CHAPTER X

THE FALLING BOWLDER

A few minutes before this, after a long uphill climb, the car had entered a narrow ravine between two hills, the sides of which were studded with great bowlders. One of these had become dislodged in some manner, and it was the sight of the huge stone rolling and clattering directly down upon them that had brought the cry of alarm from the driver.

As it rolled down the precipitous slope, the big bowlder dislodged tons of gravel and dirt, which came flying down with it, until it was the center of a small landslide. To the Radio Boys, it seemed that there was no escape for them, and they gripped the sides of the car, prepared to jump out as a last resort, although it seemed as though that could avail them little. The ground trembled, and a noise like thunder filled the air.

It was impossible to stop, as this would leave them directly in the path of the oncoming bowlder. Their only chance lay in putting on speed and attempting to get past ahead of the huge stone, which was now bounding downward at terrific speed, part of the time leaping bodily through the air as it caromed off some obstruction in its path.

The driver opened the throttle to the limit, but the car was heavily laden, and accelerated sluggishly. For a few seconds their fate hung in the balance. The great bowlder hurtled down upon them, and leaped into the air directly above them. Looking up, the boys could see the tremendous mass perhaps a hundred feet away, its shadow blotting out the sun. The automobile seemed to be only creeping, and seconds seemed like hours. Then, with a crash that made the ground quiver and shake, the bowlder plunged to the road not fifteen feet back of their car. Flying splinters of rock pelted over those in the automobile, and they crouched low to avoid the deadly shower. Tons of sand and gravel followed the bowlder and piled across the road where their car had passed a few short seconds before, forming a drift many feet deep.

But now the moment of dire peril had passed, and the occupants of the car drew long sighs of relief. The driver kept on at high speed until they had passed through the defile, and then pulled up and shut off the engine. His hand shook, and several moments went by before he trusted himself to speak.

“Whew!” he exclaimed finally in a voice that was not quite steady. “That was what you might call a close shave, young fellers.”

“Too close for comfort,” said Herb, essaying a grin that somehow did not look quite natural. “I wonder what we’d look like now if that bowlder had landed on top of us.”

“That’s a nice, cheerful thought, I must say,” replied Bob. “We would have the same general appearance as a dog run over by a steam roller. I think we owe a vote of thanks to our driver for getting us out of a tight place.”

The thanks were enthusiastically given, and in a short time, they resumed the journey.

Not much was said for a long time, as each was busy with thoughts of their recent narrow escape. Eventually the boys recovered their usual care-free spirits, however, and they began to pay attention to the country through which they were passing.

Starting over level roads, they were now in a rolling, hilly country, thickly clothed with trees. Sometimes the road ran for miles through dense woods, where the sun could penetrate only in scattered patches through the heavy foliage and where the cool shade was most welcome after the scorching sun that had beaten down upon them along the stretches of open country. Soon they began to feel hungry, and Jimmy was not long in proposing a halt for lunch.

“I suppose you fellows were so scared by that big rock that you won’t be able to eat for a week,” he remarked. “To a brave gink like me, though, danger only gives a keener edge to his appetite.”

“Fortune help us, then!” exclaimed Herb. “If your appetite is much keener than usual, Jimmy, all our grub will be gone before we ever reach Spruce Mountain.”

“Oh, well, if it is, I’ll go out and kill a bear or two every morning, so don’t let that worry you,” replied Jimmy, airily. “Mr. Bentley said there were quite a few bears around that part of the country, and they seem to be my natural prey. When I can’t find any lions to kill, I like to keep in practice on bears.”

“Huh! why didn’t you give us a demonstration when Tony’s dancing bear chased us up on to the roof of Buck Looker’s bungalow?” inquired Joe.

“From what I remember of that scrape, Jimmy seemed rather anxious to avoid the bear,” remarked Bob. “The way he shinned up the front porch you might almost have thought he was afraid of the poor animal.”

