?" he asked the Canadian.

"Not to us," replied Wampus. "Sometime, if one man be out on mesa
alone, an' plenty coyote come, he have hard fight for life. Coyote is
wild dog. He is big coward unless pretty hungry. If I leave light burn
he never come near us."

"Then let it burn—all night," said Mr. Merrick. "There he goes
again—and another with him! What a horrible wail it is."

"I rather like it," said Patsy, with her accustomed calmness. "It is
certainly an added experience to be surrounded by coyotes. Probably
our trip wouldn't have been complete without it."

"A little of that serenade will suffice me," admitted Beth, as the
howls grew nearer and redoubled in volume.

Myrtle's eyes were big and earnest. She was not afraid, but there was
something uncanny in being surrounded by such savage creatures.

Nearer and nearer sounded the howls, until it was easy to see a dozen
fierce eyes gleaming in the darkness, not a stone's throw away from
the camp.

"I guess you girls had better go to bed," remarked Uncle John, a bit
nervously. "There's no danger, you know—none at all. Let the brutes
howl, if they want to—especially as we can't stop them. But you are
tired, my dears, and I'd like to see you settled for the night."

Somewhat reluctantly they entered the limousine, drew the curtains and
prepared for bed. Certainly they were having a novel experience, and
if Uncle John would feel easier to have them listen to the howling
coyotes from inside the limousine instead of outside, they could not
well object to his request.

Presently Wampus asked the Major for his revolver, and on obtaining
the weapon he walked a few paces toward the coyotes and fired a shot
into their group. They instantly scattered and made off, only to
return in a few moments to their former position.

"Will they continue this Grand Opera chorus all night?" asked Uncle
John.

"Perhap," said Wampus. "They hungry, an' smell food. Coyote can no
reason. If he could, he know ver' well we never feed him."

"The next time we come this way let us fetch along a ton or so of
coyote feed," suggested the Major. "I wonder what the poor brutes
would think if they were stuffed full for once in their lives?"

"It have never happen, sir," observed Wampus, shaking his head
gravely. "Coyote all born hungry; he live hungry; he die hungry. If
ever coyote was not hungry he would not be coyote."

"In that case, Major," said Uncle John, "let us go to bed and try to
sleep. Perhaps in slumber we may forget these howling fiends."

"Very well," agreed Major Doyle, rising to enter the little tent.

Wampus unexpectedly interposed. "Wait," called the little chauffeur.
"Jus' a minute, if you please."

While the Major and Mr. Merrick stood wondering at the request, the
Canadian, who was still holding the revolver in one hand, picked a
steel rod from the rumble of the automobile and pushing aside the flap
of the little tent entered. The tail-lamp of the car burned inside,
dimly lighting the place.

The Major was about to follow Wampus when a revolver shot arrested
him. This sound was followed by a quick thumping against the ground of
the steel bar, and then Wampus emerged from the tent holding a dark,
squirming object on the end of the rod extended before him.

"What is it?" asked Mr. Merrick, somewhat startled.

"Rattlesnake," said Wampus, tossing the thing into the sagebrush. "I
see him crawl in tent while you eat supper."

"Why did you not tell us?" cried the Major excitedly.

"I thought him perhaps crawl out again. Him sometime do that. But no.
Mister snake he go sleep in tent which is reserve for his superior. I
say nothing, for I do not wish to alarm the young ladies. That is why
I hold the dog Mumble so tight, for he small eye see snake too, an'
fool dog wish to go fight him. Rattlesnake soon eat Mumble up—eh? But
never mind; there is no worry. I am Wampus, an' I am here. You go to
bed now, an' sleep an' be safe."

He said this rather ostentatiously, and for that reason neither of the
others praised his watchful care or his really brave act. That Wampus
was proving himself a capable and faithful servant even the Major was
forced to admit, yet the man's bombast and self-praise robbed him of
any word of commendation he justly earned.

"I think," said Uncle John, "I'll bunk on the front seat to-night. I'm
short, you see, and will just about curl up in the space. I believe
snakes do not climb up wheels. Make my bed on the front seat, Wampus."

The man grinned but readily obeyed. The Major watched him
thoughtfully.

"For my part," he said, "I'll have a bed made on top the roof."

"Pshaw!" said Uncle John; "you'll scratch the paint."

"That is a matter of indifference to me," returned the Major.

"You'll roll off, in your sleep, and hurt yourself."

"I'll risk that, sir."

"Are you afraid, Major?"

"Afraid! Me? Not when I'm awake, John. But what's to prevent more of
those vermin from crawling into the tent during the night?"

"Such thing very unusual." remarked Wampus, placing the last blanket
on Mr. Merrick's improvised bed. "Perhaps you sleep in tent a week an'
never see another rattler."

