The Pony Rider Boys in Texas (10 page)

"I shouldn't be surprised. The boy has pluck and I have an idea that if he
got in with a lot of cows he'd stick to them till the pony went down under
him."

"More'n likely that's what happened. I'll tell you what we had better
do"

"Get all the boys together who are not needed on guard," interrupted
Stallings. "Let them circle out to the west and southwest and shoot. Have each
man fire a shot every five minutes by the watch as they move out. That will keep
them in touch with each other, and will act as a guide to the kid if he happens
to be within hearing."

"How far shall we go?"

"Half an hour out. It's not safe to leave the herd any longer unless the fog
clears away. As soon as that goes we'll organize a regular search. I want those
cows, and I want to find the boy."

The men quickly mounted their ponies and disappeared in the fog, following
the orders given by the foreman. After a time those in camp could faintly hear
the distant cracks of the cowpunchers' pistols as they fired their signals into
the air.

In the meantime Tad Butler was keeping his lonely vigil on the fogbound
plains many miles away.

The fog was still hovering over the herd as the afternoon waned, and the
lad's body was dripping wet from it. Occasionally he brushed a hand across his
face, wiping away the moisture.

Darkness settled down earlier than usual that night. Yet, to the boy's great
relief, the fog lifted shortly afterwards and the stars came out brightly.

With the skill of an old cowman Tad had bedded down the herd and began to
ride slowly about them, whistling vigorously. His face ached from the constant
puckering of his lips, and his wounds gave him considerable pain. Yet he lost
none of his cheerfulness.

At times Tad found himself drooping in his saddle as his sleepiness overcame
him. But he fought the temptation to doze by talking to himself and bringing the
quirt sharply against his legs.

"Tad Butler, don't you dare to go to sleep!" he warned himself. "It's the
first real duty you have had to perform, so you're not going to make a mess of
it. My, but I'm hungry!"

From that on the boy never allowed his eyelids to drop, though at times they
felt as if weighted down with lead.

After what seemed an eternity, the gray dawn appeared on the eastern horizon.
Immediately Tad began routing out the cows that they might have an opportunity
to graze before the rising of the sun. It was his intention to point them toward
where he believed the camp to be the moment they had grazed to their
satisfaction. Until then it would not be wise to start the animals on their
course.

About six o'clock, deciding that they had eaten enough, Tad began galloping
up and down, shouting and applying his quirt here and there to the backs of the
cows. It was slow work for one lone horseman to start five hundred cattle on the
trail. Yet, after half an hour of effort, he had the satisfaction of seeing them
begin to move.

"Whoop!" shouted the boy. "I'm a real cowboy this time!"

Yet his task was more difficult than he had imagined it could be. While he
was urging on one part of the herd, the others would lag by the wayside and
begin to graze.

Constant effort and continual moving about at high speed on his part, were
necessary to keep up any sort of movement among the cattle.

The lad headed as nearly as possible for the southeast, believing that he had
come from that direction.

At the same time a party had set out from the camp in search of young Butler.
They had laid their course more toward the southwest. Holding these directions
the two parties would not come within some miles of each other.

Tad's eyes were continually sweeping the plains in hope of discovering a
horseman or some signs of the main herd, which he was sure must have been
rounded up long before. Not a trace of them could he discover.

Once the boy straightened up in his saddle believing he had heard the report
of a gun. After listening for some time he came to the conclusion that he had
been in error.

"I guess it's my stomach imagining things," grinned Tad Butler.

He had now been out for two nights, and was now well along on the second day.
During all that time he had not had a mouthful to eat. His lips were dry and
parched; his throat burned fearfully. Still, he kept resolutely on. About two
o'clock in the afternoon the herd came upon a clump of trees. Tad at sight of
it, spurred his pony on, attracted by the greenness of the grass about the
place, hoping that he might find a spring.

But he was doomed to disappointment. There was no sign of water to be found.
With almost a sob in his throat the boy swung himself into his saddle again.

