Books: The Pony Rider Boys in Montana
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Frank Gee Patchin >> The Pony Rider Boys in Montana
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"Good night," he breathed. "I'll be on the spot if anything occurs."
"I know that," answered the foreman. In an instant Luke had been
swallowed up in the great shadow and not even the hoof beats of his
pony were audible to the listening ears of the boy.
Tad looked about him inquiringly. As his eyes became more used to
the darkness he found himself able to make out objects about him,
though the darkness distorted them into strange shapes.
"I think I'll get under that tree," he decided. "No one can see me
there. They'd pick me out here in a minute. The cowboys have eyes as
well as ears. I know that, for I've lived with them."
The lad tightened on the reins ever so little, and the pony pricking
up its ears moved away with scarcely a sound, as if realizing that
extreme caution were expected of it.
They pulled up under the shadow of the tree. There, Tad found that
he could see what lay about him even better than before.
He patted Pink-eye on the neck and a swish of the animal's tail told
him that the little attention was appreciated.
"Good boy," soothed the lad, running his fingers through the mane,
straightening out a kink here and there.
He had dropped the reins as he finished with the mane, and
Pink-eye's head began to droop until his nose was almost on the
ground. He had settled himself for the long vigil. Perhaps he would
go to sleep in a few moments. The rider hoped he would, for then
there would be no movement that a stranger might hear.
It was a lonesome post. There was scarcely a sound, though now and
then a bird twittered somewhere in the foliage and once he beard the
mournful hoot of an owl far away to his left.
"I wonder if that could have been a signal, or was it a real bird,"
whispered Tad to himself. "I have heard of a certain band of outlaws
that always used the hoot of the owl as their signal to each other."
After an interval of perhaps a minute another owl wailed out its
weird cry off to his right.
Tad Butler pricked up his ears.
"Well, if it isn't a signal, those owls are holding a regular
wireless conversation. Hark!"
Far back in the foothills there sounded another similar call.
Tad Butler was sure, by this time, that something was going on that
would bear watching.
For a long time he heard nothing more, and was beginning to think
that perhaps he had drawn on his imagination too far. It might be
owls after all.
"I wonder if the others heard that, too? Maybe they know better than
I what it means, if it means anything at all. I wish Mr. Larue would
happen along now. I'd like to tell him what I think."
He knew, however, that the foreman, like himself was stationed
somewhere off there in the blackness, sitting on his pony as
immovable as a statue, his straining eyes peering into the night,
his ears keyed to catch the slightest sound.
A gentle breeze rippled over the trees, stirring the foliage into a
soft murmur. Then the breeze passed on and silence once more settled
over the scene.
Tad sighed. Even a little wind was a welcome break in the
monotony. He was not afraid, but his nerves were on edge by this
time, and Tad made no attempt to deny it.
Something snapped to the left of him. The sound was as if some one
had stepped on a dry branch which had crumpled under his weight.
The lad was all attention instantly.
"There certainly is something over there," he whispered. "It may be
a man, but I'll bet it's a bear or some other animal. If it's a
bear, first thing I know Pink-eye will bolt and then I'll be in a
fix."
Tad cautiously gathered up the reins, using care not to disturb the
pony, for it was all important that the animal remain absolutely
quiet just now.
But, though the boy listened with straining ears, there was no
repetition of the sound and this led him to believe that it had been
an animal, which perhaps had scented them and was stalking him
already.
It was not a comforting thought. Yet Tad never moved. He sat in his
saddle rigidly, every nerve and muscle tense. He was determined to
be calm no matter what happened.
The lad's head was thrown slightly forward, his chin protruding
stubbornly, and as he listened there was borne to his ears another
sound. It was as if something was approaching with a soft tread. He
could hear it distinctly.
"Whatever that thing is, it has four feet," decided the lad
quickly. "It's not a man, that is sure."
Instinctively he permitted his left hand to drop to the pommel of
the saddle so that he might not be unseated in case Pink-eye should
take sudden alarm and leap to one side. The reins were lightly
bunched in the left, Tad's right hanging idly at his side.
The footsteps became more and more pronounced, Tad's curiosity
increasing in proportion.
He fully expected to see a bear lumber from the shadows at any
second now. If this happened he did not know what he should do. Of
course he could ride away, but in doing so he might alarm the
watching sheepmen and upset all their plans.
The noise after approaching for some moments, suddenly ceased. Tad's
eyes were fairly boring into the shadows. All at once the particular
shadow at which he was looking moved.
