The lad appeared to strike the ground head-on. Fortunately, the spot where he landed was covered with soft sand.
"Are you hurt?" asked Big-foot, running to the boy and reaching out to assist him.
"I guess not," answered Tad, rubbing the sand from his eyes and blinking vigorously.
The skin had been scraped from his face in spots where the coarse sand had ground its way through. His hair was filled with the dirt of the plain, and his clothes were torn.
But Tad Butler, nothing daunted, smiled as he pulled himself to his feet.
"You better let that job out. You can't ride that critter!"
"I'll ride him—if he kills me!" answered the boy, his jaws setting stubbornly.
Tad hitched his belt tighter before making any move to approach the pony, which Stallings was now holding by main force. While doing so, the lad watched the animal's buckings observantly.
"What—what happened?" demanded Stallings.
"Foot slipped out of the stirrup."
"Think you can make it?"
"I'll try it, if you have the time to spare."
"It takes time to break a bronch. Don't you worry about that. I don't want you to be breaking your neck, however."
"My advice is that you keep off that animal," declared Professor Zepplin. "You cannot manage him; that is plain."
"Please do not say that, Professor. I must ride him now. You wouldn't have me be a coward, would you?"
Stallings, realizing the boy's position, nodded slightly to the Professor.
"Very well, if Mr. Stallings thinks it is safe," agreed Professor Zepplin reluctantly.
Tad's face lighted up with a satisfied smile.
"Whoa, boy," he soothed, patting the animal gently on the neck.
The pony's back arched and its heels shot up into the air again. Once more Tad petted him.
"No use," said the foreman. "The iron hand is the only thing that will break this cayuse. Don't know enough to know when he's well off. Got your spurs on?"
"Yes."
"Then drive them in when you get well seated."
Tad shook his head.
"I do not think that will be necessary. Guess he'll go fast enough without urging him with the rowels," answered the boy, backing away to wait until the pony had bounced itself into a position where another effort to mount him would be possible.
"Will you please coil up the stake rope and fasten it to the horn, Mr. Stallings?" asked Tad. "I don't want to get tangled up with that thing."
"Yes, if you are sure you can stick on him."
"Leave that to me. I know his tricks now."
Cautiously the rope was coiled and made fast to the saddle horn.
"I'm coming," said Tad in a quiet, tense voice.
"Ready," answered the foreman, with equal quietness.
The lad darted forward, running on his toes, his eyes fixed on the saddle.
Tad gave no heed to the pony. It was that heavy bobbing saddle that he must safely make before the pony itself would enter into his considerations.
Lightly touching the saddle, he bounded into it, at the same time shoving both feet forward. Fortunately his shoes slipped into the big, boxed stirrups, and the rein which lay over the pommel ready for him was quickly gathered up.
Stallings leaped from the animal's head and the cowpunchers made a quick sprint to remove themselves from the danger zone.
They were none too soon.
The broncho at last realized that his head was free. His sides, however, were being gripped by a muscular pair of legs, and his head was suddenly jerked up by a sharp tug at the rein.
"Y-e-e-e-o-w!" greeted the cowboys in their long-drawn, piercing cry.
"Yip!" answered Tad, though more to the pony than in answer to them.
Down went the pony's head between his forward legs, his hind hoofs beating a tattoo in the air.
The feet came down as suddenly as they had gone up. Instantly the little animal began a series of stiff-legged leaps into the air, his curving back making it a very uncomfortable place to sit on.
Tad's head was jerked back and forth until it seemed as though his neck would be broken.
"Look out for the side jump!" warned the foreman.
It came almost instantly, and with a quickness that nearly unhorsed the plucky lad.
As it was, the swift leap to the right threw Tad half way over on the beast's left side. Fortunately, the lad gripped the pommel with his right hand as he felt himself going, and little by little he pulled himself once more to an upright posture.
All at once the animal took a leap into the air, coming down headed in the opposite direction.
Tad's head swam. He no longer heard the shouts of encouragement from the cowpunchers. He was clinging desperately to his insecure seat, with legs pressed tightly against the pony's sides. As yet he had not seen fit to use the rowels.
There came a pause which was almost as disconcerting as had been the previous rapid movements.
"He's going to throw himself! Don't get caught under him!" bellowed Big-foot.
Tad was thankful for the suggestion, for he was not looking for that move at the moment.
The pony struck the ground on its left side with a bump that made the animal grunt. Tad, however, forewarned, had freed his left foot from the stirrup and was standing easily over his fallen mount, eyes fixed on the beast's ears, ready to resume his position at the first sign of a quiver of those ears.
Like a flash the animal was on its feet again, but with Tad riding in the saddle, a satisfied smile on his face. Once more the awful, nerve-racking bucking began. It did not seem as if a human being could survive that series of violent antics, and least of all a mere boy.
All at once the animal came up on its hind legs.
Tad knew instinctively what it meant. He did not need the warning cry of the cowpunchers to tell him what the pony was about to do. Over went the broncho on its back, rolling to its side quickly.
Tad was on the ground beside it, standing in a half-crouching position, with one foot on the saddle horn.
He had jerked the broncho's head clear of the ground with a strong tug on the reins, making the animal helpless to rise until the lad was ready for him to do so.
The cowboys uttered a yell of triumph.
"Great! Great!" approved Bob Stallings.
"Tenderfoot, eh?" jeered Big-foot Sanders. "Hooray for the Pinto!"
Tad's companions gave a shrill cheer.
"Wait. He ain't out of the woods yet," growled Lumpy Bates.
