The Pony Rider Boys in Texas
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Frank Gee Patchin >> The Pony Rider Boys in Texas
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"They sure are a bad lot," agreed Big-foot Sanders. "Never seen worse
ones. See that fellow, over there, don't even mind the pinch of that
hackmore bridle. He's the ugliest brute in the bunch."
"That's the one I'm going to break," decided Tad Butler, his eyes
glowing as he observed the wild pitching and snorting of the staked
animal.
The pony was running the length of his rope at full speed, coming to a
sudden halt when he reached its end, with heels high in the air and head
doubled up under him on the ground.
It seemed to the lad like unnecessarily harsh treatment, yet he knew
full well the quality of the temper of these animals of the plains.
"I'm afraid he'll break his neck," objected Tad.
"Let him," snapped the foreman. "There's more where he came from."
"By the way," said Tad, speaking to the Pony Riders. "I have an
invitation for you fellows. I had forgotten it in the excitement of
getting the new ponies to camp."
"Where to!" asked Ned Rector indifferently.
"To take dinner at the home of Colonel McClure."
"That will be fine," glowed Walter.
"But the question is, what are we going to wear?" laughed Tad. "We don't
look very beautiful for a drawing room."
"Drawing room?" inquired Ned Rector, with interest. "Did I hear you say
drawing room?"
"Yes."
"Huh! There isn't one within a thousand miles of us."
"You will think differently when you see the one at the ranch house."
"Did--did the colonel say what we were going to have to eat?" asked
Stacy Brown, in all seriousness.
His question provoked a loud laugh from cowboys and Pony Riders.
"No. Naturally, I didn't ask him. There are some very nice girls at the
ranch, too."
"You don't say!" exclaimed Ned. "Will wonders never cease? I'll believe
I am not dreaming when I see all this with my own two eyes."
"Yes, Colonel McClure has two daughters, and besides these, there is a
niece from the East visiting them. She is considerably older than the
daughters, but a very beautiful woman." Tad paused thoughtfully for a
moment. "Professor, I presume you will have no objection to our
accepting Colonel McClure's invitation? You are invited to join us."
"Not at all, young gentlemen. But perhaps I had better not intrude----"
"Please go," urged Tad.
"Sure. He'll go. You will, won't you, Professor?" demanded Ned.
"Of course, if you really wish me to----" smiled Professor Zepplin
good-naturedly.
"Of course we do," chorused the boys.
"Very well, I will think it over. I'm afraid, however, that I do not
look altogether presentable."
"No more do we," answered Walter Perkins. "Tad probably told them we did
not."
Tad nodded.
"They refused to accept that excuse. So I told them we would come."
The boys were full of anticipation for this promised break in the
monotony of their living; and, besides, they looked forward keenly to
meeting the young women about whom their companion had told them.
After the meal had been finished Tad asked when they were to begin
breaking the new stock.
Stallings looked over the ponies critically.
"I guess we'll let them stay where they are, for an hour or so yet. It
will help to break their spirit. Still think you can break one of them
in?"
"I am sure of it," answered Tad Butler confidently.
"You shall have the chance. However, I shall not permit you to saddle
him. Some of the cowpunchers, who are used to that, had better do it for
you the first time. Unless one knows these little brutes he is liable to
be kicked to death."
"I am not afraid."
"No, that is the danger of it. Neither is the pony afraid--that is, not
until he is blindfolded."
About the middle of the afternoon the foreman announced that they would
begin the breaking. The cowmen uttered a shout, for the process promised
them much boisterous fun.
"Is the gopher going to break one of the bronchos?" asked Lumpy Bates.
"No, but the Pinto is," replied Curley Adams.
"He'll want to go home right away if he tries it, I reckon," jeered
Lumpy.
"Don't you be too sure about that," retorted Curley. "That kid's got the
stuff in him. I've been watching him right along. None of them lads is
tenderfeet, unless it's the gopher, and he isn't half as bad as he
looks."
By this time the foreman had taken hold of the rope that held the most
violent of the ponies, and was slowly shortening upon it. As he neared
the pony's head a cowboy began whipping a blanket over its back.
While the animal was plunging and kicking, Stallings gripped him by the
bridle, after which there was a lively struggle, and in a moment more a
broad handkerchief had been tied over the pony's eyes.
"What's that for! Is he going to play blind man's buff?" demanded
Chunky.
"Huh! Get out!" growled Big-foot.
"If he does, you'll be it," jeered Ned Rector.
At last the animal crouched down trembling. He had never passed through
an experience like that before and could not understand it.
