CHAPTER IV
THE FIRST NIGHT IN CAMP
The camp-fire was burning brightly when the first guard, havingcompleted its tour of duty, came galloping in.
In a few moments the sound of singing was borne to the ears of thecampers.
"What's the noise?" demanded Stacy Brown, sitting up with a half scaredlook on his face.
"It's the 'Cowboy's Lament,'" laughed Bob Stallings. "Listen."
Off on the plain they heard a rich tenor voice raised in the song of thecowman.
"Little black bull came down the hillside, Down the hillside, down the hillside, Little black bull came down the hillside, Long time ago."
"I don't call that much of a song," sniffed Chunky contemptuously aftera moment of silence on the part of the group. "Even if I can't sing, Ican beat that."
"Better not try it out on the range," smiled the foreman.
"Not on the range? Why not?" demanded the boy.
"Bob thinks it might stampede the herd," spoke up Big-foot Sanders.
A loud laugh followed at Chunky's expense.
"When you get to be half as good a man on cows as your friend the Pinto,here, you'll be a full grown man," added Big-foot. "The Pinto rounded upa bunch of stray cows to-night as well as I could do it myself, and hedidn't go about it with a brass band either."
The foreman nodded, with an approving glance at Tad.
Tad's eyes were sparkling from the experiences of the evening, as wellas from the praise bestowed upon him by the big cowpuncher.
"The pony did most of it," admitted the lad. "I just gave him his head,and that's all there was to it."
"More than most tenderfeet would have done," growled Big-foot.
Walter had gone out with the second guard, and the others had gatheredaround the camp-fire for their nightly story-telling.
"Now, I don't want you fellows sitting up all night," objected theforeman. "None of you will be fit for duty to-morrow. We've got a harddrive before us, and every man must be fit as a fiddle. You can enjoyyourselves sleeping just as well as sitting up."
"Humph!" grunted Curley Adams. "I'll give it as a horseback opinion thatthe only way to enjoy such a night as this, is to sit up until you fallasleep with your boots on. That's the way I'm going to do it, to-night."
The cowboy did this very thing, but within an hour he found himselfalone, the others having turned in one by one.
"Where are your beds?" asked Stacy after the foreman had urged the boysto get to sleep.
"Beds?" grunted Big-foot. "Anywhere--everywhere. Our beds, on theplains, are wherever we happen to pull our boots off."
"You will find your stuff rolled up under the chuck wagon, boys," saidStallings. "I had Pong get out the blankets for you, seeing that youhave only your slickers with you."
The lads found that a pair of blankets had been assigned to each ofthem, with an ordinary wagon sheet doubled for a tarpaulin. These theyspread out on the ground, using boots wrapped in coats for pillows.
Stacy Brown proved the only grumbler in the lot, declaring that he couldnot sleep a wink on such a bed as that.
In floundering about, making up his bunk, the lad had fallen over twocowboys and stepped full on the face of a third.
Instantly there was a chorus of yells and snarls from the disturbedcowpunchers, accompanied by dire threats as to what they would do to thegopher did he ever disturb their rest in that way again.
This effectually quieted the boy for the night, and the camp settleddown to silence and to sleep.
The horses of the outfit, save those that were on night duty and two orthree others that had developed a habit of straying, had been turnedloose early in the evening, for animals on the trail are seldom stakeddown. For these, a rope had been strung from a rear wheel of the wagonand another from the end of the tongue, back to a stake driven in theground, thus forming a triangular corral. Besides holding theuntrustworthy horses, it afforded a temporary corral for catching achange of mounts.
In spite of their hard couches the Pony Riders slept soundly, evenProfessor Zepplin himself never waking the whole night through. NedRector had come up smiling when awakened for his trick on the thirdguard. With Stacy Brown, however, severe measures were necessary whenone of the returning guard routed him out at half-past three in themorning.
Stacy grumbled, turned over and went to sleep again.
The guard chanced to be Lumpy Bates, and he administered, what to him,was a gentle kick, to hurry the boy along.
"Ouch!" yelled Chunky, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
"Keep still, you baby!" growled the cowman. "Do you want to wake up thewhole outfit? There'll be a lively muss about the time you do, I reckon,and you'll wish you hadn't. If you can't keep shut, the boss'll be formaking you sleep under the chuck wagon. If you make a racket there, Pongwill dump a pot of boiling water over you. You won't be so fast to wakeup hard working cowboys after that, I reckon."
"What do you want?" demanded the boy. "What'd you wake me up for?"
"It's your trick. Get a move on you and keep still. There's the ponyready for you. I wouldn't have saddled it but the boss said I must. Idon't take no stock in tenderfoot kids," growled the cowpuncher.
"Is breakfast ready?" asked the boy, tightening his belt and jamming hissombrero down over his head.
"Breakfast?" jeered Lumpy. "You're lucky to be alive in this outfit, letalone filling yourself with grub. Get out!"
Stacy ruefully, and still half asleep, made a wide circle around thesleeping cowmen that he might not make the mistake of again stepping onany of them.
Lumpy watched him with disapproving eyes.
The lad caught the pony that stood moping in the corral, not appearingto be aware that his rider was preparing him for the range, Chunky allthe time muttering to himself.
Leading the pony out, the boy gathered up the reins on the right side ofthe animal and prepared to mount.
Lumpy Bates came running toward him, not daring to call out for fear ofwaking the camp. The cowman was swinging his arms and seeking to attractthe lad's attention. Chunky, however, was too sleepy to see anything sosmall as a cowman swinging his arms a rod away.
Placing his right foot in the stirrup, the boy prepared to swing up intothe saddle.
