Ted Strongs Motor Car

by Taylor, Edward C

  "All right, Bill," he said; "I don't like it, but we've got to share it."

  "Sure," said the other. "It'll be blow and blow. We both strike together."

  "Come on, then."

  "Now," said Ted, putting Stella behind him and crouching in the darkness.

  The two men entered the cabin noisily, knowing that they had nothing to fear from an unarmed boy bound hand and foot and lying in the corner with nothing to hope for.

  As they approached the corner they were surprised to see a stalwart young form arise suddenly and a pair of revolvers gleam through the darkness as a voice rang out commandingly:

  "Hands up!"

  The hands of both went up very promptly.

  "Drop those knives!"

  A pair of knives clattered to the floor.

  "Face about, both of you, and go out. The first to make a break gets a shot in the back."

  At Ted's command both men obeyed. When they were outside in the sunlight, Ted looked them over. Both had revolvers in their holsters.

  "Take their revolvers away from them, Stella," said Ted.

  As the girl moved forward to comply with the request of Ted Strong, the men stared at her in amazement.

  "Now, which of you is Tom?" asked Ted.

  "I am," said one of them.

  "You lie!" answered Ted. "I know you by your voice. You are not Tom:—you are Bill."

  "Yes, I'm Tom," said the other fellow.

  "That's right," said Ted.

  "Now, see here, Tom, if I give you the chance will you dig out of this and escape? It won't be very long before you are caught, anyway, and you know what that means."

  "You bet I will," said the fellow, who had protested against the murder of Ted.

  "All right, I'll give you the chance. I'll take your friend in charge myself. You can take down your hands, Tom."

  The fellow was in a state of wonderment as he did so.

  "Who are you, anyway?" asked the fellow called Bill.

  "I am Ted Strong."

  "Then it's all up. We're done for," said the train robber, in a resigned voice.

  CHAPTER XXIV.

  TED HOLDS A PROFITABLE BAG.

  Tom signaled to Ted to step aside, and, telling Stella to keep the other fellow covered with her revolver, Ted accompanied him.

  "Thank yer fer turnin' me loose," said Tom. "I've been tryin' ter get away fer months, but couldn't. Here's a tip: They're goin' ter rob ther Overland Express t'-night right out yon at that little station yer can see from ther top o' ther rise. Ther loot is ter be hid near Bubbly Spring until things blow over, but ther gang will come here. Thar's my tip. Good-by. I'm off."

  The fellow disappeared up the bank of the stream.

  Ted bound the other upon the back of his pony, which he found not far from the scene of his own downfall, and conveyed him to Green River, where he placed him in jail, with instructions that he should be allowed to communicate with no one.

  Then he and Stella returned to the Billings ranch house.

  "Say nothing whatever about our adventure," said Ted, as he and Stella rode along discussing the matter. "I think there will be something doing there to-night."

  When they got back to the ranch, Ted simply explained their absence by saying that they had ridden farther than they had at first intended.

  Ted was introduced to the other guests, who had arrived in his absence. There was Mr. Norcross, the banker, who looked a little sheepish when Ted shook hands with him and acted as if he had never seen him before. The man with the black mustache and the red necktie was Mr. Dennis Corrigan, of Chicago, and neither he nor the boys appeared to have seen him before. The young man with the pointed beard was Mr. van Belder, of New York.

  Colonel Billings was full of hospitable notions, and made the afternoon pass delightfully.

  "They tell me there is very good shooting in the neighborhood at times," said Mr. Corrigan, as they all sat on the veranda in the afternoon.

  "Excellent," said the colonel. "At this time of the year the snipe shooting is fine."

  "What is the best time to shoot them?" asked Van Belder.

  "I should say after dark," said the host, with an imperceptible wink at Mr. Corrigan.

  "I don't see how you can shoot snipe after dark," said Ted.

  "You don't exactly shoot them," explained Mr. Corrigan. "It's this way, and a fine game, and often practiced in South Chicago: The party goes out, and one holds the bag while the rest go along and drive the birds in, and the fellow who holds the bag catches them in it. It's lots easier than shooting them, and you get more birds."

  "By Jove, that's a new experience to me!" said Ted. "I'd like to try it."