Tad Butler standing near, was observing the operation with keenly
inquiring eyes.
All at once the little animal leaped clear of the foreman's grip, its
blinder came off and it launched into a series of wild bucks and grunts.
The air seemed full of flying hoofs, and for the moment there was a
lively scattering of cowpunchers and Pony Riders.
Once more, and with great patience, the foreman went all over the
proceeding again. This time the foreman got one hand on the animal's
nose and the other in his mane.
All at once something happened. A forty-pound saddle was thrown, not
dropped, on the back of the unsuspecting pony.
The broncho's back arched like a bow, and the saddle went skyward. Stacy
Brown happened to be in the way of it as it descended, so that boy and
saddle went down together in a yelling heap.
The cowpunchers howled with delight as Chunky, covered with dust, wiping
the sand from his eyes, staggered angrily to his feet.
"Did he kick me?" he demanded.
"With his back, yes," chuckled Shorty Savage.
Again and again the saddle was shot into the air the instant it touched
the pony's back. It was back in place in no time, however. After a time
the broncho paused, as if to devise some new method of getting rid of
the hated thing.
As he did so, Big-foot Sanders cautiously poked a stick under the
animal, pulling the girth toward him. A moment more and he had slipped
it through a large buckle, and, with a jerk, made the girth fast.
Again the bucking began, but more violently than before.
The saddle held, though it slipped to one side a little.
"I've got him now," cried Stallings. "The instant he lets up, catch that
flank girth and make fast."
"Right," answered Big-foot.
It was accomplished almost before the boys realized it.
Walter and his companions set up a shout.
The pony stood panting, head down, legs braced apart. The blinder had
been torn from his eyes. He was waiting for the next move.
"Are you ready for me now?" asked Tad Butler quietly.
The foreman turned his head, glancing at Tad questioningly.
"Think you can stand it?"
"I can't any more than fall off."
Stallings nodded.
Tad slipped to the pony's side. Cautiously placing his left foot in the
stirrups, he suddenly flung himself into the saddle.
The next instant Tad Butler was flying through the air over the pony's
head.
CHAPTER XIX
GRIT WINS THE BATTLE
The lad appeared to strike the ground head-on. Fortunately, the spot
where he landed was covered with soft sand.
"Are you hurt?" asked Big-foot, running to the boy and reaching out to
assist him.
"I guess not," answered Tad, rubbing the sand from his eyes and blinking
vigorously.
The skin had been scraped from his face in spots where the coarse sand
had ground its way through. His hair was filled with the dirt of the
plain, and his clothes were torn.
But Tad Butler, nothing daunted, smiled as he pulled himself to his
feet.
"You better let that job out. You can't ride that critter!"
"I'll ride him--if he kills me!" answered the boy, his jaws setting
stubbornly.
Tad hitched his belt tighter before making any move to approach the
pony, which Stallings was now holding by main force. While doing so, the
lad watched the animal's buckings observantly.
"What--what happened?" demanded Stallings.
"Foot slipped out of the stirrup."
"Think you can make it?"
"I'll try it, if you have the time to spare."
"It takes time to break a bronch. Don't you worry about that. I don't
want you to be breaking your neck, however."
"My advice is that you keep off that animal," declared Professor
Zepplin. "You cannot manage him; that is plain."
"Please do not say that, Professor. I must ride him now. You wouldn't
have me be a coward, would you?"
Stallings, realizing the boy's position, nodded slightly to the
Professor.
"Very well, if Mr. Stallings thinks it is safe," agreed Professor
Zepplin reluctantly.
Tad's face lighted up with a satisfied smile.
"Whoa, boy," he soothed, patting the animal gently on the neck.
The pony's back arched and its heels shot up into the air again. Once
more Tad petted him.
"No use," said the foreman. "The iron hand is the only thing that will
break this cayuse. Don't know enough to know when he's well off. Got
your spurs on?"
"Yes."
"Then drive them in when you get well seated."
Tad shook his head.
"I do not think that will be necessary. Guess he'll go fast enough
without urging him with the rowels," answered the boy, backing away to
wait until the pony had bounced itself into a position where another
effort to mount him would be possible.
"Will you please coil up the stake rope and fasten it to the horn, Mr.
Stallings?" asked Tad. "I don't want to get tangled up with that thing."
"Yes, if you are sure you can stick on him."
"Leave that to me. I know his tricks now."
Cautiously the rope was coiled and made fast to the saddle horn.
"I'm coming," said Tad in a quiet, tense voice.
"Ready," answered the foreman, with equal quietness.
