"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'tgive 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 asBarker 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.
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 BatCoyne 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.
"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 andPhil 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 OldHicks, 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 toGroveland. 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 Cavanagh 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.
"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 theMedicine 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 goodEnglish 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 be 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.
Their coming was greeted by the loud barking of dogs, while from the tepees appeared as if by magic, women and children, together with innumerable braves and boys.
They fairly swarmed out into the open space in front of the camp, setting up a shout as they recognized the newcomers.
"They seem to be mighty glad to see us," growled Tad. "Wish I could say as much for them."
The ponies, seeming to share the general good feeling, pricked up their ears and dashed into the camp at a gallop, Pink-eye with the rest. Almost before the little animals had come to a stop, the braves threw themselves from their saddles and darted into their tepees.
"They seem to have left me out of it, so I guess I'll go back," decided the lad half humorously. But he was given no chance to slip away. The young brave who had accompanied his chief, came running out and grasped the pony by its bridle.
"Boy, git off," he said.
Tad threw a leg over the pommel and landed on the ground. He could hardly stand, so stiff were his legs.
The young brave took him into one of the tepees, held the flap aside while Tad entered, then closed it. The lad heard him moving away. Tired out and dispirited, Tad Butler threw himself down on the grass and, in spite of his troubles, was asleep in a few moments.
A dog barking in front of his tepee awakened him. The boy pulled the flap aside ever so little and peered out. He was surprised to find that the sun was setting. He had been asleep practically all day long.
Scrambling to his feet hastily the lad stepped outside. He did not know whether he would be permitted to roam about, but he proposed to try. The answer came quickly. A brave whom he had not seen before suddenly appeared and, with a grunt of disapproval, grabbed Tad by the arms, fairly flinging him into the tepee.
The lad's cheeks burned with indignation.
"I'll teach them to insult me like that," he fumed, shaking his fist toward the opening. "I'll look out anyway."
He did so, prudently drawing the flap close whenever he heard anyone approaching. Once as he peered out, a disreputable looking cur snapped at his legs. First, the lad coaxed the animal, then tried to drive him away, finally administering a kick that sent the dog away howling.
"I've got revenge on one of the gang anyway," he laughed. "But it's not much of a revenge, at that. I wonder if they are going to bring me anything to eat. I——"
The flap was suddenly jerked aside and the face of the chief appeared in the opening.
"How," greeted Chief Willy.
"How," answered Tad rather sullenly. "What do you want?"
"Paleface want eat?"
"You ought not to have to ask that question. So you can talk English just a little bit? Chief, when are you going to let me go away from here? It will only get you into trouble if you try to keep me. They are sure to find me."
"No find," grunted the chief.
"Oh, yes they will."
"Ugh," answered the redskin, hastily withdrawing. Then followed another long period when Tad was left alone with his thoughts.
"I wonder two things," thought the lad aloud. "I wonder what he brought me here for and I wonder when I am going to get something to eat? Captured by the Indians, eh? That's more than the rest of the Pony Riders can say."
Yet there was a more serious side to it all. They had taken him prisoner for some purpose, but what that purpose was he could not imagine.
His thoughts were interrupted by some one silently entering the tent. Glancing up, Tad saw a slender, rather pretty Indian girl standing there looking down at him.
The boy scrambled to his feet and took off his sombrero.
"How," he said.
The girl answered in kind. Then she placed on the ground before him a bowl of soup and a plate of steaming stew. Tad sniffed the odor of mutton, which now was so familiar to him, wondering at the same time, if it had come from Mr. Simms's flock.
"Thank you," he said. "If you will excuse me I will eat. I'm awfully hungry."
She nodded and Tad went at the meal almost ravenously. The Indian girl squatted down on the ground and watched him.
"What's your name?" he asked between mouthfuls.
"Jinny."
"That's a funny name. Doesn't sound like an Indian name. Is it?"
"Me not know. Young buck heap big eat," she added.
"Yes. Oh, yes, I have something of an appetite," laughed Tad."Jinny, what are they going to do with me, do you know?"
The girl shook her head with emphasis.
"What tribe is this?"
"Blackfeet. Other paleface boy here too."
Tad set down his plate and surveyed her inquiringly.
"Say that again, please. You say there's another paleface boy here in this village?"
Jinny nodded vigorously.
"Who is he?"
"Jinny not know."
"When did he—how long has he been here?"
"Sun-up."
"This morning?"
"Yes. He there," pointing with a finger to the lower end of the village.
