The Pony Rider Boys in Texas

by Patchin, Frank Gee

  "Not much to tell. It happened so quick"

  "What time?" interrupted Tad.

  "'Bout half-past nine, I reckon."

  "Half-past nine," muttered the lad thoughtfully. "Yes; go on."

  "We were sitting by the camp fire, and Curley Adams was telling about the time he was mixed up with the rustlers on the Colorado."

  "Yes."

  "Well, them ponies came down on us a-whooping."

  "The ponies? Did they get away, too?" asked the lad in surprise.

  "Did they? You ought to have seen the varmints. Nearly run over us when they smashed through the camp. One jumped clean over the fire."

  "Yes, I understand; but did you have any idea why the cattle stampeded?"

  "Sure. The ponies put them on the run."

  "The ponies started it?"

  "Yes. No telling how it happened. The cows come a-running after the ponies had broke through them, and the whole outfit piled over the camp."

  "Do any damage?"

  "I reckon. Knocked over the chuck wagon, and near killed the heathen Chinee. The men on guard roped the runaway ponies, and, by the time you got on the job, we had just about got straightened around ready to go after the cows."

  "I suppose you lay it to"

  "Adobe church," answered the cowman conclusively.

  "I am going over there to-day, Big-foot. I am going to try to find out if there is anything in all this. Candidly, I don't believe it. Even Colonel McClure says it's all foolishness. That is, I do not believe it is anything that cannot be explained."

  The foreman was looking worried that morning. It had been a succession of disasters ever since they had neared the locality. This time it had been the ponies which were hobbled some little distance from the herd, but which had become so frightened at what they saw that they bolted, hobbles and all.

  "I want those cows from the McClure ranch brought over to-day," Stallings directed. "At least, bring over half of them. Get them over right after breakfast. If we are going to have any more disturbances let's try to have them in the daytime."

  "Do you need us?" asked Tad.

  "No. Go on and enjoy yourselves. You all have earned a holiday."

  The lads were in their saddles early. Professor Zepplin went with them, intending to spend the day at the ranch as arranged on the previous evening.

  The young ladies of the household were waiting, dressed in short skirts and wearing broad-brimmed straw hats. To the boys they were most attractive. Their fresh young faces lighted with anticipation of the day's pleasure as, assisted by the Pony Riders, they swung into their saddles. It fell to Tad Butler to ride beside Miss Brayton.

  "We had a stampede at the camp last night," he told her after they had headed off to the east for the Springs, which was to be their first objective point.

  "Yes; so uncle told me. I'm sorry. Did you lose any stock?"

  "I believe not, unless it was some of the new ponies. I did not think to ask."

  "At what time did the trouble occur?" she asked absently.

  "I think it was shortly after you left us at dinner, last night," answered Tad, in a matter-of-fact tone. "It was, perhaps, half an hour after that when your uncle told us."

  Miss Brayton flushed painfully, and quickly changed the subject. Tad noticed her confusion and marveled at it.

  Arriving at the Springs, which proved to be a group of rocks rising out of the plain, and from which several springs of pure sparkling water bubbled, all dismounted and drank of the refreshing fluid. After a few moments spent in chatting, they remounted their ponies and set off for the adobe church, the real object of the day's journey.

  Reaching the historic place, they tethered their ponies among the mesquite bushes in the rear of it, after which all entered through a crumbling doorway. The interior, they found, was in an excellent state of preservation.

  Many surprising little alcoves and odd, cell-like rooms were distributed all through the church. It was dark and cool in there. Chunky shivered, and said he didn't wonder people said there were spooks there.

  "Is there any cellar beneath the church?" asked Tad.

  "It has been said that there were once underground passages," answered Miss Brayton. "No one in our time has ever discovered them."

  "That sounds interesting. I think I should like to find the way into them."

  "So should I," added Stacy Brown.

  "Look out that you don't fall in," cautioned Ned. "Remember that's your failing."

  "Not much chance of that," laughed Margaret. "These stone floors are too thick for anyone to fall through."

