Books: The Pony Rider Boys in Montana
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Frank Gee Patchin >> The Pony Rider Boys in Montana
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Tad told him, leaving out his own part in the rescue entirely, save
that he had brought him in.
The lad, after telling Mr. Simms that the cowboys had been driven
off, helped the rancher to his tent and put him to bed, or rather
induced him to lie down on his cot, for Mr. Simms's head was
whirling.
No sooner had Tad done this than he heard a galloping pony rapidly
approaching the camp. The lad stepped out as the horseman pulled
up. It was the foreman. He threw himself from his mount and started
on a run for Mr. Simms's tent.
"Hello!" he exclaimed, bringing up short. "Where's the boss? Is
he hurt? What happened to him?" he demanded excitedly, without
giving Tad a chance to answer between questions.
"I think he is all right, Mr. Larue. He had a close call"----
"Was he shot?"
"A bullet grazed the side of his head, and then his pony ran away. I
guess that came nearer killing him than did the bullet."
"He owes his life to you, and that's no joke," answered the foreman
shortly. "We didn't see that he was in trouble till one of the boys
discovered you chasing his pony. Then we saw you rope the critter
and pack the boss on your own cayuse."
"Was--was anybody killed?" asked Tad hesitatingly.
"No. Mary got a bullet through the calf of his right leg, and Bat
Coyne lost a piece of an ear. Guess that's about all."
"Yes; but what of the others? Were any of the cowmen killed?"
"No such luck," growled the foreman. "We pinked a few of them, but
they're too tough to kill. We come mighty near having a fight,
however," he mused.
"Near!" exploded the boy. "I should say. you were right up to it."
"We've lost a lot of sheep, boy; that's of more consequence."
"How many?"
"No telling. Can't tell till morning. It'll take all day to round up
the scattered bunches-- those that were not killed."
"Where are the boys--Ned and the rest of them?" asked Tad, suddenly
bethinking himself of his companions.
"Oh, that's what I came back here for--one of the things. They're
all right. That is, they're out there with the bunch, except
Phil. Have you seen him?"
"Phil? No. Where is he?"
"He was with me, but he got away somewhere."
"Phil gone?"
"It seems so."
"Oh, that's too bad. What shall we do?"
"Go hunt for him. Do you want to join me?" asked the foreman, with
sudden energy, leaping into his saddle again.
"Of course I do," answered Tad Butler, running for his own pony and
following the foreman out of camp at a quick gallop.
CHAPTER XXI
TWO BOYS STRANGELY MISSING
"No use. He's been picked up by those dastardly cowmen," growled
Luke after he and Tad had searched until daybreak. "We must go back
to the camp and then turn out the outfit. We've got to find him,
that's all. Mr. Simms will be crazy when he hears that the boy has
strayed away from us."
"What do you think he'll do?" asked Tad in a worried tone.
"Heaven only knows. If it's those cow fellows who have done it,
he'll never rest till he's settled with them for good and all. I'll
plan out a hunt for the kid, but it has got to be each man for
himself. We must cover every inch of the territory to the north,
west and south of us. He couldn't have gone the other way. Come,
let's be hustling back to camp."
"Perhaps they have not taken him at all. I should not be surprised
if he were only lost."
But Luke shook his head. He was convinced that the rancher's son had
not strayed away of his own accord. He believed that the cowmen had
picked the lad up and carried him away for sheer revenge on
Mr. Simms. Having seen Philip at Groveland Comers, some of them knew
him, argued the foreman.
When Mr. Simms was informed of the loss of Phil, he was well-nigh
beside himself.
"Do something! Why don't you do something?" he exclaimed in agony.
"We have," answered Luke. "And we have returned to get the rest of
your men started on a daylight hunt."
"Did he take his pony with him?" asked Tad, as a thought occurred to
him.
"Yes," replied Luke.
"Then, if the pony has not come back, it is pretty good evidence
that Philip is still on his back, it seems to me."
"Then turn out; everybody turn out!" shouted Mr. Simms. "Don't come
back till you get him or bring me some tidings."
"You will want some one to round up each scattered band of sheep,
Mr. Simms. You do not want to lose your herd, do you?" asked the
foreman.
"I don't care for the herd. Let two men and the dogs remain with the
sheep that did not stampede. All the rest go out on the search. I'll
take a turn myself. What's your plan, Luke?"