Tad's curiosity was aroused. He wondered if another besides himself had been made an unwilling guest by the Blackfeet wanderers. If so, it must have been by another party. A sudden thought occurred to him. Tad was wearing a cheap ring on the little finger of his left hand. He had picked up the ring on the plains in Texas. Hastily stripping it from his finger he handed it to the girl.
"Want it, Jinny?"
She did. Her eyes sparkled as she slipped it on her own finger and held it off to view the effect.
"Thank," she said, turning her glowing eyes on Tad.
"You're welcome. But now I want you to do something for me. I'll send you another, a big, big ring when I get home, if you will help me to get away from here."
Jinny eyed him steadily for a few seconds, then shook her head.
"I'll send you beads, too, Jinny—beads like the paleface ladies wear."
"You send Jinny white woman beads!"
"I promise you."
"Me help um little paleface buck. Me help um two," she added, holding up two fingers. Without another word, she slipped from the tepee as silently as she had come.
Tad pondered over this last remark for some time. He did not understand what Jinny had meant.
"So I'm a buck, am I? That's one thing I haven't been called before since I have been out on the range. She said she would help me to get away. I wonder when she is going to do it."
Though Tad waited patiently until late in the evening, he saw no more of the little Indian girl. Shortly after dark several camp-fires were lighted, the cheerful blazes lighting up the street or common in front of the row of tepees in which his own was located.
Children played about the fires, the dogs were disputing over the bones tossed to them after the evening meal, while the squaws and braves, gathered in separate groups, were squatting about, gesticulating and talking.
To Tad Butler the scene held a real interest. He had never before seen an Indian camp, and least of all been a prisoner in it. He lay down on his stomach, with elbows on the ground, chin in hands, and gazed out over the village curiously.
"I wonder who that other boy is," he mused. "I presume he is a prisoner, too. Hello, there's my guard."
An Indian, with knees clasped in his arms, was rocking to and fro a little distance from the tepee. Though he was not looking toward Tad's tent, the lad felt sure the fellow had been placed there to watch him. He understood then why Jinny had not been to the tepee since bringing his meal.
Finally the camp quieted down, the fires smouldered and the dogs stretched out before them for sleep. Tad Butler's tired head drooped lower and lower, his elbows settling until his arms were down and he was lying prone upon the ground, sound asleep.
After a time the Indian whom the lad had seen sitting out in front rose, and, stepping softly to the tepee, looked in. He gave a grunt of satisfaction, threw himself down right at the entrance and was snoring heavily half a minute later.
The camp slumbered on undisturbed until aroused by the ill-natured curs at daybreak next morning.
Tad was awakened by one of them barking at his door and snapping at him. Suddenly pulling his flap open, he hurled his sombrero in the dog's face, frightening it, so that it slunk away with a howl. Tad, laughing heartily, reached out and recovered the hat.
"Hey, there, I want to wash," he called to a brave who was passing. The redskin paid no attention to him. "All right, if you won't, then I'll go without you."
He stepped boldly from the tepee and headed for a small stream at the left of the village, which he had observed on the previous day. He had not gone far before he observed that he was being followed at a distance. He did not let it appear that he noticed this, and after making his toilet strolled back to his tepee.
Tad shrewdly reasoned that if he could induce them to relax their vigilance over him, he would have a better chance to make his escape, and he determined that he would act as if he had no intention of leaving.
He made an effort to find out where they had tethered Pink-eye, but there were no signs of ponies anywhere. He knew, however, that they could not be far away, for the Indian always keeps in touch with his mount.
Jinny came with his breakfast at sunrise. He noticed the first thing that she was not wearing the ring he had given her, but before he had an opportunity to comment on it, the girl drew the ring from a pocket, placed it on a finger and fell to admiring it.
Tad laughed and turned to his breakfast. This consisted of a big bowl of corn meal, steaming hot, with some cold mutton on the side. Frankly, he admitted to himself that he had eaten far worse meals in more civilized communities.
"Good morning, Jinny. I was so much interested in the breakfast that I forgot to say it when you first came in. This is very good. Did you cook it?"
She nodded.
"I thought so. You beat Old Hicks's cooking already. Hicks is the cook out on Mr. Simms's sheep ranch, where I come from. Understand?"
"Yes."
"I thought you were going to help me to escape," said Tad, suddenly leaning toward her. "Aren't you?"
Jinny made a sign for silence, and then went to the opening and peered out cautiously. She returned, and, placing her mouth close to the lad's ear, whispered, "Bymeby."
Tad could scarcely repress a laugh at the tragic tone in which she said it. Yet his face was perfectly sober and he continued with his breakfast without further comment.
