Books: The Pony Rider Boys in Montana
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Frank Gee Patchin >> The Pony Rider Boys in Montana
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"Of course. That is if you can rope one out of the pen and saddle it
yourself."
"Certainly. I can do that," said the boy quickly. "But I shall
probably ride him pretty hard and fast. I do not think Mr. Simms
will object when he learns my reasons."
"Is it so serious as that?"
"It seems so to me. Last night while lost in the mountains I
overheard some men plotting against your husband. They said he was
expecting a large number of sheep that were being brought in on a
drive."
"Yes, that is true."
"They were planning to attack the herd, to stampede it and kill all
the animals they could----"
"Is it possible?" demanded the woman, growing pale.
"They mean it, too. I think I will get the pony and start now,"
decided Tad, rising.
"You are a brave boy," exclaimed the banker's wife, laying an
impulsive hand on Tad's shoulder. "I wish you did not have to
go. You are tired out now. I can see that."
"I'll be all right when I get in the saddle again," he
smiled. "Thank you just as much."
"You shall not leave this house until you have had your breakfast.
What can I be thinking of?" announced Mrs. Simms. "You are doing
us all a very great service and I am not even thoughtful enough to
offer you something to eat though you are half starved."
"I had better not spare the time to sit down," objected Tad. "I must
be going if you will show me the way."
"Not until you have eaten."
"Then, will you please make me some sandwiches? I can eat them in
the saddle, and I shall get along very nicely until I get to
town. I'll eat enough to make up for lost time when I get at it," he
laughed.
He was out of the house and running toward the corral, to which
Mrs. Simms had directed him. Tad hunted about until he found a rope;
then going to the enclosure scanned the ponies critically.
"I think I'll take that roan," he decided. "Looks as if he had some
life in him."
The roan had plenty, as Tad soon learned. However, after a lively
little battle he succeeded in getting the animal from the enclosure
and saddling and bridling him.
Tad could find no spurs, but he helped himself to a crop which he
found in the stable, though, from what he had been able to observe,
the pony would require little urging to make him go at a good speed.
Mrs. Simms was outside when Tad rode up. She had prepared a lunch
for him, placing it in a little leather bag with a strap attached
for fastening the package over his shoulder.
"Please say nothing about what I have told you," urged Tad. "I don't
want them to know we understand their plans. That is the only way
Mr. Simms will be able to catch them."
"Of course, I shall not mention it. Good-bye and good luck."
Tad mounted his broncho and was off, head-ding directly for the town
of Forsythe.
CHAPTER XII
A TIMELY WARNING
Arriving in the little town about noon, Tad dashed up the street
toward Mr. Simms' bank. Tethering his broncho to the post, he
entered the bank, and in his anxiety, pushed open the door of
Mr. Simms' private office without ceremony.
Here, as we already know, were Mr. Simms, Luke Larue and Ned, all
eagerly discussing Tad's mysterious disappearance. For a moment not
one of those in the office spoke a word. Tad stood before them, his
clothes hanging in ribbons, his face scratched and torn, the dust
and grime of the plains fairly ground into his face, hands and neck.
Luke Larue, of course, did not know the lad, but the keen eyes of
the banker lighted up with recognition.
"Master Ned," he said. "I think if this young man were washed and
dressed up, you might recognize in him the friend you are looking
for."
"Tad!" exclaimed the boy, springing forward, excitedly grasping the
hands of the freckle-faced boy.
"Hello, Ned. What you doing here?'
"Looking for you. They're all upset back at the camp. We thought the
bear had gotten you."
"No, I got the bear. A two-legged bear nearly got me later on. I'll
tell you all about it later. I want to see Mr. Simms now."
"Master Tad, I don't know where you have been, but you certainly
look used up. This is the foreman of my ranch, Mr. Luke Larue," said
the banker.
With a quiet smile on the face of each, man and boy shook hands.
"Heard about you," greeted Luke. "Heard you was a tenderfoot. Don't
look like it."
"Neither do I feel like it. Feel as if I'd been put through an ore
mill or something that would grind equally fine. When do you expect
the sheep?"
The foreman shot a keen glance at him.
"To-day or to-morrow. Why?"
"Because there is trouble ahead for you when they get here."
"What do you mean?"
"What is this you say?" demanded Mr. Simms.
"That is what I have come here to tell you about. There is a plan on
foot to ride down your sheep when they get here."
Larue laughed.
