Books: The Pony Rider Boys in Montana
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Frank Gee Patchin >> The Pony Rider Boys in Montana
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Instead of being in the foothills as he had supposed, he was
penetrating the fastnesses of the Rosebud Mountains themselves.
"There is no use in my going on like this," he decided
finally. "I'll sit down and wait for daylight. That's all I can
do. I surely can find my way back to camp when the light comes
again."
The next question was where should he go-- where find a safe place
to stay until morning. Tad remembered with a start that there were
bears in the range. He knew this from his own recent experience. How
many other savage beasts there might be in the woods he did not
know. He had heard some one speak of mountain lions, and having seen
these before, he fervently hoped he might not have another
experience with them, unarmed as he was.
"If this gun only were loaded, I should feel better."
After searching around for some time, Tad found a ledge that seemed
to rise to a considerable height. Up this he clambered. It would
give him a good view in the morning anyway, besides protecting him
from any prowling animals that might chance in that part of the
forest.
Tad ensconced himself in a slight depression, and with a flat rock
for a resting place, leaned back determined to make the best of his
position.
A gentle breeze now stirred the foliage above his head and all about
him until the sound became a restless murmur, as if Nature were
holding council over the lad's predicament.
The lost boy did not so interpret the sounds, however. He made a
more practical application of them.
"It's going to rain," he decided wisely, casting a glance above him
at the sky, which was becoming rapidly overcast. "And I haven't any
umbrella," he added, grinning at his own feeble joke. "Well, I've
been wet before. I cannot well be any more so than I was last
night. I'll bet the rainwater will be warmer than the waters in the
East Fork. If it isn't I'll surely freeze to death."
Fortunately he bad worn his coat when he left the camp, else he
would now have suffered from the cold. As it was, he shivered, but
more from nervousness than from the chill night air.
"Yoh -- hum, but I'm sleepy," he murmured drowsily. A moment more
and his head had drooped to one side and Tad Butler was sleeping as
soundly as if tucked away between his own blankets back in his tent
in the foothills.
CHAPTER VII
ALMOST BETRAYED BY A SNEEZE
Tad awakened with a start.
His first impression was that he smelled smoke, and for the moment
he believed himself back in camp. A movement convinced him of his
error. A jagged point of rock had cut into his flesh while he
slept. He almost cried out with the pain of it, and as he moved a
little to shift his body from it, the wound hurt worse than ever.
The lad was still surrounded by an impenetrable darkness. It all
came back to him--but standing out stronger than all the rest was
the fact that he was lost.
"Wonder how long I've slept," he muttered. "Seems as if I had been
here a year. Lucky I awoke or I'd been stuck fast on that rock, for
good and all. Whew! B-r-r-r! I think it's going to snow. Thought it
was going to rain just before I went to sleep. Wonder if they have
snow up here in the summer time. Have almost everything else,"
continued the lad, muttering to himself, half under his breath.
Slowly rising he shook himself vigorously and rubbed his palms
together to get his circulation stirred up.
"Hello, what's that? I remember now, I smelled smoke or thought I
did."
Tad sniffed the chill air suspiciously.
"It is smoke," he decided. "Maybe I've set the woods on fire with my
matches. Guess I'll climb down and investigate."
He started to move down the side of the ledge when it occurred to
him that perhaps it would be better to investigate from where he
was; he did not know what danger he might be running into if he were
to climb down without first having made sure that it was perfectly
safe to do so. Just what he might meet with he did not know. But he
felt an uneasy sense of impending danger.
"Often feel that way when I first wake up, especially if I've been
eating pie the night before," he confided to himself, in order to
urge his courage back to life.
Bending forward he peered from side to side, but was unable to find
a single trace of light, anywhere about him. If it were a fire it
must be some distance away, he concluded.
"If it were some distance away, I wouldn't smell it. The wind has
died down. No, the fire that smoke comes from is right near by me,"
he whispered.
The sense of human habitation near him caused his pulses to beat
more rapidly. The question that remained for him to decide, was who
was it that had started the fire?
Tad Butler determined to find out if possible, and at once.
He crept cautiously to the right, feeling his way along the ledge,
not being sure how near he was to the edge. He found it more
suddenly than he had expected, and narrowly missed falling over head
first.
"Whew! That was a close call," he muttered. "I must be more
careful."
There was no sign of either smoke or fire below him, as he observed
after getting his balance again. He drew back cautiously and worked
his way to the side that he had been facing, yet with no better
result than before.
