The Pony Rider Boys in Texas

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Chunky, however, kept on.

When the accident happened he was almost upon the waiting cowboys, his
intention having been to pull his pony up sharply to show off his
horsemanship, then drop off and make them a sweeping bow.

Stacy Brown was possessed of the true dramatic instinct, yet few things
ever came off exactly as he had planned them.

As he shot over the falling pony's head, his body described a half curve
in the air, his own head landing fairly in the pit of Lumpy Bates's
stomach.

Cowboy and Pony Rider went over in a struggling heap, with the Pony
Rider uppermost.

Stacy had introduced himself to the cowboys in a most unusual manner,
and to the utter undoing of one of them, for the boy's head had for the
moment, knocked all the breath out of the surly Lumpy Bates.

CHAPTER III

PUTTING THE COWS TO BED

The cowpunchers roared at the funny sight of the fat boy bowling over
their companion.

Stallings, however, fearing for the anger of Lumpy, sprang forward and
hauled the lad back by the collar, while Lumpy was allowed to get up
when he got ready. He did so a few seconds later, sputtering and
growling, scarcely able to contain his rage.

"That's a bad way to get off a pony, young man," laughed the foreman. "I
hope you won't dismount in that fashion around the cattle at night. If
you do, you sure will stampede the herd."

Chunky grinned sheepishly.

"It doesn't take much to start a bunch of cows on the run after dark,"
continued the foreman, "I've known of such a thing as a herd being
stampeded because they were frightened at the rising moon. Haven't you,
Big-foot?"

Sanders nodded.

"The gopher'll do it, too; he's a clumsy lout," he answered, referring
to Stacy in a withering tone.

"And now, boys, I will tell you how our watches are divided, after which
you can go out with the cowboys and see them bed down the cows."

"Bed them down?" spoke up Chunky, his curiosity aroused. "That's funny.
I didn't know you had to put cattle to bed."

"You'll see that we do. Boys, the night of the cowman on the march is
divided into four tricks. The first guard goes on at half past eight,
coming off at half past ten. The second guard is on duty from that time
till one o'clock in the morning; the third, from that hour till half
past three, while the fourth remains out until relieved in the morning.
He usually wakes up the cook, too. And, by the way, you boys haven't
made the acquaintance of Pong, have you? I'll call him. Unless you get
on the right side of Pong, you will suffer."

"Pong? That's funny. Sounds like ping-pong. I used to play that,"
interrupted Stacy.

"Pong is as funny as his name, even if he is a Chinaman," laughed
Stallings. "Pong, come here."

The Chinaman, having heard his name spoken, was peering inquiringly from
the tail of the chuck wagon.

Hopping down, he trotted over to the group, his weazened, yellow face
wreathed in smiles.

"Shake hands with these young gentlemen, Pong. They will be with us for
the next two weeks," said the foreman.

"Allee same likee this," chuckled Pong, clasping his palms together and
gleefully shaking hands with himself.

"That's the Chinaman's idea of shaking hands," laughed Stallings. "He
always shakes hands with himself instead of the other fellow."

Stacy Brown suddenly broke into a loud laugh, attracting all eyes to
him.

"Funniest thing I ever heard of," he muttered, abashed by the inquiring
looks directed at him.

"Now watch the heathen while I ask him what he is going to have for
breakfast," said the foreman. "Pong, what are you going to give us out
of the chuck wagon in the morning?"

"Allee same likee this," chattered the Chinaman, quickly turning to his
questioner, at the same time rapidly running through a series of
pantomime gestures.

The Pony Riders looked at each other blankly.

"He says we are going to have fried bacon with hot biscuit and coffee,"
Stallings informed them with a hearty laugh. "Pong is not much of a
talker. That's about as much as you ever will hear him say. He's weak on
talk and strong on motions."

The foreman glanced up at the sky.

"It's time to put the cows to bed. You young gentlemen may ride along on
your own ponies, but keep well back from the cattle. Those of you who go
out to-night will have to ride our ponies. All ready, now."

The entire outfit mounted and set off over the plain to where the cattle
were moving slowly about, but not grazing much. They had had their fill
of grass and water and were now ready for the night.

"Where's their beds?" asked Chunky, gazing about him curiously.

"Right ahead of you," answered Stallings.

The foreman's quick eye already had picked out a nice elevation on which
the old dry grass of the previous summer's growth lay matted like a
carpet for the cattle to bed down on.

"How many of them are there in the herd?" asked Tad.