"Think you could do it better, hey?" snapped Curley Adams. "Why, that cayuse would shake the blooming neck off you if you were in that saddle. I never did see such a whirlwind."
"Got springs in his feet, I reckon," grinned Big-foot.
"Don't let his head down till you're ready for the get-away," cautioned the foreman.
Tad suddenly allowed the head to touch the ground, after the pony had lain pinned at his feet, breathing hard for a full minute.
Boy and mount were in the air in a twinkling. As they went up, Ted brought down his quirt with all his strength. It was time the ugly animal was taught that its enemy could strike a blow for himself.
With a quick pause, as if in surprise, the beast shot its head back to fasten its teeth in the leg of the rider. Tad had jerked his leg away as he saw the movement, with the result that only part of his leggin came away between the teeth of the savage animal.
Crack!
Down came the quirt again.
The broncho's head straightened out before him with amazing quickness. He was beginning to fear as well as hate the human being who so persistently sat his back and tortured him.
The pony sprang into the air.
"They're off!" shouted the cowboys.
With amazing quickness the animal lunged ahead, paused suddenly, then shot across the plain in a series of leaps and twists.
Tad shook out the rein, at the same time giving a gentle pressure to the rowels of his spurs.
Maddened almost beyond endurance, the pony started at a furious pace, not pausing until more than a mile had been covered. When he did bring up it was with disconcerting suddenness.
"Whoa, boy!" soothed Tad, patting the little animal on the neck. Again the wide-open mouth reached for the lad's left leg. But this time Tad pressed in the spurs on the right side. The pony tried to bite that way, whereat its rider spurred it on the left side.
This was continued until, at least, in sheer desperation, the animal started again to run. He found that he was not interfered with in this effort. However, when he sought to unseat his rider by brushing against the trunk of a large tree, he again felt the sting of the quirt on his flank.
Gradually Tad now began to work the animal around. After a time he succeeded in doing this, and was soon headed for camp. They bore down, at great speed, to where the cowboys were swinging their hats and setting up a shout that carried far over the plain.
Tad's face was flushed with pride. Yet he did not allow himself for an instant to forget his work. The lad's whole attention was centered on the pony under him. He was determined to make a grand finish that, while exhibiting his horsemanship, would at the same time give the pony a lesson not soon to be forgotten.
"You've got him!" cried Ned Rector as Tad approached, now at a gallop, the animal's ears lying back angrily.
"Don't be too sure," answered Big-foot. "See them ears? That means more trouble."
It came almost before the words were out of the cowpuncher's mouth.
The broncho stiffened, its hoofs ploughing little trails in the soft dirt of the plain as it skidded to a stop. The jolt might have unhorsed Tad Butler had he not been expecting it from some indications that he read in the animal's actions.
Suddenly settling back on its haunches, the broncho rolled over on its side. Tad, with a grin, stepped off a few paces, taking with him, however, the coil of rope, one end of which was still fastened around the beast's neck.
With a snort and a bound, realizing that it was free at last, the little animal leaped to its feet and darted away.
Tad moved swiftly to the right, so as not to get a tug on the rope over the back of the pony.
The coil was running out over his hands like a thing of life. Grasping the end firmly, the lad shook out the rest of the rope, leaning back until it was almost taut.
By this time the animal was running almost at right angles to him.
Tad gave the rope a quick rolling motion just as it was being drawn taut. The result was as surprising as it was sudden. The animal's four feet were snipped from under it neatly, sending the broncho to earth with a disheartening bump.
Without giving it a chance to rise, Tad sprang upon it, and, when the pony rose, Tad Butler was sitting proudly in the saddle.
The little beast's head went down. Its proud spirit had been broken by a boy who knew the ways of the stubborn animal.
A great shout of approval went up from cowpunchers and Pony Riders. They had never seen a breaking done more skillfully.
Tad's gloved hand patted the neck of the subdued animal affectionately.
"I'm sorry I had to be rough with you, old boy, but you shall have a lump of sugar. We're going to be great friends, now, I know."
"Welcome to the Ox Bow, young gentlemen," greeted Colonel McClure.
The rancher and his wife were waiting at the lower end of the lawn as the Pony Rider Boys, accompanied by Professor Zepplin, rode up on the following afternoon.
The lads wore their regulation plainsman's clothes, but for this occasion coats had been put on and hair combed, each desiring to look his best, as they were to meet the young ladies of the ranch.
"We owe you an apology, sir, for appearing in this condition," announced the Professor.
"Master Butler and myself have already settled that question," answered the rancher. "As Henry Ward Beecher once said, 'Clothes don't make the man, but when he is made he looks very well dressed up.' I must say, however, that these young men are about as likely a lot of lads as I have ever seen."
Clear-eyed, their faces tanned almost to a copper color, figures erect and shoulders well back, the Pony Rider Boys were indeed wholesome to look upon. Perhaps Sadie and Margaret McClure were not blind to this, for they blushed very prettily, the boys thought, upon being presented to their guests. Ruth Brayton was in a sunny mood, laughing gayly as she chatted with the boys.
Tad glanced at her inquiringly. She was not the same girl that he had met the day before. There was a difference in the eyes, too. Tad could not understand the change. It perplexed him.
Colonel McClure took the Professor off to his study, the boys being left with Mrs. McClure and the young ladies to wander through the grounds and chat. Each of the young women was an accomplished horsewoman, and therefore evinced a keen interest in the experiences of the boys since they had been in saddle.
"I had so often wanted to take a trip through the Rockies on horseback," announced Miss Margaret.
"I am afraid you would find it rather rough going," said Ned Rector.
