The Pony Rider Boys in Texas

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As the wagon lurched in the current, the Chinaman had plunged overboard
and disappeared beneath the surface.

CHAPTER XVI

A BRAVE RESCUE

"Save him, somebody! The fool's fallen overboard!" roared the foreman.
"I can't let go this rope!"

Tad had not seen the cook take his plunge, so, for the moment, he did
not realize what had occurred.

"Who's overboard," young Butler demanded sharply.

"The cook," answered Stallings excitedly. "Can't any of you slow pokes
get busy and fish him out?"

"Pong!" cried Tad as the head of the Chinaman appeared on the surface.

Without an instant's hesitation the lad leaped into his saddle.

"Yip!" he shouted to the pony, accentuating his command by a sharp blow
with the quirt.

The pony leaped forward.

"Here, he's not up there; he's in the river I tell you!" shouted the
foreman.

Tad had driven his mount straight up the bank behind them. He paid no
attention to the warning of the foreman, having already mapped out his
own plan of action.

Reaching the top of the sloping bank, Tad pulled his pony to the right
and dashed along the bluff, headed down the river.

"Watch your lines or you'll have the wagon overboard, too," he called
back. "I'll get Pong out."

Big-foot Sanders scratched his head reflectively.

"Ain't the Pinto the original whirlwind, though?" he grinned. "I never
did see the like of him, now. He'll get that heathen out while we are
standing here trying to make up our minds what to do."

"Yes, but I'm afraid the Chinaman will drown before Tad gets to him,"
said the foreman, with a shake of his head. "Here, don't let go of this
rope while you are staring at the kid. I can't hold it alone."

Tad drove his pony to its utmost speed until he had reached a point some
little distance below where the head of the Chinaman had last been seen.

All at once the lad turned sharply, the supple-limbed pony taking the
bank in a cat-like leap, landing in the water with a splash.

Tad kept his saddle until the pony's feet no longer touched the bottom.
Then he dropped off, clinging to the mane with one hand. The cook was
nowhere to be seen, but Tad was sure he had headed him off and was
watching the water above him with keen eyes.

"There he is below you!" shouted a voice on shore. "Look out, you'll
lose him."

Tad turned at the same instant, giving the pony's neck a sharp slap to
indicate that he wanted the animal to turn with him.

The lad saw the Chinaman's head above the water. Evidently the latter
was now making a desperate effort to keep it there, for his hands were
beating the water frantically.

"Keep your hands and feet going, and hold your breath!" roared Tad.
"I'll be----"

Before he could add "there," the lad suddenly discovered that there was
something wrong with his pony. It was the latter which was now beating
the water and squealing with fear.

One of the animal's hind hoofs raked Tad's leg, pounding it painfully.
Tad released his hold of the mane and grasped the rein.

Throwing up its head, uttering a snort, the pony sank out of sight,
carrying its master under. Tad quickly let go the reins and kicked
himself to the surface.

The pony was gone. What had caused its sudden sinking the lad could not
imagine. There was no time to speculate--not an instant to lose if he
were to rescue the drowning cook.

Throwing himself forward, headed downstream, Tad struck out with long,
overhand strokes for the Chinaman. Going so much faster than the
current, the boy rapidly gained on the victim.

Yet, just as he was almost within reach of Pong, the latter threw up his
hands and went down.

Tad dived instantly. The swollen stream was so muddy that he could see
nothing below the surface. His groping hands grasped nothing except the
muddy water. The lad propelled himself to the surface, shaking the water
from his eyes.

There before him he saw the long, yellow arms of the Chinaman protruding
above the surface of the river. This time, Tad was determined that the
cook should not escape him. Tad made a long, curving dive not unlike
that of a porpoise.

This time the lad's hands reached the drowning man. The long, yellow
arms twined themselves about the boy, and Tad felt himself going down.

With rare presence of mind the boy held his breath, making no effort to
wrench himself free from the Chinaman's grip. He knew it would be effort
wasted, and, besides, he preferred to save his strength until they
reached the surface once more.

Half a dozen cowpunchers had plunged their ponies into the river, and
were swimming toward the spot where Tad had been seen to go down, while
the foreman was shouting frantic orders at them. The wagon had been
ferried to the other side, and Stallings had run to his pony, on which
he was now dashing madly along the river bank.

"Look out that you don't run them down!" he roared. "Keep your wits
about you!"

"They're both down, already!" shouted a cowboy in reply.

"We'll lose the whole outfit at this rate," growled another. Yet, not a
man was there, unless perhaps it may have been Lumpy Bates, who would
not have risked his own life freely to save that of the plucky lad.

