The Pony Rider Boys in Texas

by Patchin, Frank Gee

  "Youyou think he is here, then?"

  "Of course. Where else could he be? He walked away and disappeared right before your eyes. He could not get away if he had gone outside. So where is he? In the church, of course."

  "Then I will remain here and watch the place," decided Tad firmly.

  Stallings glanced at him hesitatingly.

  "All right. I guess you have got the nerve to do it. I can't say as much for the rest of the bunch. You come along with me, now, and get your supper. After that you may return if you want to. Big-foot, you and Curley stay here until the Pinto gets back. Better keep busy. You may stumble upon something before you know it."

  The two cowboys did not appear to be any too well pleased with the task assigned to them, but they obeyed orders without protest.

  The evening had grown quite dark by the time the cowmen had finished their supper. All had been discussing the strange disappearance of Stacy Brown. It did not seem to surprise them. They had expected trouble when they reached the vicinity of the adobe church. They had had little else during the time they had been in the camp.

  "Send Curley and Big-foot in," directed the foreman after Tad had announced his readiness to return to the church.

  "We'll all go," spoke up Ned Rector.

  "It's not at all necessary," answered Tad.

  "No; I have decided to let Big-foot go back after he has eaten. He can remain with you until ten-thirty, when he takes his trick on guard. Then the rest of you may go out if you wish. It isn't fair to leave the Pinto there alone all night. If I change my plans I'll send out Master Ned or Walter. Run along now, Tad."

  The lad mounted his pony and galloped slowly out for his long vigil. He was greatly disturbed over the loss of Chunky. Yet he could not bring himself to believe that great harm had come to the boy.

  "Anything new?" he called as he rode up.

  "Nary a thing. Plenty of funny noises inside the shack. Kinder gives a fellow the creeps; that's all."

  "You are to come back and remain with me until your watch, I believe, Big-foot."

  "Nice job you've cut out for me," answered the cowman.

  "I had nothing to do with it. It's the foreman's order," answered Tad.

  "Better bring a lantern with you. We may need it before the night is over."

  "All right," answered Big-foot, swinging into his saddle. After the cowmen had left, Tad walked out a little way from the church and sat down in the sand. He was within easy hearing of the place in case anyone should call out.

  It was a lonely spot. Tad had not sat there long before the noises that the cowmen had spoken of began again.

  The lad listened intently for a moment.

  "Bats," he said. "I can hear them flying about me. I hope none of them hit me in the face. I've heard they do that sometimes."

  The pony, which had been staked down well out on the plain, was now moving about restlessly.

  "I wonder if the noises are getting on the broncho's nerves, too? There's nothing here to be afraid of. I'm not afraid," declared Tad firmly, rising and pacing back and forth.

  He was relieved, just the same, when the big cowman rode back, an hour later, and took up the vigil with him. The two talked in subdued tones as they walked back and forth, the lad expressing the opinion that they would find Stacy unharmed when they once discovered the mysterious place into which he had unwittingly stumbled.

  "You see, those walls are so thick that we couldn't hear him even if he did call out. He may even have gotten in where they buried those monks we've heard about. I hope not, though."

  "He wouldn't know it," said Big-foot.

  "No, probably not in the darkness. Did you bring that lantern?"

  "Pshaw! I forgot it. Mebby I'd better go back and get it."

  "No; never mind, Big-foot. The moon will be up after a time. Then we shall not need it. You are going in for the ten-thirty trick, are you not?"

  "That's what the boss said," replied Big-foot.

  The right section of the herd was now bedded within a short distance of the church. They could hear the singing of the cowboys as they circled slowly around the sleeping cattle.

  "Guess we are not going to have any more trouble with them," said Tad, nodding toward the herd.

  "Don't be too sure. I feel it coming. I have a feeling that trouble ain't more'n a million miles away at this very minute."

  "I wish you wouldn't talk that way. You'll get me feeling creepy, first thing you know. I've got to stay here all night," said Tad.