"No worse than the plains," replied Walter. "We have had more hardships in Texas during the short time we have been here than we ever experienced in the mountains."
"Yes; but you were driving cattle," objected Mrs. McClure. "There probably is no harder work in the world. We, down here, know something about that."
"I—I killed a bobcat up in the mountains," Stacy Brown informed them, with enthusiasm.
"Indeed," smiled Mrs. McClure indulgently.
"He did. And I fell off a mountain," laughed Walter Perkins. "You see we have had quite a series of experiences."
"Indeed you have. How long do you expect to remain with the herd? Are you going through with them?"
"I believe not," answered Tad Butler. "I think we shall be leaving very soon now. We have a lot of traveling to do yet, as it has been planned that we shall see a good deal of the country before it is time to return to school this fall."
"And you are to remain out in the open—in the saddle all summer?" asked Miss Brayton, her eyes sparkling almost enviously.
"Yes; I believe so."
"I should love it."
"We are getting to love it ourselves. It will be hard to have to sleep indoors again."
Shortly afterwards all were summoned in to supper. Stacy Brown's eyes sparkled with anticipation as he surveyed the table resplendent with silver and cut glass—loaded, too, with good things to eat.
Ned Rector observed the look in his companion's eyes.
"Now, don't forget that we are not eating off the tail board of the chuck wagon, Chunky," he whispered in passing. "Be as near human as you can and satisfy your appetite."
Chunky's face flushed.
"Take your advice to yourself," he muttered.
Colonel McClure proved an entertaining host, and the boys were led on to talk about themselves during most of the meal. Especially were their hosts interested in the story of the discovery of the Lost Claim, which the boys had found on their trip in the Rockies.
"I have wanted to ask you about the old church between here and camp, Mr. McClure," said Tad at the first opportunity.
"Very interesting old ruin, sir," answered the host. "Built by the Mexicans more than a hundred years ago."
"Yes, so I understand."
"Is it true that there's spooks in that place?" interrupted Stacy.
Everybody laughed. Tad glanced sharply at Ruth Brayton. He noticed a curious flush on her face, and the strained look that he had observed in her eyes on the previous day was again there. Almost the instant he caught it it was gone.
"I'm afraid you have been misinformed, Master Stacy," answered Colonel McClure.
"How about the trouble that the cattle men experience when near the place?" spoke up Ned Rector. "The cowmen are sure there is something in the story."
"Nothing at all—nothing at all. Just a mere coincidence. We live here and we have no more than the usual run of ill luck with our stock."
"Stampedes?" asked Tad.
"Seldom anything of that sort. You see our stock is held by wire fences. If they want to stampede we let them—let them run until they are tired of it."
"I should like to explore the old church," said Tad, again referring to the subject uppermost in his mind.
"Nothing to hinder. Ruth, why can't you and the girls take the young men over there to-morrow if the day is fine? You know the place and its history. I am sure they would enjoy having you do so."
"We should be delighted," answered Ned Rector promptly.
"We might make it a picnic," suggested Margaret McClure.
"And have things to eat?" asked Stacy, evincing a keen interest in the proposal.
"Of course," smiled Mrs. McClure. "A picnic would not be a picnic without a spread on the ground. I will send some of the servants over to serve the picnic lunch."
"Thank you," smiled Tad gratefully. "It will be a happy afternoon for all of us if Miss Brayton can find the time to take us."
"Of course Ruth will go," nodded Mrs. McClure.
"Yes," answered the young woman. "What time shall we arrange to start, auntie?"
"Say eleven o'clock, if that will suit the young men."
"Perfectly," answered Tad.
"You might first take a gallop to the Springs. That will give you all an appetite."
"Where are the Springs?" asked Ned.
"About seven miles to the eastward of the ranch. A most picturesque place," answered Colonel McClure. "Professor, while the young people are enjoying themselves, suppose you ride over here and spend the afternoon with me? We can ride about the ranch if it would please you."
"I should be delighted."
"I was going to suggest, too, that it might be a pleasant relief for all of you to accept the hospitality of the Ox Bow ranch and remain here while you are in the vicinity. We have room to spare and would be glad to have you."
"I am afraid the young men would prefer to remain in camp, thank you. They will get enough of sleeping in beds upon their return home, discourteous as the statement may seem," answered Professor Zepplin.
"Not at all—not at all. I understand you perfectly. I shall not press the point. But spend all the time you can with us. The place is yours. Make yourselves at home."
"No; Mr. Stallings would not like it if we were to remain away over night. You see, he expects us to do our share of night guard duty," explained Tad. "We are earning our keep as it were."
The boys laughed.
"That is, some of us are," corrected Ned, with a sly glance at Stacy, who was eating industriously. "Others are eating for their keep."
The Pony Rider Boys caught the hidden meaning in his words, but they tried not to let their hosts observe that it was a joke at the expense of one of them.
"Stallings," murmured Miss Brayton, her eyes staring vacantly at Tad Butler.
Tad flushed at the memory of what he had heard on his first visit to the ranch.
Miss Brayton excused herself rather abruptly and left the room. They did not see her again that evening.
"My niece has been ailing of late," explained Mrs. McClure.
"Perhaps she had better not try to accompany us to-morrow, then," suggested Tad.
"Oh, yes, I wish her to. It will do her good—it will take her mind from herself."
Tad Butler noted the last half of the sentence particularly. For him it held a deeper meaning than it did for his companions.
"I wonder if she knows Mr. Stallings," mused Tad. "I'm going to find out. No, I won't. It's none of my business. Still, it will do no harm to ask him, or to mention the name to him. That surely would not be wrong."