"About two thousand. That was the first count. Since then we have picked
up a few stray cows. We will be cutting those out in a day or so, when
you will see some real cow work. Perhaps you will be able to help by
that time."

Now the cowmen galloped out on the plain, separating widely until they
had practically surrounded the herd. They began circling slowly about
the herd, at the same time gradually closing in on them.

The animals appeared to understand fully what was expected of them, for
they had been on the road several nights already. Besides, having had
their fill they were anxious to turn in for the night.

As they found spots to their liking, the animals began to throw
themselves down.

Tad uttered an exclamation of delight as he watched the steers going to
their knees in hundreds, then dropping on their sides, contentedly
chewing their cuds. It was such a sight as he never before had seen.

"What are those steers on the outside there--those fellows without any
horns?" asked Stacy.

"Those are the muleys. Having no horns, they keep well out of the bunch
and wait until the others have gone to bed as you see," the foreman
informed him. "You will notice after a while that they will lie down
outside the circle. If any of the cows get ugly during the night the
muleys will spring up and get out of the way."

In half an hour the last one of the great herd had "bedded down," and
those of the cowboys who were not on guard, rode leisurely back toward
camp.

It had been decided that Tad Butler should go out on the first guard;
Walter Perkins on the second; Ned Rector third and Stacy Brown fourth.

Tad was all eagerness to begin. One of the cowmen exchanged ponies with
him, riding Tad's horse back to camp.

"You see, our ponies understand what is wanted of them," explained
Stallings, who had remained out for a while to give Tad some instruction
in the work before him. "Give the ordinary cow pony his head and he will
almost tend a herd by himself."

Three men ordinarily constituted the guard. In this case Tad Butler made
a fourth. Taking their stations some four rods from the edge of the
herd, they began lazily circling it, part going in one direction and
part in another. In this position it would have been well-nigh
impossible for any animal to escape without being noticed by the riders.

"Now, I guess you will be all right," smiled the foreman. "Make no
sudden moves to frighten the cattle."

"Do they ever run?" asked Tad.

"Run? Well, rather! And I tell you, it takes a long-legged Mexican steer
to set the pace. Those fellows can run faster than a horse--at least
some of them can. A stampede is a thing most dreaded by the cowmen."

"Our ponies stampeded in the Rockies. I know something about that,"
spoke up Tad.

"Well, compare the stampeding of your four or five ponies with two
thousand head of wild steers and you'll get something like the idea of
what it means. In that case, unless you know your business you had
better get out of the way as fast as hoss-flesh will carry you. Now,
Master Tad, I'll bid you good night and leave you to your first night on
the plains."

"How shall I know when to come in?"

"When the second guard comes out. You will hear them. If you should not
they will let you know as they pass you."

With that the foreman walked his pony away from the herd. After some
little time Tad heard him galloping toward camp.

At first Tad took the keenest enjoyment in his surroundings; then the
loneliness of the plains came over him. He began to feel a longing for
human companionship.

A dense mantle of darkness settled down over the scene.

Remembering the advice of the foreman, the lad gave his pony the rein.
The hardy little animal, with nose almost touching the ground, began its
monotonous crawling pace about the herd. It seemed more asleep than
awake.

In a short time a sheet of bright light appeared on the eastern horizon.
Tad looked at it inquiringly, then smiled.

"It's the moon," he decided.

The boy felt a great sense of relief in his lonely vigil. Just ahead of
him he saw a pony and rider leisurely approaching.

It proved to be Red Davis, one of the first guard.

Red waved his hand to the boy in passing, but no word was spoken on
either side.

After having circled the herd twice, Tad suddenly discovered a small
bunch of cattle that had just scrambled to their feet and had begun
grazing a little way outside the circle. The rest of the herd were
contentedly chewing their cuds in the moonlight, grunting and blowing
over contented stomachs.

The lad was not sure just what he ought to do. His first inclination was
to call to some of the other guards. Then, remembering the injunction
placed upon him by the foreman, he resisted the impulse.

"I am sure those cattle have no business off there," he decided after
watching them for a few moments in silent uncertainty. "I believe I will
try to get them back."

Tightening the grip on his reins and clucking to the pony, Tad headed
for the steers, that were slowly moving off, taking a step with every
mouthful or so.

He steered his pony well outside and headed in toward them.

The pony, with keen intelligence, forced its way up to the leading steer
and sought to nose it around. The animal resisted and swung its sharp
horns perilously near to the side of the horse, which quickly leaped to
one side, almost upsetting its rider.

