The Pony Rider Boys in Texas
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Frank Gee Patchin >> The Pony Rider Boys in Texas
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THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN TEXAS
Or
The Veiled Riddle of the Plains
by
FRANK GEE PATCHIN
Author of The Pony Rider Boys in The Rockies, Etc.
Philadelphia
Henry Altemus Company
Copyright, 1910 by Howard E. Altemus
[Illustration: Drop That Gun!]
CONTENTS
I. In the Land of the Cowboy
II. The Pony Riders Join the Outfit
III. Putting the Cows to Bed
IV. The First Night in Camp
V. Cutting Out the Herd
VI. Tad Takes a Desperate Chance
VII. The Herd Fords the River
VIII. The Approach of the Storm
IX. Chased by a Stampeding Herd
X. A Miraculous Escape
XI. The Vigil on the Plains
XII. Under a Strange Influence
XIII. Chunky Ropes a Cowboy
XIV. On a Wild Night Ride
XV. Fording a Swollen River
XVI. A Brave Rescue
XVII. Making New Friends
XVIII. Breaking in the Bronchos
XIX. Grit Wins the Battle
XX. Dinner at the Ox Bow
XXI. A Call for Help
XXII. Lost in the Adobe Church
XXIII. Solving the Mystery
XXIV. Conclusion
List of Illustrations
Drop That Gun!
Good for You, Kid!
As the Wagon Lurched Pong Plunged Overboard.
Tad Gave the Rope a Quick, Rolling Motion.
The Pony Rider Boys in Texas
CHAPTER I
IN THE LAND OF THE COWBOY
"What's that?"
"Guns, I reckon."
"Sounds to me as if the town were being attacked. Just like war time,
isn't it?"
"Never having been to war, I can't say. But it's a noise all right."
The freckle-faced boy, sitting on his pony with easy confidence,
answered his companion's questions absently. After a careless glance up
the street, he turned to resume his study of the noisy crowds that were
surging back and forth along the main street of San Diego, Texas.
"Yes, it's a noise. But what is it all about?"
"Fourth of July, Ned. Don't you hear?"
"Hear it, Tad? I should say I do hear it. Yet I must confess that it is
a different sort of racket from any I've ever heard up North on the
Fourth. Is this the way they celebrate it down here?"
"I'm sure I don't know."
"Why, a fellow might imagine that a band of wild Indians were tearing
down on him. Here they come! Look out! Me for a side street!"
The little Texas town was dressed in its finest, in honor of the great
national holiday, and the inhabitants for many miles around had ridden
in at the first streak of dawn, that they might miss none of the frolic.
A rapid explosion of firearms accompanied by a chorus of wild yells and
thrilling whoops, had caused Ned Rector to utter the exclamation of
alarm. As he did so, he whirled his pony about, urging the little animal
into a side street so that he might be out of the way of the body of men
whom he saw rushing down upon them on galloping ponies.
"Hurry, Tad!" he called from the protection of the side street.
That others in the street had heard, and seen as well, was evident from
the frantic haste with which they scrambled for the sidewalk, crowding
those already there over yard fences, into stores and stairways in an
effort to get clear of the roadway. A sudden panic had seized them, for
well did they know the meaning of the shooting and the shouting.
A band of wild, uncontrollable cowboys, free for the time from the
exacting work of the range, were sweeping down on the town, determined
to do their part in the observance of the day.
Yet, Tad Butler, the freckle-faced boy, remained where he was
undisturbed by the uproar, finding great interest in the excited throngs
that were hurrying to cover. Nor did he appear to be alarmed when, a
moment later, he found himself almost the sole occupant of the street at
that point, with his pony backed up against the curbing, tossing its
head and champing its bit restlessly.
As for the freckle-faced boy and his companion, the reader no doubt has
recognized in them our old friends, Tad Butler and Ned Rector, the Pony
Rider Boys. After their exciting experiences in the Rockies, and their
discovery of the Lost Claim, which gave each of the boys a little
fortune of his own, as narrated in the preceding volume, "The Pony
Rider Boys in the Rockies," the Pony Riders had turned toward Texas
as the scene of their next journeying. With Walter Perkins and Stacy
Brown, the boys, under the guidance of Professor Zepplin, were to join a
cattle outfit at San Diego, whence they were to travel northward with
it.
This was to be one of the biggest cattle drives of recent years. A
cattle dealer, Mr. Thomas B. Miller, had purchased a large herd of
Mexican cattle, which he decided to drive across the state on the old
trail, instead of shipping them by rail, to his ranch in Oklahoma.
