“Why?” asked Spouter.
“He don’t like no strangers hanging around, that’s why. If a stranger comes up to his door Bimbel always reaches for his gun. He had trouble years ago with some tramps, and he never got over it.”
After that Jarley Bangs had but little more to say. The boys had left the touring car, and now the man jumped inside, saw to it that everything was in order, and then asked Spouter to crank up for him.
“Ain’t no use to waste time here,” he remarked.“I’ve got to git back to what I was doing. I’ll tell Lester I saw you, and if he wants to he kin come over to Big Horn Ranch and visit—he ain’t of much account around my place. And I’ll git at the bottom of what happened to this auto, too, even if I have to lick it out of him.”
“I don’t think Lester will care to visit our ranch,” answered Spouter coldly.
“Well, I ain’t got nothing to say about that one way or the other. Now I’m off,” and with a short nod of his head Jarley Bangs threw in the gears of his machine and rattled away, slowly gathering speed as he proceeded.
“A kind, considerate man, not!” exclaimed Andy in disgust.
“How politely he thanked Jack for returning his car,” added Spouter.
“And the beautiful invitation we got to visit his place,” put in Randy.
“I wonder if Brassy really started that car on him?” questioned Fred.
“It might be,” answered Gif. And then he added: “Gee, I’m sorry for Brassy if he has to live with such an uncle as that! Wouldn’t you think he’d rather stay at home?”
“Perhaps it’s a case of money,” put in Randy.“Didn’t you hear what Mr. Bangs said about paying for tuition at Colby Hall? Brassy’s folks may be quite poor, and they may be depending on this uncle for financial aid.”
CHAPTER XXIV
A NEW ARRIVAL
After the disappearance of Jarley Bangs the Rover boys and their chums continued their trip on horseback.
“Let’s move over the hill in the direction of the Bimbel ranch,” suggested Spouter. “I’d like to get a bird’s-eye view of that outfit.”
“Perhaps we had better not go too close,” advised Fred. “Bimbel may be getting out a shotgun for us.”
“I guess it isn’t as bad as all that, Fred. Those things might have happened years ago when the country was more sparsely settled and when there were more bad men around. I don’t take much stock in what Bangs said. Probably he and Bimbel have quarreled. He struck me as being a man who could get into a dispute very easily.”
“Oh, I was only fooling,” answered Fred. “I wouldn’t be afraid to ride right up to his door. That is, in the daytime. Of course, if we did it at night he might become suspicious.”
“Say, do you fellows know that it’s five minutes to twelve?” questioned Andy, after consulting his watch. “I move that we keep our eyes open for some place where we can take it easy and have lunch.”
“And I second the commotion,” returned his brother, joking in a way their father had made familiar to them.
The boys rode on for half an hour longer, and then reached the top of the hill they were ascending. Here they could look a long distance in all directions.
“Some view, I’ll say,” declared Jack, as he surveyed the panorama. “What a picture for an artist to paint!” and he pointed to the majestic mountains to the westward.
“Just look at the river—how it glistens and sparkles in the sunshine,” burst out Spouter.“See how it winds in and out like a silvery ribbon among the hills and brushwood and then comes out to cut the broad and fertile prairie in the far distance.”
“Spouter, you’ll have to write an essay about this when you get back to the Hall,” said Fred, with a grin.
“Gee, don’t mention school at a time like this!”burst out Andy. “I want to forget all about studying until it’s absolutely necessary to go back to it. And don’t forget it’s high time to eat,”he added.
They moved along slowly and presently selected a spot for their temporary camp. This was a short distance from the trail they had been following. It was at the edge of a patch of timber where they were sheltered from the rays of the sun which were now quite warm.
“We’ll be in the shade here, and yet just see the view we’ll have,” cried Gif.
“Suits me,” announced Spouter promptly; and the others agreed that the spot was a first-rate location.
