The Motor Boys on a Ranch; or, Ned, Bob and Jerry Among the Cowboys

by Clarence Young

  CHAPTER VI

  OFF FOR THE WEST

  “Well, everything seems to be in pretty good shape.”

  “It surely does,” agreed Jerry to Ned’s observation.

  “Except I don’t understand what contraption this is,” and Ned kickeda box that an expressman had just delivered at the Slade homestead inCresville. “Must be something pretty particular that Bob sent, for he’smarked it ‘_Don’t open until I get there_.’”

  “Something to eat, I’ll wager,” declared Jerry. “He’s getting worseinstead of better. Where’d he go, anyhow?”

  “Why, we needed that spare part of the carburetor and he said he’d goto town for it.”

  “That’s right. Well, it’s time he was back. Oh, here he comes now,” andJerry pointed down the road, along which a motorcycle was approachingspeedily.

  “Come on, Chunky. Open it up and pass out the good things!” cried Nedas his stout chum approached, leaving the motorcycle at the side ofthe garage in front of which Ned and Jerry had been talking.

  “Open what up?” demanded Chunky.

  “This box of cracker dust, or whatever it is,” and Ned kicked theexpress package.

  “Cracker dust nothing! That’s----”

  “Something to eat, of course,” finished Jerry.

  “That’s where you get left!” laughed Bob. “Here’s the spare carburetorpart. Stick it some place where you won’t forget. I had trouble enoughgetting it--had to go to four places.”

  “Well, the exercise will do you good. But we’re hungry, and we don’tmind admitting it, Chunky, though the failing is more yours than ours.However, be that as it may----”

  “Oh, you want me to open that,” and Bob smiled at his chums. “Well,here goes.”

  With a hammer he attacked the box, while Ned and Jerry sat on chairs onthe shady side of the automobile shed and looked on.

  “Just a little roast turkey, with dressing on the side, and a stalk ofcelery for mine,” suggested Jerry.

  “Too much like Thanksgiving,” commented Ned. “I’ll have lobster saladwith plenty of mayonnaise and peppers.”

  “All to the bill of fare,” was Bob’s murmured response. “There!” andhe took off the last board. “How’s that?”

  To the disappointed eyes of Jerry and Ned was revealed a smallrefrigerator of a new style, made especially for automobiles. It wasnew and--absolutely empty.

  Ned and Jerry swallowed hard. They were really hungry, for they hadworked all morning going over the big touring car, not even stoppingfor a full meal at noon, as Mrs. Slade was away and there was no one toinsist that they should do so.

  “Pretty nifty, eh? What?” asked Bob, looking up at his chums.

  “Well, it’s all right in the abstract,” assented Jerry, “but in theconcrete it’s a flat failure. We were looking for something good.”

  “This is one of the best auto refrigerators made!” was Bob’s indignantretort. “It uses little ice, and has a net low temperature of fortydegrees on the hottest days. It will keep uncooked meat----”

  “It wouldn’t keep a ham sandwich two seconds--not if I saw it first!”broke in Ned. “Come on, Jerry! If this advance agent for a patentfireless cooker wants to demonstrate the merits of his gas tank let himdo it. I’m going on a tour of discovery along the route of the kitchenand the pantry. Come on!”

  Bob took off the last of the papers from the miniature refrigerator,looked at it, then at his disappearing chums, and called:

  “Hold on! I’m coming!”

  “I thought he would,” chuckled Ned.

  The boys had been home from Boxwood Hall about a week. Mr. Slade hadbeen able to travel back to Cresville with Mr. Baker, and the two hadtaken up their business matters again.

  Preparations for the boys’ trip West went on apace, and word hadcome from Dick Watson, foreman of the Square Z ranch, that those whowere about to solve the cattle mystery should lose as little time aspossible since another theft, this time a small bunch of steers, hadoccurred.

  “We’ll make good time when we get started,” Ned declared.

  They were to go in the big touring car in which they had made severalextended trips. It was really a sort of traveling hotel, for itcontained about double the room of an ordinary car, being of extralength. Storm proof curtains could be let down to the ground at therear, and in this enclosed space cots could be set up, and cooking doneon a solidified-alcohol stove of extra size. So that if the travelersfound themselves at night far from a habitation they could be almost ascomfortable as though in a hotel.