The lad darted forward, running on his toes, his eyes fixed on the
saddle.
Tad gave no heed to the pony. It was that heavy bobbing saddle that he
must safely make before the pony itself would enter into his
considerations.
Lightly touching the saddle, he bounded into it, at the same time
shoving both feet forward. Fortunately his shoes slipped into the big,
boxed stirrups, and the rein which lay over the pommel ready for him was
quickly gathered up.
Stallings leaped from the animal's head and the cowpunchers made a quick
sprint to remove themselves from the danger zone.
They were none too soon.
The broncho at last realized that his head was free. His sides, however,
were being gripped by a muscular pair of legs, and his head was suddenly
jerked up by a sharp tug at the rein.
"Y-e-e-e-o-w!" greeted the cowboys in their long-drawn, piercing cry.
"Yip!" answered Tad, though more to the pony than in answer to them.
Down went the pony's head between his forward legs, his hind hoofs
beating a tattoo in the air.
The feet came down as suddenly as they had gone up. Instantly the little
animal began a series of stiff-legged leaps into the air, his curving
back making it a very uncomfortable place to sit on.
Tad's head was jerked back and forth until it seemed as though his neck
would be broken.
"Look out for the side jump!" warned the foreman.
It came almost instantly, and with a quickness that nearly unhorsed the
plucky lad.
As it was, the swift leap to the right threw Tad half way over on the
beast's left side. Fortunately, the lad gripped the pommel with his
right hand as he felt himself going, and little by little he pulled
himself once more to an upright posture.
All at once the animal took a leap into the air, coming down headed in
the opposite direction.
Tad's head swam. He no longer heard the shouts of encouragement from the
cowpunchers. He was clinging desperately to his insecure seat, with legs
pressed tightly against the pony's sides. As yet he had not seen fit to
use the rowels.
There came a pause which was almost as disconcerting as had been the
previous rapid movements.
"He's going to throw himself! Don't get caught under him!" bellowed
Big-foot.
Tad was thankful for the suggestion, for he was not looking for that
move at the moment.
The pony struck the ground on its left side with a bump that made the
animal grunt. Tad, however, forewarned, had freed his left foot from the
stirrup and was standing easily over his fallen mount, eyes fixed on the
beast's ears, ready to resume his position at the first sign of a quiver
of those ears.
Like a flash the animal was on its feet again, but with Tad riding in
the saddle, a satisfied smile on his face. Once more the awful,
nerve-racking bucking began. It did not seem as if a human being could
survive that series of violent antics, and least of all a mere boy.
All at once the animal came up on its hind legs.
Tad knew instinctively what it meant. He did not need the warning cry of
the cowpunchers to tell him what the pony was about to do. Over went the
broncho on its back, rolling to its side quickly.
Tad was on the ground beside it, standing in a half-crouching position,
with one foot on the saddle horn.
He had jerked the broncho's head clear of the ground with a strong tug
on the reins, making the animal helpless to rise until the lad was ready
for him to do so.
The cowboys uttered a yell of triumph.
"Great! Great!" approved Bob Stallings.
"Tenderfoot, eh?" jeered Big-foot Sanders. "Hooray for the Pinto!"
Tad's companions gave a shrill cheer.
"Wait. He ain't out of the woods yet," growled Lumpy Bates.
"Think you could do it better, hey?" snapped Curley Adams. "Why, that
cayuse would shake the blooming neck off you if you were in that saddle.
I never did see such a whirlwind."
"Got springs in his feet, I reckon," grinned Big-foot.
"Don't let his head down till you're ready for the get-away," cautioned
the foreman.
Tad suddenly allowed the head to touch the ground, after the pony had
lain pinned at his feet, breathing hard for a full minute.
Boy and mount were in the air in a twinkling. As they went up, Ted
brought down his quirt with all his strength. It was time the ugly
animal was taught that its enemy could strike a blow for himself.
With a quick pause, as if in surprise, the beast shot its head back to
fasten its teeth in the leg of the rider. Tad had jerked his leg away as
he saw the movement, with the result that only part of his leggin came
away between the teeth of the savage animal.
Crack!
Down came the quirt again.
The broncho's head straightened out before him with amazing quickness.
He was beginning to fear as well as hate the human being who so
persistently sat his back and tortured him.
The pony sprang into the air.
"They're off!" shouted the cowboys.
With amazing quickness the animal lunged ahead, paused suddenly, then
shot across the plain in a series of leaps and twists.
Tad shook out the rein, at the same time giving a gentle pressure to the
rowels of his spurs.