Jinny gathered up the dishes and left him without a word. After a time the boy pulled back the flaps and sat down to watch the life of the camp by daylight. The squaws were busily at work, carrying wood and engaged in other occupations, though few of the braves were to be seen. The boy concluded that they must be sleeping.
The hours dragged along slowly. It seemed an age until night came once more. Somehow he felt that the night would bring him good luck. A warning glance from the Indian girl when she brought his supper told him that conversation were better not indulged in, so he said nothing to her. She left the dishes with him and went away at once.
That night Tad sat up until late, hoping vainly for word from Jinny, but none came. When the guard approached the tent along toward midnight, Tad feigned sleep, and so well did he feign it that he really went to sleep.
He thought he had been napping but a few moments, when a peculiar scratching sound on the back of his tepee brought him up sitting, every nerve on the alert.
Tad peered out through the flap. The guard was asleep. He crept back to the other side of the tepee and scratched on the tepee wall with his finger-nail.
"S-h-h."
The warning was accompanied by a slight ripping sound, and he knew the wall was being slit with a knife.
"Paleface buck, come with Jinny," whispered a voice in his ear.
Grasping the lad by the arm, the Indian girl led him cautiously straight back from the tepee, guiding him in the darkness unerringly, around all obstructions.
After proceeding in a straight line for some distance, she turned and made a wide detour around the camp. He could tell this by the light of the smouldering camp-fires. He dared ask no questions until Jinny had given him permission to speak, which was not until they had left the camp some distance behind them. She paused suddenly and faced him.
"You send Jinny ring?"
"Yes, I promised you."
"You send beads like white women wear?"
"Of course I will."
"Then come. Ponies here. Boy here."
Not understanding her latter words, Tad followed obediently, passing around a point of rocks.
"Here ponies. Here boy."
"O Tad, is that you?" exclaimed a tremulous voice.
"Who's that?" demanded Tad sharply.
"It's Phil. O Tad!"
"Phil!" cried the lad, grasping the boy about the neck and hugging him delightedly. "They got you too, did they? Oh, I'm so glad I've found you! You must tell me all about it, but not now. We've got to get away from here. Thank you, Jinny. I shall never forget this. I—"
"You send Jinny beads?" demanded the girl suggestively.
"Indeed you shall have the finest set of beads that an Indian girl ever wore, even if it takes all my money to buy them. Now which way shall we go?"
"Go river."
"Where is it?"
She took his hand in the darkness and pointed with it in the direction where the river lay.
"Yes, yes, I know. Then where?"
"Find white man. He tell um. Jinny not know."
She pressed something into his hand.
"What's this?" asked Tad sharply.
"Knife. Mebbyso brave catch um paleface buck."
Tad caught the significance of her words instantly.
"No, Jinny, thank you very much. I couldn't do that. You keep the knife. I shall not need it, but you shall have the beads just the same."
"Ugh! Go pony. Go quick. Braves him follow." She pointed back toward the camp, and, grasping Tad by the arm, hurried him toward the ponies.
"When?"
"Come now," she insisted.
Tad felt a sudden thrill as he heard a great commotion back in the camp.
"We've got to hurry, Phil. I guess they have discovered our escape. You run, Jinny. Run back. Don't you let them know you helped us. Say, what will the chief do if he finds it out?" demanded the boy, pausing sharply.
"Huh. Jinny no afraid chief. Jinny laugh in chief face. Bye."
She disappeared with surprising suddenness.
"Quick, Phil! Get on your pony and follow me. Keep close to me."
"I am on," answered the boy bravely. "It's my pony, too."
"And so is this one mine. It's Pink-eye."
"What's that noise!" asked Phil in a tremulous voice.
"Hi-yi-yip-yah—yah-hi-yah!" rang out the Indian war cry, as the braves threw themselves on the bare backs of their ponies and tore from the village, going in all directions.
Tad drove the spurs in viciously.
"Quick! Quick, Phil! They're after us."
"I'm coming."
Both ponies sprang away in the darkness, the lads clinging to the saddles, none too sure of the path that lay before them, and riding desperately.
Bang, bang, bang!
Three rifle shots rang out in quick succession, and the boys imagined they could hear the bullets sing over their heads.
"Hi-yi-yip—yah-hi-yah!"
"They're gaining on us. They're gaining, Phil. Ride for your life!"
The shrill yells of the Indians sounded much closer. The boys believed that their enemies had picked up the trail.
"We have got to do something, and do it quick. We've got to outwit them," shouted Tad.
"What—what"——
"I'll tell you. When we think they are getting too near, I'll pull over by you and take you on my pony. We'll send the other one flying on while we turn off," decided Tad.
The time for the change came a few moments later. The Indians were gaining on them every second. Now the "hi-yi-yip—yah-hi-yah" sounded as if it was being shrieked into their ears.
