The Pony Rider Boys in Texas

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"Not at all--not at all. I understand you perfectly. I shall not press
the point. But spend all the time you can with us. The place is yours.
Make yourselves at home."

"No; Mr. Stallings would not like it if we were to remain away over
night. You see, he expects us to do our share of night guard duty,"
explained Tad. "We are earning our keep as it were."

The boys laughed.

"That is, some of us are," corrected Ned, with a sly glance at Stacy,
who was eating industriously. "Others are eating for their keep."

The Pony Rider Boys caught the hidden meaning in his words, but they
tried not to let their hosts observe that it was a joke at the expense
of one of them.

"Stallings," murmured Miss Brayton, her eyes staring vacantly at Tad
Butler.

Tad flushed at the memory of what he had heard on his first visit to the
ranch.

Miss Brayton excused herself rather abruptly and left the room. They did
not see her again that evening.

"My niece has been ailing of late," explained Mrs. McClure.

"Perhaps she had better not try to accompany us to-morrow, then,"
suggested Tad.

"Oh, yes, I wish her to. It will do her good--it will take her mind from
herself."

Tad Butler noted the last half of the sentence particularly. For him it
held a deeper meaning than it did for his companions.

"I wonder if she knows Mr. Stallings," mused Tad. "I'm going to find
out. No, I won't. It's none of my business. Still, it will do no harm to
ask him, or to mention the name to him. That surely would not be wrong."

Under the charm of the evening his mind soon drifted into other
channels. After supper games were brought out and a happy evening
followed.

Ten o'clock came, and Professor Zepplin, glancing at his watch, was
about to propose a return to camp, when one of Colonel McClure's cowboys
appeared in the doorway, hat in hand.

"Beg pardon; may I speak with you a moment?" asked the man.

"Certainly," replied the colonel, with the same gracious manner, Tad
observed, that he used toward his guests. "Excuse me a moment."

After a little their host returned, but rather hurriedly, it seemed, and
Tad's keen eyes noticed that he seemed disturbed.

Mr. McClure caught the lad's inquiring gaze fixed upon him. He nodded.

"Is anything wrong?" asked the rancher's wife.

"Yes; I am afraid there is," he answered quietly.

"What is it?"

"I am not sure. Perhaps I should not alarm you young gentlemen, but I
think you should know."

"At the camp, you mean?" asked Tad.

"Yes."

"What's that?" demanded Professor Zepplin sharply. "Something wrong at
the camp?"

"My men think so. They say they hear shooting off in that direction, and
want to know if they shall ride out."

"You think it is a--a----" began Tad.

"A stampede? Yes; I should not be surprised."

"We must go," announced the lad, rising promptly.

"Why go?" asked Margaret.

"We may be needed."

"But my men have started already," replied the rancher. "They surely
will be help enough."

"Mr. Stallings will expect us. We may be able to be of some assistance."

"Well, if you must. Yes; you are right. Business is business, even when
one is out on a pleasure trip. It's a good sign in a young man. Tell
your foreman that he may call upon us to any extent."

"Thank you, I will," replied Tad.

Bidding their hosts a hasty good night, and promising to be on hand at
the appointed hour on the following day if the condition of the herd
permitted, the Pony Rider Boys ran for their ponies. In a few moments
they were racing toward camp. They, too, were now able to hear the
short, spiteful bark of the six-shooters.

It was a significant sound. They had heard it too many times before not
to understand it. In their minds they could see the hardy cowboys riding
in front of the unreasoning animals, shooting into the ground in front
of them, seeking to check the rush.

"What do you think about this business?" asked Tad Butler, drawing up
beside Ned Rector.

"I think there is more in this spook story than Colonel McClure knows
of, or, at least, will admit."

"So do I," answered Tad.

"We'll know when we hear how it happened."

Tad remembered, at that moment, the hasty departure of Ruth Brayton.

"I wonder--I wonder," muttered the boy to himself.

CHAPTER XXI

A CALL FOR HELP

"I told you so."

"You have told me so many things, Big-foot, that I can't remember them
all," laughed Tad. "What is it this time?"

"Trouble."

"Oh, you mean the stampede last night?"

"Yes."

"Tell me about it. You know I was not here when it started."

After a hard night's work, in which the Pony Rider Boys had toiled
heroically, the cattle once more had been rounded up and Big-foot and
Tad Butler were riding into camp for breakfast. It was the first
opportunity they had found to talk over the incident.

"Not much to tell. It happened so quick----"

"What time?" interrupted Tad.

"'Bout half-past nine, I reckon."