Under the charm of the evening his mind soon drifted into other channels. After supper games were brought out and a happy evening followed.
Ten o'clock came, and Professor Zepplin, glancing at his watch, was about to propose a return to camp, when one of Colonel McClure's cowboys appeared in the doorway, hat in hand.
"Beg pardon; may I speak with you a moment?" asked the man.
"Certainly," replied the colonel, with the same gracious manner, Tad observed, that he used toward his guests. "Excuse me a moment."
After a little their host returned, but rather hurriedly, it seemed, and Tad's keen eyes noticed that he seemed disturbed.
Mr. McClure caught the lad's inquiring gaze fixed upon him. He nodded.
"Is anything wrong?" asked the rancher's wife.
"Yes; I am afraid there is," he answered quietly.
"What is it?"
"I am not sure. Perhaps I should not alarm you young gentlemen, but I think you should know."
"At the camp, you mean?" asked Tad.
"Yes."
"What's that?" demanded Professor Zepplin sharply. "Something wrong at the camp?"
"My men think so. They say they hear shooting off in that direction, and want to know if they shall ride out."
"You think it is a—a——" began Tad.
"A stampede? Yes; I should not be surprised."
"We must go," announced the lad, rising promptly.
"Why go?" asked Margaret.
"We may be needed."
"But my men have started already," replied the rancher. "They surely will be help enough."
"Mr. Stallings will expect us. We may be able to be of some assistance."
"Well, if you must. Yes; you are right. Business is business, even when one is out on a pleasure trip. It's a good sign in a young man. Tell your foreman that he may call upon us to any extent."
"Thank you, I will," replied Tad.
Bidding their hosts a hasty good night, and promising to be on hand at the appointed hour on the following day if the condition of the herd permitted, the Pony Rider Boys ran for their ponies. In a few moments they were racing toward camp. They, too, were now able to hear the short, spiteful bark of the six-shooters.
It was a significant sound. They had heard it too many times before not to understand it. In their minds they could see the hardy cowboys riding in front of the unreasoning animals, shooting into the ground in front of them, seeking to check the rush.
"What do you think about this business?" asked Tad Butler, drawing up beside Ned Rector.
"I think there is more in this spook story than Colonel McClure knows of, or, at least, will admit."
"So do I," answered Tad.
"We'll know when we hear how it happened."
Tad remembered, at that moment, the hasty departure of Ruth Brayton.
"I wonder—I wonder," muttered the boy to himself.
"I told you so."
"You have told me so many things, Big-foot, that I can't remember them all," laughed Tad. "What is it this time?"
"Trouble."
"Oh, you mean the stampede last night?"
"Yes."
"Tell me about it. You know I was not here when it started."
After a hard night's work, in which the Pony Rider Boys had toiled heroically, the cattle once more had been rounded up and Big-foot and Tad Butler were riding into camp for breakfast. It was the first opportunity they had found to talk over the incident.
"Not much to tell. It happened so quick——"
"What time?" interrupted Tad.
"'Bout half-past nine, I reckon."
"Half-past nine," muttered the lad thoughtfully. "Yes; go on."
"We were sitting by the camp fire, and Curley Adams was telling about the time he was mixed up with the rustlers on the Colorado."
"Yes."
"Well, them ponies came down on us a-whooping."
"The ponies? Did they get away, too?" asked the lad in surprise.
"Did they? You ought to have seen the varmints. Nearly run over us when they smashed through the camp. One jumped clean over the fire."
"Yes, I understand; but did you have any idea why the cattle stampeded?"
"Sure. The ponies put them on the run."
"The ponies started it?"
"Yes. No telling how it happened. The cows come a-running after the ponies had broke through them, and the whole outfit piled over the camp."
"Do any damage?"
"I reckon. Knocked over the chuck wagon, and near killed the heathen Chinee. The men on guard roped the runaway ponies, and, by the time you got on the job, we had just about got straightened around ready to go after the cows."
"I suppose you lay it to——"
"Adobe church," answered the cowman conclusively.
"I am going over there to-day, Big-foot. I am going to try to find out if there is anything in all this. Candidly, I don't believe it. Even Colonel McClure says it's all foolishness. That is, I do not believe it is anything that cannot be explained."
The foreman was looking worried that morning. It had been a succession of disasters ever since they had neared the locality. This time it had been the ponies which were hobbled some little distance from the herd, but which had become so frightened at what they saw that they bolted, hobbles and all.
"I want those cows from the McClure ranch brought over to-day," Stallings directed. "At least, bring over half of them. Get them over right after breakfast. If we are going to have any more disturbances let's try to have them in the daytime."
"Do you need us?" asked Tad.
"No. Go on and enjoy yourselves. You all have earned a holiday."
The lads were in their saddles early. Professor Zepplin went with them, intending to spend the day at the ranch as arranged on the previous evening.
The young ladies of the household were waiting, dressed in short skirts and wearing broad-brimmed straw hats. To the boys they were most attractive. Their fresh young faces lighted with anticipation of the day's pleasure as, assisted by the Pony Riders, they swung into their saddles. It fell to Tad Butler to ride beside Miss Brayton.
"We had a stampede at the camp last night," he told her after they had headed off to the east for the Springs, which was to be their first objective point.
"Yes; so uncle told me. I'm sorry. Did you lose any stock?"
"I believe not, unless it was some of the new ponies. I did not think to ask."
"At what time did the trouble occur?" she asked absently.
"I think it was shortly after you left us at dinner, last night," answered Tad, in a matter-of-fact tone. "It was, perhaps, half an hour after that when your uncle told us."
