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[Illustration: THE BEAR WAS TRYING TO CLIMB UP ON THE ENGINE HOOD.]


THE MOTOR BOYS ACROSS THE PLAINS

Or

The Hermit of Lost Lake

by
CLARENCE YOUNG

Author of "The Motor Boys," "The Motor Boys Overland,"
"The Motor Boys in Mexico," "Jack Ranger's Schooldays," etc.

Illustrated







New York
Cupples & Leon Co.


      *      *      *      *      *      *

BOOKS BY CLARENCE YOUNG

=THE MOTOR BOYS SERIES=

(_Trade Mark, Reg. U. S. Pat. Of._)

12mo. Illustrated

Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid

  THE MOTOR BOYS
    Or Chums Through Thick and Thin

  THE MOTOR BOYS OVERLAND
    Or A Long Trip for Fun and Fortune

  THE MOTOR BOYS IN MEXICO
    Or The Secret of the Buried City

  THE MOTOR BOYS ACROSS THE PLAINS
    Or The Hermit of Lost Lake

  THE MOTOR BOYS AFLOAT
    Or The Stirring Cruise of the Dartaway

  THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE ATLANTIC
    Or The Mystery of the Lighthouse

  THE MOTOR BOYS IN STRANGE WATERS
    Or Lost in a Floating Forest

  THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE PACIFIC
    Or The Young Derelict Hunters

  THE MOTOR BOYS IN THE CLOUDS
    Or A Trip for Fame and Fortune


=THE JACK RANGER SERIES=

12mo. Finely Illustrated

Price per volume, $1.00, postpaid

  JACK RANGER'S SCHOOLDAYS
    Or The Rivals of Washington Hall

  JACK RANGER'S WESTERN TRIP
    Or From Boarding School to Ranch and Range

  JACK RANGER'S SCHOOL VICTORIES
    Or Track, Gridiron and Diamond

  JACK RANGER'S OCEAN CRUISE
    Or The Wreck of the Polly Ann

  JACK RANGER'S GUN CLUB
    Or From Schoolroom to Camp and Trail

      *      *      *      *      *      *


  Copyright, 1907, by
  CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

THE MOTOR BOYS ACROSS THE PLAINS




CONTENTS


 CHAPTER                               PAGE
      I. RAMMING AN OX CART               1
     II. A NEST OF SERPENTS              11
    III. THE DESERTED CABIN              20
     IV. NEWS FROM THE MINE              30
      V. TROUBLE AHEAD                   39
     VI. ON A STRANGE ROAD               46
    VII. THE RESCUE OF TOMMY BELL        55
   VIII. PURSUED BY ENEMIES              65
     IX. INTO THE CAVE                   72
      X. ATTACKED BY A COUGAR            81
     XI. A RUNAWAY AUTO                  90
    XII. TOMMY FINDS A FRIEND            98
   XIII. THE <DW52> MAN'S GHOST        107
    XIV. TROUBLE WITH A BAD MAN         117
     XV. THE STORY OF LOST LAKE         127
    XVI. A LONELY CABIN                 135
   XVII. THE INDIAN AND THE AUTO        144
  XVIII. LOST LAKE FOUND                152
    XIX. THE GHOST OF THE LAKE          161
     XX. THE MYSTERIOUS WOMAN           169
    XXI. THE DEN OF THE HERMIT          175
   XXII. A REVELATION                   185
  XXIII. SEARCHING FOR THE HERMIT       195
   XXIV. THE HERMIT'S IDENTITY          203
    XXV. ATTACKED BY THE ENEMY          212
   XXVI. ON THE ROAD AGAIN              221
  XXVII. TROUBLE AT THE MINE            227
 XXVIII. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL      237




PREFACE


_Dear Boys_:

Here it is at last--the fourth volume of "The Motor Boys Series," for
which so many boys all over our land have been asking during the past
year.

To those who have read the other volumes in this line, this new tale
needs no special introduction. To others, I would say that in the first
volume, entitled, "The Motor Boys," I introduced three wide-awake
American lads, Ned, Bob and Jerry, and told how they first won a bicycle
race and then a great motor cycle contest,--the prize in the latter
being a big touring car.