"Guess they'd better not try it. Where did you hear that fairy
story, young man?"
"It's not a fairy tale--it is the fact."
Mr. Simms had risen from his chair and was now facing Tad. He saw in
the lad's face what convinced him that there was more to be told.
"Let me hear all about it, Master Tad," he said.
"Somebody's been filling the boy up with tenderfoot yarns," smiled
the foreman.
Tad did not appear to heed the foreman's scoffing. Instead, he began
in a low incisive voice the narration of his experiences of the
previous night, beginning with the bear hunt and ending with his
finding his way out of the forest that morning.
As he proceeded with the story, the lines on the face of the banker
grew tense, his blue eyes appearing to fade to a misty gray.
At first indifferent, Larue soon pricked up his ears, then became
intensely interested in the story.
"And that's about all I can think of to tell you," concluded Tad.
Ned uttered a low whistle of amazement.
"So you think this is a tenderfoot yarn, eh?" asked the banker,
turning to his foreman.
"Not now," answered Larue. "I guess the boy did get it straight."
"Humph! You had no means of knowing-- didn't hear what his name was,
did you?"
"No, sir. He was a big man with red hair and beard and he had a scar
over his left temple. The men with him called him Bluff."
"Don't know any such man, do you, Luke?"
Luke shook his head.
"Nobody who would mix up in such a dirty deal as that. Oscar
Stillwell who owns a cow ranch on the other side of the Rosebud,
answers to that description, but he ain't the man for that kind of a
raw job. Known him five years now."
"Sure about him, are you?"
"Positive. He don't approve of the hatred that the cowmen generally
have for the sheep business. Says there's free grass enough for all
of us and that the sheepmen have just as much right to it as the
cowmen. I'll ride over to his ranch this afternoon and talk with
him. I can tell him the story without his giving it away."
"Just as you think best. You know your man and I don't."
"Yes. And if there's any such plan on foot, he'll be likely to know
about it."
"This business has been getting altogether too common. All the way
up and down the old Custer trail, there has been sheep killing,
sheep stealing, stampeding and no end of trouble for the past
year. We have seemed unable to fix the responsibility on anyone. But
I'll tell you that if they try to break into any of our herds this
time, somebody is going to be shot," decided Mr. Simms, compressing
his lips tightly together. "We're forewarned this time."
"Have you any suggestions, Mr. Simms? I must be getting back to the
ranch if this is in the wind?"
"Yes. Let no one outside of our own men, know that we suspect,
unless it be Stillwell and you are sure you can trust him----"
"There's no doubt of it."
"When the new herd gets here, put all the men on it save one who
will watch the corral at night. They won't be likely to attack the
sheep that are in the enclosure. It's the new ones that we have to
herd on the open range that they will be likely to direct their
efforts toward. Master Tad has heard as much."
"Will you be out?"
"Of course. I'll ride out this afternoon and remain at the ranch or
on the range until this thing has blown over. We had better begin
grazing north at once. I want to get them up where the grass is
better, as soon as possible. Then you can let them take their time
until after shearing. We're late with that as it is. See that the
men are well armed, but make no plans until I have been out and
looked the ground over."
"Very well. Suppose you have no idea where it was that these men
found you, or where you found them?" asked the foreman.
"No, sir. I was too busy to take notice."
"I should say so," laughed Mr. Simms.
"I'd better be moving then, if there's nothing else to be said,"
decided Luke.
"I think you had better spare the time to take these young men back
to their camp."
"I helped myself to one of your horses, Mr. Simms. The roan."
"Help yourself to anything that belongs to me, young man," answered
the banker. "You have done us a service that nothing we can do will
repay."
"The roan--you say you rode the roan?" asked Lame.
"Yes. He's a good one."
"Did he throw you?"
"He tried to," grinned Tad.
"Then I take back all I said about your being a tenderfoot. There
aren't three men on the ranch who can stick on his back when he
takes a notion that he doesn't want them to."
"Luke, I have asked these young men to join our outfit. When I did
so, I didn't know I was drawing a prize. They rather thought the
sheep business wouldn't suit them, having been out with a herd of
cows----"
"We shall be glad to accept your kind offer, Mr. Simms," interrupted
Tad. "I've changed my mind since I saw how the cattle men act toward
sheep."
"That's good."
"When do you wish us to join you?"