  Mr. van Belder looked at him curiously, but drawled that he thought it very fine sport. So it was agreed that that night they should go on a snipe-bagging expedition.

  The party was to be made up of Ted, who was eager to hold the bag for the snipe to run into; Mr. Corrigan, the colonel, Mr. van Belder, and a few others.

  Most of the boys declined absolutely to go.

  "Say, aire ye gittin' plumb dotty?" asked Bud, when he got Ted out of hearing. "Tell me, is it possible thet yer eyeteeth aire so far secreted up inter yer head thet yer don't know erbout baggin' snipe?"

  But all the answer Bud got was a wink.

  "Now, what hez ther hombre got up his sleeve, I wonder?" said Bud, as he wandered off.

  Ted and Stella had an animated conversation a few minutes later out of the sight and hearing of the others. But Stella walked off, smiling. She knew.

  It was just getting dark when the party left the ranch house.

  Ted carried a large, empty sack over his shoulder. With the organizers of the party went Bud, Ben, Kit, Carl, and Clay.

  The maddest person in the house that evening was Stella, because she couldn't go, too. But as she said good-by to the party from the steps of the ranch house she smiled comprehensively at Ted.

  A walk of a half mile brought the party to the edge of a small creek.

  "Now," said Mr. Corrigan, "here's where you wait with the bag while we go up to the creek and chase them down. You may have to wait a little while, and you must have patience."

  "Don't worry about me," answered Ted; "I have plenty of that. I'll be here when the snipe come down, and if any of them get away, charge them to me."

  After they had been gone some time Ted lit a match and looked at his watch. It was a quarter to nine.

  The Overland Express was due in Green River at nine-twenty. The little red station of Polifax would foe passed by ten minutes after she left Green River.

  While he was in Green River that afternoon Ted had been very careful to find the exact location of Bubbly Spring. He was more than two miles from it in his blind to wait for the snipe.

  As soon as the crashing of the feet of the snipe drivers and the shouts and laughter had died away, Ted left his hiding place and darted through the dark woods and swampy ground for Bubbly Spring.

  Long before he got there he heard the long screech of the whistle of the Overland Express announcing its approach at Green River, and a few minutes later its whistle that it was on its way. He had just reached Bubbly Spring and concealed himself in the bushes when the whistle gave a long shriek of danger.

  The signal of the train robbers had been given at Polifax. The engineer had seen the red light and had whistled to the trainmen that danger was ahead, and that he was going to stop.

  In a few moments Ted heard a few pops, and knew that the train robbers were firing their revolvers alongside of the train to prevent interference.

  What if the train robbers should fail?

  The train started up again, and Ted knew by that that nobody had been killed, and it added to his anxiety as to the success of the robbery. He wanted it to occur, for if he could secure the loot he could destroy the train robbers surely.

  All he wanted now was tangible evidence. He lay back breathlessly in the bushes, waiting. Soon he heard the rapid hoofbeats of horses,
then a crashing in the bushes.

  These noises were approaching him rapidly. The crisis was at hand.

  In a moment the moon burst through the clouds, illuminating the little valley through which the small stream from the spring flowed, and Ted crept into closer cover. Then into the glade galloped ten men.

  Between two of them was swung a small, square thing, which was dropped at the foot of a cottonwood tree not a dozen feet from where Ted was concealed.

  A man leaped from the back of a horse. He had a spade in his hand, and as he advanced Ted drew in his breath sharply.

  It was Corrigan, the Chicago millionaire. Behind him was Norcross, the banker.

  Ted looked vainly for Checkers. If he had been with the robbers at the holdup, he had not come here with them. Meanwhile, the dirt was flying, and a hole was being dug at the foot of the cotton wood.

  After it was deep enough an iron box was dropped into it and covered with earth, and silently the men remounted and rode away.

  Ted waited about fifteen minutes to be sure that none of them would return. Then he dug into the freshly laid earth and soon had exhumed the iron box. It was somewhat of a heavy load, but he packed it manfully, and in about half an hour carried it in his bag into the living room of the ranch house.

  He was greeted with shouts of laughter from Corrigan and several of the others. But Stella looked at him anxiously, and he gave her a reassuring glance.