After going down a few feet, Tad began treading water with all his
might. This checked their downward course and in a second or so he had
the satisfaction of realizing that they were slowly rising. The current,
however, was forcing them up at an angle.

This, to a certain extent, worked to the boy's advantage, for the
Chinaman was underneath him, thus giving Tad more freedom than had their
positions been reversed.

"There they are!" cried Big-foot Sanders as the Chinaman and his
would-be rescuer popped into sight.

"Go after them!" commanded Stallings.

Urging their ponies forward by beating them with their quirts, the
cowboys made desperate efforts to reach the two.

Tad managed to free one arm which he held above his head.

"The rope! He wants the rope! Rope him, you idiots!" bellowed the
foreman.

Big-foot made a cast. However, from his position in the water, he could
not make an accurate throw and the rope fell short.

Tad saw it. He was struggling furiously now, ducking and parrying the
sweep of that long, yellow arm, with which Pong sought to grasp him.

A quick eddy caught the pair and swept them out into the center of the
stream, around a bend where they were caught by the full force of the
current. This left their pursuers yards and yards to the rear.

Tad saw that they would both drown, if he did not resort to desperate
measures. Drawing back his arm, the lad drove a blow straight at Pong's
head, but a swirl of the current destroyed the boy's aim and his fist
barely grazed the cheek of the Chinaman.

Quick as a flash, Tad Butler launched another blow. This time the
Chinaman's head was jolted backwards, Tad's fist having landed squarely
on the point of the fellow's jaw.

But Pong was still struggling, and the lad completed his work by
delivering another blow in the same place.

"I hope I haven't hurt him," gasped the boy.

Tad threw himself over on his back, breathing heavily and well-nigh
exhausted. He kept a firm grip on the cook, however, supporting and
keeping the latter's head above water by resting the Chinaman's neck on
his arm as they floated with the current.

In the meantime, Stallings was dashing along the bank roaring out his
orders to the cowboys, calling them ashore and driving them in further
down. Yet, each time it seemed as though the floating pair drifted
farther and farther away.

But Tad Butler was still cool. Now that he was getting his strength
back, he began slowly to kick himself in toward shore, aiding in the
process by long windmill strokes of his free arm.

He did not make the mistake of heading directly for the shore, but
sought to make it by a long tack, moving half with the current and half
against it. The lad had made up his mind that the cowboys would never
reach them and that what was to be done must be done by himself.

"Can you make it?" called Stallings.

"Yes. But have some one--on the other side--toss me a rope--as soon as
possible. I don't know--whether Pong--is done for--or not," answered the
boy in short breaths.

Stallings plunged his pony into the current and swam for the other side.
Reaching there, he galloped at full speed toward the point for which Tad
seemed to be aiming.

The foreman rode into the water until it was up to his saddle and where
the pony was obliged to hold its head high to avoid drowning.

There the foreman waited until the lad had gotten within roping
distance.

"Turn in a little," directed Stallings. "You'll hit that eddy and land
out in the middle, if you don't."

A moment more and the foreman's lariat slipped away from the circle it
had formed above his head.

Tad held an arm aloft, and the loop dropped neatly over it. Stallings
pulled it and Tad grasped the rope after the loop had tightened about
his arm.

"Haul away," he directed.

The foreman turned his pony about and slowly towed cook and boy ashore.

The cowboys, observing that Tad was being hauled in, headed for the
shore. Reaching it, they put spurs to their ponies and came down to the
scene at a smashing gait.

Leaping off, they sprang into the water, picking up Tad and the Chinaman
and staggering ashore with them.

The lad was pale and shivering. They laid him down on the bank. But Tad
quickly pulled himself to his feet.

"I must look after Pong," he said.

"You let the heathen alone," growled Big-foot Sanders. "Us tenderfeet'll
look after him. That's what we are, a bunch of rank tenderfeet. You're
the only seasoned, all around, dyed-in-the-wool, genuwine cowpuncher in
the whole outfit. That's the truth."

Tad smiled as he hurried to where the foreman was working over the
unconscious cook.

"Is he dead?" asked the lad, apprehensively.

"Dead? Huh!" grunted Curley Adams. "Heathen Chinese don't die as easy as
that."

After a few minutes the cook went off into a paroxysm of choking and
coughing. Then he opened his eyes.

Chunky Brown was standing near, blinking down wisely into the yellow
face of Pong.

"You fell in, didn't you?" he asked solemnly.

