"Who is in charge in his place? There must be some one that I can talk to," demanded the lad, starting to his feet.
"Might see Tom Phipps, the assistant superintendent."
"Where is he? Tell me quickly."
"See that shack over there?"
"Yes."
"Well, if he ain't there, he's somewhere else."
"Thank you," said Tad, unheeding the fling.
Tad started for the shack at top speed. He burst into the place, which proved to be office and sleeping place as well, without even thinking to knock, so excited was he.
A young man, who sat studying a map, glanced up in surprise.
"Mr. Phipps—Mr. Thomas Phipps, I want," said Tad.
"I am he."
"I beg your pardon for my seeming rudeness, sir, but I'm in an awful hurry."
"So I have observed," smiled the young man. "What is it—is there something I can do for you?"
"Indeed there is. I had hoped to find Mr. Munson, as he would know who I am. You do not, but I am going to ask a very great favor of you—"
"Perhaps I may know, if you will tell me," smiled Phipps.
"I am Tad Butler, one of the Pony Rider Boys, and we're in an awful fix."
"Shake," nodded the assistant superintendent, extending his hand. "Of course I know about you. Dick has told me about your trips this summer and he's been expecting you almost any time now. When he left this morning he charged me to be on the lookout for you. Where's the rest of your party?"
"I'm afraid most of them are in trouble."
"Tell me about it."
Tad related in detail all that occurred since they left Springfield, not omitting the sudden disappearance of the Indian, nor the loss of the ponies.
"So you've been hit too, eh? You are not the only ones who have lost stock. It's getting to be a common thing in this part of the country. Nor do they confine their depredations to stealing horses. They help themselves liberally to whatever they happen to want. It's never seen again. They have some secret method of smuggling their plunder from the range that we can't discover," continued Phipps breezily.
"I am most concerned just now with getting food to my companions and having some one start out for the Professor," urged Tad.
"Yes, I'm thinking that over. There are not many ponies in camp here. We had more, but the same thing happened to them that did to yours," said the young miner. "I think Munson is planning to make a round-up of the country with the idea of breaking up the band. You stay here while I go out and see what I can do about it. By the way, have you had anything to eat?" asked Phipps suddenly.
Tad told him honestly what he had had.
"Three eggs and a drink of nanny goat milk, eh? Not much to travel more than thirty miles on. Can you cook?"
"After a fashion," admitted Tad.
"Then get to work. There's bacon. You'll find bread and butter in the large tin box there. Help yourself. I would cook it for you only I would rather get things going for your friends," said Phipps cordially.
Tad protested that he could help himself and urged the miner to make all haste possible. After the latter had left him, the lad lost no time in starting the fire and in a few moments had bacon sizzling in the spider and the coffee pot steaming. He found some cold potatoes which he fried in the grease of the bacon.
"Don't that smell good!" exclaimed Tad, as the odor of the cooking drifted up to his nostrils. "If it tastes half as good as it smells I'll have the meal of my life."
He was not disappointed. Tad ate and ate, yet he was wise enough to restrain himself and chew his food well, knowing full well that he would have to submit himself to a still further test of endurance before he could call his work done.
The lad was still eating when Tom Phipps returned.
"What luck?" cried Tad anxiously.
"It's all right. I've rounded up enough ponies for the party. I have called six of the miners from work. They are men who know the mountains. The cook in the chuck house is preparing food for you to take back with you—that is if you intend to go—"
"Of course I do," spoke up Tad quickly.
"I think it will be best for the whole party to return with you to the place where your friends are camped. From that point they can start on the trail. They'll find the Professor. No doubt about that. After you all get back we will talk with you about the loss of your stock. Perhaps your experience may help us to land the band. I hope so."
"Can—can your men find their way in the dark?"
"I should say they could. Some of them know now from my description just where your camp is. Don't worry about that. Here they come now."