"Guess I'd better let the pony do it himself. He knows how and I don't,"
muttered Tad, slackening on the reins.

The straying animal was quickly turned and headed toward the herd, after
which the pony whirled and went after one of the others, turning this
one, as it did the others. In a short time the truants were all back in
the herd.

"That's the way to do it, young fellow. I told the gang back there that
the Pinto had the stuff in him."

Tad turned sharply to meet the smiling face of Big-foot Sanders, who,
sitting on his pony, had been watching the boy's efforts and nodding an
emphatic approval.

"You'll make a cowman all right," said Big-foot.

CHAPTER IV

THE FIRST NIGHT IN CAMP

The camp-fire was burning brightly when the first guard, having
completed its tour of duty, came galloping in.

In a few moments the sound of singing was borne to the ears of the
campers.

"What's the noise?" demanded Stacy Brown, sitting up with a half scared
look on his face.

"It's the 'Cowboy's Lament,'" laughed Bob Stallings. "Listen."

Off on the plain they heard a rich tenor voice raised in the song of the
cowman.

"Little black bull came down the hillside,
Down the hillside, down the hillside,
Little black bull came down the hillside,
Long time ago."

"I don't call that much of a song," sniffed Chunky contemptuously after
a moment of silence on the part of the group. "Even if I can't sing, I
can beat that."

"Better not try it out on the range," smiled the foreman.

"Not on the range? Why not?" demanded the boy.

"Bob thinks it might stampede the herd," spoke up Big-foot Sanders.

A loud laugh followed at Chunky's expense.

"When you get to be half as good a man on cows as your friend the Pinto,
here, you'll be a full grown man," added Big-foot. "The Pinto rounded up
a bunch of stray cows to-night as well as I could do it myself, and he
didn't go about it with a brass band either."

The foreman nodded, with an approving glance at Tad.

Tad's eyes were sparkling from the experiences of the evening, as well
as from the praise bestowed upon him by the big cowpuncher.

"The pony did most of it," admitted the lad. "I just gave him his head,
and that's all there was to it."

"More than most tenderfeet would have done," growled Big-foot.

Walter had gone out with the second guard, and the others had gathered
around the camp-fire for their nightly story-telling.

"Now, I don't want you fellows sitting up all night," objected the
foreman. "None of you will be fit for duty to-morrow. We've got a hard
drive before us, and every man must be fit as a fiddle. You can enjoy
yourselves sleeping just as well as sitting up."

"Humph!" grunted Curley Adams. "I'll give it as a horseback opinion that
the only way to enjoy such a night as this, is to sit up until you fall
asleep with your boots on. That's the way I'm going to do it, to-night."

The cowboy did this very thing, but within an hour he found himself
alone, the others having turned in one by one.

"Where are your beds?" asked Stacy after the foreman had urged the boys
to get to sleep.

"Beds?" grunted Big-foot. "Anywhere--everywhere. Our beds, on the
plains, are wherever we happen to pull our boots off."

"You will find your stuff rolled up under the chuck wagon, boys," said
Stallings. "I had Pong get out the blankets for you, seeing that you
have only your slickers with you."

The lads found that a pair of blankets had been assigned to each of
them, with an ordinary wagon sheet doubled for a tarpaulin. These they
spread out on the ground, using boots wrapped in coats for pillows.

Stacy Brown proved the only grumbler in the lot, declaring that he could
not sleep a wink on such a bed as that.

In floundering about, making up his bunk, the lad had fallen over two
cowboys and stepped full on the face of a third.

Instantly there was a chorus of yells and snarls from the disturbed
cowpunchers, accompanied by dire threats as to what they would do to the
gopher did he ever disturb their rest in that way again.

This effectually quieted the boy for the night, and the camp settled
down to silence and to sleep.

The horses of the outfit, save those that were on night duty and two or
three others that had developed a habit of straying, had been turned
loose early in the evening, for animals on the trail are seldom staked
down. For these, a rope had been strung from a rear wheel of the wagon
and another from the end of the tongue, back to a stake driven in the
ground, thus forming a triangular corral. Besides holding the
untrustworthy horses, it afforded a temporary corral for catching a
change of mounts.

In spite of their hard couches the Pony Riders slept soundly, even
Professor Zepplin himself never waking the whole night through. Ned
Rector had come up smiling when awakened for his trick on the third
guard. With Stacy Brown, however, severe measures were necessary when
one of the returning guard routed him out at half-past three in the
morning.