  Big-foot laughed. They passed the time as best they could until the hour for the departure of the cowboy arrived. Then Tad was left alone once more. He circled about the church, listening. Once he thought he heard the hoof-beats of a pony. But the sound died away instantly, and he believed he must have been wrong.

  After half an hour Big-foot returned. The foreman had decided, so long as the cattle were quiet, to have him remain with Tad. If the cowboy should be needed in a hurry the foreman was to fire a shot in the air as a signal.

  Tad was intensely pleased at this arrangement. After chatting a while they lay down on the ground, speaking only occasionally, and then in low tones. The mystery of the night seemed to have awed them into silent thought. They had lain there for some time, when Tad suddenly rose on one elbow.

  "Did you hear that?" he whispered.

  "Yes," breathed the cowman.

  "Whatwhat do you think it was?"

  "Sounded as if some one had jumped to the ground. We'd better crawl up there. It was by the church. I told you it was coming."

  "Do you suppose it was Chunky?"

  "No. He'd be afraid of the dark. You'd hear him yelling for help."

  Tad had his doubts of that; but, just the same, he, too, felt that the noise they had heard had not been made by Stacy Brown. A silence of several minutes followed. The two had crawled only a few feet toward the church, when, with one common impulse, they flattened themselves on the ground and listened.

  Now they could distinctly hear some one cautiously moving about in front of the church. It seemed to Tad as if the mysterious intruder were standing on the broad stone flagging at the top of the steps leading into the adobe church.

  Tad slowly rose to his feet.

  "Who's there?" he cried in a voice that trembled a little.

  A sudden commotion followed the question, and the listeners distinctly caught the sound of footsteps on the flagging.

  A flash lighted the scene momentarily.

  Big-foot had fired a shot toward the church. A slight scream followed almost instantly.

  "I winged it!" shouted the cowman, lifting his weapon for another shot.

  Tad struck the gun up. The lad was excited now.

  "Stop!" he commanded. "Don't do that again. Do you want to kill somebody?"

  With that Tad ran, his feet fairly flying over the ground, in the direction of the church steps. In the flash of the gun he had caught a glimpse of a figure standing there. The sight thrilled him through and through.

  As the plucky lad reached the steps some one started to run down them. Tripping, the unknown plunged headlong to the ground.

  The boy was beside the figure in an instant.

  "Big-foot!" he shouted.

  The cowman came tearing up to him.

  "What is it?" he bellowed in his excitement.

  "It's a woman, Big-foot! It's a woman! Oh, I hope you did not hit her!"

  "It's no woman; it's a spook. I know it's a spook!" fairly shouted the cowboy.

  "I tell you it's a woman!" cried Tad.

  He was down on his knees by her side now, raising her head.

  "Get helpquick!"

  Sanders took the shortest way of doing this. He, too, was alarmed now. Raising his gun above his head, he pulled the trigger three times in quick succession. As many sharp flashes leaped into the air, and as many quick reports followed.

  "Sure she ain't a spirit?" demanded the cowman, peering down suspiciously, fearfully. He could make out the
form on the ground but dimly.

  "Don't be foolish. Run out there and meet them. I hear the ponies coming. Don't let any of them use their guns, in the excitement, or some one may get hurt," warned Tad Butler, with rare judgment.

  Big-foot hurried out into the open. In the meantime Tad stroked the face and head of the woman. She was unconscious, but her flesh seemed warm to his touch.

  "I wonder what it means," the perplexed boy asked himself. Tad could feel his own pulses beating against his temples. It seemed to him as if all the blood in his body were hurling itself against them.

  Cowboys on their ponies came thundering up from different directions. In the lead was Bob Stallings, the foreman of the outfit.

  "You idiots!" he shouted. "Do you want to stampede the herd again? What do you mean?"

  "I've winged a spook!" yelled Big-foot Sanders. "She's over there by the steps now. The kid's got her."

  "Spooknonsense!" snapped the foreman, leaping from his pony and rushing to the spot indicated by Big-foot.

  "What" chorused the cowboys.

  "Is it the boyhave they found him?"

  "If you all don't insist on talking at once, mebby we can find out what the row's about," snarled Curley Adams.