"Half-past nine," muttered the lad thoughtfully. "Yes; go on."

"We were sitting by the camp fire, and Curley Adams was telling about
the time he was mixed up with the rustlers on the Colorado."

"Yes."

"Well, them ponies came down on us a-whooping."

"The ponies? Did they get away, too?" asked the lad in surprise.

"Did they? You ought to have seen the varmints. Nearly run over us when
they smashed through the camp. One jumped clean over the fire."

"Yes, I understand; but did you have any idea why the cattle stampeded?"

"Sure. The ponies put them on the run."

"The ponies started it?"

"Yes. No telling how it happened. The cows come a-running after the
ponies had broke through them, and the whole outfit piled over the
camp."

"Do any damage?"

"I reckon. Knocked over the chuck wagon, and near killed the heathen
Chinee. The men on guard roped the runaway ponies, and, by the time you
got on the job, we had just about got straightened around ready to go
after the cows."

"I suppose you lay it to----"

"Adobe church," answered the cowman conclusively.

"I am going over there to-day, Big-foot. I am going to try to find out
if there is anything in all this. Candidly, I don't believe it. Even
Colonel McClure says it's all foolishness. That is, I do not believe it
is anything that cannot be explained."

The foreman was looking worried that morning. It had been a succession
of disasters ever since they had neared the locality. This time it had
been the ponies which were hobbled some little distance from the herd,
but which had become so frightened at what they saw that they bolted,
hobbles and all.

"I want those cows from the McClure ranch brought over to-day,"
Stallings directed. "At least, bring over half of them. Get them over
right after breakfast. If we are going to have any more disturbances
let's try to have them in the daytime."

"Do you need us?" asked Tad.

"No. Go on and enjoy yourselves. You all have earned a holiday."

The lads were in their saddles early. Professor Zepplin went with them,
intending to spend the day at the ranch as arranged on the previous
evening.

The young ladies of the household were waiting, dressed in short skirts
and wearing broad-brimmed straw hats. To the boys they were most
attractive. Their fresh young faces lighted with anticipation of the
day's pleasure as, assisted by the Pony Riders, they swung into their
saddles. It fell to Tad Butler to ride beside Miss Brayton.

"We had a stampede at the camp last night," he told her after they had
headed off to the east for the Springs, which was to be their first
objective point.

"Yes; so uncle told me. I'm sorry. Did you lose any stock?"

"I believe not, unless it was some of the new ponies. I did not think to
ask."

"At what time did the trouble occur?" she asked absently.

"I think it was shortly after you left us at dinner, last night,"
answered Tad, in a matter-of-fact tone. "It was, perhaps, half an hour
after that when your uncle told us."

Miss Brayton flushed painfully, and quickly changed the subject. Tad
noticed her confusion and marveled at it.

Arriving at the Springs, which proved to be a group of rocks rising out
of the plain, and from which several springs of pure sparkling water
bubbled, all dismounted and drank of the refreshing fluid. After a few
moments spent in chatting, they remounted their ponies and set off for
the adobe church, the real object of the day's journey.

Reaching the historic place, they tethered their ponies among the
mesquite bushes in the rear of it, after which all entered through a
crumbling doorway. The interior, they found, was in an excellent state
of preservation.

Many surprising little alcoves and odd, cell-like rooms were distributed
all through the church. It was dark and cool in there. Chunky shivered,
and said he didn't wonder people said there were spooks there.

"Is there any cellar beneath the church?" asked Tad.

"It has been said that there were once underground passages," answered
Miss Brayton. "No one in our time has ever discovered them."

"That sounds interesting. I think I should like to find the way into
them."

"So should I," added Stacy Brown.

"Look out that you don't fall in," cautioned Ned. "Remember that's your
failing."

"Not much chance of that," laughed Margaret. "These stone floors are too
thick for anyone to fall through."

"Does anyone ever come here?" asked Tad.

"Not that I know of," answered Miss Brayton.

"But I saw a path when I came in. Somebody has been hitching a pony out
there in the bushes, too," said the boy.

"Perhaps some of the cowmen may come in here out of the heat, now and
then," replied the young woman carelessly.

"Why Ruth, you could not induce one of papa's men to enter the door of
the old place. You know they are half scared to death of it," said
Margaret.

Chunky's eyes were growing large.

"Wow!" he said. "Let's go out doors and eat."

"The lunch has not yet arrived. It will be here soon," Miss Brayton
informed him. "We will spread it in the main room here, if you have no
objections. It will be cool and pleasant; and, besides, there are no
flies in here."