The miners, leading an extra pony for Tad, rode up at that moment. When they glanced at the slight, boyish figure of Tad Butler they were of the opinion that he had best remain at the mining camp. They did not believe him hardy enough to stand the grilling journey that lay before them.
They changed their minds before they had been out of camp an hour. Tad rode well up with the leader, sitting in his saddle like a veteran, taking obstructions in their path with jumps that some of the party balked at and rode around.
"Say, kid, where'd you learn to hit a saddle like that?" called one.
"Does my riding please you?" inquired Tad.
"I should say it did. You are no tenderfoot."
Though the party rode rapidly, the hour was late when they reached the vicinity of the Pony Rider Boys camp. Having approached the place from another direction, Tad did not know where he was.
"It must be somewhere hereabouts," decided the leader. "Can't you remember whether it was to the north or the south of this?"
"Which way is the gorge?" asked Tad.
"That way. Lays right the other side of those rocks."
Tad considered for a moment.
"Wait," he said, a sudden idea coming to him. "I do not remember this particular spot, but when I left the camp I blazed trees all along so I could find my way back. If there are any marks on the trees here, I made them."
The men leaped from their ponies and began examining the trees, from the cliff back several rods. Not a sign of fresh blazing were they able to discover.
"There's nothing here," announced the leader.
"Then I didn't go this way," answered Tad, with a note of finality in his tone.
"We are too far to the north, boys. Turn around and follow the canyon."
This they did until they had proceeded for something like half an hour, when the leader of the rescue party decided to get down again and examine the trees.
"Here's a blaze. Is that yours, kid?" he exclaimed.
Tad examined the mark on the tree carefully, having first lighted a match to aid him.
"Yes, yes; I did that."
"Then we've gone by the place. There can't be anybody there or we would have seen the camp-fire."
"They must be there! Let's go back over the ground!" exclaimed Tad.
The men turned about without another word. After a few moments had passed Tad began calling loudly.
Soon a shout just ahead of them told the party that at last they had found that which they were in search of.
Tad uttered a glad cry.
"Where are you?"
"Here," answered the voice of Stacy Brown.
Tad put spurs to his pony and dashed up to where he thought the voice had come from.
"Where are the rest of the boys?"
"Got anything to eat?" asked Chunky, rousing himself to full wakefulness.
"Yes, plenty. But where's Ned and Walter? Are they asleep?" insisted Tad Butler half fearfully.
"I don't know."
"What do you mean?"
"Ned went off to hunt some game because we didn't have anything to eat. He hasn't come back. Walt got crazy about it and I guess he went out to look for him, though he didn't tell me he was going to—"
"What time was that?" interrupted Tad.
"When Ned went away?"
"No, when did Walter leave?"
"I don't know. It was somewhere about sundown when I saw him last."
"Which way do you think he went?"
"That way, I guess," replied Chunky, pointing.
By this time the men had lighted the fire.
"Give that boy something to eat right now," commanded the leader the moment he set eyes on Stacy. "He's half starved. He can hardly stand."
They opened the package of food at once, giving the once fat boy a little at a time at first and compelling him to eat slowly.
"Then there is not one of them here but Chunky," muttered Tad.
"No—nobody but me and the mules," answered Stacy quickly.
No one thought of laughing.
"Are we not going out to look for the others now?" asked Tad.
"Yes, I reckon we might as well," decided the leader. "We'll leave your friend here till morning. One of our men will remain here with him. At daylight they will start for the Red Star. If anything has been heard there of the folks we are looking for, they can then send word back to us so we don't spend the rest of our lives hunting for them."
His plan seemed a logical one to Tad. The party was to spread out, covering a large area, literally dragging the mountains with a human net, it being agreed that when one made a discovery he was to inform the others by shooting twice into the air.
After having received their instructions the men quickly rode away. The moon had come out, lighting the way and making their journey much easier.
Stacy gave no further heed to the miner who had been left in charge of him, and promptly went to sleep on a full stomach. He had not experienced that agreeable sensation for some time.
