Boy Scouts on the Open Plains; Or, The Round-Up Not Ordered

by G. Harvey Ralphson

  CHAPTER IV.

  PICKING UP POINTS.

  "Ned, whatever do you imagine this kid is doing out here all byhimself?"

  Jack asked this question in a low tone. They had cooked supper, anddisposed of it promptly; and there had been an abundance for the guest,as well as the four chums. And now the two scouts were lounging nearthe fire, while Jimmy and Amos cleaned up the tin dishes and cookingutensils; Harry meanwhile being busily engaged with some notes hewanted to jot down for future use, in comparing his recent experienceswith those of others who had suffered tortures in the notorious DeathValley.

  "Well, you've heard as much of his talk as any of us, Jack," repliedthe leader of the expedition, quietly, "and so far there's been nothingsaid about himself. I'm going to beckon to Amos to come over here, andput a few leading questions to him. Out here when a fellow isentertained at the camp fire, it's only fair that he give some sort ofan account of himself. Besides, Amos looks so much like a kid, just asyou say, that it makes the thing seem queer."

  A minute later, catching the eye of the boy, he crooked his finger andnodded his head. Plainly Amos understood, for he immediately cameacross.

  "Sit down, Amos," Ned told him.

  The small boy in the cowboy suit did so, at the same time allowing asort of smile to come upon his bronzed face.

  "Want to know somethin' about me, I reckon?" he remarked, keenly.

  Jack chuckled as though amused at his shrewdness; but Ned only said:

  "Well, ordinarily out here on the plains I understand that men seldomexpress any curiosity about their chance guests; it isn't always a safething to do. But you see, Amos, in your case it's different."

  "Sure it is; I get on to that, Mr. Scout Master," replied the boy,readily; for he had ere this noticed the emblem which Ned bore upon hiskhaki coat, and which stamped him as authorized to answer to this name,which would indicate that Amos knew something about the Boy Scoutbusiness.

  "In the first place we chanced to be of some little assistance to you."

  "A heap!" broke in the other, quickly.

  "And then, excuse me for saying it, but you are such a kid that anybodywould be surprised to run across you out by yourself, carrying a gun,riding a pony like the smartest puncher going, and after big game atthe time you got stuck in that quicksand--all of which, Amos, must beour excuse for feeling that we'd like to hear something about you."

  "That's only fair and square, Ned," the boy spoke up immediately;"Jimmy there has been telling me the greatest lot of stuff about whatyou fellows have been doing all over, that I'd think he was stuffingme, only he held up his hand right in the start, and declared he nevertold anything but the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but thetruth, so help him. And I'm ready to tell you who I am, and what I'madoin' out here."

  "Not that we think you're anything that you shouldn't be, Amos," put inJack.

  "Well, my name's Amos Adams, just like I said, and all my life I'vebeen around a cattle ranch. That's why I know so much about ropingsteers, and riding buckin' broncs. I guess I was in a saddle before myma weaned me. There are a few things mebbe I can't quite do as well assome of these here prize punchers, but it's only because I ain't asstrong as them, that's all."

  Looking at his confident face the scouts believed that Amos was onlyspeaking the plain truth.

  "My dad's name is Hy Adams," continued the kid puncher. "I guess youain't been around these diggin's much yet, or you'd a heard who he is.They call him the Bad Man of the Bittersweets, and when he raises hisfog-horn of a voice lots of men that think themselves brave just give ahitch to their shoulders this way," and he imitated it to the life ashe spoke, "and does what he tells 'em. That's when he's been drinkin'.But then there are other times--oh, well, I reckon, I hadn't ought totell family secrets.

  "We live in a cabin, 'bout ten miles away from here. My dad, he's inthe cattle business, when he don't loaf. Sometimes he's 'round home,and agin he ain't, just 'cordin' to how things are agoin'. Mam, she's alittle woman, but she knows how to run the house. I gotter sister, too,younger'n me, and her name it's Polly. I ain't gone to school any tospeak of, but mam, she kinder teaches me, when I ain't ridin' out onthe range, or totin' my gun on a hunt. That makes me mad to think Ilost my gun in the drink there."

  "No use hunting for it in the morning, I should think?" suggested Jack.

  "Nary bit," the boy replied quickly; "it's down under that shiftin'sand long before now. But then she was an old gun, and I'm savin' up togit a new six-shot rifle, so it don't need to be long now before I'llbe heeled agin."