"Allee samee," grinned the yellow man, weakly.

CHAPTER XVII

MAKING NEW FRIENDS

Professor Zepplin, fully as wet as the others, met the returning outfit.
Everybody was wet. It seemed to have become their normal condition.

"Did you get the wagon over?" asked Tad.

"You bet," replied the foreman. "As soon as we get all the water shook
out of that heathen we'll set him to making coffee for the outfit. It's
too near dark now to do any more work; and, besides, I guess the cattle
are bedded down for the night. I think they're ready for a night's rest
along with ourselves. What happened to that pony?"

"I'm sure I don't know," answered Tad. "That was too bad, wasn't it?"

"Cramps I guess," suggested Big-foot. "They have been known to have 'em
in the water. That water must have had an iceberg in it somewhere up the
state. Never saw such all-fired cold water in my life. Whew!"

"That's one pony more we've got to buy, that's all. But I don't care.
I'd rather lose the whole bunch of them than have anything happen to the
Pinto," announced the foreman.

"Or the cook," added Tad, with a smile.

"Yes; it's a very serious matter for an outfit of this kind to lose its
cook. We could get along without a foreman very well, but not without a
cook."

"Especially when you have a bunch of hungry boys with you. What about
the new ponies?"

"I'll ride over to Colonel McClure's ranch in the morning and see what
we can do. You may go with me if you wish."

"I should like to very much. Is that where you expect to get the other
herd of cattle as well?"

"Yes. Better take an earlier trick on guard to-night, for we shall start
right after breakfast in the morning."

"Very well," replied Tad. "Guess I'll get my coffee now."

Big-foot Sanders was already helping himself to the steaming beverage,
when Tad reached the chuck wagon.

"Well, kid, what about it?" greeted the big cowman.

"What about what?"

"Trouble."

Tad smiled broadly.

"There does seem to be plenty of it."

"And plenty more coming. You'll see more fun before we are clear of this
part of the country."

"I don't very well see how we can have much more of it. I should imagine
we have had our share."

"Wait. We'll be here three or four days yet and mebby more," warned the
cowboy.

Tad went out with the second guard that night. Contrary to the
expectations of Big-foot Sanders and some others, the night passed
without incident, the next morning dawning bright and beautiful.

For some reason the foreman decided, at the last moment, that he would
not go to the Ox Bow ranch. Instead, he instructed Big-foot Sanders to
take three of the men with him and pick out what ponies they needed from
Colonel McClure's stock. They were to bring the animals out to camp
where the boys would break them in.

Tad set out with them, after a hurried breakfast, leaving his young
companions to amuse themselves as best they could.

"How far do we have to ride, Big-foot?" asked the lad after they were in
their saddles.

"Mile or two, I guess. It's been a long time since I was through these
parts. There's that church I've been telling you about."

"Where?"

"There, near the bedding-down ground. Seems as though the boss might
have put the cows further away from the place."

Tad surveyed the structure with keen interest. The white walls of the
old adobe church reflected back the morning light in a whitish glare.
About the place he observed a rank growth of weeds and evil cacti, the
only touch of life to be seen being the birds that were perched on its
crumbling ridges, gayly piping their morning songs.

"It looks deserted."

"I reckon it is," answered Big-foot. "Anyway, it ought to be. Ain't fit
for human beings to roost in."

"Humph! I don't believe there is anything spooky about that building.
I'm going to investigate, the first time I get the chance. Have we time
to stop this morning?"

"No; we'll have to be getting along. The ponies we are after will have
to be hobbled and got back to camp somehow. I expect we'll have a merry
circus with them. If we get back in time for supper we'll be lucky."

"That will be fun," exulted Tad. "Mr. Stallings promised me I might
break one of them. My pony having been drowned, I should like to break a
fresh one for myself."

"And break your neck at the same time. I know you've got the sand, but
you let that job out, kid. You don't know them bronchos."

"I thought you said I was no longer a tenderfoot," laughed Tad.

"Sure thing, but this is different."

"I'll chance it. You show me the pony I cannot ride, and I will confess
that I am a tenderfoot."

Their arrival at the Ox Bow ranch was the signal for all the dogs on the
place to try out their lungs, whereat a dozen cowboys appeared to learn
the cause of the uproar. The McClure house stood a little back, nestling
under a bluff covered with scant verdure, but well screened from the
biting northers of the Texas winter. Further to the south were the ranch
buildings, corrals, the cook house and a log cabin, outside of which
hung any number of bridles and saddles, some of which the ranchers were
mending and polishing when Stalling's men arrived on the scene.