"Join to-day by all means, if you have no other plans. I am
surprised that the guide failed you. You will not need a guide if
you go with the outfit, and you can take as many side trips for
hunting, as you wish."
"That will be fine," agreed Ned Rector.
"Another idea occurs to me. My boy Philip has not been well, and if
you lads have no objection, I should like to send him along with the
herd. If you will keep an eye on him to see that he doesn't get into
trouble, I shall be deeply grateful to you."
"Of course we shall," answered Tad brightening. "How old is he?"
"Only twelve. He's quite a baby still. You will not have any
responsibility at all, you understand. He and Old Hicks the cook of
the outfit, are great friends, and Hicks will look after him most of
the time."
"We shall be glad to have him with us," glowed Ned.
"Perhaps you would prefer not to join until after this trouble is
over. It probably would be safer, come to think of it----"
"No. I think we should like to join right away," interrupted Tad
hastily. "Besides, we may be able to be of some service to you. We
can handle cattle, so I don't know why we should not be of use with
sheep. Don't you think so, Ned?"
"Yes, of course. That will just suit Chunky, too. That's what we
call our friend Stacy Brown," explained Ned, with a grin. "He's the
fat boy, you know."
"Was once. He's getting over it rapidly," laughed Tad. "His uncle
won't know him when he gets back to Chillicothe."
"You have had most of the fun and excitement thus far, Tad. Now the
rest of us want to have some too."
"If you call being shot at fun, then I have had more than my share."
"Most likely you will have all that's coming to you if this thing
comes off," grunted the foreman. "I'm going out now. Meet you here
in an hour. We'll ride back to the ranch. I'll either accompany you
to your own camp from there, or send some one else who knows the
way. I think I understand where your friends are located. I'm going
to get a case of shells at the hardware store, Mr. Sirnms."
"That's the idea. Better take out some more guns while you are about
it. You know what to buy."
At the appointed time Larue presented himself at the bank,
announcing himself as ready for the ride. The banker again renewed
his expressions of appreciation of all that Tad Butler had done for
him, after which they swung into their saddles and started off on
their long ride over the plains.
There was plenty of excitement before the Pony Riders. Their few
weeks with the herd were to be more eventful, even, than had been
their journey with the cattle over the plains of Texas.
CHAPTER XIII
PREPARING FOR AN ATTACK
It was late on the following forenoon when the Pony Rider Boys
descended on the Simms ranch, bag and baggage. Larue had relieved
one of the herders and sent him back with Tad Butler and Ned Rector,
to bring up the rest of the party.
The parlor tent they found had been too badly damaged to be worth
carrying along, so they left it where the bear had wrecked it.
"Heard anything from the herd?" was Tad's first question as
Mr. Simms came out to greet them.
"We certainly have. They are within three miles of here now. I have
given orders to keep them clear of the ranch, and the herders are at
work deflecting them to the northward. We shall bed them down about
five miles from here to-night. To-morrow we will push on slowly for
the grass regions up the state. I have arranged for you to remain at
the ranch to-night."
"Oh, no. We prefer to go out and join the herd," objected Tad.
"We most certainly do," added Ned. "That's what we are here for."
"Have you heard anything new?" asked Tad, in a low voice, leaning
from his saddle.
"Yes. I heard that the cowmen all through here are stirred up. It
isn't any one man or set of men that's doing it. We have received
threats from different sources if we allow the sheep to stray from
our own ranch," answered Mr. Simms, with serious face.
"And you have decided----?"
"To go on."
"Hello, is this your son, Philip?" asked Tad, as a slender,
pale-faced boy came toward them.
"Yes, this is Phil. Come here, Phil and meet my young friends."
The Pony Rider Boys took to the lad at once. He was a manly little
fellow, but delicate to the point of being fragile, the lad having
only recently recovered from a serious attack of typhoid fever.
"You see what the outdoor life has done for these young gentlemen,
Phil," said Mr. Simms. "I shall expect you to come back this fall,
looking every bit as well as they do now. All get ready for
dinner. It will be served in a few moments. Later in the day, we
shall move out on the range. Phil, have you packed up your things?"
"Yes, sir. I'm all ready."
The noon meal was a jolly affair. The herders cooked their own meals
out on the range, and after this the boys would eat with them. But
to-day they were invited guests in the home of the rancher and
hanker. In the meantime Professor Zepplin and Mr. Simms had become
interested in each other and already were looking forward to the
next few days on the range together, with keen pleasure.