The foreman explained that he proposed to send the searchers out
alone, so that all the territory might be covered. He had planned to
lay his party out in the shape of a fan. The fan closed, he would
push up into the foothills, then open it in a wide sweep. As he
expressed it, "not even a jack rabbit could get away from them if he
were within the semicircle covered by their formation."
Mr. Simms bore the strain as well as a father could be expected to
bear it.
Without the loss of a moment Luke gathered the men about him,
explaining briefly what was to be done and assigning to each man the
part he was to play in the day's search.
Foremost among the party were the Pony Rider Boys. Even Stacy Brown,
serious-faced and impatient to be off, had saddled and bridled his
pony and sat awaiting the order to move.
At last all was ready.
"Right!" announced the foreman, whereupon the sheepmen, headed by
Luke and Tad Butler, started up at a brisk gallop, headed straight
across the mesa, taking a course that would lead them to the
foothills, a short distance ahead of them. Beaching the foothills,
they continued on for some two or three miles. Here the foreman gave
the order to open the fan, he taking the lead on the left and Tad on
the right. The searchers were now moving with a space of about a
quarter of a mile between them,
shouting out the name of Phil Simms now and then, these calls
running down the line to the lower end of the fan-shaped formation.
After a time Tad found that he could no longer hear the shouts of
his companions, yet from the position of the sun, which he consulted
frequently, he felt sure that he was following the right course.
On and on he rode, until the sun lay on the western horizon. The
others of the party were making a thorough search, investigating
every gully and draw that lay in their course, shouting for Phil,
hut not shooting their guns, as this was to be the signal that the
lost boy had been found.
"I'm afraid we are going to miss him," mused the foreman. "If we
fail to find him, then they've got him, sure."
At last he had completed his half of the sweep of the fan, and his
face wore a troubled look as his pony emerged from the foothills
onto the open mesa again. The sun was setting.
Luke rode out and waited a few moments, and when joined by the rest
of his section, started back to the camp.
Old Hicks had prepared the hated mutton for supper by the time the
right side of the fan formation got in. Not a trace had one of them
found of the missing Philip Simms.
The rancher said nothing when told that they had failed. He strode
away to his tent and they saw him no more for hours.
They had just gathered about the table for the evening meal, all
unusually silent, when Ned Rector, glancing about, made a sudden
discovery.
"Where's Tad?" he demanded.
"Didn't he come in?" asked the foreman, pausing in the act of
sitting down to the table.
"That's what I should like to know? Where is he?"
No one seemed to know.
"Now, he's gone, too," breathed the foreman anxiously. "That's one
more mystery on the old Custer trail."
"We--we'll have to go hunt for Tad now. You don't suppose he and
Phil are together, do you?" asked Walter.
"I don't know. I hope they are. But, boy, it's useless to go out
looking for them now. All we can do will be to wait until morning,
then take up the search again"----
"That's what comes from taking kids out on a man's job," growled Old
Hicks, as he served the mutton.
"Hicks, no one asked you for your opinion," snapped the
foreman. "These boys have done men's work ever since they
joined. Had it not been for Tad, Boss Simms would have been out of
business entirely now. Don't let me hear anybody casting any slurs
on these boys. I won't stand for it."
Old Hicks grumbled and hobbled away to his black kettle, while the
others ate their supper in silence. But, somehow, the meal was far
from satisfying, and one by one they rose from the table, leaving
plates half filled, and strolled away to spend the evening as best
they could until bedtime. Ned and the foreman remained up, for they
were to go out at midnight and take their trick at watching over the
herd.
"I've just got an idea," said the foreman, calling Ned to him.
"Yes; what is it?"
"I'm going to put some one on the herd in my place and ride over to
Groveland. Want to go along?"
"Yes, if it has anything to do with our friends."
"That's what I mean."
"All right, I'm ready; but it is pretty late."
"Makes no difference. We'll wake them up if they are in bed. I want
to see Cavanagh, who keeps the store. I have one or two questions to
ask him."
Without saying anything to the others as to their intention, the two
quietly saddled their ponies and rode off. The foreman made
arrangements to have others take their trick, after which they
headed across the mesa toward the place where Tad had whipped the
mountain boy.
Though the night, like the one that had preceded it, was intensely
dark, Luke rode on with perfect confidence, never for one instant
hesitating over the course.
Ned did not know that they had reached the little village until the
foreman told him.
"We're here," he said quietly.
"Where's the town?"
