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!
* * *
"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.
Big-foot Sanders grunted and turned his back on the grinning face of Pong.
"One of these days I sure will forget that heathen's the cook," he growled.
* * *
CHAPTER XII
UNDER A STRANGE INFLUENCE
"We will move to-morrow shortly after daybreak," announced the foreman at supper that night.
"Will you put me on the fourth guard this evening, Mr. Stallings?" asked Tad Butler.
"You take the fourth guard? A cowpuncher who hasn't had a wink in more than two days? Why, I wouldn't ask a steer to do that! No kid, you roll up in your blankets and sleep until the cook routs you out for breakfast."
"I'll take my trick just the same. I can sleep at home when I get back. I don't want to miss a minute of this fun," returned Tad.
"Funhe calls it fun!" grunted Lumpy.
"It's just the beginning of the fun," answered Big-foot. "I knew things would begin to happen when we got near the Nueces."
"Why?" asked Ned Rector.
"I don't know. There seems to be some queer influence at work round these parts. Last time I was over this part of the trail we had a stampede almost every night for a week. Two months ago I heard of an outfit that lost more'n half its stock."
"How about it, Mr. Stallings?" laughed Tad. "Are you superstitious, too?"
The boys noted that the foreman frowned and would not answer at once.
"Not exactly. Big-foot means the adobe church of San Miguel."
"What's that?" interrupted Chunky.
"An old Mexican church on the plains. Probably hasn't been used for a hundred years or more. You boys will have a chance to explore the place. It's not far from the Ox Bow ranch, where we take in another herd. We shall be there a couple of days or so until the cattle get acquainted. Besides, we shall have to buy some fresh ponies. Four of ours broke their legs in the stampede and had to be shot."
"Oh, that's too bad," answered Tad. "I'm sorry. I don't like to see a horse get hurt."
"No more do I, Master Tad. But in this business it is bound to happen. I think we shall be able to get some green bronchos. They usually have a bunch of them at the Ox Bow ranch. You will see some fun when we break them in," laughed the foreman.
"I think I should like to take a hand in that myself. But I am anxious to hear more about the haunted church."
"Who said anything about a haunted church?" demanded Stacy Brown.
"The gopher is right. The church isn't haunted. It just happens that cowmen fall into a run of hard luck in that neighborhood now and then."
"Do you believe in spooks, Mr. Stallings!" asked Walter.
"Never having seen one, I don't know whether I do or not. Were I to see one I might believe in them," laughed the foreman.
"I saw a ghost once," began Stacy Brown.
"Never mind explaining about it," objected Ned. "We'll take your word for it and let it go at that."
Tad Butler had gotten into a fresh change of clothes after having taken a bath in a wash tub behind the trail wagon. His wounds pained him, and he was sleepy, so the lad turned in shortly after his supper, and was soon sound asleep.
Nothing occurred to disturb the camp that night, and when finally Tad was awakened to take his watch, it seemed as if he had been asleep only a few minutes. However, he sprang up wide awake and ready for the work ahead of him. As usual, he went out with Big-foot. A warm friendship had sprung up between the big cowboy and Tad Butler. They were together much of the time when their duties permitted.
"Is there any truth in that spook story?" asked Tad, as the two rode slowly out to where the herd was bedded down.
Big-foot hesitated.
"You can call it whatever you want to. I only know that things happen to most every outfit that gets within a hundred miles of the place. Why, out at the Ox Bow ranch, they have the worst luck of any cattle place in the state. If it wasn't for the fact that they keep their cows fenced in with wire fences, they wouldn't have a critter on the place."
"But, I don't understand," protested Tad. "I don't seem to get it through my head what it is that causes all the trouble you tell me about."
"No more does anybody else. They just know that hard luck is lying around waiting for them when they get near and that's all they know about it."
"When shall we be near there?" asked Tad Butler.
"We are near enough now. Our troubles have begun already. Herd stampeded. Ponies broke their legs and had to be shot. Nobody knows what else will break loose before we get a hundred miles further on."
"I am anxious to see the place," commented Tad.
"You won't be after you've been there. I worked on a cow herd near the place two years ago."
"Yes?"
"Well, I got out after I'd been pitched off my pony and got a broken leg. That was only one of the things that happened to me, but it was enough. I got out. And here I am running my head right into trouble again. Say, kid!"
"Yes."
"You'd better ask the Herr Professor to let you carry a gun. You'll need it."
"What forto lay ghosts with?" laughed the boy.
"Well, mebby something of that sort."
"Don't need it. I guess my fists will lay out any kind of a ghost that I run against. If they won't, no gun will do any good. I don't believe in a boy's carrying a pistol in his pocket. It will get him into more trouble than it will get him out of."
"Well, that's some horseback sense," grunted Big-foot. "I never built up against that idee before, but I reckon it's right. We don't need 'em much either, except to frighten the cows with when they start on a stampede, and"
"It doesn't seem to stop them," retorted Tad, with a little malicious smile. "It strikes me that a boy without a gun can stop a runaway herd about as quickly as can a cowboy with one."
"Right again, my little pardner. Scored a bull's-eye that time. I guess Big-foot Sanders hasn't any call to be arguing with you."
"We were talking about spooks," the boy reminded him. "I am anxious to see that church. I've wanted to see one all my life"
"What? A church?"
"No; a spook."
"Oh! Can't promise to show you nothing of the sort. But I'll agree to stack you up against a run of hard luck that will make you wobbly on your legs."
"That will be nothing new, Big-foot. I've had that already."
"Sure thing. That's the beginning of the trouble. As I was saying before, we don't need the guns for any other reason unless it's against cattle rustlers. Sometimes they steal cattle these days, but not so much as they did in the early days of the cattle business."
"Think we will meet any rustlers?" asked Tad, with sudden interest.
"Nary a rustler will tackle this herd. First place, we are not yet in the country where they
can work profitably"
"Where's that?"
"Oh, anywhere where there's mountains for them to hide in. I'll show you where the rustlers used to work, when we get further along on the trail. But, as I was saying, there are no rustlers hereabouts."
"Oh," answered Tad Butler, somewhat regretfully.
"You never mind about hunting trouble. Trouble is coming to this outfit good and plenty, and I reckon a kid like you will be in the middle of it, too. You ain't the kind that goes sneaking for cover when things are lively. I saw that the other night. Stallings is going to write to Boss Miller about the way you stuck to the herd when it ran away."
"What for?"
"I dunno. Guess 'cause he knows it'll make the old man smile. We boys will come in for an extra fiver at the end of the trip, for saving the herd, I reckon."
"That's where you have the best of me," laughed Tad. "No fives for me. I get my pay out of the fun I am having. I think I am overpaid at that. Well, so long, Big-foot," announced the lad as they finally reached the herd.
"So long," answered the cowman, turning his pony off to take the opposite side of the sleeping cattle. In a few moments Tad heard his strident voice singing to the herd again.
The hours passed more quickly than had been the case the last time Tad was on guard, for he had much to think of and to wonder over.
Daybreak had arrived almost before he knew it and the call for breakfast sounded across the plain.
As soon as he had been relieved, Tad Butler galloped back to camp, bright-eyed and full of anticipation, both for the meal and for the ride that was before them that day.
Corn cakes were on the bill of fare that morning and the Pony Riders shouted with glee when they discovered what Pong had prepared for them.
"Bring on the black strap," called Stallings.
Stacy Brown glanced at the foreman suspiciously.
"Why do you want a black strap for breakfast?" he demanded.
"To put on the corn cakes of course, boy," laughed Stallings.
"I've heard of using a black strap to hitch horses with"
The Pony Rider Boys in Texas Page 8