Tad started violently.
The shadow moved forward a few steps, then halted.
It was a man on horseback. He had ridden right out from the
foothills.
"It's here," whispered Tad Butler to himself. The rider moved up a
few steps again, this time halting within a few feet of the watching
boy.
Tad's hand cautiously stole down to his lariat. He brought it up at
arm's length, held it for one brief moment then swung it over his
head.
CHAPTER XIX
A CLEVER CAPTURE
His plan had been conceived in a flash and executed almost as
quickly.
The rawhide rope squirmed through the air. He could not be sure of
his aim in the darkness, but the stranger was so close that Tad did
not believe he could miss. He knew that if he did, he would find
himself in a serious predicament.
He heard a sudden startled exclamation.
At that instant, Pink-eye, alarmed by the unusual movement on his
back, awakened and leaped lightly to one side.
"I've got him," breathed the boy, feeling the line draw tight under
his hand. "I've caught a man I----"
Pink-eye had discovered the presence of strangers now and with a
snort he changed his position by again leaping to one side. Tad
heard the man strike the ground with a grunt. He took a turn of the
lariat around the saddle pommel, drawing it taut.
"Who are you!" demanded the lad.
A snarl of rage and a struggle over there on the ground was his only
answer.
"Get up, if you don't want to be dragged. If you make a loud noise
it will be the worse for you," announced the boy sternly.
He clucked to the pony, which started forward suddenly, throwing a
strain upon the rope.
"Steady, Pink-eye. We don't want to hurt him," he cautioned, slowing
the animal down to almost a walk.
"Are you on your feet back there?"
"Y-y-y-yes."
There came a sharp jerk on the line. The boy knew that the man he
had roped, pinioning his arms to his side had managed to get his
hands up and grasped the line. In a moment he would free himself.
Tad pressed the rowels of his spurs against Pink-eye's sides. The
animal sprang forward, but the boy quickly checked him, pulling him
down into a jog trot that was not beyond the endurance of a man to
follow for a short distance.
"Remember if you allow yourself to fall down I'll drag you the rest
of the way in," warned Tad Butler. "I won't hurt you if you behave
yourself."
"Le--le--let me go. I--I--I--I--aint't done n-n-nothing."
"We'll decide that when I get you back to camp," answered Tad. "And
don't let me hear you raising your voice again or I'll put spurs to
the pony. Do you understand?"
"Y-y-y-e-s."
On the soft ground the footfalls of the pony made no sound that
could be heard any distance away. On ahead of him the lad saw the
dim light of a lantern, which he knew was at the camp and his heart
leaped exultantly at the thought of what he had accomplished. He
wondered if the others or any of them had done as well.
"Won't Mr. Simms be surprised?" he glowed.
"Wait, I--I--I'm going to drop," came a voice from behind him. It
sounded far away and indistinct.
"You'd better not unless you want to go the rest of the way lying on
your back," called back the lad. However, he slackened the speed of
his pony a little, thinking that perhaps his prisoner might be in
distress. Tad was too tender hearted to cause another to suffer,
even if it were an enemy.
The lad kept his left hand on the rope. In this way he was able to
judge how well the man was following. Now and then a violent jerk
told Tad that he was experimenting to see if he could not get
away. The fellow might have braced his feet and possibly snapped the
line, but he evidently feared to do this lest he be thrown on his
face and dragged that way, for the noose of the lariat had, by this
time, so tightened about his body as to bind his arms tightly to his
side.
Tad uttered a warning whistle.
Instantly he noted figures moving about the camp. His call had been
heard. The camp-fire was stirred to give more light, and as its
embers flared up, Tad Butler and his prisoner galloped in.
At first they did not observe that he had a man in tow.
Old Hicks hobbled forward with a growl and a demand to know what the
row was about.
"What is it, boy? What is it? Are they coming!" exclaimed Mr. Simms,
running toward him.
"I've got a man. I can't stop. Grab him!" cried Tad in an excited,
triumphant tone.
Mr. Simms saw. The others observed at the same time. They made a
concerted rush for the lad's prisoner.
"Stop!" commanded the rancher.
Tad drew up instantly. As he did so three of them grabbed the man at
the other end of the lariat, throwing him on the ground flat on his
back.
"All right?" sang back Tad.
"Yes."
The boy unwound the rope from his saddle pommel and casting the end
from him, rode back and dismounted. Yes, he had caught a cowman, but
the fellow sullenly refused to answer a question that was put to
him.
