The Pony Rider Boys in Texas (16 page)

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."

"Diddid 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 afraidthat 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.

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 himif 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.

"Whatwhat 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."