The night was well advanced when two sharp reports from the south told the searchers that some of their party had gained tidings of the absent ones.
Each man wheeled sharply about and raced for the camp as rapidly as the rough trail would permit, arriving there about the time their leader rode in with Walter Perkins. He had found the lad less than half a mile from camp. Beyond being very badly frightened, Walter seemed none the worse for his experience. Instead of having followed the direction in which he had started, Walter had gradually worn around to the north until finally he was headed back toward their original starting point.
In a short time he realized that he was lost. He called loudly for help, but as there was no one to hear his cries, he had at last thrown himself down on the ground in despair to wait for morning.
It was there that the leader of the rescue party had stumbled upon him, Walter having heard and answered his hail.
"That's one. Spread out again, boys. We'll rope the rest of the youngsters before morning. They can't be far away. The Professor, as they call him, has a horse, and there's no telling where he is by this time."
But the task they had set for themselves this time, was not quite so easy of accomplishment.
Some miles from the camp the searchers next morning came upon an abandoned camp where there had been a fire and where, from the bones found there, they decided some one had eaten a rabbit.
"We're on the trail," said the leader. "We'll get him yet."
An hour later one of the men reported that he had picked up a repeating rifle with the magazine empty. When Tad joined them later, he identified the weapon as having been the one used by Ned Rector.
The course he was taking, if followed, would eventually take him out of the mountains into the open country. Perhaps through some instinct, the boy understood this and was seeking to gain the open where he would soon get food and directions for continuing his journey.
They found no other trace of the one they were looking for, however.
All that day and the next they drew the net slowly over that portion of the Ozark range that cut through the southwestern part of the state.
"I guess we shall have to give it up," confided the leader to Tad.
"Oh, no, we can't do that," objected the lad hastily. "We simply must find Ned and the Professor."
"If you can show me the way how or where, I wish you would then. We are only a few miles from the mining camp. I'll wager a jack rabbit couldn't have gotten through our lines, so we'd have been pretty likely to have rounded up a man on a pony or a boy on foot. Don't you think so?"
Tad was forced to admit that this was true.
"It's my idea that neither of them is in the range now, at all. If they are, they're below the Red Star—gone by the place entirely."
"That may be, but I do not see how it is possible."
"You went by her, didn't you?"
Tad colored.
"I guess so. But it was different in my case."
"Ah, that's it. It's different with them, too. If it wasn't, we would have found them long before this."
"Then you are going to give it up? Is that what you mean?"
"Don't see as there is anything else we can do. If we don't come across them this afternoon, we won't at all. See, there's the Ruby Mountain already."
"The Ruby Mountain! I've heard of that. What a peculiar formation it is. Almost blood red in spots. What is it—isn't there some superstition about the rock?"
"Well, you might call it that. There are those who declare they have seen strange lights appear on the face of the rock after dark."
"Have you?" queried Tad.
"Well, that's another story," laughed the leader.
"What makes it look so red?"
"That's the quality of the rock. It is red only when the sun or bright moonlight is shining on it. Isn't really red, you see."
Tad did not see, but his mind was too full of his own troubles to permit him to interest it deeply in the subject of the Ruby Mountain.
Continuing on their journey, the searchers eventually rode into the Red Star camp. By this time the entire camp was interested in what it was pleased to call "the man hunt." Somehow they were unable to free their minds of the idea that the disappearance of the members of the Pony Rider party was due to the mysterious band that had been terrorizing that part of the country for a long time.
Tom Phipps, assistant superintendent of the mine, had awaited the return of his rescue party with an impatience that he made no effort to conceal. He met them, mounted on his pony, as they entered the mine property. At first he was inclined to make the men turn about and go over the ground again, but after learning from the leader of the party the precautions they had taken, he decided that further search to the north would be futile.
What to do next he did not know, and in the absence of Mr. Munson, who had not yet returned, he was considering sending another party out to cover the territory south of the mining camp.