  "Ha, ha!" laughed Corrigan. "What do you think of snipe hunting now?"

  "It was a good joke," said the colonel, "but I'm sure you will take it good-naturedly."

  "Yes," said Mr. Norcross, the banker. "It's quite a favorite amusement out here."

  Only the New Yorker said nothing, but gave Ted a peculiar glance. Ted looked around at the group with a foolish smile.

  "It was a good joke, gentlemen," said he, "and I have never been sore because I have been handed one."

  Another burst of satisfied laughter greeted this from the big three—Corrigan, Norcross, and the colonel. But Stella and the boys looked glum that Ted was being made the butt of a joke.

  Then Ted put his sack on the floor and opened it and lifted something out and placed it on the table. It was the iron box he had dug from the earth at Bubbly Spring, with the fresh earth still sticking to it.

  Corrigan's face turned white. Norcross had to lean against the corner of the table to keep from falling.

  Ted easily opened the lock of the box, and threw it open.

  "You left me to hold the bag, did you?" he asked of the astounded conspirators. "Well, what do you think of these for snipe?"

  The room was as quiet as a church.

  "Gentlemen, you are all under arrest. Boys, get into your saddles. We are going to ride to the rendezvous of the gang of robbers which to-night robbed the Overland Express and stole the money I have here," and he lifted out package after package of stolen currency.

  Stella was laughing and waving her hat.

  "I knowed yer had somethin' up yer sleeve when yer consented ter go snipe huntin'! Yer ther limit," said Bud.

  Only Mr. van Belder of all the conspirators was calm. He ripped a beard from his face, and there stood Darby O'Neill, the United States secret agent!

  "Say, Ted, give me that counterfeit of the Green River National Bank. It is all I need to take Norcross away for a long term. I've been working on him for a long time, but you knocked the persimmon at last."

  "You had me guessing," said Ted. "When I got that note that was slipped into my pocket in St. Louis I ought to have guessed that it was you, but you are so clever at disguise that you always fool me."

  "But you've never fooled me yet," was the reply. "I've banked on you every time, and every time you've come back with the goods."

  "But who was the young lady who slipped me the note?"

  "My sister, who is a very clever girl detective, as you may know some day."

  After the boys had made secure the three men at the head of the train robbers' syndicate, they went to the cabin in which Ted had so nearly lost his life, and secured the rest of the robbers.

  Next morning at daylight they found the body of Checkers lying beside the fatal red car not far from the scene of the holdup. He had been killed by a stray shot fired by one of his own men.

  Thus was the train robbers' syndicate wiped out through the acumen and courage of Ted Strong, and the loyal backing of his comrades.

  The broncho boys decided that more stock was needed at the Moon Valley Ranch, and the entire outfit set out for No Man's Land, in northern Texas.

  CHAPTER XXV.

  THE MAGPIE PONY.

  "Say, podner, might I be so free an' onquisitive ez ter inquire ez ter whar yer got thet thar palfrey yer ridin'?"

  The speaker was a tall, gaunt old man with a tangled mass of grizzled whiskers, and the "podner" he addressed was Bud Morgan.

  "Yer might," answered Bud, eying the questioner keenly.

  "Well!"

  "Why don't yer?"

  "Oh, I see. Whar did yer git it?"

  "I traded a Waterbury watch fer it, an' ther feller what made ther trade throwed in a pack o' cigareets."

  "Oh!"

  "Anything else ye'd like ter know?"

  "Well, seein' ez yer so communicative, I'd like ter hev yer tell me how fur it's ter Yeller Fork."

  "Betwixt grub."

  "Come ergin."

  "Ez fur ez yer kin ride betwixt 'arly breakfast an' dinner."

  "Well, I'm obleegin' ter yer. I reckon we'll be hikin'."

  "Who's ther kid?"

  "Thet boy is my grandson. We come outer Missouri ter see what could be did in this yere new country, an' it's mighty hard sleddin'."

  "What's ther trouble?"

  "Well, stranger, so long ez yer kind ernuff ter inquire, I'll tell yer."

  "I'm listenin'."

  "I'm too old ter work at ther only thing what seems ter be out yere—cow-punchin'—an' ther kiddie is too young. Now, if 'twas farmin', we'd be in it."