Having obtained the automobile, the lads went west, and in the second
volume, called, "The Motor Boys Overland," were related the particulars
of a struggle for a valuable mine, a struggle which tested the boys'
bravery to the utmost.

While in the west the boys heard of a strange buried city in Mexico,
and, in company with a learned college professor, journeyed to that
locality. The marvellous adventures met with are told in "The Motor
Boys in Mexico."

Leaving the buried city, the boys started again for the locality of the
mine, and in the present tale are told the particulars of some strange
things that happened on the way. A portion of this story is based on
facts, related to me while on an automobiling tour in the west, by an
old ranchman who had participated in some of the occurrences.

With best wishes, and hoping we shall meet again, I leave you to peruse
the pages which follow.

    CLARENCE YOUNG.

    _March 1, 1907._




THE MOTOR BOYS ACROSS THE PLAINS




CHAPTER I

RAMMING AN OX CART


Mingled with the frantic tooting of an automobile horn, there was the
shrill shrieking of the brake-band as it gripped the wheel hub in a
friction clutch.

"Hi, Bob! Look out for that ox cart ahead!" exclaimed one of three
sturdy youths in the touring car.

"I should say so! Jam on the brakes, Bob!" put in the tallest of the
trio, while an elderly man, who was in the rear seat with one of the
boys, glanced carelessly up to see what was the trouble.

"I have got the brake on, Jerry!" was the answer the lad at the steering
wheel made. "Can't you and Ned hear it screeching!"

The auto was speeding down a steep hill, seemingly headed straight
toward a solitary Mexican who was moving slowly along in an antiquated
ox-drawn vehicle.

"Then why don't she slow up? You've got the power off, haven't you?"

"Of course! Do you take me for an idiot!" yelled Bob, or, as his friends
sometimes called him, because of his fatness, "Chunky." "Of course I've
shut down, but something seems to be the matter with the brake pedal."

"Have you tried the emergency?" asked Ned.

"Sure!"

_Toot! Toot! Toot!_

Again the horn honked out a warning to the Mexican, but he did not seem
to hear.

The big red touring car was gathering speed, in spite of the fact that
it was not under power, and it bore down ever closer to the ox cart.

"Cut out the muffler and let him hear the explosions," suggested Jerry.

Bob did so, and the sounds that resulted were not unlike a Gatling gun
battery going into action. This time the native heard.

Glancing back, he gave a frightened whoop and jabbed the sharp goad
into the ox. The animal turned squarely across the road, thus shutting
off what small chance there might have been of the auto gliding past on
either side.

"We're going to hit him sure!" yelled Ned. "I say Professor, you'd
better hold on to your specimens. There's going to be all sorts of
things doing in about two shakes of a rattlesnake's tail!"

"What's that about a rattlesnake?" asked the old man, who, looking up
from a box of bugs and stones on his lap, seemed aware, for the first
time, of the danger that threatened.

"Hi there! Get out of the way! Move the cart! Shake a leg! Pull to one
side and let us have half the road!" yelled Jerry as a last desperate
resort, standing up and shouting at the bewildered and frightened
Mexican.

"Oh pshaw! He don't understand United States!" cried Ned.

"That's so," admitted Jerry ruefully.

"Vamoose, is the proper word for telling a Mexican to get out of the
road," suggested the professor calmly. "Perhaps if you shouted that at
him he might--"

What effect trying the right word might have had the boys had no chance
of learning, for, the next instant, in spite of Bob's frantic working at
the brake, the auto shot right at the ox cart. By the merest good luck,
more than anything else, for Bob could steer neither to the right nor
left, because the narrow road was hemmed in by high banks, the machine
struck the smaller vehicle a glancing blow.

The force of the impact skidded the auto on two wheels up the side of
the embankment, where, poking the front axle into a stump served to
bring the car to a stop. The car was slewed around to one side, the ox
was yanked from its feet, and, as the cart overturned, the Mexican,
yelling voluble Spanish, pitched out into the road.