“Aw, he was a tame bear!” protested Jimmy. “I like the wild ones; the wilder the better. I wouldn’t hurt a tame one like Tony’s. I only bother with the real fierce ones.”

“Well, when we get to the lodge, we’ll see if we can’t borrow a trap and catch a bear,” said Bob. “Then you can go and let him out of the trap, Jimmy, and kill him with your bare hands, or by whatever method it is that you use. The rest of us will climb the nearest tree and get an idea of how it’s done.”

“What do you do, anyway, Doughnuts? Strangle the poor brutes, or bite them to death?” inquired Herb, with every appearance of an earnest seeker after knowledge.

“Never you mind; just wait until the bear comes along, that’s all,” said Jimmy, with reprehensible vagueness. “I’m hungry enough to eat one raw right now, hide and all. Here’s some chicken sandwiches my mother put up, and if you Indians want any of them you’d better act quickly.”

The others needed no second invitation, and the sandwiches, together with a number of other home-cooked dainties, disappeared with wonderful rapidity. When they had finished, the boys stretched out luxuriously on the sweet-scented pine needles with which the ground was strewn, and all felt as though life could offer them little more. Jimmy took prompt advantage of the springy couch, and was soon dreaming of a happy land where all the mountains were made of pies and doughnuts. The others soon succumbed to the drowsy effects of their hearty meal, and the shadows were gathering heavily before they finally resumed their journey.

“We shouldn’t have stayed here so long,” said the driver, as they started on again. “We’ve still a good bit to go, and it will be dark in a few hours. This good road won’t last much longer, either.”

“Well, step on the accelerator while we still have the light, and we may not be so late, after all,” suggested Bob. “If you get tired driving, just say so, and I’ll take the wheel for a time and give you a rest.”

But the driver would not hear of this. As he had foretold, the road rapidly grew rougher, and at last it got so bad that they were forced to proceed at an exasperatingly slow pace for anyone at all anxious to get anywhere. The boys were thrown about here and there, and had to cling to the sides of the car to keep from being thrown out. Twilight changed to darkness, and, though on Spruce Mountain, they were still many miles from their destination. Suddenly the driver jammed on his brakes and the big car came to a shuddering halt not two feet from a big tree that had fallen across the road. The woods grew dense on either side of the road, so that there was no possible chance of getting around the obstruction.

“Looks as though we were here for the night,” observed the driver, scratching his head in perplexity. “This boiler can’t fly, and I don’t see any other way of getting on the other side of that tree.”

“I do!” exclaimed Bob, decisively. “We’ve got axes in the car, so why can’t we cut away a section of the trunk and go through sailing? How about it, fellows?”

For answer the boys made a dive for the tonneau, and in a few minutes the forest was ringing to the sound of their axes. The tree was of fair size, but in less than an hour they had chopped away a section of the trunk and rolled it to one side. This left an opening wide enough for the automobile to pass through, and they were soon bumping and jolting over the uneven road once more.

“I hope we haven’t got much further to go,” groaned Jimmy, after one particularly hard jolt. “Seems to me I’ll have to spend most of our time at Spruce Mountain in recovering from this trip. It would be more fun to walk.”

“Oh, quit your grumbling. We can’t have very much further to go,” said Joe. “I’ll have to admit I’ve ridden on better roads, though.”

But as Joe had said, their ride was almost at an end. A little further, and the driver turned up a side road, jolted along for a few hundred feet, and then, in the glare of the powerful headlights, they could see the outlines of a low, rambling building that they knew must be Dr. Dale’s bungalow. And sure enough, the key that had been intrusted to Bob’s care fitted the big padlock that secured the door, and the boys found themselves in the dim interior. They spent little time in examining the place, leaving that until the following day, but busied themselves in transferring their belongings from the car to the house. This done, they ate a hearty supper, tumbled into their bunks, and were soon sleeping the sleep that comes from an exciting day in the open. But the next morning they were up bright and early, for the man who had brought them up wanted to get an early start back. After this the lads examined the place curiously and spent the next day or two in getting settled and getting acquainted with their surroundings.