"For goodness' sake, forget your appetite," growled Ned in Stacy's ear.

"Can't a fellow talk about his appetite without being found fault with?"
Chunky sulkily retorted.

"Not the kind of an appetite you have. It's a positive disgrace to the
outfit."

"Huh!" grunted Chunky, walking away.

The lad wandered off by himself, and the rest forgot all about him in
their investigation of the old church. Miss Brayton told them as much of
its history as she knew.

"Some of the former priests are said to have been buried somewhere in
the edifice," she said.

"I don't see any signs of it," said Tad.

"No. No one ever has in our time. And it has even been hinted that
treasure has been buried here, too, or secreted in some of the
mysterious recesses of the church."

"Where are they" asked Walter. "I am beginning to get curious."

"I am sure I do not know," laughed the young woman. "There is a sort of
garret, if you can get to it, above the gallery there. Maybe you might
find something there. I have an idea that it is inhabited by bats."

"I guess we will leave them undisturbed," decided Tad. "I don't like
bats."

"There come the servants," announced Miss Brayton. "Now your friend will
be able to satisfy his appetite."

At her direction the servants brought in the baskets of food. A cloth
was spread over a stone table that they found at the far end of the
church in the balcony. What its use had been, in those other days, they
did not know, but it served their purpose very well now.

"I am afraid we shall have to eat standing," said Miss Sadie. "We have
no chairs."

"That will suit Chunky," replied Ned Rector. "He always likes to eat
standing."

"Why?" asked Margaret, glancing up at him inquiringly.

"For some reasons of his own," answered Ned mischievously.

As the good things were spread before them the eyes of the lads lighted
appreciatively, and all helped themselves gratefully.

It was a jolly party, untouched by the air of mystery that was supposed
to surround the place.

"Why, where is Master Stacy?" asked Ruth Brayton in surprise, after they
had been eating a few moments.

"Chunky? That's so, where is he?" demanded Walter, glancing over the
railing into the auditorium below.

No one seemed to know.

"He's prowling around the place somewhere," said Ned. "But what
surprises me is that he doesn't scent the food and come running. It's
not like him to hang back when there is anything good to eat."

"Call him," suggested Margaret.

"I will. O-h-h Chunky!"

There was no reply.

"I will go after him," said Walter, running lightly to the other end of
the balcony and down the stone steps.

The lad returned in a few moments, a perplexed frown on his face.

"Find him?" asked Ned.

"No."

"Maybe he's gone back to camp. He's a queer chap."

"I think not. I saw his pony there with the others."

"Oh, well, never mind. He'll get so hungry that he will have to come
out, wherever he is," decided Tad. "I imagine he is hiding somewhere to
make us think he has gone away. Hark! What was that?"

A far away call for help echoed faintly through the church.

They looked at each other with growing uneasiness on their faces.

"It's Chunky," breathed Walter.

"Wh--where is he?" stammered Margaret.

"I don't know. Excuse me; I must go," exclaimed Tad. "The boy is in
trouble again. I knew it--I knew he couldn't keep out of it," he added,
hurrying away from them.

Ned sprang down the steps after Tad and together they disappeared
through a rear door in the auditorium.

CHAPTER XXII

LOST IN THE ADOBE CHURCH

Those up in the gallery could hear the two boys calling to their
companion. There was no answer to their hails, and one by one the little
party left the gallery.

"I tell you he is playing tricks on us," said Ned, after they had
searched all over the place without finding any trace of Stacy.

"No; I don't agree with you," answered Tad. "Something has happened to
him."

"What shall we do?" asked Walter.

"Keep on looking. That is all we can do just now."

Once more they began their search, but with no better results than
before.

"Have you looked outside?" asked Miss Brayton.

"Yes; we looked out. No use in hunting there, for we can see all around
the place from the side door here," answered Tad. "He has gotten into
some place that we know nothing about. We've got to find it, that's
all."

"I would suggest that one of us ride to camp and get some of the men to
come out and help us," advised Walter.

"I'll ride home, and have father send some of his own men," suggested
Margaret.

"Yes; that would be best," agreed Miss Brayton.

"I wish you wouldn't," replied Tad. "It would alarm them, and Professor
Zepplin would be frightened. Ned, suppose you hustle for camp and tell
Mr. Stallings the fix we are in. We shall need some help, that's sure."

"All right. I'm off."

Big-foot Sanders and Curley Adams responded to the call on the run, the
foreman being out with the herd at the time.