Nor did the boys and the professor come off scathless, for the sudden
stopping of their machine piled the occupants on the rear seat up in
a heap on the floor of the tonneau, while Bob and Jerry, who were in
front, went sprawling into the dust near the native.

For a few seconds there was no sound save the yelling of the Mexican and
the bellowing of the ox. Then the cloud of dust slowly drifted away, and
Bob picked himself up, gazing ruefully about.

"This is a pretty kettle of fish," he remarked.

"I should say it was several of 'em," agreed Jerry, trying to get some
of the dust from his mouth, ears and nose. "You certainly hit him,
Chunky!"

"It wasn't my fault! How did I know the brake wasn't going to work just
the time it was most needed?"

"Is anybody killed?" asked the professor, looking up over the edge of
the tonneau, and not releasing his hold of several boxes which contained
his specimens.

"Don't seem to be, nor any one badly hurt, unless it's the ox or the
auto," said Ned, taking a look. "The Mexican seems to be mad about
something, though."

By this time the native had arisen from his prostrate position and was
shaking his fist at the Motor Boys and the professor, meanwhile, it
would appear from his language, calling them all the names to which he
could lay his tongue.

"I guess he wants Bob's scalp," said Jerry with a smile.

"It was as much his fault as mine," growled Chunky. "If he had pulled to
one side, I could easily have passed."

The Mexican, brushing the dust from his clothes, approached the auto
party, and continued his rapid talk in Spanish. The boys, who had been
long enough in Mexico to pick up considerable of the language, gathered
that the native demanded two hundred dollars for the damage to himself,
the cart and the ox, as well as for the injury to his dignity and
feelings.

"You'd better talk to him, Professor," suggested Jerry. "Offer him what
you think is right."

Thereupon Professor Snodgrass, in mild terms explained how the accident
had happened, saying it was no fault of the auto party.

The Mexican, in language more forcible than polite, reiterated his
demand, and announced that unless the money was instantly forthcoming,
he would go to the nearest alcade and lodge a complaint.

The travelers knew what this meant, with the endless delays of Mexican
justice, the summoning of witnesses and petty officers.

"I wish there was some way out," said Jerry.

As the Mexican had not been hurt, nor his cart or ox been damaged, there
was really no excuse for the boys giving in to his demands.

"Let's give him a few dollars and skip out," suggested Ned. "He can't
catch us."

This was easier said than done, for the auto was jammed up against a
tree stump on a bank, and the ox cart, which, the native by this time
had righted, blocked the road.

But, all unexpectedly, there came a diversion that ended matters.
Professor Snodgrass, with his usual care for his beloved specimens
before himself, was examining the various boxes containing them. He
opened one containing his latest acquisition of horned toads, big
lizards, rattlesnakes and bats. The reptiles crawled, jumped and flew
out, for they were all alive.

"Diabalo! Santa Maria! Carramba!" exclaimed the Mexican as he caught
sight of the repulsive creatures. "They are crazy Americanos!" he yelled.

With a flying leap he jumped into his ox cart, and with goad and voice
he urged the animal on to such advantage that, a few minutes later, all
that was to be seen of him was a cloud of dust in the distance.

"Good riddance," said Bob. "Now to see how much our machine is damaged."

Fortunately the auto had struck a rotten stump, and though with
considerable force, the impact was not enough to cause any serious
damage. Under the direction of Jerry the boys managed to get the machine
back into the road, where they let it stand while they went to a near-by
spring for a drink of water.

While they are quenching their thirst an opportunity will be taken to
present them to the reader in proper form.

The three boys were Bob Baker, son of Andrew Baker, a banker, Ned Slade,
the only heir of Aaron Slade, a department store proprietor, and Jerry
Hopkins, the son of a widow. All three were about seventeen years of
age, and lived in the city of Cresville, not far from Boston, Mass.
Their companion was Professor Uriah Snodgrass, a learned man with many
letters after his name, signifying the societies and institutions to
which he belonged.

