CHAPTER IX
The Fairview boys slept hard and long on that first night they spent at the ranch, and when they awoke the next morning the sun was high in the heavens.
"Jiminy!" exclaimed George, looking at his watch. "It's after ten o'clock. I don't know what they'll think of us keeping breakfast waiting so long."
The rest were speedily on their feet, and after a hurried wash and combing they dressed and hastened down to the main floor.
Mrs. Claxton met them with a smiling face.
"Don't say a word," she protested, as they tried to apologize for being so late. "I know how tired you poor boys must be and I made up my mind not to call you if you slept all day. But now that you are down I'll have breakfast on the table for you before you can turn around."
It was not long before she summoned them to the dining-room.
"Mr. Claxton and I had our breakfast some hours ago," said their hostess. "He's down at the bunk-house now and he left word that you were to come down and find him as soon as you were through your meal. But there's plenty of time, so don't hurry."
They ate till they could eat no more, and then took their hats and went out into the glorious Summer morning. They turned their steps toward the bunk-house, which Mrs. Claxton pointed out to them from the porch.
It was a long, low structure with a long table in the middle at which the men ate their meals. Around the sides were twenty or more bunks that furnished sleeping quarters. Everything about the place was simple and plain but scrupulously clean.
Most of the men had scattered long ago to their work about the ranch. The only ones in sight were Hank Thompson, their driver of the day before, who smiled in a friendly way at them as they passed, and a powerful, wiry man to whom Mr. Claxton was talking just outside the door of the bunk-house.
The ranch owner greeted them cordially and turned to the man with whom he had been talking.
"These are the young lads from the East I was telling you we expected, Bill," he said. "Boys, this is my foreman, Mr. Bixby."
The boys acknowledged the introduction, and Bill took the hand of each and squeezed it cordially in his great paw.
"I shore am glad to meet you youngsters," he grinned. "Mr. Claxton has told me to see thet you hev a good time while you're out here an' I'm goin' to do my best to give it to you."
The boys thanked him heartily.
"To begin with," said Mr. Claxton, "how would you boys like to have horses of your own to ride while you're here?" The boys gasped with delight, and Mr. Claxton smiled.
"Tell Hank to go down to the corral and bring the horses up here," he directed his foreman. "Have you boys ever had any experience in riding before?" he asked, when the foreman had gone to execute his mission.
They had to confess that outside of an occasional ride on one of the sedate old horses of Fairview that could hardly get up enough spirit to break into a trot, they had had no experience.
"I thought as much," said Mr. Claxton, "and for that reason I've had Bill pick out horses that were gentle and thoroughly broken. I feel that I'm responsible to your parents to see that you take no risks. You can practise on these, and after you've learned to ride well, I may let you have some that are younger and friskier."
In a few minutes Hank came up, leading four horses by ropes. They were good looking and strong limbed and they had been groomed until their coats shone like satin. They were not of the bucking-broncho type, but steady and reliable.
From the bunk-house Hank brought four saddles and the bridles and fitted them into place. Then he gave a lift to each of the boys and they settled on the horses' backs.
"Now, Hank," directed Mr. Claxton, "you've got nothing else to do this morning but teach these lads how to ride. Go slow at first and show them all there is to know about managing a horse. Nobody knows more about that than you do."
Hank grinned at the compliment.
"Jest leave it to me, boss," he said. "I'll make regular hoss wranglers outen these kids if they stay here long enough."
There was a perfectly level space of several hundred yards in front of the ranch buildings, and here Hank instructed his pupils for the next two hours. He taught them how to sway with the motion of their mounts, how to guide them by the pressure of their knees as well as with the bit, how to hold the reins loosely yet firmly, and how to pat and talk to the horses until they won their confidence and affection.
The boys were apt pupils and paid the closest attention to his teachings, so that when the dinner gong sounded Hank was able to report to his employer that they had made very satisfactory progress.
They practised a little that afternoon also, though Mr. Claxton would not let them keep at it too long on the first day. They were frightfully lame and sore that night from the saddle and found it difficult to sleep. But this wore away after the first day, and in two or three days more they were able to ride about at a good degree of speed and Hank announced that they would "do."
That first week at the ranch was one of unalloyed delight for the Fairview boys. They hobnobbed with the cowboys, who they found were a rough but friendly lot, accompanied them on their rounds, watched them as they roped and branded, gasped with delight as they saw the way they tamed and rode the bucking bronchos in the corral, and soon were familiar with all the mysteries of ranch life that up to now had been a sealed book to them.
One cloudy morning, George proposed that they should go fishing in a stream that ran about five miles distant from the ranch house.
"You won't mind if we do, will you, Mrs. Claxton?" asked George.
"We'll bring you home a great big mess of fish for supper," said Bob, coaxingly.
"I know there are lots of bullheads and catfish there," remarked Sammy, "and I shouldn't wonder, too, if there were perch and pickerel."
"You boys have got such a wheedling way with you that I can't refuse you anything," laughed Mrs. Claxton. "I guess it will be all right for you to go, but you must be sure to get home before dark. I'll have Tom put up a nice lunch for you."
They thanked her and gaily made their preparations. They had not brought reels or rods with them from home, but it was easy enough to rig up a sufficient number of lines and hooks. They dug up a big can of bait and after a hearty breakfast mounted their horses and rode off.