Miss Brayton flushed painfully, and quickly changed the subject. Tad noticed her confusion and marveled at it.
Arriving at the Springs, which proved to be a group of rocks rising out of the plain, and from which several springs of pure sparkling water bubbled, all dismounted and drank of the refreshing fluid. After a few moments spent in chatting, they remounted their ponies and set off for the adobe church, the real object of the day's journey.
Reaching the historic place, they tethered their ponies among the mesquite bushes in the rear of it, after which all entered through a crumbling doorway. The interior, they found, was in an excellent state of preservation.
Many surprising little alcoves and odd, cell-like rooms were distributed all through the church. It was dark and cool in there. Chunky shivered, and said he didn't wonder people said there were spooks there.
"Is there any cellar beneath the church?" asked Tad.
"It has been said that there were once underground passages," answered Miss Brayton. "No one in our time has ever discovered them."
"That sounds interesting. I think I should like to find the way into them."
"So should I," added Stacy Brown.
"Look out that you don't fall in," cautioned Ned. "Remember that's your failing."
"Not much chance of that," laughed Margaret. "These stone floors are too thick for anyone to fall through."
"Does anyone ever come here?" asked Tad.
"Not that I know of," answered Miss Brayton.
"But I saw a path when I came in. Somebody has been hitching a pony out there in the bushes, too," said the boy.
"Perhaps some of the cowmen may come in here out of the heat, now and then," replied the young woman carelessly.
"Why Ruth, you could not induce one of papa's men to enter the door of the old place. You know they are half scared to death of it," said Margaret.
Chunky's eyes were growing large.
"Wow!" he said. "Let's go out doors and eat."
"The lunch has not yet arrived. It will be here soon," Miss Brayton informed him. "We will spread it in the main room here, if you have no objections. It will be cool and pleasant; and, besides, there are no flies in here."
"For goodness' sake, forget your appetite," growled Ned in Stacy's ear.
"Can't a fellow talk about his appetite without being found fault with?" Chunky sulkily retorted.
"Not the kind of an appetite you have. It's a positive disgrace to the outfit."
"Huh!" grunted Chunky, walking away.
The lad wandered off by himself, and the rest forgot all about him in their investigation of the old church. Miss Brayton told them as much of its history as she knew.
"Some of the former priests are said to have been buried somewhere in the edifice," she said.
"I don't see any signs of it," said Tad.
"No. No one ever has in our time. And it has even been hinted that treasure has been buried here, too, or secreted in some of the mysterious recesses of the church."
"Where are they" asked Walter. "I am beginning to get curious."
"I am sure I do not know," laughed the young woman. "There is a sort of garret, if you can get to it, above the gallery there. Maybe you might find something there. I have an idea that it is inhabited by bats."
"I guess we will leave them undisturbed," decided Tad. "I don't like bats."
"There come the servants," announced Miss Brayton. "Now your friend will be able to satisfy his appetite."
At her direction the servants brought in the baskets of food. A cloth was spread over a stone table that they found at the far end of the church in the balcony. What its use had been, in those other days, they did not know, but it served their purpose very well now.
"I am afraid we shall have to eat standing," said Miss Sadie. "We have no chairs."
"That will suit Chunky," replied Ned Rector. "He always likes to eat standing."
"Why?" asked Margaret, glancing up at him inquiringly.
"For some reasons of his own," answered Ned mischievously.
As the good things were spread before them the eyes of the lads lighted appreciatively, and all helped themselves gratefully.
It was a jolly party, untouched by the air of mystery that was supposed to surround the place.
"Why, where is Master Stacy?" asked Ruth Brayton in surprise, after they had been eating a few moments.
"Chunky? That's so, where is he?" demanded Walter, glancing over the railing into the auditorium below.
No one seemed to know.
"He's prowling around the place somewhere," said Ned. "But what surprises me is that he doesn't scent the food and come running. It's not like him to hang back when there is anything good to eat."
"Call him," suggested Margaret.
"I will. O-h-h Chunky!"
There was no reply.
"I will go after him," said Walter, running lightly to the other end of the balcony and down the stone steps.
The lad returned in a few moments, a perplexed frown on his face.
"Find him?" asked Ned.
"No."
"Maybe he's gone back to camp. He's a queer chap."
"I think not. I saw his pony there with the others."
"Oh, well, never mind. He'll get so hungry that he will have to come out, wherever he is," decided Tad. "I imagine he is hiding somewhere to make us think he has gone away. Hark! What was that?"
A far away call for help echoed faintly through the church.
They looked at each other with growing uneasiness on their faces.
"It's Chunky," breathed Walter.
"Wh—where is he?" stammered Margaret.
"I don't know. Excuse me; I must go," exclaimed Tad. "The boy is in trouble again. I knew it—I knew he couldn't keep out of it," he added, hurrying away from them.
Ned sprang down the steps after Tad and together they disappeared through a rear door in the auditorium.
Those up in the gallery could hear the two boys calling to their companion. There was no answer to their hails, and one by one the little party left the gallery.
"I tell you he is playing tricks on us," said Ned, after they had searched all over the place without finding any trace of Stacy.
"No; I don't agree with you," answered Tad. "Something has happened to him."
"What shall we do?" asked Walter.
"Keep on looking. That is all we can do just now."
Once more they began their search, but with no better results than before.
"Have you looked outside?" asked Miss Brayton.
"Yes; we looked out. No use in hunting there, for we can see all around the place from the side door here," answered Tad. "He has gotten into some place that we know nothing about. We've got to find it, that's all."
"I would suggest that one of us ride to camp and get some of the men to come out and help us," advised Walter.
