The Pony Rider Boys in Texas

by Patchin, Frank Gee

  The disturbance came after an hour's work. The cowmen had brought some sort of order out of the chaos and were beginning to breathe easier. Stallings rode up to the head of the herd giving orders that the cattle be pointed in and kept in a circle if possible. To do this he called away all the men at the right save Tad Butler and Big-foot Sanders. As it chanced, they were at the danger spot when the trouble came.

  Chunky had been awakened by the disturbance in camp, not having fully aroused himself until after the departure of the men, however. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, grumbling about the weather and expressing his opinion of a cowpuncher's life in no uncertain terms.

  Finding that all had left him, the lad decided to get his pony and follow.

  "What's the matter, Pong?" he called, observing the Chinaman up and fixing the curtains about his wagon.

  "Allee same likee this," answered Pong hopping about in imitation of an animal running away.

  "He's crazy," muttered Chunky, going to his pony and swinging himself into the saddle.

  Chunky urged the animal along faster and faster. He could hear the cowboys on beyond him though he was able to see only a few yards ahead of him. However, the boy was becoming used to riding in the dark and did not feel the same uncertainty that he had earlier.

  "I'll bet they are getting ready to run away," he decided.

  In that, Stacy was right. Before he realized where he was he had driven his pony full into the rear ranks of the restless cattle.

  Chunky uttered a yell as he found himself bumping against the sides of the cows and sought to turn his pony about.

  The startled steers nearest to him fought desperately to get away from the object that had so suddenly hurled itself against them. Instantly there was a mix-up, with bellowing, plunging steers all about him.

  "Help! Help!" shouted the boy.

  Now his pony was biting and kicking in an effort to free itself from the animals that were prodding it with horns and buffeting it from side to side.

  Only a moment or so of this was necessary to fill the cattle with blind, unreasoning fear. With one common impulse they lunged forward. Those ahead of them felt the impetus of the thrust just as do the cars of a freight train under the sudden jolt of a starting engine.

  "What's up?" roared the foreman.

  "They're off!" yelled a cowman.

  "Head them!"

  "Can't. They're started in the center of the herd."

  With heads down, the entire herd was now charging straight ahead. Big-foot Sanders and Tad Butler, nearly half a mile ahead, felt the impetus, too.

  "Keep your head, boy," warned the cowpuncher. "We are in for a run for our money, now."

  It came even as he spoke. With a bellow the cattle started forward at a lively gallop.

  "Whoa-oo-ope!" cried Big-foot, riding in front of the plunging leaders.

  He might as well have sought to stay the progress of the wind. The leaders swept man and boy aside and dashed on.

  "Better keep them straight and not try to stop them, hadn't we?" shouted Tad, with rare generalship.

  "That's the trick! Can you hold your side?" roared Big-foot in reply.

  "I'll try," answered the boy, riding so close to the leaders that they rubbed sides with his pony. The latter, understanding what was wanted of him, pushed sturdily on holding the cattle with his side, leaning toward them to give the effort the benefit of his entire weight.

  One end of Tad's neckerchief had come loose and was streaming straight out behind him, while the broad brim of his sombrero was tipped up by the rushing breeze.

  It was a wild and perilous ride. Yet the lad thought nothing of this. His whole thought was centered on the work in hand, that of keeping the cattle headed northward. Tad was unable to tell whether they were going in a straight line or not, but this time he had the big cowman to rely upon.

  "Give way a little!" warned Big-foot.

  "Right!" answered the lad, pulling his pony to one side, then straightening him again.

  "We'll hit the Injun Territory by daylight if we keep on at this gait! You all right?"

  "Yes. But I think the herd is spreading out behind me," answered Tad.

  "Never mind that. They'll likely follow the leaders."