"In it now."
"I don't see it, if we are."
"You hold my horse. I'll wake up Cavanagh," announced the foreman,
dismounting and tossing the reins to his companion.
Luke thundered on the front door of the store, above which the owner
had his quarters. After an interval, during which the foreman had
pounded insistently with the butt of his revolver, an upper window
opened and a voice demanded to know what was wanted.
"Come down here and I'll tell you."
"Who are you? What do you mean prowling around this time of the
night?"
"I'm Luke Larue, of the Simms's outfit, and I want to see you."
"Oh, hello, Luke. Thought there was something familiar about your
voice. I'll be down in a minute. Anybody with you?" "Yes,
friend. Hurry up." Cavanagh opened the front door, peering out
suspiciously before he permitted his caller to enter.
"Wait a minute. I want to call my friend in. Ned, tether the ponies
and come along."
After the lad had joined them, the two ranchers entered the store,
the proprietor taking them to the back of the store and lighting a
lantern, which he placed behind a cracker barrel, so that the light
might not be observed from the outside,
"Now, what is it?" he demanded. Luke told him briefly of the battle
with the cowboys, of which Cavanagh had already heard. Then he
related the story of the mysterious disappearance of the two boys.
"What do you want of me?" asked the storekeeper, when the story had
been finished.
"To know whether you had heard any of the boys say anything that
might lead you to believe they knew anything about the matter?"
"No," answered Canavagh after a moment's thought. "Hain't heard a
word. Don't believe they know anything about it. They'd a said
something if they'd heard of it."
"Don't you know anything about the boys yourself?"
"No, don't know nothing about them."
"Sure?"
"Surest thing, you know."
"Very well. I believe you. One of my reasons for coming over here,
however, was to tell you to keep your eyes and ears open to-morrow."
"I'll do that for you----"
"If we fail to find them to-morrow, I'll ride over at night after
the crowd has left here and hear what you have learned. When any of
the cowmen come in, I want you to bring up the subject and try to
draw them out. You'll get something that will be of use to us, I
know, for I'm dead certain that they've got both of those boys."
"Do you think they would dare do a thing like that?" asked Ned.
"Dare?" Luke laughed harshly. "They'd dare anything, especially
about this time. Oh, did you hear whether any of them got hit last
night!"
"Two or three is laid up for repairs," grinned the storekeeper.
"I'm glad of it. I wish the whole bunch had been trimmed."
"Lose many sheep?"
"Yes; too many. But that isn't what's troubling us now."
"No, I understand. It's the kids."
"Exactly. Don't forget what you have got to do, now."
Ned had been leaning against the counter listening to the
conversation, when his hand came in contact with a soft object that
lay on the counter. He carelessly picked it up and looked at it.
What he had found was a sombrero. This of itself was unimportant,
for the store carried them for sale. A broad, yellow band about it
was what attracted Ned Rector's attention, causing him to utter a
sharp exclamation.
"What is it?" demanded Luke quickly.
"Look. Did you ever see this before?" he asked excitedly.
"It's Philip Simms's hat," answered the foreman, fixing a stern eye
on the old storekeeper.
CHAPTER XXII
CAPTURED BY THE INDIANS
"Yes. I recognized it the instant I saw it," answered Ned.
"Cavanagh, what does this mean?" demanded the foreman. "I think it's
up to you to explain and mighty quick at that."
"I--I don't know anything about it," stammered the storekeeper.
"Where did you get that hat?"
"I bought it."
"Off whom?"
"Don't know what his name is. I never seen him before."
"Tell me all you know. Come, I've no time to fool away asking you
questions. Get to the point."
"I'll tell you all I know. A fellow came in here this afternoon. I
give him fifty cents for the hat and that's all there was to it."
"Say where he come from?"
"Yes, said he was down from the Medicine range."
"That's more than thirty miles north of here," mused the foreman. "I
don't understand it. You sure that's all he said?"
"Yes; I don't know any more."
"Then we'll be off. I guess we'd better hit the trail for the
Medicine range to-night so as to be well on our way by daylight."
"Here's fifty cents. I'll take the hat with me," said Ned, tossing a
half dollar on the counter, and stowing the sombrero under his belt.
They hurried from the store, with a parting injunction to Cavanagh
to be watchful. Mounting their ponies they rode swiftly away.
"We'll return to camp before we leave for the north," said Luke.