Stacy Brown had come in with his guide and the mules, and having satisfied his appetite, was in as good humor as usual. If he worried about the disappearance of his companions, he kept his trouble well to himself. Nevertheless he was waiting for Tad and the rescue party when they rode in.
"Hello, Chunky, any news?" called Tad on espying him.
Stacy shook his head.
"Have you any?" asked Chunky.
"No. We found where Ned had been, but we didn't see anything of him."
"That's too bad."
"Yes, you do seem to feel sad over it. I believe they are all right, however. Mr. McCormick, who has charge of this party, thinks so too. He believes they have succeeded in getting out of the mountains."
"So do I," cut in Tom Phipps. "Otherwise you could not have missed them."
"Yes, sir. But what would you advise doing now?"
"Should we hear nothing from them by morning I'll start a party for the open country to the west, and send another through the mountains south of here. I do not believe there will be much use in doing so to-night. Come over to my shack, you and your friend Brown, and we will talk the matter over while we are having our supper."
"Thank you. I guess I am pretty hungry. Has Mr. Munson returned?"
"No. I cannot imagine what is keeping him."
Turning his pony over to Mr. McCormick, Tad and Chunky followed the young mining engineer to his one-roomed cabin where the host had prepared an appetizing meal.
It was Tad's second meal in the place. This time, however, he found himself too much disturbed to eat heartily. His appetite seemed to leave him all at once.
"As I was saying just after you arrived," began Mr. Phipps—
"Hark! What was that?"
Tad raised a hand for silence.
"I heard nothing."
"It was somebody shouting, I am sure," answered Tad in a voice of tense expectancy. "Yes, there it is again."
"You're right," answered the miner, springing up and hurrying to the door.
The shouting now became general all up and down the street.
"What is it?" asked Tad.
"I don't know. Seems to be a party coming into the camp. It's Munson, that's who it is. There are two people with him on foot. I can't make them out in the twilight. Come on, we'll hurry down and find out what the uproar is about."
Instinctively Tad and Tom Phipps set off at a jog-trot, followed more leisurely by Stacy Brown.
Tad soon observed something familiar in the movements of the two figures who were walking beside the superintendent's pony, and in a moment Tad made out through the gloom the well-known form of Professor Zepplin.
"There they are! There they are!" he shouted. "They've got back.Hurrah!"
"Rah!" echoed Stacy Brown, flirting one hand lazily.
The meeting was a joyous one for all concerned.
"All hands come over to my shack," glowed Tom Phipps. "I want to hear about this mystery. Thought you were riding a pony, Professor Zepplin?"
"He was," laughed Dick Munson. "Some other people wanted the animal more than he did and helped themselves."
At this point, Walter, who was staying in another cabin, having heard the noise, had hurried over and joined the little party.
"Now let us hear all about it," urged Phipps, after all had gathered in his shack.
"There is not much to tell," smiled the Professor. "I did exactly what I had been warning my young men against. I lost myself. Then the next thing that happened, I lost my pony."
"How?" interrupted Mr. Phipps.
"I don't know."
"Stolen," nodded Dick Munson.
"Same old game," muttered Phipps. "Yes, what next?"
"Then in a most miraculous way I found Master Ned. I had gone to sleep, worn out and discouraged, not caring much whether I got back or not, the way I felt then. Along toward morning I woke up. I thought I had heard something. I listened, and then all at once realized that some one was snoring not far from me."
"And it wasn't Chunky this time," cut in Walter Perkins.
"Chunky doesn't snore on an empty stomach," laughed Tad.
"I called out, 'Hello, who's there?' The snorer woke up calling out something that I could not catch."
"Who was it?" asked Stacy in a hurry to learn what the Professor was getting at.
"Well, when he woke up he said his name was Ned Rector and that he was lost."
The Professor smiled grimly as the boys shouted with laughter, in which Tom Phipps joined. Even the rugged face of the superintendent relaxed into a broad smile.