Tad drove Pink-eye right against the other pony.
"Jump!" he commanded, and Phil landed on Pink-eye's back without mishap, while Tad, giving a vicious kick to the free pony, turned off to the left a little and drove his pony at a run. They reached the river. As the pony plunged in the boys slipped off on opposite sides of him, hanging to the saddle while the pony swam.
"Hang on tightly. Don't let go. There is a strong current here."
They could hear the savages racing up and down the river bank, shouting and shooting and searching vainly for the other pony. Every minute Tad expected to hear them take to the river, but for some reason they did not do so. After a chilling swim, the boys at last reached the other bank, and, shaking the water from their clothes as best they could, both mounted the one pony and struck off, guided by the stars alone.
They continued on until daylight, having heard nothing more of the Indians. Both boys were shivering with cold and exhausted for want of something to eat after their trying night.
Tad learned from his companion that he had been taken by white men and turned over to the Indians for some purpose unknown to him. Phil described his captor as a man with a scar on his temple and having a red beard.
Shortly after sunrise they came upon a flock of sheep, and soon after they were at the house of a rancher, where the boys told their story. The owner of the ranch knew Mr. Simms well, and besides providing Phil with a pony, sent one of his own men to pilot the boys home.
They rode into the Simms camp about midnight, rousing the camp with their shouts. And the jollification that followed the safe return of Phil and his rescuer did the hearts of both boys good. There was no sleep in the Simms outfit that night.
Tad and Phil were obliged to tell the story of their experiences over and over again, while the other boys listened in wide-eyed wonder.
Mr. Simms was of the opinion that, having taken Phil, the Indians picked up Tad so that he might not report their being off the reservation.
"At any rate we have got the man, thanks to your description," he added.
"What, the man with the scar?"
"Yes. He is the cattle rancher whom Luke insisted was such a friend of his. I took a long chance and had the sheriff arrest him to-day. He is being held until you take a look to see if you can identify him. I hope you will be able to."
"Where is he?" asked the lad. "Tied up in the chuck wagon. I'll have him brought over."
"Hello, Bluff," greeted Tad, the instant he set eyes on the surly face of the prisoner.
"Hello, kid. Never saw me before, did you?"
"I should say I had. That's the man, Mr. Simms. There can be no doubt about it."
"And he is the fellow who caught and turned me over to the Indians," added Philip, shrinking away from the bearded face.
"Then I guess there is nothing more to be said," announced Mr. Simms, with a grim smile. "This man has been doing a crooked business for years, all up and down the trail. Of course he had accomplices, but we shall hardly get them. Nobody suspected him. The frequent thefts of stock and the killing of sheep was a mystery until you solved it, Master Tad. I wish I knew how to express my appreciation of what you have done for us."
"There is one favor you can do for me if you will, Mr. Simms."
"It is already granted. Name it."
"I wish you would see that Jinny gets the beads I promised her and which I am going to buy as soon as I get where I can."
"She shall have them," replied the rancher, "and a present from me, besides. I'll send one of my men to the Blackfeet Agency especially to deliver your present and mine to the Indian girl."
"Thank you."
"To-morrow we shall have to go back to town with the sheriff and his prisoner. I should like to have you accompany us if you will. The prosecuting attorney can take your deposition and thus avoid the necessity of your having to wait for the trial. You are free to continue on your trip then, if you desire."
"Of course he will go with you," spoke up the Professor, who, up to that point, had been too deeply absorbed in the developments of the hour to offer any comment. "All of us will accompany you. Boys, you had better get your belongings together before we turn in, as I imagine Mr. Simms will want to make an early start in the morning. I guess you are all pretty well satisfied with what you have seen of the old Custer trail."
"Yes," shouted the boys. "We've had a great time."
"At least some of us have," smiled Tad.
At Forsythe next day Tad Butler and young Philip Simms appeared against the prisoner. As the result of their positive identification and further testimony, Bluff broke down. He made a full confession, implicating others who had been concerned with him in various misdeeds along the trail, each of whom was eventually brought to justice and punished.
Their presence being no longer necessary in Forsythe, that afternoon the Pony Rider Boys boarded a sleeping car, loudly cheered by a crowd of enthusiastic ranchers and villagers, who had gathered to see them off. And there, with their four smiling faces framed in the Pullman windows, we shall take leave of the Pony Rider Boys. They will next be heard from in another volume, entitled, "THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN THE OZARKS, or the Secret of Ruby Mountain," a stirring tale of adventure and daring deeds among the Missouri mountains, in which the lads pass through many perils.