Maddened almost beyond endurance, the pony started at a furious pace,
not pausing until more than a mile had been covered. When he did bring
up it was with disconcerting suddenness.
"Whoa, boy!" soothed Tad, patting the little animal on the neck. Again
the wide-open mouth reached for the lad's left leg. But this time Tad
pressed in the spurs on the right side. The pony tried to bite that way,
whereat its rider spurred it on the left side.
This was continued until, at least, in sheer desperation, the animal
started again to run. He found that he was not interfered with in this
effort. However, when he sought to unseat his rider by brushing against
the trunk of a large tree, he again felt the sting of the quirt on his
flank.
Gradually Tad now began to work the animal around. After a time he
succeeded in doing this, and was soon headed for camp. They bore down,
at great speed, to where the cowboys were swinging their hats and
setting up a shout that carried far over the plain.
Tad's face was flushed with pride. Yet he did not allow himself for an
instant to forget his work. The lad's whole attention was centered on
the pony under him. He was determined to make a grand finish that, while
exhibiting his horsemanship, would at the same time give the pony a
lesson not soon to be forgotten.
"You've got him!" cried Ned Rector as Tad approached, now at a gallop,
the animal's ears lying back angrily.
"Don't be too sure," answered Big-foot. "See them ears? That means more
trouble."
It came almost before the words were out of the cowpuncher's mouth.
The broncho stiffened, its hoofs ploughing little trails in the soft
dirt of the plain as it skidded to a stop. The jolt might have unhorsed
Tad Butler had he not been expecting it from some indications that he
read in the animal's actions.
Suddenly settling back on its haunches, the broncho rolled over on its
side. Tad, with a grin, stepped off a few paces, taking with him,
however, the coil of rope, one end of which was still fastened around
the beast's neck.
With a snort and a bound, realizing that it was free at last, the little
animal leaped to its feet and darted away.
Tad moved swiftly to the right, so as not to get a tug on the rope over
the back of the pony.
The coil was running out over his hands like a thing of life. Grasping
the end firmly, the lad shook out the rest of the rope, leaning back
until it was almost taut.
By this time the animal was running almost at right angles to him.
Tad gave the rope a quick rolling motion just as it was being drawn
taut. The result was as surprising as it was sudden. The animal's four
feet were snipped from under it neatly, sending the broncho to earth
with a disheartening bump.
[Illustration: Tad Gave the Rope a Quick, Rolling Motion.]
Without giving it a chance to rise, Tad sprang upon it, and, when the
pony rose, Tad Butler was sitting proudly in the saddle.
The little beast's head went down. Its proud spirit had been broken by a
boy who knew the ways of the stubborn animal.
A great shout of approval went up from cowpunchers and Pony Riders. They
had never seen a breaking done more skillfully.
Tad's gloved hand patted the neck of the subdued animal affectionately.
"I'm sorry I had to be rough with you, old boy, but you shall have a
lump of sugar. We're going to be great friends, now, I know."
CHAPTER XX
DINNER AT THE OX BOW
"Welcome to the Ox Bow, young gentlemen," greeted Colonel McClure.
The rancher and his wife were waiting at the lower end of the lawn as
the Pony Rider Boys, accompanied by Professor Zepplin, rode up on the
following afternoon.
The lads wore their regulation plainsman's clothes, but for this
occasion coats had been put on and hair combed, each desiring to look
his best, as they were to meet the young ladies of the ranch.
"We owe you an apology, sir, for appearing in this condition," announced
the Professor.
"Master Butler and myself have already settled that question," answered
the rancher. "As Henry Ward Beecher once said, 'Clothes don't make the
man, but when he is made he looks very well dressed up.' I must say,
however, that these young men are about as likely a lot of lads as I
have ever seen."
Clear-eyed, their faces tanned almost to a copper color, figures erect
and shoulders well back, the Pony Rider Boys were indeed wholesome to
look upon. Perhaps Sadie and Margaret McClure were not blind to this,
for they blushed very prettily, the boys thought, upon being presented
to their guests. Ruth Brayton was in a sunny mood, laughing gayly as she
chatted with the boys.
Tad glanced at her inquiringly. She was not the same girl that he had
met the day before. There was a difference in the eyes, too. Tad could
not understand the change. It perplexed him.
Colonel McClure took the Professor off to his study, the boys being left
with Mrs. McClure and the young ladies to wander through the grounds and
chat. Each of the young women was an accomplished horsewoman, and
therefore evinced a keen interest in the experiences of the boys since
they had been in saddle.