It did not take the six chums long to give the horses their feed and then to empty the saddlebags and prepare their mid-day meal. They had brought along chicken as well as roast-beef sandwiches, hard boiled eggs, pickles, and a large cake, and also a bag of doughnuts which Hop Lung had learned to make from Mrs. Powell and of which the Celestial was justly proud. They also had with them a thermos bottle of hot cocoa and another of coffee, all fixed ready to drink.
“Well, Hop Lung certainly spread himself for us,” said Jack, as he took up one of the fat chicken sandwiches and surveyed it with satisfaction. Then he turned to the twins. “What are you grinning about?” he questioned quickly.
“Oh, I was only thinking about the trick we played on the Chink,” chuckled Andy.
“And I was thinking of the same thing,” put in his twin.
“It’s a wonder he didn’t try to get square with us for that,” came from Fred. “An American would be sure to try it.”
The long ride in the open air had made all of the boys hungry, and it was not long before they had disposed of a large part of the sandwiches, pickles and eggs, washing the meal down with cocoa and coffee and also with water from a regular water bottle Spouter carried.
“Now I guess it’s about time we passed around some of the cake,” remarked Jack, presently.
“I think I’ll start on a doughnut,” answered Gif.
The cake was in a square tin and had been cut ready for use. In a few seconds all of the boys were munching away lustily.
And then something happened! It was Fred who was the first to notice that the piece of cake he was devouring had a peculiar puckery taste. He rolled some of the cake around in his mouth, and then suddenly ejected it, and just as he did this Andy dropped the doughnut he was devouring.
“Oh my! What’s the matter with that cake?”
“Say, this doughnut tastes like fire!”
“Gee, my mouth is burning up!”
“Give me some of that water, quick! My tongue is getting blistered!”
“What do you suppose is in this cake, anyhow, and in the doughnuts?” demanded Jack, as he, too, made a wry face and stopped eating.
“Gracious me! do you suppose Hop Lung put the wrong stuff in the cake and in the doughnuts?”demanded Spouter anxiously.
“Oh, this is awful!” groaned Gif. “I’m burning up inside!” And he put both hands on his stomach.
“Maybe we’re poisoned!” suggested Randy. He made a wild dive for the water bottle, and this was passed around from hand to hand, each lad drinking eagerly in an endeavor to wash the burning taste from his mouth and throat.
“I know what’s the matter,” said Jack, after the most of the excitement was over. “Hop Lung doctored the cake and the doughnuts to get square with us for the trick we played on him.”
“I wonder if that’s so?” questioned Andy soberly.
“Sure, it’s so!” broke in Gif. “That Chink wasn’t as slow as you thought, Andy.”
“Gosh, my mouth burns yet!” grumbled Randy, taking a drink of cocoa. “That’s the worst dose I ever chewed. What do you suppose he put in the cake?”
“Tasted to me like a combination of cayenne pepper, mustard, and a few things like that,” answered Jack.
“Then the whole cake and all the doughnuts must be no good.”
“That’s too bad! And I had my heart set on a nice doughnut,” answered Spouter. “Just the same, I can’t blame Hop Lung.”<
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“Well, anyway, let’s be thankful the sandwiches are all right and so are the eggs,” remarked Fred.
“Maybe some of the sandwiches that are left are doctored,” put in Andy suspiciously.
“No, they look all right,” announced Gif, after an inspection. “And he couldn’t do much with the eggs while they were in their shells,” he added.
While he was speaking, and while some of the boys were still taking drinks of various kinds to clear their mouths and throats of that awful burning taste, Spouter made an inspection of the paper bag containing the doughnuts.
“Hello! here’s another little bag at the bottom of the big one,” he cried. “Let’s see what it contains.”
He dumped out the doughnuts and drew forth the smaller bag. Opening this, the lads found it contained six pieces of golden yellow pound cake, neatly wrapped in tissue paper.
“Gee! is that more of the doctored stuff?” questioned Fred.
“Maybe. But I don’t think so,” answered Spouter. “I think Hop Lung put this in for a peace offering, to be found after we had chewed on that other stuff.”