As the sun went down, Tad, becoming concerned for himself, turned
sharply to the right, urging his pony on so as to get back to camp
before night. He did not relish the idea of spending another night
alone in the mountains.
"I believe I don't know where I am," decided the lad at last,
pulling up sharply and gazing first at the sky, then at the
unfamiliar landscape about him. "I seem to have acquired the habit
of getting lost. Hello, I hear some one coming. W-h-o-o-p-e-e!" he
shouted to attract the attention of the newcomers, hoping that it
might be some of the men from the Simms outfit.
There were several of them, and though they made no reply, he heard
them turn their ponies in his direction. Suddenly there rode into
the little clearing where he was sitting on his pony, half a dozen
men, the sight of whom made him take a short, sharp breath.
"Indians!" he gasped.
With gaudily painted faces, bright blankets and buckskin suits, they
made a picturesque group as they halted and surveyed the young man
questioningly.
One who appeared to be the leader of the party rode forward and
peered into Tad's face.
"How," he grunted.
"How," answered Tad, saluting bravely, but feeling far from brave at
that moment.
A second and younger brave rode up at this point and in very good
English asked the lad who he was.
"I am from the Simms sheep ranch, and I guess I have lost my way. If
you can set me straight, I shall be very much obliged."
The younger man consulted with the older one, who had greeted Tad
first.
"The chief says we are going that way. If you will come along with
us we will leave you within about a mile of the camp."
"Very well," answered the boy, with some reluctance. They seemed
friendly enough and, besides, there could be no danger to him in
accompanying them.
As they started to move on, Tad clucked to Pink-eye and fell in with
the party. He noticed shortly, that the others had ridden up and
that he was in reality surrounded by the painted braves. Then he
remembered that he had heard of roving bands of Indians in that part
of the country--Indians who had been getting off their reservations
and indulging in various depredations.
"Are we getting near the place?" asked the lad finally, a growing
uneasiness rising within him.
"I'll ask the chief," said the young Indian, who had been riding by
Tad's side. "He says it will he two hours yet," was the reply, after
a series of grunts and gestures had passed between the men.
"It didn't take me that long to get here."
"Camp almost one sun away."
"Who is he?" indicating the leader of the party.
"Chief."
"What's his name?"
"Chief Willy. He doesn't talk much English."
"You do, though," answered Tad, glancing up at the expressionless
face of his companion.
"Me with Wild West show long, long time."
"Is that so. Maybe I have seen you. Were you with the show that was
in Chillicothe last summer? I saw the show then."
"Me with um," answered the redskin.
"Why, that's interesting," said the boy, now thoroughly interested
and for the time so absorbed in questioning the Indian about his
life with the show that he forgot his own uneasiness.
By this time, darkness intense and impenetrable, at least to the
eyes of the boy, had settled down about them. Yet it seemed to make
no difference to the Indians, who kept their ponies at a steady
jog-trot, picking their way unerringly, avoiding rocks and
treacherous holes as if it were broad daylight.
Tad did not try to guide Pink-eye any more, but let him follow the
others, and when he got a little out of his course, the pony next to
him would crowd Pink-eye over where he belonged.
"Seems to me we are a long time getting there," announced the boy
finally. He was beginning to grow uneasy again.
"Come camp bymeby," informed the young Indian. "Chief, him know
way."
Tad had his doubts about that, but he thought it best not to tell
them of his misgivings until he was certain. Perhaps they were
honest Indians after all and were only seeking to do him a favor.
The lad was getting tired and hungry, having had nothing more than a
mutton sandwich since early morning. He judged it must be getting
close to midnight now.
As if interpreting his thoughts, the young Indian rode up close
beside him, at the same time thrusting something into Tad's
hand. "What is it?" asked the boy. "Eat. Good meat," answered the
Indian. The boy nibbled at it gingerly. It was meat of some kind,
and it was tough. But most anything in the nature of food was
acceptable to him then, so he helped himself more liberally and
enjoyed his lunch. The dried meat was excellent, even if it was
tough to chew.
After a little they came to a level stretch, and now the Indians put
their ponies to a lively gallop, which Pink-eye, being surrounded by
the other ponies, was forced to fall into to keep from getting run
down by the riders behind him. Faster and faster they forced their
mounts forward, uttering sharp little exclamations to urge them on,
accompanied by sundry grunts and unintelligible mutterings.
That they all meant something, the boy felt sure. But it meant
nothing to him so far as understanding was concerned.