"Just the same," concluded the Major, "I'll have my bed on top the
limousine."

He did, Wampus placing blankets and a pillow for him without a word of
protest. The Major climbed over Uncle John and mounted to the roof of
the car, which sloped to either side but was broad and long enough
to accommodate more than one sleeper. Being an old campaigner and a
shrewd tactician, Major Doyle made two blankets into rolls, which he
placed on either side of him, to "anchor" his body in position. Then
he settled himself to rest beneath the brilliant stars while the
coyotes maintained their dismal howling. But a tired man soon becomes
insensible to even such annoyances.

The girls, having entered the limousine from the door opposite the
tent, were all unaware of the rattlesnake episode and supposed the
shot had been directed against the coyotes. They heard the Major
climbing upon the roof, but did not demand any explanation, being deep
in those bedtime confidences so dear to all girls. Even they came
to disregard the persistent howls of the coyotes, and in time fell
asleep.

Wampus did not seem afraid of snakes. The little chauffeur went to bed
in the tent and slept soundly upon his cot until daybreak, when the
coyotes withdrew and the Canadian got up to make the coffee.

The Major peered over the edge of the roof to watch him. He had a
sleepy look about his eyes, as if he had not rested well. Uncle John
was snoring with gentle regularity and the girls were still asleep.

"Wampus," said the Major, "do you know the proper definition of a
fool?"

Wampus reflected, stirring the coffee carefully.

"I am not—what you call him?—a dictionairre; no. But I am Wampus. I
have live much in very few year. I would say a fool is man who think
he is wise. For what is wise? Nothing!"

The Major felt comforted.

"It occurred to me," he said, beginning to climb down from the roof,
"that a fool was a man who left a good home for this uncomfortable
life on a barren desert. This country wasn't made for humans; it
belongs to the coyotes and the rattlesnakes. What right have we to
intrude upon them, then?"

Wampus did not reply. It was not his business to criticise his
employers.

Uncle John woke up when the Major inadvertently placed a heel upon his
round stomach on the way to the ground. The chubby little millionaire
had slept excellently and was in a genial humor this morning. He
helped Wampus fry the bacon and scramble the eggs, while the Major
called the girls.

It proved a glorious sunrise and the air was full of pure ozone. They
had suffered little from cold during the trip, although it was in
the dead of winter and the altitude considerable. Just now they were
getting closer to California every hour, and when they descended from
the mesa it would gradually grow warmer.

They were all becoming expert at "breaking camp," and preparing for
the road. Beth and Patsy put away the bedding and "made up" the
interior of the limousine for traveling. The Major and Uncle John
folded the tent and packed it away, while Wampus attended to the
dishes and tinware and then looked over his car. In a surprisingly
short time they were all aboard and the big machine was gliding over
the faint trail.

The mesa was not a flat or level country, for they were still near to
the mountain ranges. The way was up hill and down, in gentle slopes,
and soon after starting they breasted the brow of a hill and were
confronted by half a dozen mounted men, who seemed as much astonished
at the encounter as they were.

It being an event to meet anyone in this desolate place Wampus
involuntarily brought the car to a halt, while the riders lined up
beside it and stared rather rudely at the party. They were dressed as
cowboys usually are, with flannel shirts, chapelets and sombrero hats;
but their faces were not rugged nor healthy, as is the case with most
Western cowboys, but bore marks of dissipation and hard living.

"Remittance men," whispered Wampus.

Uncle John nodded. He had heard of this curious class. Especially were
the men staring at the three pretty, feminine faces that peered from
the interior of the limousine. They had remained silent thus far, but
now one of them, a fellow with dark eyes and a sallow complexion,
reined his horse nearer the car and removed his hat with a sweeping
gesture that was not ungraceful.

"A merry morning to you, fair ladies—or angels—I much misdoubt which
we have chanced upon. Anyhow, welcome to Hades!"

Uncle John frowned. He did not like the bantering, impudent tone. Beth
flushed and turned aside her head; Myrtle shrank back in her corner
out of sight; but Patsy glared fixedly at the speaker with an
expression that was far from gracious. The remittance man did not seem
daunted by this decided aversion. A sneering laugh broke from his
companions, and one of them cried:

"Back up, Algy, and give your betters a chance. You're out of it, old
man."

"I have no betters," he retorted. Then, turning to the girls again and
ignoring the presence of the men accompanying them, he continued:

"Beauteous visions, since you have wilfully invaded the territory of
Hades Ranch, of which diabolical domain I, Algernon Tobey, am by grace
of his Satanic majesty the master, I invite you to become my guests
and participate in a grand ball which I shall give this evening in
your honor."

His comrades laughed again, and one of them shouted:

"Good for you, Algy. A dance—that's the thing!"