  "Does anyone ever come here?" asked Tad.

  "Not that I know of," answered Miss Brayton.

  "But I saw a path when I came in. Somebody has been hitching a pony out there in the bushes, too," said the boy.

  "Perhaps some of the cowmen may come in here out of the heat, now and then," replied the young woman carelessly.

  "Why Ruth, you could not induce one of papa's men to enter the door of the old place. You know they are half scared to death of it," said Margaret.

  Chunky's eyes were growing large.

  "Wow!" he said. "Let's go out doors and eat."

  "The lunch has not yet arrived. It will be here soon," Miss Brayton informed him. "We will spread it in the main room here, if you have no objections. It will be cool and pleasant; and, besides, there are no flies in here."

  "For goodness' sake, forget your appetite," growled Ned in Stacy's ear.

  "Can't a fellow talk about his appetite without being found fault with?" Chunky sulkily retorted.

  "Not the kind of an appetite you have. It's a positive disgrace to the outfit."

  "Huh!" grunted Chunky, walking away.

  The lad wandered off by himself, and the rest forgot all about him in their investigation of the old church. Miss Brayton told them as much of its history as she knew.

  "Some of the former priests are said to have been buried somewhere in the edifice," she said.

  "I don't see any signs of it," said Tad.

  "No. No one ever has in our time. And it has even been hinted that treasure has been buried here, too, or secreted in some of the mysterious recesses of the church."

  "Where are they" asked Walter. "I am beginning to get curious."

  "I am sure I do not know," laughed the young woman. "There is a sort of garret, if you can get to it, above the gallery there. Maybe you might find something there. I have an idea that it is inhabited by bats."

  "I guess we will leave them undisturbed," decided Tad. "I don't like bats."

  "There come the servants," announced Miss Brayton. "Now your friend will be able to satisfy his appetite."

  At her direction the servants brought in the baskets of food. A cloth was spread over a stone table that they found at the far end of the church in the balcony. What its use had been, in those other days, they did not know, but it served their purpose very well now.

  "I am afraid we shall have to eat standing," said Miss Sadie. "We have no chairs."

  "That will suit Chunky," replied Ned Rector. "He always likes to eat standing."

  "Why?" asked Margaret, glancing up at him inquiringly.

  "For some reasons of his own," answered Ned mischievously.

  As the good things were spread before them the eyes of the lads lighted appreciatively, and all helped themselves gratefully.

  It was a jolly party, untouched by the air of mystery that was supposed to surround the place.

  "Why, where is Master Stacy?" asked Ruth Brayton in surprise, after they had been eating a few moments.

  "Chunky? That's so, where is he?" demanded Walter, glancing over the railing into the auditorium below.

  No one seemed to know.

  "He's prowling around the place somewhere," said Ned. "But what surprises me is that he doesn't scent the food and come running. It's not like him to hang back when there is anything good to eat."

  "Call him," suggested Margaret.

  "I wil
l. O-h-h Chunky!"

  There was no reply.

  "I will go after him," said Walter, running lightly to the other end of the balcony and down the stone steps.

  The lad returned in a few moments, a perplexed frown on his face.

  "Find him?" asked Ned.

  "No."

  "Maybe he's gone back to camp. He's a queer chap."

  "I think not. I saw his pony there with the others."

  "Oh, well, never mind. He'll get so hungry that he will have to come out, wherever he is," decided Tad. "I imagine he is hiding somewhere to make us think he has gone away. Hark! What was that?"

  A far away call for help echoed faintly through the church.

  They looked at each other with growing uneasiness on their faces.

  "It's Chunky," breathed Walter.

  "Whwhere is he?" stammered Margaret.

  "I don't know. Excuse me; I must go," exclaimed Tad. "The boy is in trouble again. I knew itI knew he couldn't keep out of it," he added, hurrying away from them.