The start was made shortly after three o'clock, the party reaching
their destination well before sundown.
The Pony Riders uttered a shout as they descried the white canvas
top of the chuck wagon. It was a familiar sight to them. On beyond
that was a perfect sea of white backs and bobbing heads, where the
great herd was grazing contentedly after its long journey to the
free grass of Montana. The boys had never seen anything like it.
The sheep dogs, too, were a source of never-ending interest. The
boys watched the intelligent animals, as of their own accord they
rounded up a bunch here and there that they had observed straying
from the main herd, working the sheep back to their fellows quietly
and without in the least appearing to disturb them.
"What kind of sheep is that over there?" asked Chunky, pointing.
"That's no sheep. That's Billy," answered Mr. Simms.
"Who's he?"
"The goat. You've no doubt heard of a bell wether?"
"I have," spoke up Tad.
"That's what Billy is. He leads the sheep. They will follow a leader
almost anywhere. In crossing a stream Billy wades in without the
least hesitation and they cross right over after him. Otherwise we
should have great difficulty in getting them over."
"Oh, yes, I know a goat. Had one once," replied Stacy. "Does he
butt?"
"Sometimes. His temper is not what might be called angelic. I
suspect the boys have been teasing him pretty well. However, you
want to look out for some of those rams. They are ugly and they can
easily knock a man down. If you are up early in the morning you will
see them at play--you will see what they can do with their tough
heads."
"I forgot to tell you," said Larue in a low voice, "that some of the
men report having encountered Indians during the day."
"That's nothing new. There are plenty of them around here," laughed
the banker.
"They think they were Blackfeet. The reds were so far away, however,
that the men could not make certain."
"Off the reservation again, eh? Probably think they can pick up a
few sheep. Well, look out for them. If you catch them at any shines
just shoot to scare. Don't hit them. We don't want any Government
inquiry. I have suspected for a long time that some of them were
hiding in the Rosebuds and that the Crow Indians were in league with
them. It's only the bad Indians who stray from their reservations,
you see," explained Mr. Simms. "We have to be on the lookout for
these roving bands all the time or they'd steal all we have."
"I should think you would complain to the Indian agencies,"
suggested the Professor,
"Doesn't pay. They would take it out of us in a worse way,
perhaps. They're a revengeful gang."
One by one the herders came in with their dogs and flocks, rounding
the sheep in for the night, having chosen for the purpose a slight
depression in the plain. For the first time, the boys had an
opportunity to meet the ranchers and compare them with the cattle
men they tad known in Texas. They were a hardy lot, taciturn and
solemn-faced. The most silent man in the bunch, was Noisy Cooper,
who scarcely ever spoke a word unless forced to do so by an
insistent question. Bat Coyne had been a cattle man down in Texas,
while Mary Johnson --so called because of his pink and white
complexion, which no amount of sun or wind could tarnish--was said
to have come from the East. He had left there for reasons best known
to himself, working on sheep ever since.
It was Old Hicks, however, who interested Tad most. Hicks's first
words after being introduced were in apology for being cook on a
sheep ranch.
He was limping about, flourishing a frying-pan to accentuate his
protests.
"I'm a cowpuncher, I am. Wish I'd never joined this mutton outfit,"
he growled.
"Then why did you?" asked Tad, smiling broadly.
"Why? I joined because I could get more pay. That's why. What you
suppose I joined for?"
"I thought perhaps you preferred sheep," answered the lad meekly.
"Like them --like mutton?" snarled Old Hicks, hurling his frying-pan
angrily into the chuck wagon. "Between sheep and had Injuns, give me
the Injun every time. Why, every time I have to cook one it makes me
sick; it does."
"Indians? Do you cook Indians?" asked Stacy, who had been an
interested listener to the conversation.
"Wha--wha--cook Indians? No! I cook mutton. What do you take me
for?"
"I--I--I didn't know," muttered Stacy meekly. "Thought I heard you
say you did."
"You got another think coming," growled the cook, limping
away. "Come over here and take a sniff at this kettle?" he called,
turning back to Tad.
The lad did so.
"Smells fine, doesn't it?"
"I think so. What is it, mutton?"
"Boiled mutton. I kin smell the wool. Bah."
"Do you cook them with the wool on?" asked Chunky, edging nearer the
kettle.
"See here, young man. This here is a bad country to ask fool
questions in. Use your eyes and ears. Give your tongue a rest. It'll
stop on you some day."