There yet remained two sides to be investigated--the one he had
climbed up and the other that lay to the left of him. Tad chose the
latter as the most likely to give him the information he
sought. However, he found that the edge lay some distance away. The
table of rock was much wider than he had imagined, when he first
ascended to it.
The way was rough. Once the lad's foot slipped into a crevice. In
seeking to withdraw it he gave the ankle a wrench that caused him to
settle down on the rocks with a half moan of pain. His shoe had
become wedged in between the rocks so that he had difficulty in
withdrawing it at all, and the injured ankle gave him a great deal
of pain as he struggled to release himself.
"Guess I'll have to take off my shoe. Hope I haven't sprained my
ankle. I'll be in a fine mess if I have," he grumbled.
The ankle gave him considerable trouble; but he rubbed it all of ten
minutes, and he found that he could endure his shoe again. He was
full of curiosity as well as anxiety to learn the cause of the
smoke, which, by this time, seemed to be coming his way in greater
volume.
After having relaced the shoe and leggin, Tad started on again, this
time on all fours, not trusting himself to try to walk, feeling his
way ahead of him with his hands, which he considered the safer way
to do.
"There's somebody down there," he whispered, after a long interval
of slow creeping over the rocks. "I wonder who it is? Perhaps they
are looking for me. I'll give them a surprise if they are."
The surprise, however, was to be Tad's.
At last he reached the edge of the little butte. Slowly stretching
his neck and lying flat on his stomach, he peered over.
A cloud of black smoke rolled up into his face, causing the lad to
withdraw hastily.
"Aka-c-h-e-w," sneezed Tad, burying his face in his hands.
"Whew, what a smudge! I'll bet they heard that sneeze."
"What's that?" demanded a gruff voice below. "Sounded like somebody
sneezing."
"No, it's an owl," replied another. "I've heard that kind
before. Sometimes you'd think it was a fellow snoring."
"Must be funny kind of a bird," grunted the first speaker.
"He's right. That's exactly what I am," growled Tad, who had plainly
overheard their conversation. Yet he was thankful that the men below
had not realized the truth. Tad was quite willing to be mistaken for
a bird under the circumstances.
After making sure that the men were not going to investigate the
sound, the boy crept again toward the edge, working to the right a
little further this time, so that the smoke might not smite him full
in the face as had been the case before.
There were four of them--strangers. The boy observed that they were
dressed like cowboys, broad brimmed hats, blue shirts and all. From
the belt of each was suspended a holster from which protruded the
butt of a heavy revolver.
"Cowboys," he breathed. "At least they ought to be and I hope they
are nothing else."
The lad's attention was fixed particularly on one of the party. He
was all of six feet tall, powerfully built, his swarthy face covered
with a scraggly growth of red beard, and with a face of a peculiarly
sinister appearance.
"When do they expect the herd?" asked the first speaker.
"Be here the day after tomorrer I reckon," answered the man with the
red beard.
"How many?"
"They say there's five thousand sheep in the herd, but it's more'n
likely there'll be ten when they git here."
"Huh!" grunted the other.
"There'll be less when we git through with them."
"You bet."
"Boss Simms will be mad. He'll be ripping, when we clean him out."
Two of the men rose at the big fellow's direction and stalked off
into the bushes to attend to their ponies, which the lad could hear
stirring restlessly, but could not see.
"Simms!" breathed Tad. "What does this mean? Those men are up to
some mischief. I know it. I must find out what it is they are
planning to do."
Tad learned a few moments later, but in his attempts to overhear
what the plans of these strange men were, he nearly lost his own
life.
CHAPTER VIII
INTO THE ENEMY'S CAMP
"Has Simms been warned that he'd better keep them out of this here
territory?" asked one.
"Yes."
"Who told him?"
"Bob Moore, who owns the Double X Ranch on the west side of the
range. I saw to that," announced the man with the beard.
Tad decided that he was the leader of the party, but it was not yet
clear what they were planning to do. Yet he knew that if he listened
long enough something was sure to be dropped that would give him a
clue to the mystery.
"Bob's mad as a trapped bear over it. Swears he'll kill every sheep
in the country before he'll let Simms drive in the new herd and
graze it here."
"Suppose you put it into his head proper like to do something?"
laughed one.
"Well, I did talk it over with him a bit," admitted the leader. "But
he wasn't hard to show."