Those who have read the first book of this series, entitled, "The Motor
Boys," need no introduction to the three lads. Sufficient to say that
some time before this story opens they had taken part in some exciting
bicycle races, the winning of which resulted in the acquiring of motor
cycles for each of them.

On these machines they had had much fun and had also many adventures
befall them. Taking part in a big race meet, one of them won an event
which gave him a chance to get a big touring automobile, the same car in
which they were now speeding through Mexico.

Their adventures in the auto are set forth at length in the second
volume of the series entitled, "The Motor Boys Overland," which tells of
a tour across the country, in which they had to contend with their old
enemy, Noddy Nixon, and his gang. Eventually the boys and Jim Nestor, a
miner whom they befriended, gained some information of a long lost gold
mine in Arizona.

They made a dash for this and won it against heavy odds, after a fight
with their enemies. The mine turned out well, and the boys and their
friends made considerable money.

The spirit of adventure would not drown in them. Just before reaching the
diggings they made the acquaintance of Professor Snodgrass, who told a
wonderful story of a buried city. How the boys found this ancient town
of old Mexico, and the many adventures that befell them there, are told
in the third book, called "The Motor Boys in Mexico."

Therein is related the strange happenings under ground, of the sunken
road, the old temples, the rich treasures and the fights with the
bandits. Also there is told of the rescue of the Mexican girl Maximina,
and how she was taken from a band of criminals and restored to her
friends.

These happenings brought the boys and the professor to the City of
Mexico, where the auto was given a good overhauling, to prepare it for
the trip back to the United States.

The boys and the professor, the latter bearing with him his beloved
specimens, started back for civilization, keeping to the best and most
frequented roads, to avoid the brigands, with whom they had had more
than one adventure on their first trip. It was while on this homeward
journey that the incident of the Mexican and the ox cart befell them.

Having slaked their thirst the boys and the professor went back to the
auto where, gathering up the belongings that had become scattered from
the upset, they prepared to resume their journey.

"Get in; I'll run her for a while," said Jerry.

"One minute! Stand still! Don't move if you value my happiness!"
exclaimed the professor suddenly, dropping down on his hands and knees,
and creeping forward through the long grass.




CHAPTER II

A NEST OF SERPENTS


"What is it; a rattlesnake?" asked Bob, in a hoarse whisper.

"Or a Gila monster?" inquired Ned.

"Quiet! No noise!" cautioned the professor. "I see a specimen worth ten
dollars at the lowest calculation. I'll have him in a minute."

"Is it a bug?" asked Chunky.

"There! I have him!" yelled the scientist, making a sudden dive forward,
sliding on his face, and clutching his hand deep into the grass.

As it happened there was a little puddle of water at that point, and the
professor, in the excess of his zeal, pitched right into it.

"Oh! Oh my! Oh dear! Phew! Wow! Help! Save me!" he exclaimed a moment
later, as he tried to get out of the slough.

The boys hurried to his aid, but the mud was soft and the professor had
gone head first into the ooze, which held fast to him as though it was
quicksand.

"Get him by the heels and yank him out or he'll smother!" cried Jerry.

The other boys followed his advice, and, in a little while the
bug-collector was pulled from his uncomfortable and dangerous position.
As he rolled about in the grass to get rid of some of the mud, he kept
his right hand tightly closed.

"What's the matter, are your fingers hurt?" asked Bob.

"No sir, my fingers are not hurt!" snapped the professor, with the
faintest tinge of impatience, which might be excused on the part of a
man who has just dived into a mud hole. "My fingers are not hurt in the
least. What I have here is one of the rarest specimens of the Mexican
mosquito I have ever seen. I would go ten miles to get one."

"I guess you're welcome to 'em," commented Jerry. "We don't want any."

"That's because you don't understand the value of this specimen,"
replied the professor. "This mosquito will add to my fame, and I shall
devote one whole chapter of my four books to it. This indeed has been a
lucky day for me."

"And unlucky for the rest of us," said Bob, as he thought of the spill.

It was found that a few minor repairs had to be made to the auto, and
when these were completed it was nearly noon.