And in that surmise Spouter proved correct. The pound cake was delicious, and, having sampled it with caution to find that it was all right, the boys ate it to the last crumb with great satisfaction.
“We’d better dump all that other stuff away,”said Fred. “No use of carrying it if it isn’t fit to eat.”
“Maybe some of it is good,” returned Andy.
“Do you want to sample it and make sure?”questioned Jack, with a grin.
“Not on your life! I wouldn’t want that burning taste in my mouth again for a hundred dollars.”
The boys threw the highly-seasoned cake and the doughnuts away, repacked what was left of the other food, and then continued on their ride. The trail led through the patch of timber and then over some rather rough rocks and through some brushwood. Among the rocks they found a spring where the water was clear and cold, and here they had a most refreshing drink and watered their horses.
“It’s queer this spring is away up here on the top of the hill,” remarked Spouter. “That water must flow underground from the mountains yonder.”
“What a lot of underground streams there must be!” returned Fred.
While moving along those in the lead had kept their eyes open for more snakes. But no reptiles appeared, for which they were thankful.
“But I’m sorry we didn’t see some sort of wild animals,” said Randy, in speaking of this.“I thought sure we’d see a bear or a deer or something like that.”
Even birds seemed to be scarce in that vicinity, and the only sound that broke the stillness as they advanced was their own voices and the clatter of the horses’ hoofs on the rocks.
The trail was a well-defined one, and they could see that it had been used only a short while before.
“Half a dozen horsemen have been this way within the last few hours,” declared Gif. “Most likely they were on their way to Bimbel’s ranch.”
“I wonder if that man Haddon has gotten here yet,” said Jack.
“More than likely,” answered Fred. “If you’ll remember, those men didn’t expect to stay in Arrow Junction very long.”
“I’d like to know more about that chap, and know exactly how he’s mixed up with Brassy Bangs,” went on the oldest of the Rover boys.
“I guess we’d all like to know that,” put in Randy.
Presently they came to a turn of the trail. Here they could see across a wide stretch of prairie to where there was a collection of low buildings, seven or eight in number. To the rear of the buildings was a corral for horses.
“It doesn’t look much different from lots of other ranches,” said Fred.
“Do you want to go any closer to it?” questioned Gif.
The boys talked the matter over, and while Andy and Randy were rather curious to get a more intimate view of the place, the others decided that they would not ride any closer on this trip.
“It’s now nearly two o’clock,” said Spouter.“And if we want to go any distance up the river it will take us until sundown to get back home.”
They turned back, and an hour or so later reached the point where they had parted from Jarley Bangs. Then they took a trail up the river and followed this until the sun, sinking over the western mountains, warned them that it was time for them to head for home.
“Say, I’ve got an idea,” announced Andy, when they came in sight of the ranch house. “Don’t let on to anybody about that doctored cake. If Hop Lung or anybody else mentions it, just act as if nothing unusual had happened. Say the lunch was as good as any we ever had.”
“That’s the idea!” returned his twin. “We’ll keep that Chink guessing.” And it may be added here that the boys kept their word, and Hop Lung never knew how his little joke had terminated, although he felt sure in his own mind that they had received the full benefit of the trick he had played.
The six boys were still some distance from the house when they saw a man come out on the veranda and wave his hand to them. At first they thought it might be Sam Rover. But then, of a sudden, Jack let out a yell.
“Boys, what do you know about this! Do you recognize that man?”
“It’s Hans Mueller!” ejaculated Fred.
“Uncle Hans!”
“Who would have thought he was coming to the ranch?”
“Hans Mueller!” murmured Andy. “I’ll be glad to see him. He’s as full of fun as a stray dog is of fleas!”