"Yes, it was I," nodded Ned. "We had been sleeping within a rod of each other nearly all night and didn't know it. I had stumbled along after the Professor got to sleep. In the darkness of course I did not see him, and in his sound sleep he did not hear me."
"That's the funniest mix-up I ever heard of," chuckled young Mr.Phipps. "What did you do for food?"
"Master Ned, it seems, had shot two rabbits which he intended to take back to our camp. When he found that he too was lost, he built a fire and cooked them. What he did not need at once he wrapped up in his handkerchief and carried along with him—"
"Yes, we found the remnants of the jack rabbits," Tad informed them."We picked up your rifle later, as well."
"Good," brightened Ned. "I had to throw it away. I had about all I could do to carry myself."
"Well, the rabbits saved us from starvation."
"Yes, but how did you happen to find Dick Munson, or he to find you?" queried Phipps.
"We wandered out of the mountains and lost ourselves in the foothills. How we got so far south I do not know. This morning we saw a horseman and shouted until we attracted his attention. The horseman proved to be the very man we wanted to see—Mr. Richard Munson himself."
"I—I am the only one who didn't fall in," piped Stacy, which caused everyone to laugh.
"We heard you shooting," said Walter. "I wish we might have had some of that rabbit meat. We nearly starved up there."
"Yes, let's hear how you boys got along," spoke up Ned. "We have told you all about our experiences. Now we want to know about yours."
Tad related in detail all that occurred to them since the Professor left them in pursuit of the elusive camp-fire. The Professor's eyes glowed appreciatively upon learning of Tad Butler's heroic tramp over nearly forty miles of rough mountain trail in the desperate effort to find food for his starving companions as well as help to rescue them from their perilous position.
But Munson, while complimenting Tad, was more deeply interested in the loss of their stock, about which occurrence he asked many questions.
"If we had a few men with your courage and resourcefulness we should soon put a stop to this wholesale thieving," he said.
"I'm going to find my pony before I leave this place, Mr. Munson," announced Tad firmly. "At least I am going to try pretty hard—"
A knock on the door of the shack cut short what he was going to say.
"McCormick reports that two ponies are missing from number two section," said a voice outside the door.
"The thieves are getting bold!" was Dick Munson's comment.
"Seems to me they not only are getting, but have been for some time," laughed the Professor. "The condition of my feet proves that."
The Number 2 section to which the superintendent's informant had referred, was a quarry mine, off among the mountains in the vicinity of the red rock that had attracted Tad's attention as they neared the camp. He made a sudden resolve to visit the place on the following day.
Borrowing a pony next morning, and without telling anyone where he was going, Tad rode away with the Ruby Mountain as his destination. The trail was an easy one to follow and, besides, he had so recently been over it that he would be able to find his way there and back.
Just why he felt such a keen interest in the place the lad did not know. Perhaps it was that the miners had thrown such an air of mystery about it in speaking of the red rock. Aside from its color there was nothing about the pile of stone to distinguish it from almost any other rocky formation in the Ozark range, unless it were the slight resemblance that it bore to the form of a church. The lad had observed this the first time he saw it.
After riding around the pile, Tad dismounted, and, tethering his pony, proceeded to examine the place more carefully.
The rock was rough and uneven, with little spires running up here and there. The lowest of these was a considerable distance from the ground.
"I'd like to climb up there if I knew how," decided the boy, looking for an advantageous place to make the attempt.
"I have it. I know what I'll do. I'll rope the rock."
Tad laughed gayly at the thought as he ran back to where he had tethered the pony in the shrubbery. Tom Phipps had seen to it that the outfit was fully equipped, having added a lariat, because Tad had jokingly inquired where this necessary equipment was.
"Glad I happened to think of that. I'll never ride out without a rope again, even if it's up and down Main Street in Chillicothe."
Fetching the rawhide rope he skilfully cast it up and over the pinnacle of rock nearest to him. It was now a comparatively easy matter to climb by going hand over hand up the rope and bracing his feet against the side of the rock at the same time.