"When is the thing coming off?"
"We haven't decided yet. We four will talk that over. Perhaps the
same night they get in. They'll be restless then and easy to
start."
"But won't the foreman corral the sheep?"
"Don't think so. Haven't room. They haven't fixed up a new
corral, because they expected to graze the sheep on north. That many
will clean up the range right straight ahead of us for more'n a
hundred miles, so that we cattle men won't have half a chance to
graze our cattle," grinned the spokesman of the party.
His companions laughed harshly.
"I reckon," answered another. "We'll have all the cattle men on
both sides of the Rosebud range so stirred up that they will pitch
into that flock like hyenas who haven't had a square meal since snow
fell last. When they break loose there's going to be fun, now I
tell you. That's the time we get busy. We ought to be able to get
a thousand of them anyhow. Before next morning we'll be so far down
toward the Big Horn range that they won't catch us. And besides,
after the cattle men get through killing mutton, a thousand more or
less won't be missed. It'll make a nice bunch to add to our flock.
If we work that a few times we'll have enough to make a shipment
worth while."
"So that's the game is it?" muttered Tad Butler. "Well, they won't
do it if I can help it." Yet be realized how powerless he was at
that moment to defeat their nefarious plans.
Somehow they were going to urge the real cattle men to use
highhanded measures to destroy Mr. Simms's flock. They were going to
scatter them, and then these men were going to make off with all
they could drive away. It did not seem to the listening boy that
such things were possible; yet Mr. Simms was authority for the
statement that such acts were not unknown in this far northern
state.
There were still many points that Tad was not clear on, but he had
heard enough to enable him to give the rancher a timely warning of
what they proposed to do.
The lad knew what that meant. It meant trouble. His sympathies had
been largely with the cattle men--he had looked down on the sheep
industry and for the reason that he knew only what the cattle men
had told him about it.
At that moment Tad Butler was experiencing a change of heart. That
they could plan ruthlessly to slaughter the inoffensive little
animals passed his comprehension. A remark below him caused the lad
to prick up his ears and listen intently.
"As I came over the Little Muddy this afternoon, I thought I saw
some sort of a camp in the foothills," said a voice. "Thought mebby
that might be the outfit, though I couldn't see what they were doing
on that side of the range."
"Oh," laughed the big man, "I know the one you mean. Yes, I took a
look at that outfit myself."
"Oh, he did, eh? Wonder we didn't see him," grunted Tad, realizing
that the men referred to the camp of the Pony Riders. "There was
something besides bears around there, I see."
"Find out what it was!"
"Yes, it seemed to be a camp of boys. There was only one man in the
bunch so far as I could see. He was a tall gent with whiskers that
hadn't been shaved for two weeks o' Sundays."
Tad could not repress a laugh.
"I wish the boys could hear that," he said, laughing softly. "That
hits off the Professor better than a real picture could do."
"Huh! What were they doing!"
"You can search me for the answer. I haven't got it," laughed the
big fellow. "We don't need to bother about them. They're out here
with some crazy idea in their tops. They can't interfere with our
plans any."
"You'd better not be too sure about that," chuckled Tad. "Perhaps
one of them may if he has the good luck to get out of here without
being discovered."
"What's the plan, Bluff?"
"So that's his name? I'll remember that," muttered Tad.
"That's what I wanted you boys to meet me here for. I want you to
see all the ranchers before to-morrow night on both sides of the
Rosebud. Understand now, no blunt giving away of the game. You want
to start by telling them you hear Boss Simms is bringing in ten
thousand head of sheep, and that he's going to graze them up the
valley all the way over the free grass to the north. Tell them that
it'll be mighty poor picking for the cows and so on until you get
'em good and properly mad----"
"Yes, what then?"
"Better let the ranchers make threats first, then you can say that
you hear the others are going to teach Boss Simms a lesson and
stampede his flock to-morrow or next night. Say you hear the word
will go out when the mine is ready to touch a match to. You'll know
how to work it?"
"Sure thing, Bluff. Who do you want us to see?"
"I want you and Jake to take the west side of the mountains. Lazy
and I will take the east. Work it thoroughly and don't you go to
making any bad breaks. Right after the job is over, besides the
sheep we get for our own herd, there'll be a few thousand laying
dead around these parts. We'll take the contract to skin them for
the hides. That'll be another rake off. Do you follow me?"
"Yes."