The prisoner was glaring up at him with eyes so full of malignant
hate that Tad instinctively shrank back.
"Know him!" asked Mr. Simms sharply.
"Not by name. He's one of the men I saw over at the Corners. He was
the worst one of the lot, except the boy they called Bob."
No amount of questioning, however, would draw the fellow out. They
had bound him hand and foot and straightened up to view their work.
"There's no use in wasting time," decided Mr. Simms. "Drag him over
to my tent and throw him in. Did you hear anybody besides this man"
Tad told him about the owl calls. The rancher pondered a few
seconds.
"That sounds to me more like an Indian trick. But I am satisfied we
are going to be attacked tonight. You had better go back to your
post. Can you find the way?"
"Yes, I think so," answered the lad.
"Boy, you've done a great piece of work. I'll talk with you about
it when we have more time. I must hurry out and find Luke. The
rest of you stick by the camp until you know that the cowmen are
here; then sail in. There'll likely be some shooting."
"Any further instructions?" asked Tad, bunching the reins in his
hand preparatory to mounting.
"Nothing. That is, unless you find you can rope some more of these
cayuses. I'd like to have them all tied up here for a while. I've
got a few things to say to them. They'd have to listen whether they
wanted to or not if they were all in the same fix that fellow is,"
he added with a short, mirthless laugh.
Tad swung himself into the saddle, first having coiled his rope and
hung it in its place.
"Good-bye," he sang out, starting out at a gallop and disappearing
in the night.
As Tad drew near the scene of his recent experience, he slowed the
pony down to a walk, moving on with extreme caution. He did not want
to fall into the trap that the cowboy had only a short time before.
After groping about in the darkness some time, he finally came upon
the very tree that had sheltered him before.
Tad uttered a low exclamation of satisfaction, once more taking up
his position under its spreading branches. He had been there but a
short time when the foreman rode up, giving a low whistle so that
the boy would know who it was.
"Anything develop?"
"Yes."
"What?"
Tad told him briefly of the capture of the cowboy.
"Good boy," glowed Luke, reaching over and slapping Tad on the back
approvingly. "I guess we made no mistake in giving you this
post. But there's not likely to be any more of them come through
this way. I am going to send you down nearer the center. We are
going to have all the fun we want before morning. So I wish you
would move down nearer the herd. When the racket begins, if it does,
we shall need all the sheepmen to help drive off the raiders. You
will relieve one of them and look after the sheep. I have told your
friend Ned the same thing. He's down there now."
"Where are the sheep?"
"Head just a little to your left and ride straight, on till you come
up with them. But be sure to give the whistle now and then so our
men will know who you are if they chance to hear you coming. Did
anybody know the fellow you roped?"
"No. I saw him at the store yesterday, though."
"Guess you've made no mistake then. Well, so long."
Tad missed his way in the darkness, and had roamed about for some
time before finally coming up with the herd. Even then he was at a
part of the line where there seemed to he no one on guard.
He whistled and waited. After a little the signal was answered It
was then only a matter of a few moments before he had joined the
herder and delivered his message.
The man rode away to take up his new position and Tad settled down
to tending sheep. There was little for him to do, the animals being
sound asleep, but he rather enjoyed the relief from the strain that
he had been under while watching for intruders off yonder under the
tree.
Dismounting, the boy sat down on the ground, having stripped the
reins over the pony's neck so that he could keep them in his
hand. Pinkeye nibbled at the grass a few seconds. It did not seem to
satisfy the animal, for the sheep had worked it pretty well down
ahead of him. So Pink-eye went to sleep, and Tad found himself
nodding so persistently that he forced himself to get up and walk
back and forth a few paces each way.
"I am getting to be as much of a sleepy head as Chunky is," he
smiled. "That goat ride was the funniest thing I ever saw. I wonder
where Billy took himself to. He's a wise goat. I actually believe he
had more fun out of putting the camp to the bad than the rest of us
experienced in watching him."
Pink-eye woke up and rubbed his nose against the boy's coat sleeve.
A shrill whistle trilled out off to the west. It was followed by
another and another, until the air seemed full of them.
Tad paused abruptly in his walk and listened.
A pistol spat viciously. He caught the flash faintly in the
distance.
Tad threw the reins over Pink-eye's neck and vaulted into the
saddle. Boy and pony were both wide awake now.