"I had so often wanted to take a trip through the Rockies on horseback,"
announced Miss Margaret.
"I am afraid you would find it rather rough going," said Ned Rector.
"No worse than the plains," replied Walter. "We have had more hardships
in Texas during the short time we have been here than we ever
experienced in the mountains."
"Yes; but you were driving cattle," objected Mrs. McClure. "There
probably is no harder work in the world. We, down here, know something
about that."
"I--I killed a bobcat up in the mountains," Stacy Brown informed them,
with enthusiasm.
"Indeed," smiled Mrs. McClure indulgently.
"He did. And I fell off a mountain," laughed Walter Perkins. "You see we
have had quite a series of experiences."
"Indeed you have. How long do you expect to remain with the herd? Are
you going through with them?"
"I believe not," answered Tad Butler. "I think we shall be leaving very
soon now. We have a lot of traveling to do yet, as it has been planned
that we shall see a good deal of the country before it is time to return
to school this fall."
"And you are to remain out in the open--in the saddle all summer?" asked
Miss Brayton, her eyes sparkling almost enviously.
"Yes; I believe so."
"I should love it."
"We are getting to love it ourselves. It will be hard to have to sleep
indoors again."
Shortly afterwards all were summoned in to supper. Stacy Brown's eyes
sparkled with anticipation as he surveyed the table resplendent with
silver and cut glass--loaded, too, with good things to eat.
Ned Rector observed the look in his companion's eyes.
"Now, don't forget that we are not eating off the tail board of the
chuck wagon, Chunky," he whispered in passing. "Be as near human as you
can and satisfy your appetite."
Chunky's face flushed.
"Take your advice to yourself," he muttered.
Colonel McClure proved an entertaining host, and the boys were led on to
talk about themselves during most of the meal. Especially were their
hosts interested in the story of the discovery of the Lost Claim, which
the boys had found on their trip in the Rockies.
"I have wanted to ask you about the old church between here and camp,
Mr. McClure," said Tad at the first opportunity.
"Very interesting old ruin, sir," answered the host. "Built by the
Mexicans more than a hundred years ago."
"Yes, so I understand."
"Is it true that there's spooks in that place?" interrupted Stacy.
Everybody laughed. Tad glanced sharply at Ruth Brayton. He noticed a
curious flush on her face, and the strained look that he had observed in
her eyes on the previous day was again there. Almost the instant he
caught it it was gone.
"I'm afraid you have been misinformed, Master Stacy," answered Colonel
McClure.
"How about the trouble that the cattle men experience when near the
place?" spoke up Ned Rector. "The cowmen are sure there is something in
the story."
"Nothing at all--nothing at all. Just a mere coincidence. We live here
and we have no more than the usual run of ill luck with our stock."
"Stampedes?" asked Tad.
"Seldom anything of that sort. You see our stock is held by wire fences.
If they want to stampede we let them--let them run until they are tired
of it."
"I should like to explore the old church," said Tad, again referring to
the subject uppermost in his mind.
"Nothing to hinder. Ruth, why can't you and the girls take the young men
over there to-morrow if the day is fine? You know the place and its
history. I am sure they would enjoy having you do so."
"We should be delighted," answered Ned Rector promptly.
"We might make it a picnic," suggested Margaret McClure.
"And have things to eat?" asked Stacy, evincing a keen interest in the
proposal.
"Of course," smiled Mrs. McClure. "A picnic would not be a picnic
without a spread on the ground. I will send some of the servants over to
serve the picnic lunch."
"Thank you," smiled Tad gratefully. "It will be a happy afternoon for
all of us if Miss Brayton can find the time to take us."
"Of course Ruth will go," nodded Mrs. McClure.
"Yes," answered the young woman. "What time shall we arrange to start,
auntie?"
"Say eleven o'clock, if that will suit the young men."
"Perfectly," answered Tad.
"You might first take a gallop to the Springs. That will give you all an
appetite."
"Where are the Springs?" asked Ned.
"About seven miles to the eastward of the ranch. A most picturesque
place," answered Colonel McClure. "Professor, while the young people are
enjoying themselves, suppose you ride over here and spend the afternoon
with me? We can ride about the ranch if it would please you."
"I should be delighted."
"I was going to suggest, too, that it might be a pleasant relief for all
of you to accept the hospitality of the Ox Bow ranch and remain here
while you are in the vicinity. We have room to spare and would be glad
to have you."
"I am afraid the young men would prefer to remain in camp, thank you.
They will get enough of sleeping in beds upon their return home,
discourteous as the statement may seem," answered Professor Zepplin.
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