Once having reached the point where the rope had been fastened, the rest of the way was less rough.
The lad sat down to look about him, noting that the formation was a peculiar one, and that the reddish shade of the rock disappeared when one came into close contact with it.
"Why, it's just a plain, ordinary pile of stone," laughed Tad. "The idea that there could be anything mysterious about it! I'll climb up to the top and see if there is anything more interesting there."
There were frequent narrow crevices that the young explorer discovered on the way up. These appeared to reach down to a considerable depth, but having no weight to attach to the end of his rope he could not sound the depth with any degree of certainty. One of these crevices was large enough to admit his body.
The place fascinated him.
"I'm coming out here prepared to go down in that hole and investigate it," he said to himself. "I'll bring the boys—no, I won't either. I'll explore it all myself and maybe I'll find out something."
The lad was coiling his rope, preparing to descend when a low chuckle caused him to pause in sudden surprise. Startled, the boy looked about him. He was alone as he had been before.
"That's strange. I was sure I heard some one. Sounded as if it were right here beside me. I must have been wrong of course. Believe I'm losing my grit. After all the shaking up my nerves have had on this trip—"
"Hello!"
This time there could be no doubt. It was a human voice beyond all question.
"Hello," answered Tad, when, an instant later, he had in a measure mastered his surprise. "Where are you?"
"Guess."
"I can't. I am not a good hand at guessing."
Getting to his feet the lad began searching about, peering into crevices, looking over the edge of the cliff, becoming more and more perplexed and mystified as the moments passed.
"No, I can't find you. Come out and show yourself, whoever you are," he commanded, with some impatience.
A low, mocking laugh answered Tad's irritated command, yet the owner of the voice still remained hidden.
"Who are you, anyway? I know you are a girl, but—"
"But what?" tantalized the voice.
"That's all I know about it, and all I shall at the present rate. Come on, it's not fair to expect me to talk with you when I can't see you—"
"Aren't you afraid of ghosts, boy—"
"Ghosts!"
Tad uttered the word in a startled voice.
"Wha—what ghosts?"
"Yes."
"No, I'm not," he answered sharply. "But if it were night I think I'd run. Pshaw! you're no more ghost than I am. You're just a girl and I am going to find out where you are right now."
Acting upon his resolution, Tad began searching for the owner of the voice again. But when he had crawled to one side of the rock, the voice appeared to be on the other, where he had just been.
After a time Tad gave it up. He no longer heard the mysterious voice, so he clambered down, and after examining the rock from the ground once more, mounted his pony for return to camp.
Arriving there, his companions wanted to know where he had been, but Tad managed to evade their question without giving them a direct answer.
He was determined to return on the following day, when he would go about finding the owner of the mysterious voice in a different way.
When Tom Phipps came in from work, Tad drew him aside at the first opportunity.
"I've been over to the Ruby Mountain to-day, but please don't tell anyone."
"Saw something, did you?" laughed the assistant superintendent.
"No, that's the trouble. I didn't."
"What happened then?"
"I did not see, but I heard." Tad then related all that had occurred on his visit to the strange mountain.
Phipps did not laugh. He remained silent and thoughtful for some moments.
"That's strange. A miner prospecting there came back with a similar story a few months ago. Nobody believed him, though many strange things are said to have happened in the vicinity of that rock."
"What?"
"That's the trouble. One cannot get them to tell what they saw. You have come the nearest to doing so."
"Only I just missed it by about a mile," laughed Tad. "But you do not think it's—how shall I say it?"
Phipps bent a keen glance on the young man. "You mean through any supernatural agency?"
Tad nodded.
"That's what I wanted to say, but didn't know just how to put it."
"No, I am too practical to believe any such trash as that. My idea is that some one of a humorous turn of mind is trying to play tricks on people. You say it was a girl's voice?"
"Yes."
"That's strange. I'm going to look into that."