"I'll ride home, and have father send some of his own men," suggested Margaret.
"Yes; that would be best," agreed Miss Brayton.
"I wish you wouldn't," replied Tad. "It would alarm them, and Professor Zepplin would be frightened. Ned, suppose you hustle for camp and tell Mr. Stallings the fix we are in. We shall need some help, that's sure."
"All right. I'm off."
Big-foot Sanders and Curley Adams responded to the call on the run, the foreman being out with the herd at the time.
"I knew it," was Big-foot's first words as he rode up and threw himself from his pony where Tad was standing. "Now tell me all about it."
Tad did so, the cowman nodding his head vigorously as Tad told him all he knew about Chunky's mysterious disappearance.
"Which way did he go?" asked Curley.
"That we do not know," answered Miss Brayton.
"His cry seemed to come from the back of the church somewhere," spoke up Ned.
"We'll go in and look around, then," decided Big-foot, striding into the church. "Whew! smells pretty musty in here. What's that up there?"
"That's where we were eating our lunch when we heard Chunky call," Walter informed him.
"How long since you had seen him—was he up there with you?"
"No; he had left us twenty minutes before we began eating lunch," answered Ned.
"Humph!" grunted the cowman, gazing about him in perplexity. "Sure it isn't a trick?"
Tad shook his head.
"No. He was in trouble. I knew that from his tone."
"Then he must have fallen in some place," announced Big-foot. "He couldn't fall up, so there's no use looking anywhere but on the ground floor here," he decided, wisely. "Anybody know of any holes that he might drop into?"
"Not that I have seen," answered Ned. "The floor is as solid as stone."
"Well, that beats all. You boys scout around outside, while Curley and I are looking things over in here. Besides, I want to be alone and think this thing over."
"What do you make of it, Big-foot?" asked Curley Adams, after the others had gone outside.
"I ain't making. When it comes to putting my wits against a spook place, I'm beyond roping distance. We'll look into these holes in the wall around here, first," he said, referring to the niches and cell-like rooms that they saw leading off from the auditorium. "You make it your business to sound the floor. We may find some kind of trap door."
Curley went about bringing down the heels of his heavy boots on the hard floor, but it all sounded solid enough. There was no belief in the mind of either that the lad could have disappeared in any of the places they had examined—that is, that he could have done so through any ordinary accident.
Like most cowboys, both Curley and Big-foot possessed a strong vein of superstition in their natures. To them there was something uncanny in Stacy Brown's mysterious and sudden disappearance.
"Here's a door, but it's closed," called Curley.
"That's so," agreed Big-foot, hurrying over to him. "The thing is sealed up with mortar. Hasn't been used in fifty cats' lives. Wonder what's behind it."
"Not the boy; that's certain."
"Nope. He didn't fall through there."
"Find any other doors open or closed?"
"Nary a one."
"Well, that seems to settle this part of the ranch; we've got to look somewhere else. What bothers me is that we don't hear him call. If he was anywhere near, and had his voice, he'd be yelling for help," decided the big cowboy.
"Don't think he's dead, do you?"
"I don't think at all. I don't know," answered Big-foot.
"It's my idea that the gopher isn't in here at all," announced Curley, with emphasis.
His companion eyed him thoughtfully.
"You're almost human at times, Curley. I reckon you've said the only true words that's been spoke by us this afternoon. We look for the gopher and don't find him. You say he ain't here, and he isn't. Great head! But that don't find him. The question is, where is he?"
"We'll have to look outside," answered Curley.
"Right you are. Come on."
But their search outside was as fruitless as had been their quest within the old adobe church. Not a trace of Stacy Brown did they find.
"Ned, I think you had better take the young ladies home," said Tad finally.
"Want me to tell Professor Zepplin?"
"Not right away. You can tell him on the way out here. He will not have quite so long to worry, but I think he should know about it. The matter is serious. Where did you say Mr. Stallings was, Big-foot?"
"Out with the new herd. The cattle are pretty restless."
"Walt, you go in and tell the foreman the difficulty we are in. I'll wait here and go on with the search. If he can get away I wish he would come."
"I'll tell him," answered Walter, hurrying away.
"I am sorry we have spoiled your afternoon, Miss Brayton," said Tad. "It's too bad. But I'm afraid something serious has happened to our friend."
"Shall we see you again, Mr. Butler?"
"Of course. I don't know when the herd will start on. We certainly shall not do so until we have found Stacy. Anyway, we will ride over some time to-morrow and bid you all good-bye."
Assisting the young women into their saddles, Tad bade their friends good afternoon and turned sadly back to the church, while Ned Rector rode back to the Ox Bow ranch with the young women.
"Well, what do you think?" demanded the lad, as he faced the big cowboy.
"I don't think. My thinker's all twisted out of shape," answered Big-foot. "I can't tell you what to do. Wait till the boss gets here."
"I guess that will be best," replied Tad. "We have done all we know how to do."
The two men and the boy wandered about the church aimlessly, saying little, but thinking a great deal, impatiently awaiting the arrival of Bob Stallings, to whom they now looked to show them the way out of their difficulty.
The foreman arrived, in the course of half an hour, with his pony on a sharp run. They had heard him approach, and were outside waiting for him.
"Well, this is a nice kettle of fish!" exclaimed Stallings, leaping to the ground, tossing his reins to Curley Adams. "Tell me about it."
Once more Tad Butler related all the facts in his possession regarding Stacy Brown's mysterious disappearance.
"Big-foot thinks it's spooks," added Tad.