  "Thar ain't no more farmin' out yere than a rabbit, thet's shore. What might yer bizness be at home?"

  "I'm a hoss trader."

  "Thar ought ter be somethin' doin' out yere fer yer, then. All thar is in this country is hosses an' cattle."

  "They ain't my kind o' hosses."

  "Yer don't seem ter fancy cow ponies, eh?"

  "I reckon they're all right in their way, podner, but they're a leetle too wild fer me to break, an' the kid's not strong enough."

  "Askin' questions seems ter be fash'n'ble. Whar did yer git thet magpie hoss?"

  Bud was looking over the old man's mount, a beautiful little black-and-white-spotted pony, as clean limbed as a racer, and with a round and compact body. It was a bizarre-looking little animal, with a long, black mane and tail, at the roots of which was a round, white spot. It was the sort of animal that would attract attention anywhere.

  "Magpie! Podner, I riz her from a colt."

  "She's shore a showy beast."

  "She is some on ther picture, ain't she?" asked the old man, looking the pony over admiringly.

  "She's all right, but—"

  "But what, podner?" The old man looked at Bud with a frown.

  "Well, I ain't none on knockin' another man's hoss, but I never see one o' them black-an'-white-spotted animiles what could do more than lope, an' out in this yere country hosses hez got ter run like a scared coyote ter be any good in ther cow business."

  "Yer reckon this yere Magpie can't run?" asked the old man, bristling.

  "I ain't said so."

  "Well, yer alluded ter a magpie hoss as couldn't do nothin' but lope."

  "I ain't never see none what could do much more."

  "You ain't never see Magpie split ther wind, then."

  "I ain't."

  "Mebbe ye'd like ter."

  "Mebbe I would."

  "I reckon yer thinks ther cow what yer a-straddlin' of now kin run some."

  "A leetle bit. But, yer see, when I got
him he was a broken-down cow hoss what hed been ridden ter death an' fed on sand an' alkali water so long thet he wa'n't much good nohow."

  "Jest picked him up wanderin'?"

  "Not eggsactly. Yer see, it wuz this way: I was coming ercross Noo Mexico about a month back, when I runs foul o' a hombre what is all in. He hadn't et fer so long thet yer could see ther bumps made by his backbone through his shirt. I hed some grub in my war bag, an' I fed an' watered him. This yer nag wuz all in, too, an' he hed a long way ter go, so when ther feller ups an' perposes ter trade ponies I give him ther merry cachinnation."

  "Ther what?"

  "Ther laugh."

  "Go ahead, podner, yer shore hez a splendid education."

  "I see thet he'll never git ter whar he's goin' on ther nag, an' I thinks I'll do him a favor by sittin' him on a piece o' live hossmeat, an' I said I'd trade if he hed anythin' ter boot. Now, what do yer think he hed?"

  "I ain't got a notion."

  "A pack o' Mexican cigareets what burned like a bresh fire an' smelled like a wet dog under a stove."

  "Haw, haw! An' yer traded?"

  "I thought some fust, an' then I thinks what's ther odds? Thar's plenty o' hosses in camp, an' it'll probably save ther feller's life ter let him hev ther pony, what ain't none out o' ther common, so I says, 'It's a go, pard.' I clumb down an' we changed saddles, an' he handed over ther pack o' cigareets an' we went our ways."

  "Yer shore is a kind-hearted man."

  "I ain't, neither. I jest knows a hoss when I sees one."

  "Yer don't call thet a hoss yer a-straddlin', I hope?"

  "I shore do. He ain't much fer ter gaze on admirin', I agree, but he's a good little cayuse. I reckon, now, yer some proud o' thet magpie hoss."

  "I be. It kin outrun anythin' this side o' ther State o' Newbrasky."

  "P'r'aps yer lookin' fer a race ter see what ther best we've got in camp kin do, no?"

  "Thar ain't nary time what I won't run a race if I think thar's ary merit in my hossflesh. How erbout ther animile what yer sits on so graceful?"

  "Oh, I reckon he kin ride rings eround ther magpie hoss," said Bud, who was a trifle nettled at the old man's jeering tone.