CHAPTER XX
THRILLING RESCUE OF THE RANCHER
They're here," breathed the lad. "I wonder what's going to happen."
As if in answer to his question, a volley of pistol shots sounded to
the west of him. Almost instantly following, guns began to pop to
the north and south.
Shouts and yells sounded everywhere.
Startled, half a hundred sheep near him, scrambled to their feet.
"W-h-o-e-e-e," soothed Tad, turning toward them as he remembered
that he had a duty to perform. "Come now, Pink-eye, never mind the
shooting. Just you and I attend to our business. That's what we've
got to do."
Yet Tad regretted that he was not over there in the thick of the
fight. He gave a long whistle, hoping to find some one near him. The
whistle was not answered, therefore he concluded that he was alone
on that side of the herd. But where was Ned? He should be somewhere
near by.
By this time the restless herd required his whole attention. Tad
galloped up and down the line, speaking soothing words to the
frightened sheep, whistling and trying to sing.
"Here, Barker," he cried, discovering that he was not alone in his
efforts. One of the sheep dogs was trotting along by his side,
uttering little encouraging yelps to assist in keeping the lines
well formed. "That's a good dog. I guess you and I can handle this
outfit, can't we, Barker?"
Barker barked as if in approval of the sentiment.
Tad called the animal to him and sent him back the other way, while
he pressed on. The noise of the conflict seemed to be up that way
and it was at that end that there would be more likelihood of
disturbance to the sheep, he thought, urging his pony along a little
faster.
All at once guns began to flash ahead of him.
"I believe they are in the flock already," he cried, putting spurs
to Pink-eye and dashing on at top speed. "Yes, they are shooting
into the flock. I can tell by the flashes of their guns. Oh, if I
had a gun!"
The thought that they were slaughtering the innocent animals roused
all the fighting blood in Tad Butler's nature.
But what could he, single-handed and unarmed, expect to do to stop
the ruthless slaughter?
>From the opposite direction, he heard a body of horsemen bearing
down on the sheep killers.
In a moment more they too began to shoot. He noted quickly, however,
that this latter body of men were not shooting down. They were
shooting over the heads of the herd at the men who were killing the
stock.
"Good! Good! Give it to them!" fairly screamed the lad, rising in
his stirrups, waving his hat and continuing his words of
encouragement to the men of Mr. Simms's outfit. What mattered it
whether they could hear him or not? A rattling fire was running
along both lines of men. But the sheep killers, now content to ride
down the sheep, were shooting back at their assailants.
"Somebody will be killed, I know," cried Tad. "Who's there?" he
roared, as he heard the hoof beats of a running pony behind
him.
"It's me, Chunky," came the answer.
"Get out of here, boy. You will be killed."
"I can't. I'm afraid to stay back there in the camp all alone.
Hicks has gone too and----"
"Then get back down the line and help me to hold these sheep. Don't
give anyone a chance to say a Pony Rider Boy is afraid of anything.
How'd you like to be over there where those guns are going off?
Now, brace up. Look cheerful and tend to those sheep the same as
Barker is doing."
Thus admonished, Stacy did brace up.
"All right," he said, pulling himself together and turning his pony
about.
In the meantime the shouting had increased in volume and the
shooting was more rapid. Tad had all he could do to hold the sheep
in place. He knew that up above him they were rushing wildly here
and there, and the wave of terror rolled over those in his immediate
vicinity.
"They're beating them back!" cried the boy. "The cowboys are giving
way. Hooray!"
This proved to be the case. The defense of the sheepmen was a
surprise to the cowboys, where they had thought to surprise the
sheep herders and stampede the herd before any opposition was
offered.
With a yell of triumph the forces under Mr. Simms rode right over
the scurrying sheep in their effort to drive the cowmen off.
At that moment the clouds parted and the full moon shone out,
lighting up the scene brightly. Tad gazed in awe on the rushing
ponies as he pulled his own to a stop. The cowmen, too, seemed to
take courage from the moonlight. Some had started to retreat. These
whirled about and returned to the charge.
"Oh, there goes Mr. Simms!" cried the boy.
He saw the rancher waver in the saddle, throw up his hands and slip
sideways with head and arms hanging down.
"He's shot! He's shot! They don't see him!" shouted Tad. He cried
out at the top of his voice to attract the attention of the
ranchers, but in the uproar, no one heard him. His voice in that mad
melee was a puny thing.