"I knew it," was Big-foot's first words as he rode up and threw himself
from his pony where Tad was standing. "Now tell me all about it."

Tad did so, the cowman nodding his head vigorously as Tad told him all
he knew about Chunky's mysterious disappearance.

"Which way did he go?" asked Curley.

"That we do not know," answered Miss Brayton.

"His cry seemed to come from the back of the church somewhere," spoke up
Ned.

"We'll go in and look around, then," decided Big-foot, striding into the
church. "Whew! smells pretty musty in here. What's that up there?"

"That's where we were eating our lunch when we heard Chunky call,"
Walter informed him.

"How long since you had seen him--was he up there with you?"

"No; he had left us twenty minutes before we began eating lunch,"
answered Ned.

"Humph!" grunted the cowman, gazing about him in perplexity. "Sure it
isn't a trick?"

Tad shook his head.

"No. He was in trouble. I knew that from his tone."

"Then he must have fallen in some place," announced Big-foot. "He
couldn't fall up, so there's no use looking anywhere but on the ground
floor here," he decided, wisely. "Anybody know of any holes that he
might drop into?"

"Not that I have seen," answered Ned. "The floor is as solid as stone."

"Well, that beats all. You boys scout around outside, while Curley and I
are looking things over in here. Besides, I want to be alone and think
this thing over."

"What do you make of it, Big-foot?" asked Curley Adams, after the others
had gone outside.

"I ain't making. When it comes to putting my wits against a spook place,
I'm beyond roping distance. We'll look into these holes in the wall
around here, first," he said, referring to the niches and cell-like
rooms that they saw leading off from the auditorium. "You make it your
business to sound the floor. We may find some kind of trap door."

Curley went about bringing down the heels of his heavy boots on the hard
floor, but it all sounded solid enough. There was no belief in the mind
of either that the lad could have disappeared in any of the places they
had examined--that is, that he could have done so through any ordinary
accident.

Like most cowboys, both Curley and Big-foot possessed a strong vein of
superstition in their natures. To them there was something uncanny in
Stacy Brown's mysterious and sudden disappearance.

"Here's a door, but it's closed," called Curley.

"That's so," agreed Big-foot, hurrying over to him. "The thing is sealed
up with mortar. Hasn't been used in fifty cats' lives. Wonder what's
behind it."

"Not the boy; that's certain."

"Nope. He didn't fall through there."

"Find any other doors open or closed?"

"Nary a one."

"Well, that seems to settle this part of the ranch; we've got to look
somewhere else. What bothers me is that we don't hear him call. If he
was anywhere near, and had his voice, he'd be yelling for help," decided
the big cowboy.

"Don't think he's dead, do you?"

"I don't think at all. I don't know," answered Big-foot.

"It's my idea that the gopher isn't in here at all," announced Curley,
with emphasis.

His companion eyed him thoughtfully.

"You're almost human at times, Curley. I reckon you've said the only
true words that's been spoke by us this afternoon. We look for the
gopher and don't find him. You say he ain't here, and he isn't. Great
head! But that don't find him. The question is, where is he?"

"We'll have to look outside," answered Curley.

"Right you are. Come on."

But their search outside was as fruitless as had been their quest within
the old adobe church. Not a trace of Stacy Brown did they find.

"Ned, I think you had better take the young ladies home," said Tad
finally.

"Want me to tell Professor Zepplin?"

"Not right away. You can tell him on the way out here. He will not have
quite so long to worry, but I think he should know about it. The matter
is serious. Where did you say Mr. Stallings was, Big-foot?"

"Out with the new herd. The cattle are pretty restless."

"Walt, you go in and tell the foreman the difficulty we are in. I'll
wait here and go on with the search. If he can get away I wish he would
come."

"I'll tell him," answered Walter, hurrying away.

"I am sorry we have spoiled your afternoon, Miss Brayton," said Tad.
"It's too bad. But I'm afraid something serious has happened to our
friend."

"Shall we see you again, Mr. Butler?"

"Of course. I don't know when the herd will start on. We certainly shall
not do so until we have found Stacy. Anyway, we will ride over some time
to-morrow and bid you all good-bye."

Assisting the young women into their saddles, Tad bade their friends
good afternoon and turned sadly back to the church, while Ned Rector
rode back to the Ox Bow ranch with the young women.

"Well, what do you think?" demanded the lad, as he faced the big cowboy.

"I don't think. My thinker's all twisted out of shape," answered
Big-foot. "I can't tell you what to do. Wait till the boss gets here."

"I guess that will be best," replied Tad. "We have done all we know how
to do."