"To-morrow night meet me at the Three Sisters and I'll be able to
give you your orders for the rest of the boys."
"You don't think they'll suspect you--that they'll be wise to what
the game is?" asked one of the men apprehensively.
"No fear of that. They'd never mix me up with any such deal as
that. I'm a respectable law abiding rancher, I am," laughed the man
with the red beard. "Don't you go to getting cold feet. That's the
sure way to get caught," admonished the leader.
"Want us to start now?"
"No, sure not. What's the use? We'd better turn in and get some
sleep. It'll be light enough by three o'clock in the morning. We'll
get a rasher of bacon and some hot coffee, then we'll light out for
the valley. You know you don't have to see Bob Moore. And better not
go near the Circle T Ranch. I'm not any too sure about those
fellows. We'll turn in now."
"I've heard enough to hang the whole bunch," thought Tad
Butler. "The trouble is I don't know who they are. But that does not
make so much difference. Only if I did know, Mr. Simms might be able
to have them arrested. As it is, I guess the best he can do is to
get ready to fight them off when they do come," reasoned the lad.
"Better stake the ponies nearer camp in case anything comes along. I
came across bear tracks a few miles to the east of here," the big
man advised them."
"So did I," thought Tad.
"I forgot to tell you that there'll be three or four Crow braves
with us on the raid as well as half a dozen Blackfeet?"
"Blackfeet? What are them redskins doing down here, off the
reservation?" demanded Jake.
"They're like all critters, think the pasture over the fence is
better'n their own," laughed Bluff. "Guess there's no need of any of
us keeping awake. We ain't likely to have any surprises."
The cowboy outlaw, however, was about to have the most surprising of
surprises that could have come to him at that time.
Tad, in his anxiety to catch every word that was uttered, had drawn
his body close up to the edge of the cliff, his head and shoulders
hanging well over.
In front of him, right down to the camp stretched a long, sloping
rock, whose smooth face, glistened in the light of the camp fire. As
the men rose to prepare for the night, Tad began pulling himself
cautiously back, bracing himself with one hand.
Suddenly the hand slipped. How it happened he was unable to tell
afterward, but instantly Tad was over the rock and tobogganing down
its side head first.
A spot rougher than the rest of the rock, caught in his clothes,
righting the boy's body, permitting him to shoot down the rest of
the way, feet first.
The Pony Rider Boy's presence of mind did not desert him for an
instant. It was not a long drop. He felt that he would land safely,
providing he did not turn again and land on his head instead of his
feet. It was a chance very liable to happen, as he knew from his
experience of a second before.
They heard him coming, but did not catch the significance of it.
"What's that!" exclaimed Bluff, springing up in alarm.
"I don----"
"Y-e-o-w!"
Tad had uttered the shrill scream. With great presence of mind he
hoped to take them so by surprise that they would hesitate for the
few seconds, and that in this delay he would be able to get away.
The lad's feet struck the ground, his body plunged forward and he
fell sprawling at the very feet of the men he was seeking to get
away from.
"Catch him! It's a man!" roared the leader.
With one accord they sprang for the prostrate form of Tad Butler.
CHAPTER IX
TAD OUTWITS HIS PURSUERS
Tad was lithe and supple. As the champion wrestler of the high
school, back in his home town in Missouri, he was possessed of many
tricks that had proved useful to him on more than one occasion since
the Pony Riders set out on their summer's jaunt.
"Y-e-o-w!" yelled the lad in a high-pitched, piercing voice,
intended to confuse his enemy. And it served its purpose well.
As the men leaped upon him, Tad raised himself to all fours, his
back slightly arched. In this position he ran on hands and feet like
a monkey, darting straight between the legs of the man with the
beard.
The big man flattened himself on the ground face downward, while
Tad, who had tripped him, was well outside the ring. In an instant
the leader's fellows had dropped on him and the four men were
floundering helplessly, in what, to all appearances, might have been
a football scrimmage.
Tad was not yelling now. He was fairly flying, running on his toes
and seeking to do so without making the slightest sound.
The men quickly untangled themselves and with yells of rage bounded
from their camp in search of the one who had caused so much
disturbance. It had all happened so quickly that they had not
succeeded in getting a good look at their tormentor.
"It's a boy!" roared Bluff. "Catch him. No, shoot! Don't let him get
away!"
"Where is he!"
"I don't know. Fan the bushes, fan everything. We've got to get
him!"