"Barney, you and I ought to be camels. Then we could carry all the water we
need," he told the pony. "If we don't find some pretty soon I reckon we'll dry
up and blow away. Gid-ap, Barney!"

Once more the lad began his monotonous pounding back and forth along the side
of the herd which was now spread out over a full half mile of territory, urging
with all his strength in order to get the animals to quicken their pace.

In the camp, Stallings and the others had begun to show their worriment. Not
a trace had been found of boy or herd. The main hope of the foreman was that Tad
might come upon a ranch or a town somewhere, in his course, and in that way get
help to direct him back to camp. As for the cattle, he feared that they had
become so split up that it would be well-nigh impossible to get them together
again.

During the whole afternoon, Bob Stallings had been riding about his own herd,
sweeping the plain with a pair of field glasses.

A speck of dust far to the northwest suddenly attracted his attention.
Stallings halted his pony, and, sitting in his saddle almost motionless, gazed
intently at the tiny point that had come within range of his vision.

"I wonder what that is," mused the foreman. "It can't be any of our party,
for they would not be likely to be away off therethat is, unless they have
rounded up the bunch."

Stallings, after a while, wheeled his pony and dashed back to camp.

"If any of the men come in, tell them to head northwest and come on as fast
as they can."

"Do you see anything?" asked the Professor anxiously.

"I don't know. I hope I do," answered the foreman, leaping into his saddle
and putting spurs to his mount. "It may be some other herd crossing the state,"
he muttered, keeping his eyes fixed on the speck that was slowly developing into
a miniature cloud.

The foreman urged his pony to its best pace, and, in the course of half an
hour he was able to make out a herd of cattle. That was all he could tell about
it. However, it was not long before he discovered a lone horseman working up and
down the herd.

Stallings was in too great a hurry to use his glasses now. He was driving his
pony straight at the yellow mark off there on the plain, without swerving or
appearing to exert any pressure at all on the bridle rein.

"It's the Pinto, as I'm alive!" he breathed.

The horseman with the herd saw him now, and rising in his saddle, waved a
hand at the foreman.

In a few moments Stallings came rushing up with a shout of joy.

"Good for you, kid! How are you?"

"Baked to a turn," answered Tad hoarsely, but with face lighting up joyously.
"I never was so thirsty in my life."

"What? Haven't you had anything to drink?"

"Not a drop in two days."

"Great heavens, boy! You head that pony for camp mighty quick. Ride for it!
You will have no difficulty in following my trail back. Don't drink much at a
time. Take it in little sips," commanded the foreman in short, jerky
sentences.

"Yes, but what about the herd?" asked Tad Butler.

"Never you mind the herd. I'll see to them. You move!"

Stallings noticed that the boy sat in his saddle very straight, and he knew
well enough the effort it cost him to do so.

"I think I'll stay," answered the lad after a moment of indecision.

"You'll go!"

Tad shook his head.

"I've pulled them through, even if I have had quite a time of it. Now I'm
going to stay with them. I guess I can stand it as well as any of your men could
under similar circumstances. They wouldn't desert the herd, would they?"

Stallings glanced at him sharply.

"All right," he said. "If you insist upon it. By good rights I ought to order
you in. But I understand just how you feel, kid. Here, take a drink of this
brandy. It will brace you up," said the foreman, producing a flask from his
pocket. "I keep it for emergencies, as the men are not allowed to use it while
on duty."

"Thank you," answered the boy, with an emphatic shake of the head. "I don't
drink."

"I understand. But this is medicine," urged the foreman. "It will set you
right up."

"I haven't the least doubt of it," grinned the boy. "But I don't want to be
set up that way. You'll excuse me, Mr. Stallings. Don't urge me, please."

The foreman replaced the flask in his pocket, a queer smile flickering about
the corners of his mouth.

"You are the right stuff, kid," he muttered. "If you stayed in this business
you'd be a foreman before you knew it. You are a heap sight better than a lot of
them now. Fall in. I'll ride around on the other side of the herd, and urge them
along from the rear. You ride up to the right of the line and keep them pointed.
Follow our trail. You will make out the main herd very soon."