  The foreman stopped suddenly as he observed Tad sitting at the foot of the church steps. He saw, too, another form there, but it was so dimly outlined in the deep shadows that he was unable to make it out.

  "What does this mean?" he demanded sternly.

  "I don't know. It's a woman. I'm afraid Big-foot's bullet hit her. We must have a light."

  "Bring matches!" roared the foreman.

  No one had any.

  "Rustle for the camp, and fetch a lanternand be quick about it! I've had enough of this fooling. What was she doinghow did it happen?"

  Tad explained as clearly as he could how they had been disturbed by the strange noises, resulting finally in a shot from Big-foot's gun.

  "The idiot! It'll be a sorry day for him if he's done any damage," growled the foreman. He stooped over and ran his hand over the unconscious woman's face. Then he applied his ear to the region of the heart.

  "Huh!" he snapped, rising.

  "Find anything!" asked Tad in a half whisper.

  "She's alive. Heart weak, but I don't think she's seriously hurt. I don't understand it at all."

  "No more do I. I'm getting dizzy over all this rapid-fire business," added the lad. "There they come with a light."

  Stallings strode to the cowman who had brought the lantern. Jerking it from the man's hand the foreman ran back.

  "We'll straighten her up against the steps, and try to find out how badly she is hurt," he said, placing the lantern on the ground.

  Tad had partially raised her, when he let the girl drop with a sudden, startled exclamation.

  "What is it?" demanded Stallings incisively.

  "It's Miss Ruth!"

  "Who?"

  "Miss Ruth"

  By the dim lantern light the foreman saw her face outlined against the dark background of green. His eyes were fixed upon her, and Bob Stallings seemed scarcely to breathe.

  "Ruth Brayton!" he gasped.

  "Yes," answered Tad in a low voice, not fully comprehending the meaning of the scene that was being enacted before him.

  "Ruth Brayton," repeated Stallings, slowly passing a hand across his forehead. "Ruth!" he cried, throwing himself to his knees beside her.

  "I tell ye I winged a spook," insisted Big-foot Sanders to a companion as they came up.

  Tad raised a warning hand for silence.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XXIV

  CONCLUSION

  "Get back to that herd!" commanded the foreman sharply. "All of you! Tad, you stay with me. The girl has fallen and struck her head on the flagging. I don't think she is seriously hurt."

  Not understanding the meaning of it all, the cowmen drew back and slouched to their ponies. Most of them were off duty at the time, so they took their way back to camp to be ready for whatever emergency might arise.

  Not a man of them spoke until they had staked their ponies and seated themselves around the camp-fire. Such a silence was unusual among the cowboys. Ned and Walter, who had followed them in, were standing aside, equally silent and thoughtful.

  Shorty Savage was the first to speak.

  "What's it all about? That's what I'd like to know," he asked.

  "You won't find out from me," answered Curley.

  "Big-foot thinks he winged a spook," said a voice.

  "Allee samee," chuckled Pong, who had been taking in the scene with mouth and eyes agape.

  Big-foot fixed him with a baneful eye.

  "I said I'd forget you were the cook some day," said he. "I'm forgetting it, now, faster'n a broncho can run!"

  Pong's pigtail bobbed up and down like the streaming neckkerchief of a cowboy in saddle as he dived for the protection of the trail wagon.

  "I reckon he can understand king's English when he wants to," laughed Shorty. "Now how about that spook, Big-foot?"

  Sanders stood up, hitched his trousers and tightened his belt a notch.

  "Reckon we've all gone plumb daffy, fellows. I'm the champeen dummy of the bunch."

  The cowpunchers laughed heartily.

  "But was she a spook?" persisted Shorty.

  "She were not. She were a womana friend of the boss."

  Shorty whistled.

  "Lucky for me I missed her. I was rattled, or I'd never taken that shot."

  "Who is she?" asked Curley.

  "One of the young women from the Ox Bow. It gets me what she was doing in that spook place alone at night. I"

  "W-o-w!"

  The exclamation was uttered by a familiar voice, at the sound of which the cowmen sprang to their feet.