"Let's you and I go over there together to to-morrow, then," urged Tad enthusiastically.
"I'll do it—that is, if there is nothing on hand to detain me. I'll let you know later whether it will be possible or not."
"Very well. I have been thinking—wondering whether—"
Tad hesitated.
"Wondering what?"
"Whether that rock has anything to do with so many horses and things being stolen in the range."
Tom Phipps laughed heartily.
"I never thought of it in that light. Don't see how a rock could possibly have any connection with it. Guess we shall have to look for something more human than a pile of stone."
It was decided, therefore, that on the morrow the two should visit the Ruby Mountain, when they would make a careful examination of the place in an effort to solve the mystery.
But they were destined to delay this trip for some time, and to pass through some exciting experiences before they solved the mystery of the Ruby Mountain.
"Professor, Mr. Munson says there's going to be a roping contest and horse race near here, this afternoon. May we go over to see it?" asked Ned Rector early on the following morning.
"Well, I don't know about that. Haven't you boys had enough straying from home for a time?"
"We can get some one to go with us and show us the way," urged Walter.
"Yes, let the lads go," said Mr. Munson, coming up at that moment.
"Where is this place?" asked the Professor.
"At Jessup's ranch. It is about ten miles to the southeast of here, just outside the foothills of the range."
"I am afraid they would never find the way there and back," objectedProfessor Zepplin, shaking his head doubtfully.
"That is easily taken care of. I will have some one go with them.Why not go yourself?"
"I? No, thank you, not without a guide. I have had quite enough experience in trying to find my way about in these mountains," laughed the Professor.
"Then I'll have Tom Phipps go with you. I understand the boys are fond of anything in the horse line, and they usually have a great time over at Jessup's. He is a cattle man and, besides his own men, cowboys from neighboring ranches for twenty miles around ride in to take part."
"But, we have no ponies."
"I think we can arrange that all right. Here, Tom, I want you."
Mr. Phipps approached the little group, the superintendent, informing him in a few words of the plan he had in mind.
"Of course I'll go with them," smiled Phipps. "I'll be glad of the chance to get out in the open once more. We had better get started pretty soon if we are going."
"How about it, Professor?" queried Mr. Munson.
"I do not object if Mr. Phipps accompanies them."
"Hooray!" shouted the boys.
"Wish we had our own ponies," added Ned.
"So do I," chorused the others.
"You will come along, won't you, Professor?" urged Walter.
"No, I think not. I've had quite enough for a time. Think I will remain and study the geological formations of the strata hereabouts."
"There's plenty of it to occupy you for some time," laughed Tom. "The most important zinc mines in the world are strung along this range. And besides, there's lead enough hereabouts to supply the armies of the world if they were all engaged in active warfare."
Arrangements were quickly made for the trip to Jessup's, and the boys, full of anticipations for a pleasant day in the saddle, donned their chaps and spurs, and began practising with their ropes, while the ponies were being saddled and made ready for the journey.
"Do we take our rifles, Professor?" asked Stacy.
"You do not," answered the Professor, with emphasis. "What do you think you will need with guns at a horse race?"
"I—I don't know but that we might meet some wild animals," stammeredStacy.
Everybody laughed.
"Why, there are no wild animals of any account here," laughed Tom.
"Nothing bigger than a jack rabbit," said Ned.
"And Ned Rector got all there was of them," added Walter.
Laughing and joking, the lads mounted their ponies and set off for a day's pleasure.
The entertainment at the ranch was scheduled for the afternoon, so they had plenty of time in which to make the journey. They arrived shortly before noon, just in time to see the preparations made for a barbecue. A large Texas steer had been chosen for the occasion and roasted in a pit, and they were making ready to serve it.
Stacy's eyes stuck out as he saw the cook with a knife almost as long as a sword, cutting off slices as large as a good-sized platter, and serving them on plates scarcely large enough to hold the pieces, without the latter being folded over.