With renewed strength, Tad went at his work, though it was with an effort
that he kept his saddle. He was afraid he must collapse before reaching the
camp, and his straining eyes kept searching for the herd and the white-topped
wagon that he knew held what he needed most of all at that momentdrink and
food!

Soon Tad and the foreman made out a rising cloud of dust approaching them at
a rapid rate. Stallings waved his hand toward the cloud and nodded to Tad, being
too far away to call.

The lad shook his head in reply. He understood what the foreman meant. Men
were coming to their assistance and the boy was to push on for camp alone.

The cowpunchers began to laugh as they rode up and observed the boy's
tattered condition.

"So the Pinto got a dose this time, eh?" jeered Lumpy Bates.

"You shut up!" snarled Big-foot Sanders, turning on him menacingly. "He's
brought them cows back, and I'll bet a new saddle it's more'n you could have
done. Don't you see the kid's near all in? Here you, Pinto, you hike for camp!"
he shouted.

"I'm staying with the cattle," announced Tad, firmly.

"Cattle nothing. It's the camp for yours and mighty quick!"

Without waiting for argument Big-foot grasped the reins of Tad's bridle and
whirling his own mount about, galloped away, fairly dragging Tad Butler and his
tired pony after him.

With no reins in his hands the boy was powerless to interfere. All he could
do was to sit in his saddle and be towed into camp.

"Please don't take me in this way. Let me ride in," he begged as they neared
the camp.

"All right," laughed Big-foot, slacking up and tossing the reins back over
the pony's neck. "It's a terrible thing to be proud, when a fellow's down and
out. But I want to say one thing, kid."

"Yes?"

"There ain't a gamer critter standing on two hoofs than youbar none. And
that goes."

Tad laughed happily.

"I haven't done anything. I"

"Haven't done anything?" growled Big-foot, riding close and peering down into
the boy's scarred and grimy face. "Say, don't pass that out to the bunch.
Lumpy'll say you're fishin' for compliments. I don't want to thump him, but, if
he passes out any talk as reflects on what you've done for this outfit, I'll
thrash him proper."

They were now so near to the camp that the Professor and the boys were able
to recognize the horsemen.

They set up a great shout.

"Meet me with a pail of water," yelled Tad. "I'm hot."

Pong heard him and almost immediately emerged from the chuck wagon with a tin
pail full of water.

"Throw it on me, quick," commanded the lad, leaping from his pony.

Pong tipped the pail and was about to dash it over the lad when Big-foot
suddenly freed a foot from the stirrup. He gave the pail a powerful kick sending
it several feet from him, its contents spilling over the ground.

"You idiot! You fool heathen!" roared Big-foot. "The Pinto didn't say he
wanted boiling hot water thrown on him. He said he was hot. If you wasn't the
cook of this outfit, and we'd all starve to death without you, I'd shoot you
plumb full of holes, you blooming idiot of a heathen Chinee!"

"Allee same," chuckled Pong, showing his gleaming teeth.

"What! You climb into that wagon before I forget you're the cook!" fumed
Big-foot, jumping his pony threateningly toward the Chinaman. Pong leaped into
the protection of his wagon.

"Boys," said the big cowman, "the Pinto has come back with the crazy steers.
He's rounded up the whole bunch and never lost a critter. Look at him, if you
don't believe me. Ain't he a sight?"

Tad smiled proudly as he sipped the water which one of the boys had brought
to him.

"Any man as says he ain't a sight has got a fight on with Big-foot Sanders.
And that goes, too!" announced the cowman, glaring about him.

"Three cheers for Tad Butler, champion cowpuncher!" cried Ned Rector.

"Hooray!" bellowed Big-foot. "Y-e-e-e-o-w!"

"Hip-hip, hooray!" chorused the boys, hurling their sombreros into the air.
Their wild yells and cat calls made the cattle off on the grazing grounds raise
their heads in wonder.

"Allee same likee this," chuckled the grinning Chinaman from the front end of
the chuck wagon, at the same time making motions as if he, too, were
cheering.

The boys roared with laughter.