  This car was now in shape for the long trip to Wyoming. When Jerryadvised Bob to look at the map he meant that they would take fromBoston a route to Square Z ranch that would not carry them nearArizona, a northern trend being followed.

  They would cross the lower part of New York State, skirt throughPennsylvania and Ohio and on, running a pretty straight course throughNebraska into Wyoming. Square Z ranch was located in the GreatDivide Basin, at the foot of the Green Mountains on Muddy Creek andabout a hundred miles, in an air line, from the Medicine Bow ForestReservation, one of the government wonder-spots. The Union PacificRailroad ran about thirty miles from the ranch.

  “But we’ll be independent of that with our auto and airship,” said Bob,as he finished the cheese and started to eat some cold roast beef Nedhad set out for his chums.

  The boys had completed arrangements to take one of their air craft. Itwas not the big, combined dirigible balloon and aeroplane, in whichthey had had some wonderful adventures, but a biplane which could carryfour comfortably, and five when necessary.

  This craft would be shipped to Bodley, the nearest railroad station,and there put together by the boys, who felt they would find good usefor it over the Western plains.

  “And I have a notion,” commented Ned, as they finished the lunch andprepared to resume work on the big automobile, “that the airship willbe just what we need to discover the cattle thieves. We can circulatein the clouds and spy down on them when they drive off bunches of dad’schoice steers.”

  “It sounds well,” remarked Bob. “What I’m counting on is having somechoice steaks roasted over an open fire.”

  “It’s a habit with him,” sighed Jerry. “He’ll never get over it.”

  “Doesn’t seem so,” agreed Ned.

  “Oh, well, it might be worse,” and Bob grinned at his chums. “We mightnot have anything to eat. I ought to be anxious!”

  “Let’s get busy,” suggested Jerry. “We’re losing time. This isn’texactly a fishing excursion. If the thieves keep on running off bunchesof cattle, Ned, your father won’t have any ranch left for us to hiketo. Come on!”

  Another day saw the preparations completed. The big touring automobilehad been put in shape for the long trip. New tires had been put on,and spare ones stowed away. An extra gasoline tank had been slungunderneath. The bedding had been provided and Bob’s refrigerator, witha supply of ice that was guaranteed (in the advertisements) to lasttwice as long as congealed water in any other place, had been given anook all by itself. To the stocking of the miniature cold storage plantBob devoted much of his time. But his chums let him have his way.

  The airship had been packed and started on its journey there to awaitthe arrival of the boys. The big car was run out of the garage and thechums, looking keenly over every part, had assured themselves that itwas never in better trim.

  “But I guess he isn’t coming,” said Jerry, as he playfully liftedhis mother off her feet and set her down again at her semi-indignantprotest.

  “Who?” asked Bob, who had given a final look at his patent refrigerator.

  “Professor Snodgrass,” was the answer. “You know I invited him tomake the trip with us, and he seemed delighted, as he said there wereseveral new varieties of Wyoming bugs he wanted to gather. He promisedto be here, but he hasn’t showed up and----”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to go without him,” remarked Mrs. Slade. “Yourfather is anxious to have you start, N
ed, for he really thinks you mayaccomplish something. And he is so fussy since his accident, I thinkyou had better go.”

  “Of course we’ll deliver the goods!” cried Ned, breezily, if a bitslangily. “And dad’s right. We’ve got to get started. I suppose theprofessor may be circulating around the suburbs of Boston, trying tomake a date with a new kind of mosquito. If he comes, tell him to takea train out to the ranch and we’ll see him there. Now it’s--all aboard!”

  The respective parents and some friends had gathered at the Slade hometo witness the start. And after a last look at everything to make surethat nothing was lacking, the boys kissed their mothers, shook handswith their fathers and friends, and, with Jerry at the wheel, the bigcar slowly gathered way.

  “And whatever you do,” called Mrs. Hopkins after them, “don’t sleep indamp clothes.”

  “We’ll dry ’em out in Bob’s refrigerator!” shouted back her son, with alaugh.

  And then, amid farewells from the crowd on the Slade lawn, the MotorBoys started away.

  “Ho for the West!” cried Bob, swallowing the last of a bit of chocolatehe had munched so he would not get hungry. “The West and the cattlemystery!”