  "Is your father a rancher, then, Amos?" Jack went on to ask, idly.

  The boy grinned and looked at him queerly.

  "Well," he replied, with a quaint drawl that amused the scouts, "Idon't know as you could call him that way, exactly. He's been cowpuncher, and nigh everything else a man c'n be down thisaway to make alivin'. Me and my awful dad we don't git on well. That's one reason Igen'rally skips out when he takes a notion to lay 'round home for aspell. He knows right well I ain't afeard of him, if he has got thename of bein' a holy terror. I happen to belong to the same fambly.'Sides, he ain't what you'd call my real and true dad."

  "Oh! I see, you adopted him, did you, Amos?" Jack asked, laughingly.

  "My mam she married agin after pop he was planted, and they went an'changed my name from Scroggins to Adams. I don't know which I likesbest; but Scroggins that's honest, anyway, which Adams ain't--leastwayssome people around this region say it ain't. When I grows up I reckonI'll be a Scroggins, or else get a new name."

  Again the scouts exchanged amused glances. Amos was certainly a mostentertaining little chap, with his quaint sayings.

  "Now, you see, dad never comes home alone any more, but fetches some ofhis cronies along with him, and there's unpleasant scenes ahappenin'all the time; which is one of the reasons why I skip out. They gets todrinkin', too, purty hard, till mam she has to douse a bucket of waterover each puncher, and start 'em off. Mam she don't approve of thekinds of business that dad takes up. But he keeps amakin' these herevisits to home further apart all the while, 'cause things ain't aspleasant as they might be. Some time mebbe he won't come no more. I'mbankin' on that, which is one reason I ain't never laid a hand on himwhen he gets roarin' like a mad bull. There are others, too, but I wontmention the same."

  Amos had apparently been very frank with his new friends. He seemed tohave taken a great fancy for them all, and, in turn, asked manyquestions concerning their expected visit to Harry's uncle on DoubleCross Ranch, which place he knew very well.

  The conversation by degrees became general, and finally the scouts wenton to talk about their own affairs. During this exchange of opinions,it happened that the name of Clem Parsons was mentioned by Ned. Perhapsit would be hardly fair to call it "chance," when in reality the scoutmaster wanted to find out whether the kid puncher seemed to be familiarwith the name of the man whom the Government authorities in Washingtonwished him to round up.

  The bait took, for immediately he heard Amos say:

  "What's that, Clem Parsons? Say, I happen to know a man by that name,and he's been over to our house lots of times, too."

  "Then he's a puncher, is he?" asked Ned.

  "Well, I reckon he has been 'bout everything in his day, for I've heardhim say so," came the reply. "He rides with my awful dad, an' they seemto git on together, which is some queer, because most of 'em is thatskeered o' dad they tries to steer clear o' him."

  "My! but this dad of yours must be a grizzly bear, Amos?" remarkedJimmy, who had been greatly impressed with what he heard the boy say.

  "Just you wait till you see him, that's all," was what Amos told him."Mam, she reckons as how 'twas this same Clem Parsons as had got dad toridin' 'round the kentry doin' things that might git him into trouble,an' she hates him like pizen, for the same. Since they got to goin'together, dad he's allers showing plenty of the long-green, which henever handled before. But I ain'
t tellin' fambly secrets, and I reckonsI'd better shut up shop."

  He had said enough, however, to convince Ned and Jack that he stronglysuspected his step-father of having joined forces with a band of cattlethieves who were stealing the fattest beeves neighboring ranchersowned, and selling them on the side.

  There is always this temptation existing when cattle are raised on therange, often feeding for days and weeks many miles away from the ranchhouse, and scattered among the little valleys where the grass growsgreenest. In the darkness of the night, a few of these experiencedrustlers can cut out what they want of a herd, and drive them far away,effectually concealing the trail. Then the brands are changed adroitly,and the cattle shipped away to be sold in a distant market.

  So long as this lawless business can be carried on successfully, itbrings in big money to the reckless rustlers; but if discovered in theact they are usually treated with scant ceremony by the angry punchersand shot down like wolves.

  To some men the fascination of the life causes them to ignore itsperils. Then besides, the fact that money pours in upon them with solittle effort, is a temptation they are unable to resist. So long asthere are ranches, and cattle to be raised for the market, there willbe men who go wrong and try to get a fat living off those who do thework.