  "It's the gopher!" they cried.

  "Chunky!" shouted Ned and Walter, running forward with a yell.

  "I fell in," wailed the fat boy.

  At sight of him the cowboys yelled with merriment. Chunky's clothes were torn. He was covered with dirt from head to foot, and his face was so grimy as to be scarcely recognizable.

  Big-foot was staring at him in amazement. Striding forward, he grasped the lad roughly by the shoulder, jerking him into the full light of the camp-fire.

  "Where you been, gopher?" he demanded sternly.

  "I fell in," stammered the boy.

  "Where?"

  "Some kind of a well. It was in the bushes just outside the back door. I went there to hide. I fell down to the bottom and went to sleep."

  "Just like him. Have anything to eat down there?" jeered Ned Rector.

  "When I woke up it was dark. Then I found another holea passage. It went both ways. Guess one end went under the church. I followed it the other way, and came out near where the steers are bedded down."

  "Hold on a minute. Let's get this straight," interrupted Curley. "You mean you found an underground passage at the bottom of the old well? Is that it?"

  Chunky nodded.

  "And the opening was near the spring at the point of rocks just above the herd?"

  "Yes. But I had to dig out through a brush heap."

  "Huh! Not such a terrible mystery, after all," sniffed Curley contemptuously.

  "How came that underground passage there? What's it for?" asked Big-foot.

  "Probably dug out in Indian times. I'll bet it has saved the scalp of more than one old fellow. There's an opening into it from the church somewhere, you can depend upon that. I'm thinking, too, that the well was a bluffthat it wasn't intended for water at all. We'll smash the mystery of the adobe church before we pull out of here to-morrow, see if we don't."

  "I come mighty near doing for one of them," added Big-foot Sanders ruefully.

  "Got anything to eat?" interrupted Stacy Brown.

  "For goodness' sake, boys, take your fat friend over to the chuck wagon and fill him up. He's like a Mexican steerhe'll bed down safer when he's full of supper."

  * * *

>   In the meantime, another scene was being enacted off at the Ox Bow rancha scene that was to add still another chapter to the romance of the trail.

  Tad Butler was sitting alone in the darkness on the steps of the McClure mansion. The boy, chin in hands, was lost in thought. Stallings had carried Ruth Brayton in his arms all the way to the ranch where she had soon revived.

  After leaving her, the foreman and Colonel McClure had locked themselves in the library, where they remained in consultation for more than an hour.

  "How is Miss Ruth?" asked the boy eagerly, when Stallings finally came out.

  "Better than in many months," answered the foreman. There was a new note in his voice.

  "I'm so glad," breathed Tad.

  "Old man," began Stallings, slapping Tad on the shoulder, "come along with me. We'll lead our ponies back to camp and talk. I presume you are aching to know what all this mystery means?" laughed the foreman.

  "Naturally, I am a bit curious," admitted Tad.

  "It means, Pinto, that not only have you rendered a great service to Mr. Miller and his herd, but you have done other things as well."

  "I've mixed things up pretty well, I guess."

  "No. You have solved a riddle, and made me the happiest man in the Lone Star State. Miss Brayton and I have known each other almost since childhood. When I was in Yale"

  "You a college man!" exclaimed Tad in surprise.

  "Yes. We were engaged. My people were quite wealthy; but, in a panic, some years ago, father lost everything, dying soon after. Miss Brayton's family then refused their consent to our marriage. I determined to seek my fortune in the growing West. My full name is Robert Stallings Hamilton, though I never had used the middle name until I adopted it when I became a cowboy. But to return to Miss Brayton. Ruth was taken to Europe, and then sent to her uncle here. Her trouble preyed on her mind to such an extent that she grew 'queer.' She had heard that I was a cattle man, somewhere in the West. Strangely enough, when in her moods, she developed a strong antipathy to herds of cattle. Whenever a herd was near, Ruth would slip from the house and steal away to them in the night, A stampede usually followed. It's a wonder she wasn't shot. Whether or not she caused these intentionally, Ruth does not know"