"Keep it up. Do you see him?"
"No."
As Tad heard the bullets snipping the leaves over his head, he
instinctively ducked and, turning sharply to the left, skulked
through the trees. By the flickering light of the camp fire he had
seen something that gave him a sudden idea.
"Watch out. There he is?"
"Where, where?"
"There, by the ponies. Give it to him!" cried Jake.
"Stop, you fools!" thundered the leader. "Do you want to kill the
bronchs? Get after him. What are you standing there like a lot of
dumbheads for?"
"I see him. I kin pink him," yelled one of the four.
"I said go after him. Not a shot in that direction!" commanded
Bluff.
Tad bad caught a glimpse of the ponies.
"I'm going to try it," he breathed.
No thought of wrong entered his mind. He was about to take a horse
that did not belong to him. He knew his life was at stake and that
having overheard their plans he would be sure to suffer were he to
fall into their hands.
"It's not stealing. It's just fighting them on their own ground,"
gasped the boy, tugging desperately at the stake rope in an effort
to free the first pony he came to.
The leash resisted all his efforts.
Out came the lad's jack knife. One sweep and the rope fell
apart. They had discovered him. Every second was precious now. He
was thankful that the men had removed neither bridles nor saddles,
though he knew the bit was hanging from the animal's mouth.
But Tad cared little for this. He could manage the pony, he felt
sure. With a yell of defiance he leaped into the saddle and dug his
fist into the animal's side, uttering a shrill, "yip-yip!"
The pony, responding to the demands of its rider, sprang away
through the forest, putting the lad in imminent peril of being swept
off by low hanging limbs.
"He's getting away. He's got one of the ponies. Give it to him now,
but don't hit the rest of the cayuses!" yelled the leader in high
excitement.
Tad had it in mind to liberate the other animals and start them off
on a stampede. It was the fault of the outlaw cowboys that he did
not. They discovered his whereabouts sooner than he had hoped they
might. It was all he could do to get one pony free and mount in
time, for they were running toward him at top speed.
Instantly, upon their leader giving them the order to fire, the men
raised their weapons, taking quick, careful aim, and pulled the
triggers.
Their bullets whistled far above the head of the fleeing boy, as the
ground was sloping and he was traveling downward rapidly.
"Keep it up. You may get in a chance shot. No, stop. Take to the
ponies."
Three of them, including the leader, cast loose the remaining
animals, and springing upon their backs, spurred the bronchos into a
run. They were in hot pursuit of the lad now, with freshly loaded
guns ready to fire the instant they came within range of him.
Tad's pony was crashing through the brush, making such a racket that
there could be no trouble about their keeping on the trail. They
needed no light by which to follow it unerringly.
The boy soon came to a realization of this. Then again the men were
so much more familiar with mountain riding that he felt sure they
would eventually overhaul him. Even now they were gaining. There
could be no doubt of that.
"I'll ride as long as I can, then I'll try to get away from them
some other way," he decided.
The moment was rapidly approaching when he would be forced to resort
to other tactics. Just what these should be he did not know. He
would either be shot or captured in the event of his being unable to
devise some other method of escape.
Tad Butler was resourceful. He had no idea of giving up yet. He was
determined above all, to defeat the desperate purpose of these men
and save Mr. Simms from the loss of his flock.
"We're gaining on him!" cried one of the pursuers. "I can hear the
pony plainer now."
"Yes, I kin hear him snort," added another.
"You'll hear that cub doing some snorting on his own account in a
minute," snarled Bluff, applying the spurs mercilessly.
"Shall we shoot, Cap!"
"I'll let you know when to shoot. No use filling all the trees in
the range full of lead. We'll be up with him in a few minutes now
and there'll be things doing. He can't get away. We've got him to
rights this time."
"He's a slick one whoever he is. Think he heard us?"
"Can't guess. Don't make any difference anyhow. He won't have a
chance to use the information, if he did hear."
"We're coming up on him," cried Jake.
"Halt!" bellowed the leader.
The pony in the lead did not slacken its speed in the least.
Bluff repeated his command, but still without perceptible result.
"Halt or we shoot!"
Tad Butler made no reply. He was leaning far over on the pony's neck
now. In this position he was less likely to be swept off by limbs,
and, again, were they to fire on him as they had threatened, there
was a much better chance of the shots going harmlessly over, instead
of through him. Thus far their marksmanship had been poor.
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