  Ned sprang down the steps after Tad and together they disappeared through a rear door in the auditorium.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XXII

  LOST IN THE ADOBE CHURCH

  Those up in the gallery could hear the two boys calling to their companion. There was no answer to their hails, and one by one the little party left the gallery.

  "I tell you he is playing tricks on us," said Ned, after they had searched all over the place without finding any trace of Stacy.

  "No; I don't agree with you," answered Tad. "Something has happened to him."

  "What shall we do?" asked Walter.

  "Keep on looking. That is all we can do just now."

  Once more they began their search, but with no better results than before.

  "Have you looked outside?" asked Miss Brayton.

  "Yes; we looked out. No use in hunting there, for we can see all around the place from the side door here," answered Tad. "He has gotten into some place that we know nothing about. We've got to find it, that's all."

  "I would suggest that one of us ride to camp and get some of the men to come out and help us," advised Walter.

  "I'll ride home, and have father send some of his own men," suggested Margaret.

  "Yes; that would be best," agreed Miss Brayton.

  "I wish you wouldn't," replied Tad. "It would alarm them, and Professor Zepplin would be frightened. Ned, suppose you hustle for camp and tell Mr. Stallings the fix we are in. We shall need some help, that's sure."

  "All right. I'm off."

  Big-foot Sanders and Curley Adams responded to the call on the run, the foreman being out with the herd at the time.

  "I knew it," was Big-foot's first words as he rode up and threw himself from his pony where Tad was standing. "Now tell me all about it."

  Tad did so, the cowman nodding his head vigorously as Tad told him all he knew about Chunky's mysterious disappearance.

  "Which way did he go?" asked Curley.

  "That we do not know," answered Miss Brayton.

  "His cry seemed to come from the back of the church somewhere," spoke up Ned.

  "We'll go in and look around, then," decided Big-foot, striding into the church. "Whew! smells pretty musty in here. What's that up there?"

  "That's where we were eating our lunch when we heard Chunky call," Walter informed him.

  "How long since you had seen himwas he up there with you?"

  "No; he had left us twenty minutes before we began eating lunch," answered Ned.

  "Humph!" grunted the cowman, gazing about him in perplexity. "Sure it isn't a trick?"

  Tad shook his head.

  "No. He was in trouble. I knew that from his tone."

  "Then he must have fallen in some place," announced Big-foot. "He couldn't fall up, so there's no use looking anywhere but on the ground floor here," he decided, wisely. "Anybody know of any holes that he might drop into?"

  "Not that I have seen," answered Ned. "The floor is as solid as stone."

  "Well, that beats all. You boys scout around outside, while Curley and I are looking things over in here. Besides, I want to be alone and think this thing over."

  "What do you make of it, Big-foot?" asked Curley Adams, after the others had gone outside.

  "I ain't making. When it comes to putting my wits against a spook place, I'm beyond roping distance. We'll look into these holes in the wall around here, first," he said, referring to the niches and cell-like rooms that they saw leading off from the auditorium. "You make it your business to sound the floor. We may find some kind of trap door."

  Curley went about bringing down the heels of his heavy boots on the hard floor, but it all sounded solid enough. There was no belief in the mind of either that the lad could have disappeared in any of the places they had examinedthat is, that he could have done so through any ordinary accident.

  Like most cowboys, both Curley and Big-foot possessed a strong vein of superstition in their natures. To them there was something uncanny in Stacy Brown's mysterious and sudden disappearance.

  "Here's a door, but it's closed," called Curley.

  "That's so," agreed Big-foot, hurrying over to him. "The thing is sealed up with mortar. Hasn't been used in fifty cats' lives. Wonder what's behind it."

  "Not the boy; that's certain."

  "Nope. He didn't fall through there."

  "Find any other doors open or closed?"

  "Nary a one."

  "Well, that seems to settle this part of the ranch; we've got to look somewhere else. What bothers me is that we don't hear him call. If he was anywhere near, and had his voice, he'd be yelling for help," decided the big cowboy.

  "Don't think he's dead, do you?"

  "I don't think at all. I don't know," answered Big-foot.