"Hi, there!" hissed Lumpy, filled with indignation that anyone shouldattempt to mount a pony from the right side.
His warning came too late. Stacy Brown's left leg swung over the saddle.No sooner had the pony felt the leather over him than he raised his backstraight up, his head going down almost to the ground.
Stacy shot up into the air as if he had been propelled from a bow gun.He struck the soft sand several feet in advance of the pony, his faceand head ploughing a little furrow as he drove along on his nose.
He had no more than struck, however, before the irate cowboy had him bythe collar and had jerked the lad to his feet.
"You _tenderfoot_!" he snarled, accenting the words so that they carrieda world of meaning with them. "Don't you know any more than to try toget onto a broncho from the off side? Say, don't you?"
He shook the lad violently.
"N-n-n-o," gasped Stacy. "D-d-does it m-m-make any difference w-w-h-i-chside you get on?"
"Does it make any difference?"
The cowboy jerked his own head up and down as if the words he wouldutter had wedged fast in his throat.
"Git out of here before I say something. The boss said the first man heheard using language while you tenderfeet were with us, would get firedon the spot."
Without taking the chance of waiting until Stacy had mounted the pony,Lumpy grabbed the boy and tossed him into the saddle, giving the littleanimal a sharp slap on the flank as he did so.
At first the pony began to buck; then, evidently thinking the effort wasnot worth while, settled down to a rough trot which soon shook the boyup and thoroughly awakened him.
The rest of the fourth guard had already gone out, Chunky meeting thereturning members of the
third coming in.
"Better hurry up, kid," they chuckled. "The cows'll sleep themselves outof sight before you get there, if you don't get a move on."
"Where are they?" asked the boy.
"Keep a-going and if you're lucky you'll run plumb into them," was thejeering answer as the sleepy cowmen spurred their ponies on toward camp,muttering their disapproval of taking along a bunch of boys on a cattledrive.
In a few moments they, too, had turned their ponies adrift and hadthrown themselves down beside their companions, pulling their blanketswell about them, for the night had grown chill.
Out on the plains the fourth guard were drowsily crooning the lullabyabout the bull that "came down the hillside, long time ago."
It seemed as if scarcely a minute had passed since the boys turned inbefore they were awakened by the strident tones of the foreman.
"Roll out! Roll out!" he roared, bringing the sleepy cowpunchersgrumbling to their feet.
Almost before the echoes of his voice had died away, a shrill voicepiped up from the tail end of the chuck wagon.
"Grub pi-i-i-le! Grub pi-i-i-le!"
It was the Chinaman, Pong, sounding his call for breakfast, inaccordance with the usage of the plains.
"Grub pi-i-i-le!" he finished in a lower tone, after which his headquickly disappeared under the cover of the wagon.
By the time the cowmen and Pony Riders had refreshed themselves at thespring near which the outfit had camped, a steaming hot breakfast hadbeen spread on the ground, with a slicker for a table cloth.
Three cowboys fell to with a will, gulping down their breakfast in ahurry that they might ride out and relieve the fourth guard on the herd.
"You boys don't have to swallow your food whole," smiled the foreman,observing that the Pony Riders seemed to think they were expected tohurry through their meal as well. "Those fellows have to go out. Takeyour time. The fourth guard has to eat yet, so there is plenty of time.How did you all sleep?"
"Fine," chorused the boys.
"And you, Mr. Professor?"
"Surprisingly well. It is astonishing with how little a man can getalong when he has to."
"Who is the wrangler this morning?" asked the foreman, glancing about athis men.
"I am," spoke up Shorty Savage promptly.
"Wrangler? What's a wrangler?" demanded Stacy, delaying the progress ofa large slice of bacon, which hung suspended from the fork half-waybetween plate and mouth.
"A wrangler's a wrangler," answered Big-foot stolidly.
"He's a fellow who's all the time making trouble, isn't he?" asked Stacyinnocently.
"Oh, no, this kind of a wrangler isn't," laughed the foreman. "Thetrouble is usually made _for_ him, and it's served up hot off thespider. The horse wrangler is the fellow who goes out and rounds up theponies. Sometimes he does it in the middle of the night when the thunderand lightning are smashing about him like all possessed, and the cattleare on the rampage. He's a trouble-curer, not a troublemaker, except forhimself."
"I guess there are some words that aren't in the dictionary," laughedTad.
"I think you will find them all there, Master Tad, if you will consultthe big book," said the Professor.
The meal was soon finished, Pong having stood rubbing his palms, a happysmile on his face, during the time they were eating.
"A very fine breakfast, sir," announced the Professor, looking up at theChinaman.
"He knows what would happen to him if he didn't serve good meals,"smiled Stallings.
"What do you mean?" asked Ned Rector.
"Pong, tell the young gentlemen what would become of you if you were toserve bad meals to this outfit of cowpunchers."
The Chinaman showed two rows of white teeth in his expansive grin.
"Allee same likee this," he explained.
"How?" asked Tad.
Pong, going through the motions of drawing a gun from his belt, andpuffing out his cheeks, uttered an explosive "pouf!"
"Oh, you mean they would shoot you?" asked Walter. "I hardly think theywould do that, Pong."
"Allee same," grinned the Chinaman.
"I guess we are pretty sure of having real food to eat, then," laughedTad, as the boys rose from the table ready for the active work of theday.
"We will now get to work on the herd," announced the foreman. "We hadbetter start the drive this morning. When we make camp at noon we willcut out the strays. I trust none of you will be imprudent and get intotrouble, for we shall have other things to look after to-day."
However, the Pony Riders were destined not to pass the day without oneor more exciting adventures.
The Pony Rider Boys in Texas; Or, The Veiled Riddle of the Plains Page 4