Chunky retired somewhat crestfallen, and from that moment on he kept
aloof from the irascible cook, whom he held in wholesome awe.
"Come and get it!" bellowed Old Hicks, who, after prodding about the
interior of the kettle with a sharp stick for some time, decided
that the hated mutton was ready to be served.
The Pony Riders did not share Hicks's repugnance to mutton. They
helped themselves liberally, and even Phil Simms went so far as to
pass his plate for a second helping. By the time the meal had been
finished twilight was upon them.
The boys, when Professor Zepplin called their attention to the
lateness of the hour, made haste to pitch their tents, while
Mr. Simms, with Phil and the sheepmen, looked on approvingly.
"You boys go at it like troopers," he smiled. "You'll have to pitch
your own, too, after to-day, Philip."
"We'll help him," chorused the boys. "We've got to do something to
earn our board," said Ned.
"If we eat all the time the way we have tonight, there won't be many
sheep left to graze by the time we've finished the trip," laughed
Walter.
"Somebody has to eat the cook's share," interrupted Larue. "What I
came over here to ask was whether you boys were intending to take
your turns at herding for the next few nights?"
"Of course we are," they answered in one voice. "That's what we are
up here for, "added Tad.
"Got any guns?"
"Rifles. Fortunately, they were not in the tent that was set afire
by the bear, so they are all right," replied Tad. "However, I'll
have to ask the Professor about taking them out. I do not think he
will care to have us do so."
"I'll give you each a revolver," announced the foreman.
"Luke, never mind the guns. The boys will do their part by keeping
guard. We don't want them to be mixed up in any trouble that may
follow. If there is any shooting to be done, we can take care of
that, I guess," said Mr. Simms, with a grim smile.
"Yes, I could not think of permitting it," said the Professor
firmly; hence it was decided that the lads should go on as they had
been doing, leaving the sterner work to those whose business it was
to attend to it.
After the darkness had settled over the camp, the boys observed that
there were more men present than had been the case when they had
their supper.
Mr. Simms explained that they were some men he had sent for to help
protect the herd. He had ordered them to report after dark, so that
the trouble-makers might know nothing about the increased force. The
rancher was determined to teach the cattle men of the free-grass
range a lesson they would not soon forget.
"What do you wish us to do?" asked Walter. "We are anxious to get
busy."
"I think two of you had better go out for the first half of the
night; the other two for the latter half."
"Do we take our ponies?" asked Tad.
"Yes. All of us will ride, excepting the few men who are regularly
on guard with the sheep. But you will not move around much. Make no
noise and be watchful. That is all we can do."
It was decided that Ned and Walter should take the early trick; Tad
and Stacy Brown going out after midnight.
The herders were already attending to their duties. And now
Mr. Simms and the foreman having given their orders, the reserve
force moved out one at a time until all had disappeared in the
darkness. A signal had been agreed upon, so that they might
recognize each other in the dark.
The rancher had thrown out his reserve force in the shape of a
picket line, located some distance out from the herd and covering a
circle something more than a mile in diameter. This was done so that
in case of an attack they would have an opportunity to drive off
their enemy without great danger to the herd. The battle, more than
likely, would be ended before the cowmen could get near enough to
the sheep to inflict any damage.
The two boys left camp rather closer together than had the others,
as they were to keep in touch during their watch.
In a short time the guards were all placed and a great silence
settled over the scene, broken only now and then by the bleating of
a lamb that had lost its mother in the darkness.
CHAPTER XIV
BUNTED BY A MERINO RAM
The Simms outfit breathed a sigh of relief when daylight came
again. There had been nothing more disturbing than Stacy Brown's
yawns in the early part of the night.
So persistent had been these that the Professor and Mr. Simms found
themselves yawning in sympathy. Old Hicks, who was sitting up to
prepare hot coffee for any of the sheepmen who might come in, was
affected in a like manner. Had it not been for the presence of the
owner of the herd Hicks might have adopted heroic measures to put a
stop to Stacy's yawns. As it was, he threatened all sorts of dire
things. At breakfast time the cook seemed to be in a far worse humor
than ever when he gave the breakfast call.
"Come and get it. And I hope it chokes you!" he bellowed, voicing
his displeasure at everything and everybody in general.
Tad rode in as fresh as if he had not had a sleepless vigil. His
rest of late had been more or less irregular, but it seemed to have
not the slightest effect either on his spirits or his appetite.
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