  "It's my idea that the gopher isn't in here at all," announced Curley, with emphasis.

  His companion eyed him thoughtfully.

  "You're almost human at times, Curley. I reckon you've said the only true words that's been spoke by us this afternoon. We look for the gopher and don't find him. You say he ain't here, and he isn't. Great head! But that don't find him. The question is, where is he?"

  "We'll have to look outside," answered Curley.

  "Right you are. Come on."

  But their search outside was as fruitless as had been their quest within the old adobe church. Not a trace of Stacy Brown did they find.

  "Ned, I think you had better take the young ladies home," said Tad finally.

  "Want me to tell Professor Zepplin?"

  "Not right away. You can tell him on the way out here. He will not have quite so long to worry, but I think he should know about it. The matter is serious. Where did you say Mr. Stallings was, Big-foot?"

  "Out with the new herd. The cattle are pretty restless."

  "Walt, you go in and tell the foreman the difficulty we are in. I'll wait here and go on with the search. If he can get away I wish he would come."

  "I'll tell him," answered Walter, hurrying away.

  "I am sorry we have spoiled your afternoon, Miss Brayton," said Tad. "It's too bad. But I'm afraid something serious has happened to our friend."

  "Shall we see you again, Mr. Butler?"

  "Of course. I don't know when the herd will start on. We certainly shall not do so until we have found Stacy. Anyway, we will ride over some time to-morrow and bid you all good-bye."

  Assisting the young women into their saddles, Tad bade their friends good afternoon and turned sadly back to the church, while Ned Rector rode back to the Ox Bow ranch with the young women.

  "Well, what do you think?" demanded the lad, as he faced the big cowboy.

  "I don't think. My thinker's all twisted out of shape," answered Big-foot. "I can't tell you what to do. Wait till the boss gets here."

  "I guess that will be best," replied Tad. "We have done all we know how to do."

  The two men and the boy wandered about the church aimlessly, saying little, b
ut thinking a great deal, impatiently awaiting the arrival of Bob Stallings, to whom they now looked to show them the way out of their difficulty.

  The foreman arrived, in the course of half an hour, with his pony on a sharp run. They had heard him approach, and were outside waiting for him.

  "Well, this is a nice kettle of fish!" exclaimed Stallings, leaping to the ground, tossing his reins to Curley Adams. "Tell me about it."

  Once more Tad Butler related all the facts in his possession regarding Stacy Brown's mysterious disappearance.

  "Big-foot thinks it's spooks," added Tad.

  "That's all bosh," exploded the foreman. "It's getting late in the afternoon, and I've no time to waste. I'll find him for you. What ails you, Big-foot? Getting weak in the knees?"

  "Not as I knows of. This funny business is kinder getting on my nerves, though."

  "Humph!" grunted the foreman, starting for the church in long strides. "Nerves in a cowboy! Humph!"

  They watched the tall figure of Stallings charging through the adobe house, peering here and there, asking questions in short, snappy sentences, going down on his knees in search of footprints. Finally he rose from his task with a puzzled look in his eyes.

  "Tell me that story again," he demanded.

  Tad did so.

  The foreman went outside and surveyed the building from all sides.

  "There's some secret room or passage in there somewhere. The gopher has stumbled into it. We are going to discover the mystery of the church of San Miguel before we have done herethat is, we are if we're lucky," he added.

  Bob Stallings' words were prophetic, though he did not know it. The discovery was to be one that would give the big foreman the surprise of his life, and that would affect all his after life as well.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XXIII

  SOLVING THE MYSTERY

  "We can't do much of anything more until daylight," announced the foreman finally. "You see, it's getting dark now."

  "Youyou are going to leave him here?" asked Tad hesitatingly.

  "That's all we can do, so far as I see. But we'll put one of the men on guard to watch the place. To-morrow morning we'll take it upon ourselves to tear down that door that's sealed up. It may lead into the place where the boy fell in. Yes; we'll bring down the whole miserable shack if necessary."