"That's all bosh," exploded the foreman. "It's getting late in the afternoon, and I've no time to waste. I'll find him for you. What ails you, Big-foot? Getting weak in the knees?"
"Not as I knows of. This funny business is kinder getting on my nerves, though."
"Humph!" grunted the foreman, starting for the church in long strides. "Nerves in a cowboy! Humph!"
They watched the tall figure of Stallings charging through the adobe house, peering here and there, asking questions in short, snappy sentences, going down on his knees in search of footprints. Finally he rose from his task with a puzzled look in his eyes.
"Tell me that story again," he demanded.
Tad did so.
The foreman went outside and surveyed the building from all sides.
"There's some secret room or passage in there somewhere. The gopher has stumbled into it. We are going to discover the mystery of the church of San Miguel before we have done here—that is, we are if we're lucky," he added.
Bob Stallings' words were prophetic, though he did not know it. The discovery was to be one that would give the big foreman the surprise of his life, and that would affect all his after life as well.
"We can't do much of anything more until daylight," announced the foreman finally. "You see, it's getting dark now."
"You—you are going to leave him here?" asked Tad hesitatingly.
"That's all we can do, so far as I see. But we'll put one of the men on guard to watch the place. To-morrow morning we'll take it upon ourselves to tear down that door that's sealed up. It may lead into the place where the boy fell in. Yes; we'll bring down the whole miserable shack if necessary."
"You—you think he is here, then?"
"Of course. Where else could he be? He walked away and disappeared right before your eyes. He could not get away if he had gone outside. So where is he? In the church, of course."
"Then I will remain here and watch the place," decided Tad firmly.
Stallings glanced at him hesitatingly.
"All right. I guess you have got the nerve to do it. I can't say as much for the rest of the bunch. You come along with me, now, and get your supper. After that you may return if you want to. Big-foot, you and Curley stay here until the Pinto gets back. Better keep busy. You may stumble upon something before you know it."
The two cowboys did not appear to be any too well pleased with the task assigned to them, but they obeyed orders without protest.
The evening had grown quite dark by the time the cowmen had finished their supper. All had been discussing the strange disappearance of Stacy Brown. It did not seem to surprise them. They had expected trouble when they reached the vicinity of the adobe church. They had had little else during the time they had been in the camp.
"Send Curley and Big-foot in," directed the foreman after Tad had announced his readiness to return to the church.
"We'll all go," spoke up Ned Rector.
"It's not at all necessary," answered Tad.
"No; I have decided to let Big-foot go back after he has eaten. He can remain with you until ten-thirty, when he takes his trick on guard. Then the rest of you may go out if you wish. It isn't fair to leave the Pinto there alone all night. If I change my plans I'll send out Master Ned or Walter. Run along now, Tad."
The lad mounted his pony and galloped slowly out for his long vigil. He was greatly disturbed over the loss of Chunky. Yet he could not bring himself to believe that great harm had come to the boy.
"Anything new?" he called as he rode up.
"Nary a thing. Plenty of funny noises inside the shack. Kinder gives a fellow the creeps; that's all."
"You are to come back and remain with me until your watch, I believe, Big-foot."
"Nice job you've cut out for me," answered the cowman.
"I had nothing to do with it. It's the foreman's order," answered Tad.
"Better bring a lantern with you. We may need it before the night is over."
"All right," answered Big-foot, swinging into his saddle. After the cowmen had left, Tad walked out a little way from the church and sat down in the sand. He was within easy hearing of the place in case anyone should call out.
It was a lonely spot. Tad had not sat there long before the noises that the cowmen had spoken of began again.
The lad listened intently for a moment.
"Bats," he said. "I can hear them flying about me. I hope none of them hit me in the face. I've heard they do that sometimes."
The pony, which had been staked down well out on the plain, was now moving about restlessly.
"I wonder if the noises are getting on the broncho's nerves, too? There's nothing here to be afraid of. I'm not afraid," declared Tad firmly, rising and pacing back and forth.
He was relieved, just the same, when the big cowman rode back, an hour later, and took up the vigil with him. The two talked in subdued tones as they walked back and forth, the lad expressing the opinion that they would find Stacy unharmed when they once discovered the mysterious place into which he had unwittingly stumbled.
"You see, those walls are so thick that we couldn't hear him even if he did call out. He may even have gotten in where they buried those monks we've heard about. I hope not, though."
"He wouldn't know it," said Big-foot.
"No, probably not in the darkness. Did you bring that lantern?"
"Pshaw! I forgot it. Mebby I'd better go back and get it."
"No; never mind, Big-foot. The moon will be up after a time. Then we shall not need it. You are going in for the ten-thirty trick, are you not?"
"That's what the boss said," replied Big-foot.
The right section of the herd was now bedded within a short distance of the church. They could hear the singing of the cowboys as they circled slowly around the sleeping cattle.
"Guess we are not going to have any more trouble with them," said Tad, nodding toward the herd.
"Don't be too sure. I feel it coming. I have a feeling that trouble ain't more'n a million miles away at this very minute."
"I wish you wouldn't talk that way. You'll get me feeling creepy, first thing you know. I've got to stay here all night," said Tad.
Big-foot laughed. They passed the time as best they could until the hour for the departure of the cowboy arrived. Then Tad was left alone once more. He circled about the church, listening. Once he thought he heard the hoof-beats of a pony. But the sound died away instantly, and he believed he must have been wrong.
After half an hour Big-foot returned. The foreman had decided, so long as the cattle were quiet, to have him remain with Tad. If the cowboy should be needed in a hurry the foreman was to fire a shot in the air as a signal.