It had been arranged that the Pony Riders were to become members of the
working force of the outfit during what was called the "drive" across
the State of Texas. The boys were awaiting the arrival of the herd at
San Diego on this Fourth of July morning. Though they did not suspect
it, the Pony Rider Boys were destined, on this trip, to pass through
adventures more thrilling, and hardships more severe, than anything they
had even dreamed of before.
The cattle had arrived late the previous evening, though the boys had
not yet been informed of the fact. The animals were to be allowed to
graze and rest for the day, while the cowmen, or such of them as could
be spared, were given leave to ride into town in small parties. It was
the advance guard of the cowboys whose shots and yells had stirred the
people in the street to such sudden activity.
On they came, a shouting, yelling mob.
Tad turned to look at them now.
The sight was one calculated to stir the heart and quicken the pulses of
any boy. But the face of Tad Butler reflected only mild curiosity as he
gazed inquiringly at the dashing horsemen, each one of whom was riding
standing in his stirrups waving sombrero and gun on high.
What interested the freckle-faced boy most was their masterful
horsemanship.
"Y-e-e-e-o-w!" exploded the foremost of the riders.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
As many puffs of white smoke leaped into the air from the revolvers of
the skylarking cowmen.
"W-h-o-o-o-p-e!" they chorused in a mighty yell, letting go at the same
time a rattling fire.
"Y-e-e-e-o-w!"
As they swept down toward the spot where Tad was sitting on his pony,
the cowboys swung into line six abreast, thus filling the street from
curb to curb.
This time, however, instead of shooting into the air, they lowered the
muzzles of their revolvers, sending volley after volley into the street
ahead of them, the leaden missiles viciously kicking up the dirt into
miniature clouds, like those from heavy drops of rain in advance of a
thunder squall.
Tad's pony began to show signs of nervousness.
"Whoa!" commanded the boy sharply, tightening his rein and pressing his
knees firmly against the animal's sides. The prancing pony was quickly
mastered by its rider, though it continued to shake its head in emphatic
protest.
"Out of the way, you tenderfoot!" yelled a cowman, espying the boy and
pony directly in his path.
Tad Butler did not move.
"Y-e-e-e-o-w!" shrieked the band in a series of shrill cries.
When they saw that the boy was holding his ground so calmly, their
revolvers began to bark spitefully, flicking up a semicircle of dust
about the pony's feet, causing the little animal to prance and rear into
the air.
At this Tad's jaws set stubbornly, his lips pressing themselves firmly
together. The boy brought his quirt down sharply on the pony's flank, at
the same time pressing the pointless rowels of his spurs against the
sides of the frightened animal.
Though Tad determinedly held his mount in its place, he was no longer
able to check its rearing and plunging, for the wiry little animal was
wholly unused to such treatment. Besides, a volley of revolver bullets
about its feet would disturb the steadiest horse.
Two cowboys on his side of the street had driven their mounts toward the
lad with a yell. Tad did not wholly divine their purpose, though he knew
that their intent was to frighten him into giving them the street. He
felt instinctively that if he should refuse to do so, some sort of
violence would be visited upon him.
It followed a moment later.
Observing that the boy had no intention of giving way to them, the two
cowboys held their course, their eyes fixed on the offending tenderfoot
until finally only a few rods separated them.
Suddenly, both men pulled their mounts sharply to the right, and,
digging in the spurs, plunged straight for Tad.
"So that's their game, is it?" thought the boy.
They were going to run him down.
Tad's eyes flashed indignantly, yet still he made no move to pull his
pony out of the street.
"Keep off!" he shouted. "Don't you run me down!"
"W-h-o-o-o-p!" howled the pair, at the same time letting go a volley
right under the hoofs of his pony. It seemed to the lad that the powder
from their weapons had burned his face, so close had the guns been when
they pulled the triggers.
Tad had braced himself for the shock that he knew was coming, gathering
the reins tightly in his right hand and leaning slightly forward in his
saddle.
They were fairly upon him now. Two revolvers exploded into the air,
accompanied by the long shrill yell of the plainsmen. But just when it
seemed that the lad must go down under the rush of beating hoofs, Tad
all but lifted his pony from the ground, turned the little animal and
headed him in the direction in which the wild horsemen were going.
The boy's clever horsemanship had saved him. Yet one of the racing cow
ponies struck the boy and his horse a glancing blow. For the moment, Tad
felt sure his left leg must have been broken. He imagined that he had
heard it snap.
As he swept past the boy the cowboy had uttered a jeering yell.
Tad brought down his quirt with all his force on the rump of the kicking
cow pony, whose hoofs threatened to wound his own animal.