  It did not surprise Ned to learn that this clever rascal, whom he hadbeen asked to look up and apprehend if possible, had for the time beingforsaken the counterfeiting game and started on a new lay. Clem Parsonswas no one idea man. His past fairly bristled with shrewd devices,whereby he deluded the simple public and eluded the detectives sent outby the Secret Service to enmesh him.

  He had played the part of moonshiner, smuggler, and bogus moneymakerfor years, and snapped his fingers at the best men on the pay roll ofthe Government. Now, if as seemed possible, he had turned cattlerustler, perhaps there might come a complete change in the programme;for if the irate ranchmen and their faithful punchers only got on a hottrail with Clem at the other end, the authorities at Washington mightbe saved much further anxiety; for a man who has been strung up to atelegraph pole and riddled with bullets is not apt to give any onetrouble again.

  Ned had learned some important facts that were apt to prove more orless valuable to him presently. Already he felt that they had been paidmany times over for the little effort it had taken to rescue Amos fromthe sand of the shallow river.

  Scouts are taught to do a good deed without any thought of a return;but all the same, it is pleasant to know that the reward does oftencome, and if any of the four chums had failed to find a chance to turnhis badge right-side up that day, on account of having given a helpinghand to some one, certainly they must feel entitled to that privilegeafter lifting Amos out of his sad predicament. Saving a precious humanlife must surely be counted as answering the requirements of the scoutlaw.

  When Amos, a little later, left them to saunter down to the brink ofthe river, in order to give his mottled pony a last drink beforeleaving him at the end of his rope to crop grass the remainder of thenight, Jack turned to the scout master and gave expression to hisconvictions as follows:

  "Well, it looks like your old luck holds good, Ned, and that you standa chance of running across your game the very first thing after gettinghere. If this Clem Parsons Amos tells us about turns out to be the sameman the Government wants you to tackle, he'll be walking into the netany old time from now on. Why, we may run across him tomorrow or theday afterwards, who knows?"

  "He's the right party," said Ned, quietly. "I asked Amos if he had ascar on his cheek, and he said it gave Clem a look as though he wasgrinning all the time, a sort of sneering expression, I imagine. And asyou say, Jack, I'm in great luck to strike a hot trail so early in thehunt. Given the chance, and I'll have Mr. Clem Parsons on the way toLos Angeles, by rail, with a hop, skip and a jump."

  "He's a nifty character, all right," remarked Jimmy; "and trains with ahard crowd out here, so we'll all have to pitch in and help lift him.Four of us, armed with rifles as we are, ought to be enough to flaghim."

  "One thing in our favor," ventured Jack, "is that he'll never for aminute dream of being afraid of a pack of Boy Scouts. While he mightkeep a suspicious eye on every strange man he meets, and his hand readyto draw a gun, he'll hardly give us a second look. That's where we canget the bulge on Clem, and his ignorance is going to be his undoingyet."

  "Perhaps we'd better be a little careful how we mention these thingswhile Amos is around," Ned went on to say.

  "But sure, you don't think that little runt would peach on us, do you?"demanded Jimmy, who had apparently taken a great liking for thediminutive puncher.

  "Certainly not," answered Ned, "but you understand one of the thingsthat goes to make a successful Secret Service operator is in knowinghow to keep his own counsel. He's got to learn all he can about others,and tell as little about himself as will carry him through. So pleasekeep quiet about my wanting to invite this Clem Parsons to an interviewwith the Collector in Los Angeles."

  Jimmy promptly raised his hand.

  "I'm on," he said. "Mum's the word till you lift the embargo, Ned. Butit begins to look like we might have some interestin' happenings aheadof us, from what we know about this Clem Parsons, and what we guess isagoin' on between the ranchers and the cattle rustlers. I thought allthe froth had blown off the top, after we quit that Death Valley, butnow I'm beginnin' to believe we're agoin' to scratch gravel again rightsmart. Which suits Jimmy McGraw all right, because he's built that way,and never did like to see the green mould set on top of the pond. Keepthings astirrin', that's my way. When folks go to sleep, give the samea punch, and start something doin'."

  "Well," said Harry, looking up from his work close by, "if you have afew more narrow squeaks like that one to-day up on the mountain trail,it won't be long before they plant _you_ under the daisies," but Jimmyonly laughed at the warning.