Stacy grumbled, turned over and went to sleep again.

The guard chanced to be Lumpy Bates, and he administered, what to him,
was a gentle kick, to hurry the boy along.

"Ouch!" yelled Chunky, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Keep still, you baby!" growled the cowman. "Do you want to wake up the
whole outfit? There'll be a lively muss about the time you do, I reckon,
and you'll wish you hadn't. If you can't keep shut, the boss'll be for
making you sleep under the chuck wagon. If you make a racket there, Pong
will dump a pot of boiling water over you. You won't be so fast to wake
up hard working cowboys after that, I reckon."

"What do you want?" demanded the boy. "What'd you wake me up for?"

"It's your trick. Get a move on you and keep still. There's the pony
ready for you. I wouldn't have saddled it but the boss said I must. I
don't take no stock in tenderfoot kids," growled the cowpuncher.

"Is breakfast ready?" asked the boy, tightening his belt and jamming his
sombrero down over his head.

"Breakfast?" jeered Lumpy. "You're lucky to be alive in this outfit, let
alone filling yourself with grub. Get out!"

Stacy ruefully, and still half asleep, made a wide circle around the
sleeping cowmen that he might not make the mistake of again stepping on
any of them.

Lumpy watched him with disapproving eyes.

The lad caught the pony that stood moping in the corral, not appearing
to be aware that his rider was preparing him for the range, Chunky all
the time muttering to himself.

Leading the pony out, the boy gathered up the reins on the right side of
the animal and prepared to mount.

Lumpy Bates came running toward him, not daring to call out for fear of
waking the camp. The cowman was swinging his arms and seeking to attract
the lad's attention. Chunky, however, was too sleepy to see anything so
small as a cowman swinging his arms a rod away.

Placing his right foot in the stirrup, the boy prepared to swing up into
the saddle.

"Hi, there!" hissed Lumpy, filled with indignation that anyone should
attempt to mount a pony from the right side.

His warning came too late. Stacy Brown's left leg swung over the saddle.
No sooner had the pony felt the leather over him than he raised his back
straight up, his head going down almost to the ground.

Stacy shot up into the air as if he had been propelled from a bow gun.
He struck the soft sand several feet in advance of the pony, his face
and head ploughing a little furrow as he drove along on his nose.

He had no more than struck, however, before the irate cowboy had him by
the collar and had jerked the lad to his feet.

"You _tenderfoot_!" he snarled, accenting the words so that they carried
a world of meaning with them. "Don't you know any more than to try to
get onto a broncho from the off side? Say, don't you?"

He shook the lad violently.

"N-n-n-o," gasped Stacy. "D-d-does it m-m-make any difference w-w-h-i-ch
side you get on?"

"Does it make any difference?"

The cowboy jerked his own head up and down as if the words he would
utter had wedged fast in his throat.

"Git out of here before I say something. The boss said the first man he
heard using language while you tenderfeet were with us, would get fired
on the spot."

Without taking the chance of waiting until Stacy had mounted the pony,
Lumpy grabbed the boy and tossed him into the saddle, giving the little
animal a sharp slap on the flank as he did so.

At first the pony began to buck; then, evidently thinking the effort was
not worth while, settled down to a rough trot which soon shook the boy
up and thoroughly awakened him.

The rest of the fourth guard had already gone out, Chunky meeting the
returning members of the third coming in.

"Better hurry up, kid," they chuckled. "The cows'll sleep themselves out
of sight before you get there, if you don't get a move on."

"Where are they?" asked the boy.

"Keep a-going and if you're lucky you'll run plumb into them," was the
jeering answer as the sleepy cowmen spurred their ponies on toward camp,
muttering their disapproval of taking along a bunch of boys on a cattle
drive.

In a few moments they, too, had turned their ponies adrift and had
thrown themselves down beside their companions, pulling their blankets
well about them, for the night had grown chill.

Out on the plains the fourth guard were drowsily crooning the lullaby
about the bull that "came down the hillside, long time ago."

It seemed as if scarcely a minute had passed since the boys turned in
before they were awakened by the strident tones of the foreman.

"Roll out! Roll out!" he roared, bringing the sleepy cowpunchers
grumbling to their feet.

Almost before the echoes of his voice had died away, a shrill voice
piped up from the tail end of the chuck wagon.

"Grub pi-i-i-le! Grub pi-i-i-le!"

It was the Chinaman, Pong, sounding his call for breakfast, in
accordance with the usage of the plains.