  Off to the rear they could hear the sharp reports of the cowboys' revolvers as they sought to stay the mad rush. Big-foot, however, had thought it best not to resort to shooting tactics. They were making altogether too good headway. If only they were able to keep the cattle headed the way they were going the herd would be none the worse off for the rush and the outfit would be that much further along on the journey. The thundering hoof-beats behind them as the living tide swept down upon them, was not a pleasant sound to hear. Yet Big-foot and Tad were altogether too busy to be greatly disturbed by it.

  They had gone on for fully half an hour, after that, with no apparent decrease in the speed of the stampede. The ponies were beginning to show their fatigue. Tad slowed down a little, patting his faithful little animal to encourage it and quiet its nerves.

  As he did so, the boy's attention was again called to the fact that a solid wall of cattle had apparently closed in behind him.

  "Big-foot!" he shouted.

  "Yes?" answered the cowboy, in a far away voice, for some distance now separated the two.

  "It looks to me as if they were closing in on us. What do you think?"

  "Wait! I'll see."

  The cowboy pulled up a little and listened.

  "Right you are. They have spread out in a solid wall."

  "What shall we do?"

  "Ride! Ride for your life!" came the excited reply.

  "Where?"

  "To your right. Don't let them catch you or you'll be trampled under their feet. They'll never stop, now, till they get to the river."

  "Is it near here?"

  "Only a few miles ahead. I can hear it roar now. A flood is coming down it. Hurry!"

  Tad had barely heard the last word. Already he had swung his pony about and was galloping with all speed to the right in an effort to get free of the herd before they crowded him and his pony into the turbulent, swollen river.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XV

  FORDING A SWOLLEN RIVER

  The first light of the morning revealed to Tad Butler the narrow escape he had had. He had barely passed the outer point of the stampeding herd when the cattle rushed by him.

  On beyond, less than half a mile away, he made out the river in the faint light. His companion was nowhere to be seen. However, that was not surprising, as the cattle now covered a large area; so large that Tad was unable to see to the other side of the herd.

  As the day dawned the cattle began to slacken their speed, and, by the time the leaders reached the river bank, the rush was at an end. Some of the stock plunged into the edge of the stream where they began drinking, while others set to grazing contentedly.

  As the light became stronger, the lad made out the figure of Big-foot Sanders approaching him at an easy gallop.

  "We did it, didn't we, Big-foot?" exulted Tad Butler.

  "That we did, Pinto. And there comes the rest of the bunch now," Big-foot added, pointing to the rear, where others of the cowboys were to be seen riding up.

  Stallings was the first to reach them.

  "Good job," he grinned. "We are at the river several hours ahead of schedule time. Doesn't look very promising, does it?"

  "River's pretty high. Are you thinking of fording it this morning?" asked Big-foot, looking over the swollen stream.

  "We might as well. The water will be higher later in the day. We may not be able to get across in several days if we wait too long."

  "What do you think started the cattle this time?" asked Tad.

  "I don't think. I know what did it."

  "Yes?"

  "It was that clumsy friend of yours."

  "The gopher?" asked Big-foot.

  "Allee same, as Pong would say. That boy is the limit. Is he always falling into trou
ble that way?"

  "Yes, or falling off a pony," laughed Tad.

  "There he comes, now."

  Stacy rode up to them, his face serious and thoughtful.

  "Well, young man, what have you to say for yourself?" asked the foreman.

  "I was going to ask you, sir, where we are going to get our breakfast?"

  Stallings glanced at Tad and Big-foot, with a hopeless expression in his eyes.

  "Go ask the Chinaman," he answered rather brusquely.

  "I can't. He isn't here."

  "Well, that's the answer," laughed the foreman, riding to the river bank and surveying the stream critically.

  Tad and Big-foot Sanders joined him almost immediately.

  "Think we can make it, chief?"

  "I think so, Sanders. One of us had better ride over and back to test the current."

  "I'll try it for you," said Tad.

  "Go ahead. Sanders, you ride back and tell Lumpy to return to camp and bring on the outfit. They can't reach us until late in the afternoon, as it is. I presume that slant-eyed cook is sitting in his wagon waiting for us to come back. Hurry them along, for we shall be hungry by the time we have finished this job."

