Part 21 (1/2)

”Heine,” Jo remarked, ”we'll travel right along as we have always traveled. If one of Mr. Drummond's trucks comes up behind us and wants to pa.s.s we will let it pa.s.s when it is convenient to do so.”

”Not here, Jo! My team don't put one foot outa the road to let a truck pa.s.s.”

”No, I don't expect you to do that. But it will depend on conditions.

If you are loaded and he is empty, of course he must look out for himself. Again, if you are climbing and he is coming down, he must get out of the difficulty as best he can. But when you, loaded, reach a place where a truck can pa.s.s you, and you know one is coming up behind you and wishes to pa.s.s, you will stop your team in the road and let it circle around you.”

”I won't, Jo! I----”

”Yes, you will. You will do as I say, as you always do.” She smiled at him sweetly and patted his shoulder. ”Loyal old Heinrich!” she said. ”Just the same old-timer, we must observe the courtesy of the road always. Think it over--you'll see I'm right.”

”Jo, you can't afford a jolt like that,” said Jim McAllen.

”I can't,” Jo told him frankly. ”Right now I don't know what to do. I must keep on, by some hook or crook, till I can get advice from some one who's onto such tricks--Demarest, perhaps.”

”It's a rotten deal!”

”I have an idea it's perfectly legitimate, Jim.”

”They ain't gonta do anything to the road to make it worth a tenth o'

what they ask to travel on it. You saw the little putterin' jobs they did, Jo.”

”I have an idea,” replied the girl, ”that when winter comes they'll be quite busy. And it also occurs to me that, now that they've agreed to maintain the road if given the franchise, we can make them do it down to the letter, or render their franchise void.”

”By golly, I bet you can at that, Jo!” put in Tom Gulick. ”I've heard, though, there's a rotten bunch of grafters runnin' this county. They'd probably beat you out some way, so long as Drummond was puttin' up cigar money for them.”

Up until now Hiram Hooker had said nothing. Now came his soothing drawl, and the others listened.

”I don't know much about automobiles and what they can do,” he said.

”But I do know mountains and mountain roads, and somethin' about mountain soil. And I've this to say: If Jo can hang on till winter there'll be no trucks runnin' against her. Then if they still collect for crossin' through the pa.s.s, all she's got to do is raise the freight rate to meet the extra expense. There's exactly ten places on the road where we're goin' to hook maybe thirty horses on every wagon to get across next winter. And I'll bet my month's wages against a dollar of Mr. Drummond's money that he'll be begging for teams to haul him out.

Then, of course, the price ought to be about fifty-six dollars a haul, regardless of distance, hadn't it?”

”Good boy!” cried Keddie. ”Listen to our Gentle Wild Cat pur! He's right, too, I'll say. If we can hang on till winter, Jo can collect back all she's paid out for tolls--and I'll say a little profit on the deal wouldn't make me weep.”'

”But winter's a long way off,” Jim McAllen gloomily pointed out.

After this there was thoughtful silence.

To add to the misfortunes of the second trip to the camps, Jim McAllen broke a reach when the train neared the foot of the grade. There were spare reaches in the outfit, of course, but they had to unload the wagon to subst.i.tute one, and it all took a great deal of time. Then a horse became sick, and Jerkline Jo positively refused to work a sick horse. The animal was taken out of harness and allowed to tag along behind with his mate, who automatically became useless, too. A ton of supplies was taken from the wagon to which the sick horse belonged, and distributed among the other loads. This took more time, and night overtook the outfit with several miles between them and the tank wagon that awaited their coming on the desert.

Hour after hour they plodded along, not daring to camp until they had water. There was no moon, and as the desert road was little more than a trail Heine Schultz let his team tag Keddie's and walked ahead with a lantern to guide the lead skinner. Thirsty and hungry and weary, they reached the tank about nine o'clock. Then came a hearty curse from the man with the lantern, followed by:

”Lord, be merciful unto me, a skinner! The tank's empty, Jo!”

The party descended hurriedly and crowded about him. It was a steel tank, and a careful search failed to show that any of its plates had sprung a leak. Then the light was held under the spigot, and, though the hot desert sun had evaporated every drop of water, there was a hole worn in the sand where it had fallen in a stream. The spigot was open.

”How 'bout it now, Jo?” Heine queried. ”Is this what you call legitimate business--huh? I guess now you'll let me hold 'em back when I can.”

Without replying Jo stooped and made an examination.