Tad was intensely pleased at this arrangement. After chatting a while they lay down on the ground, speaking only occasionally, and then in low tones. The mystery of the night seemed to have awed them into silent thought. They had lain there for some time, when Tad suddenly rose on one elbow.
"Did you hear that?" he whispered.
"Yes," breathed the cowman.
"What—what do you think it was?"
"Sounded as if some one had jumped to the ground. We'd better crawl up there. It was by the church. I told you it was coming."
"Do you suppose it was Chunky?"
"No. He'd be afraid of the dark. You'd hear him yelling for help."
Tad had his doubts of that; but, just the same, he, too, felt that the noise they had heard had not been made by Stacy Brown. A silence of several minutes followed. The two had crawled only a few feet toward the church, when, with one common impulse, they flattened themselves on the ground and listened.
Now they could distinctly hear some one cautiously moving about in front of the church. It seemed to Tad as if the mysterious intruder were standing on the broad stone flagging at the top of the steps leading into the adobe church.
Tad slowly rose to his feet.
"Who's there?" he cried in a voice that trembled a little.
A sudden commotion followed the question, and the listeners distinctly caught the sound of footsteps on the flagging.
A flash lighted the scene momentarily.
Big-foot had fired a shot toward the church. A slight scream followed almost instantly.
"I winged it!" shouted the cowman, lifting his weapon for another shot.
Tad struck the gun up. The lad was excited now.
"Stop!" he commanded. "Don't do that again. Do you want to kill somebody?"
With that Tad ran, his feet fairly flying over the ground, in the direction of the church steps. In the flash of the gun he had caught a glimpse of a figure standing there. The sight thrilled him through and through.
As the plucky lad reached the steps some one started to run down them. Tripping, the unknown plunged headlong to the ground.
The boy was beside the figure in an instant.
"Big-foot!" he shouted.
The cowman came tearing up to him.
"What is it?" he bellowed in his excitement.
"It's a woman, Big-foot! It's a woman! Oh, I hope you did not hit her!"
"It's no woman; it's a spook. I know it's a spook!" fairly shouted the cowboy.
"I tell you it's a woman!" cried Tad.
He was down on his knees by her side now, raising her head.
"Get help—quick!"
Sanders took the shortest way of doing this. He, too, was alarmed now. Raising his gun above his head, he pulled the trigger three times in quick succession. As many sharp flashes leaped into the air, and as many quick reports followed.
"Sure she ain't a spirit?" demanded the cowman, peering down suspiciously, fearfully. He could make out the form on the ground but dimly.
"Don't be foolish. Run out there and meet them. I hear the ponies coming. Don't let any of them use their guns, in the excitement, or some one may get hurt," warned Tad Butler, with rare judgment.
Big-foot hurried out into the open. In the meantime Tad stroked the face and head of the woman. She was unconscious, but her flesh seemed warm to his touch.
"I wonder what it means," the perplexed boy asked himself. Tad could feel his own pulses beating against his temples. It seemed to him as if all the blood in his body were hurling itself against them.
Cowboys on their ponies came thundering up from different directions. In the lead was Bob Stallings, the foreman of the outfit.
"You idiots!" he shouted. "Do you want to stampede the herd again? What do you mean?"
"I've winged a spook!" yelled Big-foot Sanders. "She's over there by the steps now. The kid's got her."
"Spook—nonsense!" snapped the foreman, leaping from his pony and rushing to the spot indicated by Big-foot.
"What——" chorused the cowboys.
"Is it the boy—have they found him?"
"If you all don't insist on talking at once, mebby we can find out what the row's about," snarled Curley Adams.
The foreman stopped suddenly as he observed Tad sitting at the foot of the church steps. He saw, too, another form there, but it was so dimly outlined in the deep shadows that he was unable to make it out.
"What does this mean?" he demanded sternly.
"I don't know. It's a woman. I'm afraid Big-foot's bullet hit her. We must have a light."
"Bring matches!" roared the foreman.
No one had any.
"Rustle for the camp, and fetch a lantern—and be quick about it! I've had enough of this fooling. What was she doing—how did it happen?"
Tad explained as clearly as he could how they had been disturbed by the strange noises, resulting finally in a shot from Big-foot's gun.
"The idiot! It'll be a sorry day for him if he's done any damage," growled the foreman. He stooped over and ran his hand over the unconscious woman's face. Then he applied his ear to the region of the heart.
"Huh!" he snapped, rising.
"Find anything!" asked Tad in a half whisper.
"She's alive. Heart weak, but I don't think she's seriously hurt. I don't understand it at all."
"No more do I. I'm getting dizzy over all this rapid-fire business," added the lad. "There they come with a light."
Stallings strode to the cowman who had brought the lantern. Jerking it from the man's hand the foreman ran back.
"We'll straighten her up against the steps, and try to find out how badly she is hurt," he said, placing the lantern on the ground.
Tad had partially raised her, when he let the girl drop with a sudden, startled exclamation.
"What is it?" demanded Stallings incisively.
"It's Miss Ruth!"
"Who?"
"Miss Ruth——"
By the dim lantern light the foreman saw her face outlined against the dark background of green. His eyes were fixed upon her, and Bob Stallings seemed scarcely to breathe.
"Ruth Brayton!" he gasped.
"Yes," answered Tad in a low voice, not fully comprehending the meaning of the scene that was being enacted before him.
"Ruth Brayton," repeated Stallings, slowly passing a hand across his forehead. "Ruth!" he cried, throwing himself to his knees beside her.
"I tell ye I winged a spook," insisted Big-foot Sanders to a companion as they came up.
Tad raised a warning hand for silence.