"I vote we have dinner before we start again," spoke Bob.

"There goes Chunky!" exclaimed Ned. "Never saw him when he wasn't
thinking of something to eat!"

"Well, I guess if the truth was known you are just as hungry as I am,"
expostulated Chunky. "This Mexican air gives me a good appetite."

Bob's plan was voted a good one, so, with supplies and materials carried
in the auto for camping purposes, a fire was soon built, and hot
chocolate was being made.

"I'm sick of canned stuff and those endless eggs, frijoles and
tortillas," complained Bob. "I'd like a good beefsteak and some fish and
bread and butter."

"I don't know about the other things, but I think we could get some fish
over in that little brook," said the professor, pointing to a stream
that wound about the base of a near-by hill.

A minute later the boys had their hooks and lines out. Poles were cut
from trees, and, with some pieces of canned meat for bait they went
fishing. They caught several large white fish, which the professor
named in long Latin terms, and which, he said, were good to eat.

In a little while a savory smell filled the air, for Ned, who volunteered
to act as cook, had put the fish on to broil with some strips of bacon,
and soon there was a dinner fit for any king that ever wielded a scepter.

Sipping their chocolate, the boys and the professor watched the sun
slowly cross the zenith as they reclined in the shade of the big trees
on either side of the road. Then each one half fell asleep in the lazy
atmosphere.

Jerry was the first to rouse up. He looked and saw it would soon be
dusk, and then he awakened the others.

"We'll have to travel, unless we want to sleep out in the open," he said.

Thereupon they made preparations to leave, the professor gathering up
his specimens, including the Mexican mosquito that had caused him such
labor.

"I think we'll head straight for the Rio Grande," said Jerry. "Once we
get into Texas I expect we'll have some news from Nestor, as I wrote him
to let us know how the mine was getting on, and, also, to inform us if
he needed any help."

"I'll be glad to see old Jim again," said Bob.

"So will I," chimed in Ned.

The auto was soon chug-chugging over the road, headed toward the States,
and the occupants were engaged with their thoughts. It was rapidly
growing dusk, and the chief anxiety was to reach some town or village
where they could spend the night. For, though they were used to staying
in the open, they did not care to, now that the rainy season was coming
on, when fevers were prevalent.

The sun sank slowly to rest behind the big wooded hills as the auto
glided along, and, almost before the boys realized it, darkness was upon
them.

"Better light the lamps," suggested Ned. "No telling what we'll run into
on this road. No use colliding with more ox carts, if we can help it."

"I'll light up," volunteered Bob. "It will give me a chance to stretch
my legs. I'm all cramped up from sitting still so long."

Jerry brought the big machine to a stop while Bob alighted and proceeded
to illuminate the big search lamp and the smaller ones that burned oil.
He had just started the acetylene gas aglow when, glancing forward he
gave a cry of alarm.

"What is it?" cried Jerry, seeing that something was wrong. "Is it a
mountain lion?"

"It's worse!" cried Bob in a frightened voice.

"What?"

"A regular den of snakes! The horrible things are stretched right across
the road, and we can't get past. Ugh! There are some whoppers!"

Bob, who hated, above all creatures a snake, made a jump into the auto.

"There's about a thousand of 'em!" he cried with a shudder.

"Great!" exclaimed the professor. "I will have a chance to select some
fine specimens. This is a rare fortune!"

"Don't go out there!" gasped Bob. "You'll be bitten to death!"

Just then there sounded on the stillness of the night a strange,
whirring buzz. At the sound of it the professor started.

"Rattlers!" he whispered. "I guess none of us will get out. Probably
moccasins, cotton-mouths and vipers! There must be thousands of them!"

As he spoke he looked over the side of the car, and the exclamation he
gave caused the boys to glance toward the ground. There they beheld a
sight that filled them with terror.

As the professor had said, the ground was literally covered with the
snakes. The reptiles seemed to be moving in a vast body to some new
location. There were big snakes and little ones, round fat ones, and
long thin ones, and of many hues.