They raced their horses, laughed and shouted, and acted altogether like a party of young maniacs. The five miles were covered almost before they knew it, and they found themselves on the border of the little river they sought.
It was a small stream not more than thirty feet wide at any place and narrowing sometimes to ten. It ranged in depth from two feet to five. The almost impossibility of being drowned in it was one of the reasons that had led Mrs. Claxton to let them go so readily.
"I wonder what the name of this river is," said Frank, as they leaped from their horses' backs and led them to near-by trees to tie them.
"Bill said it didn't have any regular name," replied Bob.
"In that case we'll name it ourselves," grinned George.
"I'll tell you what we'll do," suggested Sammy. "The one that catches the first fish will have the right to name the river."
"That's a go," agreed Bob, "and I'm going to be the one."
"Don't crow too soon," warned Frank. "I don't see any medals on you as a fisherman."
"If you fellows don't stop your chinning, you'll scare the fish away and none of us will be able to catch anything," warned George.
"And then the poor old river will have to go without a name a little longer," mocked the irrepressible Sammy.
George tried to squelch him with a look but with no success.
"Here goes for the first fish," murmured Bob in a half whisper, as he baited his line and threw it into the stream.
The others had soon followed his example and a hush fell on the group as they settled down for business.
For a few minutes there was not even a nibble. Then Frank's line was almost jerked out of his hand.
He pulled in excitedly and had almost brought his catch to shore when the line suddenly broke and Frank fell over on his back.
He gave a howl of vexation as his line without the hook came out the water.
"And that was a whopper, too," he complained. "I'll bet he was the daddy of them all."
"It's always the biggest fish that gets away," consoled George. "Never mind, Frank, better luck next time."
A new hook was fastened to the line and baited, and Frank grumblingly threw it in. Just as he did so, Bob gave a shout and pulled a big catfish out on the bank.
He rushed to take it from the hook but started back with a cry of pain.
"It stung me," he yelled, holding up his finger from which blood was flowing.
"Of course he did," replied Sammy. "They always get one of their horns into you if you're not careful. I'll bet that fellow's tickled to death at the way he put one over on you."
"Wash your finger well in the water," counseled George, "and then come over here and I'll put some peroxide on it that Mrs. Claxton gave me to bring along."
Bob did as directed, and then with exceeding care took the catfish from the hook.
"It's a beauty anyway," he said as he surveyed it, "and it's the first one caught. Didn't I tell you that I'd be the one to name the river? I'll name it right now the Fairview River."
Sammy was about to reply when all his energies were called into play to land a perch that had grabbed his line. At almost the same time George pulled in a bullhead, and from that time on the fun was fast and furious. The stream was not often fished in, and so the fish were not as wary of human foes as usual. In less than half an hour the boys had as many as thirty fish lying on the bank, and then George called a halt.
"We've got the mess we promised Mrs. Claxton all right," he said exultingly, "and we don't want to catch a lot that we'll simply have to leave here on the grass. I'll tell you what let's do. We'll clean a few of these and broil them over a fire of oak twigs and have a fish feast right here. There's butter and pepper and salt in the lunch box, and I bet we'll have the dandiest fish fry you ever tasted in your life."
The other boys agreed to this and all set to work at once.
They feasted long and well, and when they were through had hardly enough energy left to move.
"I feel now like some of those Australian natives I've read about," said George. "They say that when a whale drifts ashore they eat steadily for about thirty-six hours. Then they sleep for a week."
"An anaconda hasn't anything on them," agreed Frank. "I feel myself as though I wouldn't half mind going to sleep."
"It wouldn't be any trouble for me at all," said Sammy, drowsily.
"Same here," assented Bob.
They lay stretched out on their backs, lazy and content. The only sound was the murmur of the river and the wind blowing through the trees. The sun stole through the leaves and flecked the green sward with bits of gold. It was a scene of perfect dreamy peace.
Suddenly, Sammy raised himself on his elbow.
"What are you doing?" asked George, sleepily.
"What are you getting up for?" growled Frank.
"Listen!" said Sammy. "Don't you hear anything?"
"I don't hear anything except you," fretted Bob.
"You're dippy, I guess," complained George.
"I tell you I hear something," persisted Sammy.
His earnestness impressed his mates and they sat up.
"It's coming nearer," went on Sammy. "It sounds like a rush of horses or cattle. Put your ear close to the ground."
They did so and now all could distinctly hear what sounded like the pounding of hoofs.
They looked at each other with growing surprise and a bit of alarm in their eyes.
"What can it be?" asked Bob.
"Maybe it's a stampede," suggested Frank.
"Whatever it is, we'd better get back out of sight," counseled Sammy. "We can get down close to the bank of the river and look through the bushes."
They followed this advice, and, crouching low, looked in the direction of the sounds.
These grew louder and louder until suddenly a horseman came in sight, riding at full speed. He held the reins of the powerful black horse he was riding with one hand, while with the other he held in front of him a girl. She seemed to have fainted and would apparently have fallen from the saddle without the rider's sustaining arm.
The horse drew nearer, plunged into the little river, struggled up the further bank and tore on with tremendous speed. It was evident that the rider was in deadly fear of pursuit.
And when the boys looked back in the direction from which the rider had come, they did not wonder at his fear.