Then a most unexpected thing happened--that is, unexpected to the
cowboy.
Looking back at the boy he had attempted to unhorse, the cowman was
leaning over far to the left in his saddle when Tad struck his horse.
The pony, under the sting of the unexpected blow, leaped into the air
with arching back and a squeal of rage.
The cowboy's weight on the side of the startled animal overbalanced it
and the animal plunged sideways to the street. The cowpuncher managed to
free his left leg from the stirrup; but, quick as he was, he was not
quick enough to save himself wholly from the force of the fall. The
fellow ploughed the dirt of the street on his face, while the pony,
springing to its feet, was off with a bound.
The other cowpunchers set up a great jeering yell as they saw the
unhorsing of their companion by a mere boy, while the villagers and
country folks laughed as loudly as they dared.
Yet there was not one of them but feared that the angry cowpuncher would
visit his wrath upon the lad who had been the cause of his downfall.
With a roar of rage he scrambled to his feet.
In his fall the fellow's gun had been wrenched from his hand, and lay in
the street.
He picked it up as he started for Tad Butler.
Tad, who had sat in his saddle calmly, now realized that he must act
quickly if he expected to save himself.
His plan was formed in a flash.
Digging in the spurs, and at the same time slapping the little animal
smartly on its side, the lad caused his little pony to leap violently
forward.
"Drop that gun!"
As he uttered the stern command, the boy brought his quirt down across
the cowman's knuckles with a resounding whack.
The cowman with a yell of rage sprang at him, but the blow aimed at Tad
Butler's head never reached him.
CHAPTER II
THE PONY RIDERS JOIN THE OUTFIT
At that instant a man, clad in the dress of a cowboy, leaped from the
sidewalk. He caught the angry cowman by the collar. From the way in
which the newcomer swung the fellow around it was evident that he was
possessed of great strength.
"Stop it!" he thundered.
Tad's assailant turned on the newcomer with an angry snarl, his rage now
beyond all control.
"Let me alone! Let me get at the cub!" he cried, making a vicious pass
at the man.
The cowboy's blow was neatly parried and a mighty fist was planted
squarely between his eyes, sending him to earth in a heap.
"Get up!" commanded the man who had felled him.
The cowboy struggled to his feet, standing sullenly before his
conqueror.
"Look at me, Lumpy! Didn't I tell you that I'd 'fire' you if you got
into any trouble in town to-day?"
The cowboy nodded.
"Is this the way you obey orders? What sort of recommend do you suppose
Boss Miller will give you when I tell him I found you trying to shoot up
a kid?"
"I don't care. I ain't askin' any recommends. Besides, he--he got
in----"
"Never mind what he did. I saw it all. Get your pony and back to the
camp for yours. Let Bert come in your place. You get no more lay-offs
till I see fit to let you. Now, git!"
Thoroughly subdued, but with angry muttered protests, the cowboy, walked
down the street, jerking his pony's head about and swinging himself into
the saddle.
"Don't be rough on the fellow. Let him stay."
The newcomer turned to Tad, glancing up at the boy inquiringly.
"Young fellow, you've got nerve--more nerve than sense."
"Thank you. But I asked you to let the man stay. He won't do it again,"
urged Tad.
"I'm the best judge of that. And as for you, young fellow, I would
advise you to ride your pony away from here. First thing I know you will
be mixing it up with some of the rest of the bunch. I may not be around
to straighten things out then, and you'll get hurt."
"Thank you, sir. I think I have as much right here as anyone else. If
those are your men I should think you might be able to teach them to
respect other people's rights."
"What, teach a cowboy?" laughed the other. "You don't know the breed.
Take my advice and skip."
Tad's rescuer strode away.
The lad's introduction to cowboy life had not been of an encouraging
nature, though it was difficult for him to believe that all cowboys were
like the one he had just encountered.
"Well, you made a nice mess of it, didn't you?" chuckled Ned Rector,
riding up beside his companion a few minutes later. "I didn't see it,
but I heard all about it from Bob Stallings."
"Stallings? Who's he?"
"The foreman of the cowboys with whom we are going."
"And were those the fellows that tried to crowd me off the street?"
"I reckon those were the boys," said Ned Rector quietly.
"Then, I can see a nice time when we join them. They will have no love
for me after what has happened this morning. Where is the camp?"
"I don't know. Professor Zepplin says it's about four miles to the west
of here."
"When do we join them?"
"Some time to-night. The foreman says they are going to start at
daylight. He's over at the hotel talking with the Professor now. He was
telling the Professor about your mix-up with Lumpy Bates. That's the
name of the cowboy who ran into you. And how he did laugh when I told
him you belonged to our crowd," chuckled Ned.