"Let's get out of this!" exclaimed Ned. "Start the machine, Jerry!"

"No! Don't!" called the professor. "You may kill a few, but the
revolving wheels of the auto will fling some live ones up among us, and
I have no desire to be bitten by any of these reptiles. They are too
deadly. So keep the car still until they have passed. They are probably
getting ready to go into winter quarters, or whatever corresponds to
that in Mexico."

"It will be lucky if they don't take a notion to climb up and investigate
the machine and us," put in Jerry. "I have--"

He gave a sudden start, for, at that instant one of the ugly reptiles,
which had twined itself around the wheel spokes, reared its ugly head
up, over the side of the front seat, and hissed, right in Jerry's face.

"Here's one now!" the boy exclaimed as he made a motion to brush the
snake aside.

"Don't touch it as you value your life!" yelled the professor. "It's a
diamond-backed rattler, and one of the most deadly!"

"Here is another coming up on my side," called Bob.

"Yes, and there are some coming up here!" shouted Ned. "They'll
overwhelm us if we don't look out!"

For a time it seemed a serious matter. The snakes began twining up the
sides of the car, and, though most of them dropped back to the ground
again, a few maintained their position, and seemed to exhibit anger at
the sight of the boys and the professor.

"What shall we do?" asked Bob. "We can't run ahead, or go backward, and,
if we stay here we're likely to be killed by the snakes."

Jerry, who was feeling around in the bottom of the car for his rifle,
gave a cry as his hand came in contact with something.

"Get bitten?" asked the professor in alarm.

"No, but I found this lariat," said Jerry in excited tones.

"Are you going to lasso the snakes?" asked Ned, wondering if Jerry had
gone crazy.

"No, but you see this lariat is made of horse hair, and I think I can
keep the snakes away with it."

"How; by shaking it at 'em?"

"No. I read in some book that snakes hated horse hair, and would never
cross even a small ring of it."

"Well?"

"Well, if I run this lariat all around the auto the snakes will not
cross it to come to us. Then we can stay here until they all disappear."

"Good!" exclaimed Ned. "That's the ticket!"

The reptiles that had climbed up the wheels had gone from sight. With
the help of Ned and Bob, Jerry began to spread the horse-hair lariat in
a circle about the car.




CHAPTER III

THE DESERTED CABIN


In a few minutes the hair rope was all about the auto, spread out on the
ground in an irregular circle. As the boys dropped it over the sides of
the car the lariat struck several of the big snakes, and the reptiles
shrunk away as though scorched by fire.

"They're afraid of it all right!" exclaimed Ned. "I guess it will do the
business."

Sure enough, there seemed to be a desire on the part of the snakes to
clear out of the vicinity of the hair rope. They glided off by scores,
and soon there was a clear space all about the car, where, before, there
had been hundreds of the crawling things.

"Shake the lasso," suggested Bob, "and maybe it will scare them farther
off."

"Yes and we might try shooting a few now they are at a safe distance,"
put in Ned.

"It's too bad I can't get some specimens," lamented the professor, "but
I suppose you had better try to get rid of them."

So Jerry, who had retained one end of the long lasso vibrated it
rapidly, and, as it wiggled in sinuous folds toward the reptiles they
made haste to get out of the way. Then Bob and Ned opened fire, killing
several. In a little while there were no snakes to be seen.

"I guess we can go ahead now," said Jerry. "Who'll crank up the car?
Don't all speak at once."

"My arm is a bit sore," spoke Ned, rubbing his elbow.

"Then you do it, Chunky," asked the steersman.

"I think I have a stone in my foot," said Bob, making a wry face.

"Ha! Ha!" laughed Jerry. "Why don't you two own up and say you're afraid
there's a stray rattler or two under the machine, and you think it may
bite you?"

The two boys grinned sheepishly, and both made a motion to get out.

"Stay where you are," called the professor preparing to leave from the
side door of the tonneau. "I'm used to snakes. I don't believe there are
any left, but if there are I want them for specimens. I'll crank the
car."

So he got out and peered anxiously under