The two men and the boy wandered about the church aimlessly, saying
little, but thinking a great deal, impatiently awaiting the arrival of
Bob Stallings, to whom they now looked to show them the way out of their
difficulty.

The foreman arrived, in the course of half an hour, with his pony on a
sharp run. They had heard him approach, and were outside waiting for
him.

"Well, this is a nice kettle of fish!" exclaimed Stallings, leaping to
the ground, tossing his reins to Curley Adams. "Tell me about it."

Once more Tad Butler related all the facts in his possession regarding
Stacy Brown's mysterious disappearance.

"Big-foot thinks it's spooks," added Tad.

"That's all bosh," exploded the foreman. "It's getting late in the
afternoon, and I've no time to waste. I'll find him for you. What ails
you, Big-foot? Getting weak in the knees?"

"Not as I knows of. This funny business is kinder getting on my nerves,
though."

"Humph!" grunted the foreman, starting for the church in long strides.
"Nerves in a cowboy! Humph!"

They watched the tall figure of Stallings charging through the adobe
house, peering here and there, asking questions in short, snappy
sentences, going down on his knees in search of footprints. Finally he
rose from his task with a puzzled look in his eyes.

"Tell me that story again," he demanded.

Tad did so.

The foreman went outside and surveyed the building from all sides.

"There's some secret room or passage in there somewhere. The gopher has
stumbled into it. We are going to discover the mystery of the church of
San Miguel before we have done here--that is, we are if we're lucky," he
added.

Bob Stallings' words were prophetic, though he did not know it. The
discovery was to be one that would give the big foreman the surprise of
his life, and that would affect all his after life as well.

CHAPTER XXIII

SOLVING THE MYSTERY

"We can't do much of anything more until daylight," announced the
foreman finally. "You see, it's getting dark now."

"You--you are going to leave him here?" asked Tad hesitatingly.

"That's all we can do, so far as I see. But we'll put one of the men on
guard to watch the place. To-morrow morning we'll take it upon ourselves
to tear down that door that's sealed up. It may lead into the place
where the boy fell in. Yes; we'll bring down the whole miserable shack
if necessary."

"You--you think he is here, then?"

"Of course. Where else could he be? He walked away and disappeared right
before your eyes. He could not get away if he had gone outside. So where
is he? In the church, of course."

"Then I will remain here and watch the place," decided Tad firmly.

Stallings glanced at him hesitatingly.

"All right. I guess you have got the nerve to do it. I can't say as much
for the rest of the bunch. You come along with me, now, and get your
supper. After that you may return if you want to. Big-foot, you and
Curley stay here until the Pinto gets back. Better keep busy. You may
stumble upon something before you know it."

The two cowboys did not appear to be any too well pleased with the task
assigned to them, but they obeyed orders without protest.

The evening had grown quite dark by the time the cowmen had finished
their supper. All had been discussing the strange disappearance of Stacy
Brown. It did not seem to surprise them. They had expected trouble when
they reached the vicinity of the adobe church. They had had little else
during the time they had been in the camp.

"Send Curley and Big-foot in," directed the foreman after Tad had
announced his readiness to return to the church.

"We'll all go," spoke up Ned Rector.

"It's not at all necessary," answered Tad.

"No; I have decided to let Big-foot go back after he has eaten. He can
remain with you until ten-thirty, when he takes his trick on guard. Then
the rest of you may go out if you wish. It isn't fair to leave the Pinto
there alone all night. If I change my plans I'll send out Master Ned or
Walter. Run along now, Tad."

The lad mounted his pony and galloped slowly out for his long vigil. He
was greatly disturbed over the loss of Chunky. Yet he could not bring
himself to believe that great harm had come to the boy.

"Anything new?" he called as he rode up.

"Nary a thing. Plenty of funny noises inside the shack. Kinder gives a
fellow the creeps; that's all."

"You are to come back and remain with me until your watch, I believe,
Big-foot."

"Nice job you've cut out for me," answered the cowman.

"I had nothing to do with it. It's the foreman's order," answered Tad.

"Better bring a lantern with you. We may need it before the night is
over."

"All right," answered Big-foot, swinging into his saddle. After the
cowmen had left, Tad walked out a little way from the church and sat
down in the sand. He was within easy hearing of the place in case anyone
should call out.

It was a lonely spot. Tad had not sat there long before the noises that
the cowmen had spoken of began again.

The lad listened intently for a moment.

"Bats," he said. "I can hear them flying about me. I hope none of them
hit me in the face. I've heard they do that sometimes."

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