The Boy Land Boomer | Page 8

surely the great rattlesnake came closer to where Pawnee
Brown stood motionless in the darkness of the cavern.
The reptile had been enraged by the shot the great scout fired, and now
meant to strike, and that fatally.
Listening with ears strained to their utmost, the boomer heard the form
of the snake slide from rock to rock of the uneven flooring.
The rattler was all of ten feet long and as thick around as a good-sized
fence rail.
One square strike from those poisonous fangs and Pawnee Brown's
hours would be numbered.
Yet the scout did not intend to give up his life just now. He still held
his pistol, four chambers of which were loaded.
"If only I had a light," he thought.
Retreat was out of the question. A single sound and the rattlesnake
would have been upon him like a flash.
It was only the darkness and the utter silence that made the reptile
cautious.
Suddenly the scout heard a scraping on the rocks less than three feet in
front of him.
The time for action had come; another moment and the rattler would be
wound around his legs.
Crack! crack! Two reports rang out in quick succession and by the flash
of the first shot Pawnee Brown located those glittering eyes.

The second shot went true to its mark, and the rattler dropped back with
a hole through its ugly head.
The long, whip like body slashed hither and thither, and the scout had
to do some lively sprinting to keep from getting a tangle and a squeeze.
As he hopped about he struck a match, picked up the lantern, shook the
little oil remaining into the wick and lit it. Another shot finished the
snake and the body curled up into a snarl and a quiver, to bother him no
more.
It was then that Pawnee Brown paused, drew a deep breath and wiped
the cold perspiration from his brow.
"By gosh! I've killed fifty rattlers in my time, but never one in this
fashion," he murmured. "Wonder if there are any more around?"
He knew that these snakes often travel in pairs, and as he went on his
way he kept his eyes wide open for another attack.
But none came, and now something else claimed his attention.
The cavern was coming to an end. The side walls closed in to less than
three feet, and the flooring sloped up so that he had to crouch down and
finally go forward on his hands and knees.
The lantern now went out for good, every drop of oil being exhausted.
At this juncture many a man would have halted and turned back to
where he had come from, but such was not Pawnee Brown's intention.
"I'll see the thing through," he muttered. "I'd like to know how far I am
from the surface of the ground."
A dozen yards further and the cavern become so small that additional
progress was impossible.
He placed his hand above him and encountered nothing but dirt, with
here and there a small stone.

With care he began to dig away at the dirt with his knife. Less than a
foot of the cavern ceiling had thus been dug away when the point of the
knife brought down a small stream of water.
Feeling certain he was now close to the surface, he continued to work
with renewed vigor.
"At last!"
The scout was right. The knife had found the outer air, and a dim,
uncertain light struck down upon the hero of the plains.
It did not take long to enlarge the opening sufficiently to admit the
passage of Pawnee Brown's body.
He leaped out among a number of bushes and stretched himself.
Having brushed the dirt from his wet clothing, he "located himself," as
he put it, and started up a hill to the entrance to the Devil's Chimney.
He was on the side opposite to that from which he had descended, and,
in order to get over, had to make a wide detour through some brush and
small timber.
This accomplished, he hurried to where he had left Bonnie Bird
tethered.
As the reader knows, the beautiful mare was gone, and had been for
some time.
"I suppose that young Arbuckle took her," he mused. "But, if so, why
doesn't he come back here with her?"
There being no help for it, the scout set off for the camp of the boomers
on foot.
He was just entering the temporary settlement when he came face to
face with Jack Rasco, another of the boomers.

"Pawnee!" shouted the boomer, "You air jess the man I want ter see.
Hev ye sot eyes on airy o' the Arbuckles?"
"I'm looking for Dick Arbuckle now," answered the scout. "Isn't he in
the