“Look out, Jim!” he yelled as it sputtered and sparked. “In about tew minutes there’s goin’ ter be ‘Hail Columbia’ round these diggin’s.”
A dull, booming crash that shook the ground under their feet, followed within a few seconds. A cloud of dust and rocks arose from the cave mouth. Suddenly Ralph broke into a shout:
“Hold on, boy,” warned the prospector, laying a hand on Ralph’s shoulder. “Watch!”
The big boulder hesitated, swayed, and then, with a reverberating crash, as the blasted terrace under it gave way, it rolled down the hillside. An instant after, Jim Bothwell burst from the cavern and ran toward them. It was all that Ralph, in his joy, could do to keep from embracing him, but just then a sudden shout from Bitter Creek Jones caught and distracted his attention. In their excitement they had forgotten all about the tethered ponies. The great rock was now bounding toward them with great velocity.
It shook the ground as its ponderous weight rumbled down the hillside. The ponies whinnied with terror and tugged and strained at their ropes. But just as it appeared inevitable that they must be crushed, the huge rock struck a smaller one and its course was diverted. Down it went, but on a safe track now, and terminated its career in the clump of thick growing alders that fringed the stream.
“Wow, a narrow escape!” ejaculated Ralph breathlessly.
“Yep, we come pretty durn near killin’ two birds--or ponies, rayther--with one stone,” grinned Bitter Creek Jones; “but all’s well as turns out all right, as the poet says.”
“Bitter, you’re all right,” cried Jim, clutching the hand of the prospector who had turned up so opportunely.
“Shucks! That’s all right, Jim. It wasn’t much to do fer you, old pal,” responded Bitter returning the pressure. “And now,” he went on, as if anxious to change the subject, “you’d better skin that lion and be gettin’ on yer way. It’s drawin’ in late, and this is a bad part of the country to get benighted in, more specially with a bunch of Bloods hanging about all lit up with fire-water.”
“Reckon you’re right, Bitter,” was the response as Mountain Jim deftly made the necessary incisions and he and his friend skinned the dead cougar with skillful hands.