Big-foot introduced himself and was received with many a shout and
handshake. Bill Blake, the foreman of the ranch after greeting the new
arrival, turned inquiringly to Tad Butler, who had dismounted.

"I didn't know you used kids in your business, Big-foot," he grinned.

Big-foot flushed under the imputation.

"Mebby you call him a kid, but if you'd see the lad work you'd change
your mind mighty quick," answered the big cowman, with a trace of
irritation in his voice. He explained to Blake what the boy was doing
with the outfit, at the same time relating some of the things that the
slender, freckle-faced boy from the East had accomplished.

"Shake, Pinto," exclaimed Bill Blake cordially. "I reckon Mr. McClure
would like to talk with you. Big-foot and I have got some business over
in the ranch house, you see," smiled the foreman.

"I see," replied Tad, though not wholly sure whether he did or not.

"He's over there talking with his boss wrangler now. Come along and I'll
give you a first-class knock-down to him."

Tad found the ranch owner to be a man of refinement and kindly nature,
yet whose keen, quizzical eyes seemed to take the lad in from head to
foot in one comprehensive glance.

"So you are learning the business, eh? That's right, my lad. That's the
way to go about it, and there's no place like a drive to learn it, for
that's where a man meets about every experience that comes in the life
of a cowman."

Tad explained about the Pony Riders, and that their trip was in the
nature of a pleasure jaunt, they being accompanied by Walter Perkins's
instructor and that they were with the outfit for a brief trip only.

Mr. McClure became interested at once.

"I should like to hear more about your experiences," he said. "Won't you
come up to the house with me, while your man talks horse with my
foreman?"

Tad flushed slightly as he glanced down over his own rough, dust-covered
clothes.

"I--I am afraid I am not fit, sir."

"Tut, tut. We ranchers learn to take a man for what he is worth, not for
what he has on. You have been riding. Naturally you would not be
expected to appear in broadcloth. No more do we expect you to. Had I a
son, I should feel far better satisfied to see him as you stand before
me now, than in the finest of clothes. Come, I want you to meet my
family."

Tad, somewhat reluctantly, followed the rancher to his house. Much to
the lad's discomfiture, he was ushered into the drawing-room of the
first southern home he had ever entered.

"Be seated, sir. I will call my daughters. We have so few guests here
that the girls seldom see anyone during the time they are home from
school."

Mr. McClure left the room, and Tad, after choosing a chair that he
considered least liable to be soiled by his dusty clothes, sat down,
gazing about him curiously. He found himself in a room that was by far
the handsomest he had ever seen, while from the walls a long line of
family ancestors looked down at him from their gilt frames.

Tad had found time for only a brief glance about him, when the sound of
voices attracted his attention. At first he was unable to decide whence
the voices came. They seemed to be in the room with him, yet there was
no one there save himself.

Turning about he discovered that a curtained doorway led directly into
another room, and that it was from the adjoining room that the sound had
come.

"You say Ruth is bad again to-day, Margaret?"

"No, mother, I would not say that exactly. Yet she does not seem to be
quite herself, and I thought it best to tell you. I feared that perhaps
she was going to have one of her old attacks."

"Say nothing to her of your suspicions. The last one passed over, I
think largely because we appeared to treat her mood lightly. Poor child,
she has never ceased to grieve for the man whom her parents refused to
permit her to marry. I think your Aunt Jane made a grievous mistake. I
told her so plainly when she brought Ruth here to us, hoping she might
forget her youthful love affair."

Tad Butler's cheeks burned.

That he had unwittingly played eavesdropper troubled him not a little.
The boy rose and walking to a window on the further side of the room,
stood with hat crumpled in both hands behind him, gazing out.

The voices ceased. Yet a moment later Tad started and turned sharply.

"Well, young man, what are you doing here?"

Before him he saw a woman just short of middle age. He inferred at once
that she was the elder of the two women whom he had heard speaking
behind the curtain.

"I am waiting for Mr. McClure," answered Tad, bowing politely, his face
flushing under its tan.

"Does he know that you are here?" she asked in a milder tone.

"Oh, yes. He asked me to wait here until he returned."

"Pardon me, I----"

"Ah, here you are, my dear. I have been looking for you. I wish you to
meet Master Thaddeus Butler, who, with three companions and a tutor, is
crossing the state with the Miller herd. It is the most unique vacation
in these days. Master Butler, this is Mrs. McClure. My daughters will
join us in a moment."

Mrs. McClure shook hands cordially with their young guest.