  Tad promptly spurred his pony into the stream. After wading out a little way he slipped off into the water, hanging by the pommel, swimming with one hand to relieve the pony as much as possible.

  The boy made the crossing without mishap, Stallings observing the performance to note how far down the stream the pony would drift. Tad landed some five rods lower down. On the return, the drift was not quite so noticeable.

  "We'll make it," announced the foreman. "If you want to dry out, ride back and tell the bunch to crowd the cattle in as rapidly as possible. The faster we can force them in the less they will drift down stream."

  "Very well, sir," replied the boy, galloping off to deliver his message.

  With a great shouting and much yelling the cowboys began their task of urging the cattle into the river. Not being over-thirsty, it was no easy task to induce the animals to enter the water, but when the leaders finally plunged in the rest followed, fairly piling on top of one another in their efforts to follow the pilots of the herd. Above and below, the cowboys who were not otherwise engaged were swimming the river endeavoring to keep the animals from straying one way or another.

  Tad Butler and his companions were aiding in this work, shouting from the pure joy of their experience, and, in an hour's time, the last steer had swum the stream and clambered up the sloping bank on the other side.

  "There!" announced the foreman. "That's a bad job well done. I wish the trail wagon were here. A cup of hot coffee wouldn't go bad after an hour in the water."

  "After several of them, you mean," added Tad. "You know we have been out in the rain all night."

  "Yes, and you did a bang-up piece of work, you and Big-foot. How did you happen to lead the cattle straight ahead, instead of turning the leaders?"

  "It was the kid's suggestion," answered Big-foot Sanders. "He's got a man's head on his shoulders that more'n makes up for what the gopher hasn't got."

  "It does, indeed," agreed Stallings.

  "How are we going to get that trail wagon over when it comes up!" asked one of the men.

  "That's what's bothering me," answered the foreman. "Perhaps our young friend here can give us a suggestion. His head is pretty full of ideas," added the foreman, more with an intent to compliment Tad than in the expectation of getting valuable suggestions from him.

  "What is your usual method?" asked the boy.

  "Well, to tell the truth, I've never had quite such a proposition as this on my hands."

  "I guess you will have to float it over."

  "It won't float. It'll sink."

  "You can protect it from that."

  "How?" asked the foreman, now keenly interested.

  "First take all the stuff out of it. That will save your equipment if anything happens to the wagon. Ferry the equipment over on the backs of the ponies. If it's too heavy, take over what you can."

  "Well, what next?" asked Stallings.

  "Get some timbers and construct a float under the wagon."

  "Where you going to get timber around these parts?" demanded Big-foot.

  "I see plenty of trees near the river. Cut down a few and make a raft of them."

  "By George, the kid's hit it!" exclaimed Stallings, clapping his thigh vigorously. "That's exactly what we'll do. But we'll have to wait till the wagon gets here. The axes are all in the wagon."

  "Mebby I'm particularly thick to-day, but I'd like to inquire how you expect to get the outfit over, after you have the raft under it?" demanded Shorty Savage. "Answer that, if you can?"

  "I think that is up to the foreman," smiled Tad. "Were I doing it I think I should hitch ropes to the tongue and have the ponies on the other side draw the wagon across. Of course, you are liable to have an accident. The ropes may break or the current may tip your wagon over. That's your lookout."

  "Now will you be good?" grinned the foreman. "You know all about it, and it would be a good idea to let the thought simmer in your thick head for a while. It may come in handy, some day, when you want to get across a river."

  Shorty walked away, none too well pleased.

  About three o'clock in the afternoon the wagon hove in sight, and the boys rode out to meet it.

  It was decided to camp on the river bank until after they had eaten their evening meal, after which there would still be time to ferry over. While the meal was being cooked Stallings sent some of the men out to cut down four small trees and haul them in.

