Bert Wilson in the Rockies | Page 3

of long
standing. Beginning at a summer camp, five years earlier, where chance
had thrown them together, it had grown increasingly stronger with
every year that passed. A subtle free masonry had from the start made
each recognize the others as kindred spirits. Since this first meeting
their paths had seldom diverged. Together they had gone to college,
where their athletic prowess had put them in the first rank in sports and
made them popular among their comrades. On the baseball diamond
they had played their positions in brilliant fashion, and on the football
gridiron they had added to their laurels. When Bert had been chosen to
go to the Olympic games abroad, his "pals" had gone with him and
exulted in his glorious victory, when, in the Marathon race, he had
beaten the crack runners of the world. Nor were they to be denied,
when his duty as wireless operator had carried him over the Pacific to
meet with thrilling experiences among the yellow men of Asia. In every
time of storm and stress they had stood with him shoulder to shoulder,
and faced life and death with eyes wide open and unafraid. They were
worthy lieutenants of a brave and intrepid leader.
For, that he was their leader, they themselves would have been the first
to admit, although he would have modestly disclaimed it. He never
asserted leadership, but it sought him out of its own accord. He had the
instinct, the initiative, the quick decision, the magnetic personality that
marks the born captain. It was not merely that he was endowed with
strength of muscle and fleetness of foot and power of endurance that
placed him in a class by himself. He might have had all these, and still
been only a superb specimen of the "human animal." But, above and
controlling these qualities, was the indomitable will, the unflinching
courage, the gallant audacity that made him the idol of his comrades.
The college year just ended had been a notable one, marked by
victories on track and field. Together with the high rank he had reached

and held in his studies, with which, unlike many athletes, he never
allowed sport to interfere, it had taxed him heavily in mind and body.
And it was with unfeigned delight that he now looked forward to a long
season of recreation and adventure on the ranch in Montana, toward
which he and his friends were speeding.
Mr. Melton, the owner of the ranch, was a Western cattleman of the old
type, now rapidly disappearing. Bluff, rough and ready, generous and
courageous, his sterling qualities had won the admiration and affection
of the boys from the date of their first meeting the year before.
That meeting had taken place under extraordinary circumstances. The
"Three Guardsmen"--so called in joke, because they were always
together--journeying to the opening of the Panama Canal had found
themselves on the same train with Melton, as it wound its way through
Central Mexico. A broken trestle had made it necessary for the train to
halt for an hour or two, and during this enforced stop Dick had
carelessly wandered away on a stroll through the woods, tempted by
the beauty of the day and the novelty of his surroundings. At a turn in
the road he had suddenly found himself in the presence of twenty or
more guerillas, headed by the notorious El Tigre, whose name was
spoken with a shudder throughout Mexico. They had bound him and
carried him off to their mountain retreat. Bert and Tom, an hour later,
discovered the cause of his absence and immediately started in pursuit,
determined to save their comrade or die with him. But first they had
disclosed the situation to Melton, who had sworn in his rage to follow
after them and aid them in the rescue. How faithfully he had kept his
word, how skillfully and daringly he had led them on and rushed the
camp just as Dick was steeling himself to undergo the rattlesnake
torture that the bandit chief had planned for him, was engraven
indelibly on the memories of the boys. Until the day of their death they
could never forget how the old war horse, with everything to lose and
nothing to gain, had come to their assistance simply because they were
Americans and in dire need of help.
And on Melton's part the feeling was equally warm. He had taken an
instantaneous liking to these young countrymen of his who had played

their part so gallantly. They recalled to him the days of his own stormy
youth, when he had ridden the range and when his life had depended on
his iron nerve and his quickness with the trigger. Though older than
they by forty years, they were all cut on the same