Fortunately the rancher's feet still clung to the stirrups, but his
head was hanging so low that it appeared to be bumping along the
ground with every leap of his pony, which was headed straight for
the lines of the enemy.
"Oh, why won't they see him!" groaned the lad. "I can't stand it to
sit here doing nothing and see a man lose his life that way--if he's
not dead already."
Tad, acting upon a sudden resolve, shook out his reins, gave the
pony a quick pressure with the spurs.
"Hi-yi!" he snapped.
Pink-eye leaped forward, with Tad urging him to renewed efforts by
sharp slaps on the animal's thigh. The boy was not shouting now. He
did not wish to attract attention to himself if it could be
avoided. In order to head off the rancher's pony, Tad was compelled
to follow an oblique direction which, if he continued it, would land
him fairly in the center of the enemy's lines.
"I must beat him out. It's the only way I can do anything. Go,
Pink-eye! Go!" And
Pink-eye did go as he had never gone before since Tad Butler had
owned him.
Slowly but surely he was heading off the other horse. They saw him
now and a few scattering shots were sent in his direction, but the
lad heeded them no more than had they been rain drops. His mind was
too fully absorbed with the task he had set for himself.
At last he and the rancher's pony were converging on a single
point. Mr. Simms's pony reached it first with Tad only a few feet
away. They were fairly between the lines now and bullets were flying
about them. Tad could hear their whut! whut! as they sped past him.
He had lost the race. But there still remained one more
resource. His rope was in its place. Tad slipped it from the saddle
horn and made a quick reach for the rancher.
He groaned when he saw that he had missed his aim.
Yet, instead of giving up the battle, the lad was more determined
than ever to rescue the owner of the herd that he had cast his
fortunes with. The rowels were dug into the sides of the pony with a
firmer pressure than before, and Tad began rapidly to haul in the
lariat with one hand. When once he felt the knot at his finger tips
he began whirling the loop over his head, leaning well forward in
his saddle, riding at a tremendous pace on the fleet-footed little
pony.
He cast. This time the loop fell true.
"Steady! steady! Pink-eye," he cautioned, taking a quick turn about
the pommel. To stop too suddenly might throw the other pony on its
side and crush the rancher.
The lariat had dropped over the other animal's neck and was quickly
drawn down. Pinkeye stopped, braced himself as he felt his fellow
slowing down under the pressure of the loop on his neck.
"Whoa!" commanded Tad sharply, leaping from the saddle and taking up
on the lariat as fast as he could.
A shrill yell from the cowmen told him they would be upon him in a
moment. They understood now what he was trying to do.
Tad worked with feverish haste to release Mr. Simms from the
stirrups. Yet when he had finally accomplished this, his work was
not yet half done. He did not know whether the rancher was dead or
alive, nor had he the time to satisfy himself on this point.
Grasping Mr. Simms under the arms, the lad dragged him over to
Pink-eye, and with a strength born of the excitement of the moment,
succeeded in throwing the rancher's body over the back of his own
pony.
The lad was panting in short, quick breaths. He had barely enough
strength left to crawl on Pink-eye's back. Once there, he fairly
fell across Mr. Simms's body, clinging to it with one hand, the
other gripped on the pommel.
Pink-eye seemed to know what was expected of him, for straightway he
got under motion, trotting off toward the lines of the sheepmen.
The cowboys turned their guns on the little outfit, but the sheepmen
now discovering what was going on, gave a mighty yell and swept down
on their enemy.
The cowboys gave way before the resistless rush, and whirling their
ponies, raced for the foothills, with the pursuers shooting and
yelling as they lashed and spurred their ponies after them.
Tad was almost overwhelmed as the sheepmen rushed by him. But he had
saved Mr. Simms and he did not care if the jostling ponies of his
friends had almost run him down in their mad rush.
The lad now gaining in strength, pulled himself to a sitting posture
and hurried Pink-eye along at a little faster gait. They were headed
for the camp, which they reached in a few minutes.
Tenderly the lad lifted the rancher from the saddle, stretching him
out on the grass. His first care was to determine whether the man
were alive or dead.
"He's alive!" cried Tad exultingly. "He's only stunned."
A bullet had grazed the rancher's head, ploughing a little furrow as
it passed, but there was nothing more. Had Tad not reached him in
time no doubt he would have been killed.
Getting water from the chuck wagon, Tad bathed the wound and dashed
water into the rancher's face until signs of returning consciousness
were evident. After a little while Mr. Simms opened his eyes and
asked what had happened.
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