"What did he say?"
"Said he thought you'd do. He says we can't use our ponies on the
drive."
"Why not?" asked Tad, looking up quickly.
"Because they are not trained on cattle work."
"Pshaw! I'm sorry. Have we got to leave them here?"
"No. He says we may turn them in with their herd, and use them for
anything we care to, except around the cattle. We shall have to ride
some of the bronchos when we are on duty."
"I think I see somebody falling off," laughed Tad. "Ever ride one of
them, Ned?"
"No."
"Well, you'll know more about them after you have."
"I think I should like to go over and see Mr. Stallings," declared Tad.
"All right, come along, then."
They found the foreman of the outfit discussing the plans for their
journey with Professor Zepplin, while Stacy Brown and Walter Perkins
were listening with eager attention.
"This is Master Tad Butler, Mr. Stallings," announced the Professor.
"I think I have met the young man before," answered the foreman, with a
peculiar smile.
"Tad, I am surprised that you should involve yourself in trouble so soon
after getting out of my sight. I----"
"The boy was not to blame, Mr. Professor. My cowpunchers were wholly in
the wrong. But you need have no fears of any future trouble. The bunch
will be given to understand that the young gentlemen are to be well
treated. You will find no luxuries, but lots of hard work on a cattle
drive, young men----"
"Do--do we get plenty to eat?" interrupted Stacy Brown apprehensively.
All joined in the laugh at the lad's expense.
"Chunky's appetite is a wonderful thing, Mr. Stallings," said Tad.
"I think we shall be able to satisfy it," laughed the foreman. "Our cook
is a Chinaman. His name is Pong, but he knows how to get up a meal. I
believe, if he had nothing but sage grass and sand, he could make a
palatable dish of them, provided he had the seasoning. Have you boys
brought your slickers with, you?"
"What's a slicker?" demanded Chunky.
"A rubber blanket that----"
"Oh yes. We bought an outfit of those at Austin," answered Tad.
"Anything else that you wish us to get?"
"The boys don't carry guns, do they?"
Professor Zepplin shook his head emphatically.
"Most certainly not. They can get into enough trouble without them. We
have rifles in our kit, but I imagine there will be little use for such
weapons on this trip."
"You can't always tell about that," smiled the foreman. "I remember in
the old days, when we used to have to fight the rustlers, that a rifle
was a pretty good thing to have."
"Who were the rustlers?" asked Walter.
"Fellows who rustled cattle that didn't belong to them. But the old days
have passed. Such a drive as we are making now hasn't been done on so
large a scale in nearly twenty years."
"Why not?" asked Ned.
"The iron trails have put the old cow trails out of business."
"Iron trails?" wondered Tad.
"Railroads. We men of the plains refer to them as the iron trails.
That's what they are in reality. Professor, do you wish the boys to take
their turns on the herd to-night?"
"As you wish, Mr. Stallings. I presume they will be anxious to begin
their life as cowboys. I understand that's an ambition possessed by most
of your American boys."
"All right," laughed the foreman. "I'll send them out as I find I can,
with some of the other cowpunchers, until they learn the ropes. There is
too great a responsibility on a night man to trust the boys alone with
that work now. But they can begin if they wish. I'll see first how the
bunch get back from their celebration of the glorious Fourth. You'll
come out and have supper with us?"
"No, I think not. We shall ride out just after supper, if you will have
some one to show us the way," answered the Professor.
"Sure, I'll send in Big-foot Sanders to pilot you out. You boys need not
be afraid of Big-foot. He's not half so savage as he looks, but he's a
great hand with cows."
Big-foot Sanders rode up to the hotel shortly after six o'clock. Leading
his pony across the sidewalk, he poked his shaggy head just inside the
door of the hotel.
"Ki-yi!" he bellowed, causing everybody within hearing of his voice to
start up in alarm. "Where's that bunch of tenderfeet?"
"Are you Mr. Sanders, from the Miller outfit?" asked the Professor,
stepping toward him.
"Donno about the Mister. I'm Big-foot Sanders. I'm lookin' for a bunch
of yearlings that's going on with the outfit."
"The young gentlemen will join you in a moment, Mr. Sanders. They will
ride their ponies around from the stable and meet you in front of the
house."
"You one of the bunch?"
"I am Professor Zepplin, a sort of companion, you know, for the young
men."
"Huh!" grunted Big-foot. "I reckon you'd better forget the hard boiled
hat you're wearin' or the boys'll be for shooting it full of holes. Take
my advice--drop it, pardner."