"Welcome to Ox Bow," she smiled. "At first, as your back was turned to
me, I took you for one of the men. Instantly you faced me I saw the
mistake I had made. Won't you be seated?"

Under her cordial manner Tad Butler was soon at his ease. Almost before
he was aware of the fact Mrs. McClure had drawn from him the main facts
relating to the journeyings of the Pony Riders.

Mrs. McClure's two daughters, Sadie and Margaret, entered the room soon
afterwards, Tad being presented to them. Margaret, the elder of the two,
was a fair-haired girl of perhaps nineteen years, while her sister
Sadie, who was darker, Tad judged to be about his own age.

Both girls shook hands smilingly with their guest.

"I hope you will pardon me for appearing in such a disreputable
condition," begged the lad. "I really am not fit to be seen."

His quaint way of putting it brought forth a general laugh.

"You need make no apology. We are all ranchers here. Even my daughters
and my niece ride, and sometimes accompany the foreman on drives from
one part of the ranch to another. As for my niece, though brought up in
the East, she is a born cattle woman. There is hardly a cowman on the
place who can ride better than she."

"Your man tells us that you are the best horseman in your outfit," said
Mr. McClure.

"I don't think I quite deserve that compliment, sir," answered Tad. "But
I am very fond of horses. I find, by kind treatment, one can do almost
anything with them."

"My idea exactly," nodded Mr. McClure approvingly. "The cowpuncher
doesn't look at it that way, however. He wouldn't feel at home on a
horse that didn't break the monotony by bucking now and then. Did you
ever ride a bucker?"

"Once. I expect to break one of the animals I understand we are to get
from you."

His host whistled softly.

"You have a large contract on hand, young man. The ponies I am turning
off are the worst specimens we ever had on the ranch. Some of them never
had a bridle on, for the very good reason that no one ever has been able
to get close enough to them to put bridles on. I hope you will not be
foolish enough to try to break any of that stock."

"Oh, we'll rope them and get a headstall on, anyway. The rest will come
along all right, I think," smiled Tad.

"Ah, my niece, Miss Brayton!" exclaimed the rancher, introducing a young
woman who had just entered the room.

"With the Miller outfit?" she asked.

"Yes," answered Tad.

"Who is your foreman?"

"Stallings--Bob Stallings."

Tad thought Miss Brayton one of the most beautiful women he had ever
seen. Yet there was something about her that affected him strangely.
Perhaps it was her abrupt manner of speaking. At any rate the lad
experienced a sense of uneasiness the moment she entered the room. He
did not stop to ask himself why. Tad merely knew that this was true.
Miss Brayton had little to say, but her quietness was more than atoned
for by the vivacity of Sadie and Margaret.

As Tad was taking his leave the entire family accompanied him out into
the yard.

"If your duties will permit we should like to have you and your
companions dine with us to-morrow evening," said Colonel McClure.

"Yes; by all means," added Mrs. McClure.

"Yes, Mr. Butler, we should love to have you," added Sadie.

"Besides, we want to meet your friends," said Margaret.

"And I am sure we should enjoy coming. It seems almost an imposition for
four of us boys to camp out in your dining room at the same time,"
laughed Tad.

"I assure you it will be doing us a favor," protested the rancher. "You
will bring your Professor, also. We'll have a real family party."

Tad somewhat reluctantly agreed to bring his companions, though he
disliked the idea of going to so fine a place for dinner in their rough,
weather-beaten clothing.

The boy bade them all good-bye and strode off toward the corral, where
the ponies were being roped preparatory to being taken over to the
Miller herd.

"Oh, Mr. Butler!"

Tad wheeled sharply. Ruth Brayton was hurrying toward him.

The lad lifted his hat courteously and awaited the young woman's
approach.

"Yes, Miss Brayton."

"Tell me again who your foreman is."

"Bob Stallings."

"Stallings--Stallings. Where have I heard that name before?" mused the
girl, staring at Tad with vacant eyes.

"Are you sure it isn't Hamilton--Robert Hamilton?"

"Quite sure," smiled the lad.

"Do you know a cowboy or foreman by that name?"

"No, I never heard the name before."

Miss Brayton turned abruptly and hurried away. Tad heard her repeating
the name of his foreman as she walked swiftly toward the ranch house.

CHAPTER XVIII

BREAKING IN THE BRONCHOS

"My, but that was a job," laughed Tad, after they had reached camp
again, with three wild bronchos in tow. They had staked the new ponies
down on the plain to think matters over while the cowboys sat down to
their noon meal.

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