"Grub pi-i-i-le!" he finished in a lower tone, after which his head
quickly disappeared under the cover of the wagon.

By the time the cowmen and Pony Riders had refreshed themselves at the
spring near which the outfit had camped, a steaming hot breakfast had
been spread on the ground, with a slicker for a table cloth.

Three cowboys fell to with a will, gulping down their breakfast in a
hurry that they might ride out and relieve the fourth guard on the herd.

"You boys don't have to swallow your food whole," smiled the foreman,
observing that the Pony Riders seemed to think they were expected to
hurry through their meal as well. "Those fellows have to go out. Take
your time. The fourth guard has to eat yet, so there is plenty of time.
How did you all sleep?"

"Fine," chorused the boys.

"And you, Mr. Professor?"

"Surprisingly well. It is astonishing with how little a man can get
along when he has to."

"Who is the wrangler this morning?" asked the foreman, glancing about at
his men.

"I am," spoke up Shorty Savage promptly.

"Wrangler? What's a wrangler?" demanded Stacy, delaying the progress of
a large slice of bacon, which hung suspended from the fork half-way
between plate and mouth.

"A wrangler's a wrangler," answered Big-foot stolidly.

"He's a fellow who's all the time making trouble, isn't he?" asked Stacy
innocently.

"Oh, no, this kind of a wrangler isn't," laughed the foreman. "The
trouble is usually made _for_ him, and it's served up hot off the
spider. The horse wrangler is the fellow who goes out and rounds up the
ponies. Sometimes he does it in the middle of the night when the thunder
and lightning are smashing about him like all possessed, and the cattle
are on the rampage. He's a trouble-curer, not a troublemaker, except for
himself."

"I guess there are some words that aren't in the dictionary," laughed
Tad.

"I think you will find them all there, Master Tad, if you will consult
the big book," said the Professor.

The meal was soon finished, Pong having stood rubbing his palms, a happy
smile on his face, during the time they were eating.

"A very fine breakfast, sir," announced the Professor, looking up at the
Chinaman.

"He knows what would happen to him if he didn't serve good meals,"
smiled Stallings.

"What do you mean?" asked Ned Rector.

"Pong, tell the young gentlemen what would become of you if you were to
serve bad meals to this outfit of cowpunchers."

The Chinaman showed two rows of white teeth in his expansive grin.

"Allee same likee this," he explained.

"How?" asked Tad.

Pong, going through the motions of drawing a gun from his belt, and
puffing out his cheeks, uttered an explosive "pouf!"

"Oh, you mean they would shoot you?" asked Walter. "I hardly think they
would do that, Pong."

"Allee same," grinned the Chinaman.

"I guess we are pretty sure of having real food to eat, then," laughed
Tad, as the boys rose from the table ready for the active work of the
day.

"We will now get to work on the herd," announced the foreman. "We had
better start the drive this morning. When we make camp at noon we will
cut out the strays. I trust none of you will be imprudent and get into
trouble, for we shall have other things to look after to-day."

However, the Pony Riders were destined not to pass the day without one
or more exciting adventures.

CHAPTER V

CUTTING OUT THE HERD

"Getting ready for rain," announced the foreman, glancing up at the
gathering clouds. "That will mean water for the stock, anyway."

Already the great herd was up and grazing when the cowboys reached them.
But there was no time now for the animals to satisfy their appetites.
They were supposed to have eaten amply since daylight.

The trail was to be taken up again and by the time the steers were
bedded down at night, they should be all of fifteen miles nearer the
Diamond D. Ranch for which they were headed.

The start was a matter of keen interest to the Pony Riders. To set the
herd in motion, cowboys galloped along the sides of the line giving vent
to their shrill, wolf-keyed yell, while others pressed forward directly
in the rear.

As soon as the cattle had gotten under way six men were detailed on each
side, and in a short time the herd was strung out over more than a mile
of the trail.

Two riders known as "point men" rode well back from the leaders, and by
riding forward and closing in occasionally, were able to direct the
course of the drive.

Others, known as "swing men," rode well out from the herd, their duty
being to see that none of the cattle dropped out or strayed away. Once
started, the animals required no driving.

This was a matter of considerable interest to the Pony Riders.

"Don't they ever stop to eat?" asked Tad of the foreman.

"Occasionally. When they do, we have to start them along without their
knowing we are doing so. It's a good rule to go by that you never should
let your herd know they are under restraint. Yet always keep them going
in the proper direction."

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