  They grumbled considerably at this, but obeyed orders. Tad went along, at the suggestion of the foreman, to pick out such trees as he thought would best serve their purpose.

  The trail wagon's teams were used to haul the logs in and by the time the work was finished a steaming hot supper had been spread by the smiling Chinaman.

  Professor Zepplin had come along with the wagon. He said he was a little stiff from the wetting he had received, but otherwise was all right.

  "Now, young man, I'll let you boss the job," announced Stallings as Tad rose from the table. "I give you a free hand."

  With a pleased smile, Tad set about constructing his raft. Ned Rector swam the river with the ropes, and fastened them to trees so they would not be carried away by the current. The wagon was then run down into the water by hand, the ropes made fast, and all was ready for the start.

  "What are you going to do about the drift?" asked the foreman, who had been interestedly watching the preparations.

  "We are going to tie ropes to the two wheels on the upper side. One is to be held on this side of the river, the other from the opposite side. I think the kitchen will ford the river as straight as you could draw a chalk line," announced Tad.

  "I guess it will," answered the foreman, with a suggestive glance at Professor Zepplin.

  "All right when you get ready over there," called Tad to the waiting cowboys on the other side.

  They had taken firm hold of the ropes with their right hands, their left hands holding to the pommels of their saddles.

  "Ready!" came the warning cry from the other side.

  "Haul away!" shouted Tad.

  The ropes secured to the tongue of the trail wagon straightened, and the wagon began to move out into the stream.

  "Be careful. Don't pay out that rope too fast," directed Tad to the man on his side of the stream.

  The trail wagon floated out easily on the swiftly moving current. It was greeted by a cheer from the Pony Rider Boys. Those of the cowboys who were not otherwise engaged joined with a will.

  "There's that fool Chinaman," growled Stallings, observing the grinning face of Pong peering from the tail of the wagon. "Look out, the dragon will get you, sure, if you fall out!" he warned. "I don't care anything about you, but we can't afford to be without a cook."

  "There goes the fool!" cried Big-foot. "Now we sure will starve to death."
r />   * * *

  As the Wagon Lurched Pong Plunged Overboard.

  * * *

  As the wagon lurched in the current, the Chinaman had plunged overboard and disappeared beneath the surface.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XVI

  A BRAVE RESCUE

  "Save him, somebody! The fool's fallen overboard!" roared the foreman. "I can't let go this rope!"

  Tad had not seen the cook take his plunge, so, for the moment, he did not realize what had occurred.

  "Who's overboard," young Butler demanded sharply.

  "The cook," answered Stallings excitedly. "Can't any of you slow pokes get busy and fish him out?"

  "Pong!" cried Tad as the head of the Chinaman appeared on the surface.

  Without an instant's hesitation the lad leaped into his saddle.

  "Yip!" he shouted to the pony, accentuating his command by a sharp blow with the quirt.

  The pony leaped forward.

  "Here, he's not up there; he's in the river I tell you!" shouted the foreman.

  Tad had driven his mount straight up the bank behind them. He paid no attention to the warning of the foreman, having already mapped out his own plan of action.

  Reaching the top of the sloping bank, Tad pulled his pony to the right and dashed along the bluff, headed down the river.

  "Watch your lines or you'll have the wagon overboard, too," he called back. "I'll get Pong out."

  Big-foot Sanders scratched his head reflectively.

  "Ain't the Pinto the original whirlwind, though?" he grinned. "I never did see the like of him, now. He'll get that heathen out while we are standing here trying to make up our minds what to do."

  "Yes, but I'm afraid the Chinaman will drown before Tad gets to him," said the foreman, with a shake of his head. "Here, don't let go of this rope while you are staring at the kid. I can't hold it alone."

  Tad drove his pony to its utmost speed until he had reached a point some little distance below where the head of the Chinaman had last been seen.

  All at once the lad turned sharply, the supple-limbed pony taking the bank in a cat-like leap, landing in the water with a splash.