After hours had passed the lad found all at once that the gray dawn
was upon them and it was not many minutes before the stolid faces of
his companions stood out clear and distinct.
Tad jerked Pink-eye up sharply.
"See here, where are you taking me to?" he demanded.
"Camp," grunted the young Indian.
"You're not. You are taking me away. I shall not go another step
with you."
Summoning all his courage the boy turned his pony about and started
to move away. A quick, grunted order from the chief and one of the
braves caught Pink-eye's bridle, jerking him back to his previous
position.
"Take your hands off, please," demanded Tad quietly. "You've no
right to do that. For some reason you have deceived me and taken me
far from home. I'll----"
"No make chief angry," urged the young brave.
"I tell you I'm going. You let me alone," persisted the boy, making
another effort to ride from them.
This time the chief whirled his own pony across Tad's path. From
under his blanket, he permitted the boy to see the muzzle of a
revolver that was protruding there.
"Ugh!" grunted the chief. "Him say you must go. Him shoot! No
hurt paleface boy."
Tad hesitated. His inclination was to put spurs to Pink-eye and dash
away. He did not fear the chief's revolver so much for himself. He
did fear, however, that the chief might shoot his pony from under
him, which would leave the boy in a worse predicament still.
"All right, I'll go with you. But I warn you the first white man I
see, I'll tell him you are taking me away."
"Ugh!"
"If he shoots, I don't see how he can help hurting me," added the
lad to himself, with a mirthless grin.
"Bymeby, boy go back with paleface friends."
"That's what I expect to do. But if Luke Larue finds out you have
taken me away against my will, he'll do some shooting before the big
chief gets a chance to. Where are you taking me to?"
Shrugs of the shoulders was all the answer that Tad could get, so he
decided to make the best of his position and escape at the first
opportunity. Keeping his eyes on the alert he followed along without
further protest.
Once, as they ascended a sudden rise of ground on the gallop, he
discovered two horsemen on beyond them about half a mile as near as
he was able to judge.
Evidently the Indians saw them at the same instant, for they changed
their course and went off into the rougher lands to the left.
"Had they been nearer, I'd have taken a chance and yelled for help,"
thought the boy. "I will do it the next time I get a chance even if
they are a long way off. I can make somebody hear."
But they gave him no chance to put his plan into practice. Not a
human being did Tad see during the rest of the journey, nor even a
sign of human habitation. Evidently they were traveling through a
very rough, uninhabited part of the state. If this were the case, he
reasoned that they must be working northward. This surmise was
verified with the rising of the sun.
Chief Willy gave the lad a quick glance and grunted when he saw his
captive looking up at the sun.
The chief then uttered a series of grunts, which the younger Indian
interpreted as meaning that they would soon reach their destination.
Tad was somewhat relieved to hear this, for he ached all over from
his many hours in the saddle. Then again he was sleepy and hungry as
well. They offered him no more food, so he concluded that they had
none. In any event he did not propose to ask for more, even if he
were starving.
Along about nine o'clock in the morning they came suddenly upon a
broad river. Without hesitation the braves plunged their ponies in,
with Tad and Pink-eye following. There was nothing else they could
do tinder the circumstances.
The water was not deep, however, the chief having chosen a spot for
fording where the stream was not above the ponies' hips. Tad lifted
up his legs to keep them dry, but the Indians stolidly held their
feet in their stirrups, appearing not to notice that they were
getting wet.
"What river is this!" he asked, the first question he had ventured
in a long time.
The young brave referred the question to his chief, to which the
usual grunt of response was made.
"Him say don't know."
Tad grinned.
"For men who can find their way in the dark as well as these fellows
can, they know less than I would naturally suppose," smiled the boy.
The chief saw the smile and scowled.
Tad made careful note of the fording place in case he should have
occasion to cross the river on his own hook later on. He examined
the hills on both sides of the stream at the same time.
Leaving the river behind them, they began a gradual ascent. Now they
did not seem to be in so great a hurry as before, and allowed their
ponies to walk for a mile or so, after which they took up their easy
jog again. Shortly after that the boy descried several wreaths of
smoke curling up into the morning sky. The Indians were heading
straight toward the smoke.
At first Tad had felt a thrill of hope. But a few moments later when
a number of tepees grew slowly out of the landscape he saw that they
were approaching what appeared to be an Indian village, and his
heart sank within him.
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