"Oh, you mean this," laughed the Professor, removing his derby hat.
"Thank you. I shall profit by your advice, and leave it here when I
start."
"All the bunch got hard boiled ones?"
"Oh, no. The boys have their sombreros," answered the Professor.
Big-foot grunted, but whether in disapproval or approval, Professor
Zepplin did not know. The cowpuncher threw himself into his saddle, on
which he sat, stolidly awaiting the arrival of the Pony Riders.
In a short time they came galloping from the stable at the rear of the
hotel, and pulled up, facing the cowman.
"This, Mr. Sanders, is Tad Butler," announced the Professor.
"Huh!" grunted Big-foot again. "Hello, Pinto!" he said after a sharp
glance into the freckled face. "Who's the gopher over there?"
"That's Stacy Brown, otherwise known as 'Chunky,'" laughed Tad. "This is
Ned Rector, and the young gentleman at your left is Walter Perkins, all
members of the Pony Rider Boys' party. We are ready to start whenever
you are."
For answer, Big-foot touched his pony with a spur, the little animal
springing into a gallop without further command. The Pony Riders
followed immediately, Tad riding up beside the big, muscular looking
cowboy, which position he held for half an hour without having been able
to draw a word from him.
Leaving the town due east of them, the party galloped off across the
country in a straight line until finally the cowman pointed off across
the plain to indicate where their destination lay.
A slow moving mass of red and brown and white met the inquiring gaze of
the boys. At first they were unable to make out what it was.
"Cows," growled the guide, observing that they did not understand.
"What are they doing, Mr. Sanders?" asked Tad.
"Don't 'mister' me. I'm Big-foot. Never had a handle to my name. Never
expect to. They're grazing. Be rounding them up for bed pretty soon.
Ever been on a trail before?"
Tad shook his head.
"We have been up in the Rockies on a hunting trip. This is my first
experience on the plains."
"Huh! Got good and plenty coming to you, then."
"And I am ready for it," answered the lad promptly. "The rougher the
better."
"There's the bunch waiting for us. All of them got back from town. The
foreman don't allow the fellows to hang out nights when they're on a
drive like this."
Now, the rest of the Pony Rider Boys, understanding that they were
nearing the camp of the cowboys, urged their ponies into a brisk gallop
and drew up well into line with Tad and Big-foot. That is, all did save
Stacy Brown, who, as was his habit lagged behind a few rods.
The cowboys were standing about watching the approach of the new
arrivals curiously, but not with any great enthusiasm, for they did not
approve of having a lot of tenderfeet with the outfit on a journey such
as they were taking now. They were bent on grim and serious
business--man's work--the sort of labor that brings out all that is in
him. It was no place for weaklings, and none realized this better than
the cowmen themselves.
Yet, they did not know the mettle that was in these four young American
boys, though they were to realize it fully before the boundaries of the
Lone Star State, had been left behind them.
The Pony Riders dashed up to the waiting cowpunchers with a brave
showing of horsemanship, and sprang from their saddles their eyes
glowing with excitement and anticipation.
Bob Stallings, the foreman, was the first to greet them.
"Fellows, this is the bunch I've been telling you about," was Bob's
introduction. "Where's Lumpy?" he demanded, glancing about him with a
scowl.
"Lumpy's over behind the chuck wagon," answered the cowboy of whom the
question had been asked.
"Lumpy!" bellowed the foreman.
The fellow with whom Tad Butler had had such an unpleasant meeting,
earlier in the day, came forward reluctantly, a sudden scowl on his
face.
"Lumpy, this is Tad Butler. Stick out your fist and shake hands with
him!"
Lumpy did so.
"Howd'y," he growled, but scarcely loud enough for any save Tad to hear.
The lad smiled up at him good-naturedly.
"You and I bumped ponies this morning, I guess," said Tad. "Maybe I was
to blame after all. I'll apologize, anyway, and I hope there will be no
hard feelings."
"Lumpy!" warned Stallings when he noticed that the cowpuncher had made
no reply to Tad's apology.
"No hard feelings," grunted Lumpy Bates.
He was about to turn away and again seek the seclusion of the chuck
wagon, as the cook wagon was called by the cow boys, when Chunky came
rolling along. In the excitement of the meeting the boys had forgotten
all about him. The Pony Riders swung their sombreros and gave three
cheers for Chunky Brown as he dashed up.
Chunky took off his sombrero and waved it at them.
Just then Chunky met with one of those unfortunate accidents that were
always occurring to him. His galloping pony put a forefoot into a gopher
hole, going down in a heap.
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