Hans Mueller was a man who in his boyhood days had been a boon companion of the Rover boys’ fathers. When he had gone to Putnam Hall with the Rovers he had spoken very broken English, and his improvement in speech had been slow and painful. But Hans had prospered in a business way, and was now the sole proprietor ofa chain of delicatessen stores in Chicago. He was unmarried, and, having no family of his own, had insisted upon it that all of his young friends call him “uncle.”
“Hello der, eferypody!” called out Hans Mueller cordially, as he came down from the veranda to greet them, his fat face beaming genially.
“How are you, Uncle Hans?” cried Jack, leaping to the ground and shaking hands. “This is certainly a surprise.”
“Yes, Songpird tol’ me you wouldn’t know I vas coming,” was the answer. “How you been alreatty?”
“Fine as silk,” answered Andy gayly. And now all the boys clustered around to shake hands.
“You’re just the man we want here to help us enjoy our vacation,” put in Fred.
“Dot’s nice, Fred. I tink I vas going to haf a fine time alreatty. And I need him,” went on Hans Mueller. “Since I come from de war back from Europe, where I fights for Uncle Sam, I work like a steam horse in mine delicatessen stores. But so soon like Songpird says come out here and meet dem Rovers and you udder friends, I say to my clerks, ‘you got to run dem stores by yourselfes alreatty yet awhile. I go oud to Pig Horn Ranch and git some fresh air mine lungs in.’”
“You’ll get the fresh air all right enough,” announced Spouter. “And we’re mighty glad you’re here,” he added, and then led the way into the house.
CHAPTER XXV
PROFESSOR DUKE’S SECRET
The girls had already returned from the woods and met Uncle Hans, as they called him.
“I got somet’ing by mine trunk in for you young ladies,” said Hans Mueller, with a broad smile. And later on when his trunk arrived he presented each of them with a bottle of the highest grade of olives. He also had some olives for Mrs. Powell, for use on the table.
“I import dem olives myself alreatty yet,” he vouchsafed. “Nopody by Chicago has olives half so goot.”
“I knew you’d be surprised to see Uncle Hans here,” declared Songbird Powell. “And I knew an outing on the ranch would do him a world of good. He has been confining himself too
closely to business since he got back from the war.”
“It was grand of you, Uncle Hans, to fight for Uncle Sam,” declared Martha.
“And vhy, I like to know?” demanded Hans Mueller. “Since I come by der United States over I been just such a goot American like anypody.”
“That’s the way to talk, Uncle Hans!” cried Jack, and slapped him on the shoulder.
The next day the young folks took great pleasure in showing Hans Mueller around the place.
“He vas chust like a farm, only different,”remarked the delicatessen man. “Dot iss a nice lot of cows you got, Songpird. I dink dos cows vould make apout a million pounds of frankfurters, not?” and at this remark there was a general laugh.
A few days later Jack noticed that Songbird Powell seemed to be worried over something. The owner of Big Horn Ranch held an earnest consultation with Joe Jackson, and then the foreman of the ranch rode off in hot haste, accompanied by two of his cowboys.
“What’s the matter—is something wrong?”questioned Jack of Spouter.
“Four of our best horses are missing,” answered Spouter. “The men are not sure whether they strayed away or have been stolen. Jackson and the fellows with him are going to ride along the river and see if they can find out.”
“Didn’t you say something about other horses being stolen before we got here?”
“Yes. But they didn’t belong to my father. They belonged to the men who formerly owned this ranch. They left them here, but at their own risk.”
“Were the animals now missing the horses we rode?” questioned Fred.
“No. They were the mounts used by Jackson and his men. That is, three of the horses were. The other was that beautiful black my father occasionally rode.”
“You mean Blackbird?” exclaimed Randy.
“Yes.”
“Why, I think Blackbird is the finest horse on the ranch,” declared Gif.
“He certainly is a splendid nag,” answered Spouter. “And my dad thinks a great deal of him.”
The horse in question was a three-year-old, shining black in color, with a peculiar diamond-shaped spot of white on his forehead and a similar spot on his chest. Because of these spots some of the cowboys often referred to him as Two-spot.
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