The fat boy managed to get an early helping by pushing his way through the crowd of hungry men that had gathered about the savory roast. When there was anything to eat, Stacy Brown would always be found in the front rank.
Just as they got started with the meal, a volley of shots sounded up the valley and a band of half a dozen cowboys, yelling, whooping and shouting came racing down on the Jessup ranch.
With a wild "y-e-o-w!" they circled the roast ox, then bringing their ponies up sharply, threw themselves from their saddles and greedily attacked the portions that were quickly handed out to them.
This barbecue and day of sports was one looked forward to by the cowmen with keen anticipation. Two a year were given on the Jessup ranch, one after the midsummer round up, and another late in the fall.
"This is great," confided Tad to Tom Phipps, as the two seated themselves on the grass to eat the good things set before them.
"It seems so to me. I don't get out of the mountains very often. I wish I could ride the way you boys do. You ride very well."
"We have to. At first some of us came a few croppers," laughed Ned, who had overheard the conversation. "Chunky had the most trouble, his legs being so short that it's difficult for him to reach the stirrups."
"I fell off," interjected the fat boy.
"That's a habit of his," laughed Ned.
"I wonder if they would let us take part in some of the games this afternoon," inquired Tad.
"Why, of course they will. I'll speak to Mr. Jessup about it," answered Tom Phipps.
When the owner of the ranch passed them later on, Tom called him, and after introducing the boys to him, told the rancher what they desired to do.
Mr. Jessup looked the lads over critically.
"It's a pretty rough game, boys," he smiled. "But you look as if you were able to take care of yourselves. Of course you may go in for the fun if you want to. I'll tell the bunch."
"Thank you," said Tad, rising.
Mr. Jessup shouted to attract the attention of the noisy cowboys.
"Hey, fellows, we have a bunch of tenderfeet lads from the East with us to-day. They're taking a trip over the mountains and they want to know if they can join you in the fun this afternoon?"
"Sure!" roared the cowboys. "We'll give the tenderfeet all the fun they want."
Tad smiled appreciatively.
"Don't let them disturb you," warned Tom. "They mean all right."
"Yes, sir; I understand cowmen pretty well. Have spent quite a little time with them."
"I guess they are getting ready for something."
"Line up for the hurdle race!" shouted the ranch foreman, who was acting as master of ceremonies. "Half mile down and back with a hurdle every quarter!"
"Here's where you see some real fun," announced Mr. Jessup, nodding significantly to Tad and Tom Phipps. "Are you boys going into this?"
"Guess we might as well. Will these ponies take hurdles, Mr.Phipps?"
"You try them and see. Every one trained down to the ground."
"That's not the way I want to go," laughed Tad. "I want to stay above it while I'm riding."
Ned Rector already was tightening his saddle girths preparatory to entering, so Tad hurried to his own mount to get ready for the contest.
When the contestants had finally lined up, the Pony Rider Boys were surprised to observe that Stacy Brown had ridden down to the scratch with the others. He was sitting on his pony as solemn as an owl, industriously munching a sandwich that he had made for himself.
"You'll break your neck. You'd better keep out of this," advised NedRector.
"Better look out for your own neck," retorted Stacy. "Guess I know how to ride as well as the rest of you."
"All right, it's not my lookout. Remember I gave you good advice," was Ned's parting admonition.
Stacy's pony was a glossy black, the only one of that color among the contestants, and between pony and boy the cowmen were undecided as to which was the most conspicuous.
"At the second shot of the pistol you will start," announced the foreman. "All ready for the first?"
"Yes!" roared the impatient riders.
The foreman pulled the trigger and the ponies began to dance about.
Bang!
"Whoop-e-e-e!" yelled the riders, digging in the rowels of their spurs.
A dozen ponies fairly leaped into the air under the prod of spur and quirt. Away they dashed enveloped in a cloud of dust.
"They're off!" roared the crowd.
Stacy, still clinging to his sandwich, was well up with the leaders of the bunch when they got away. He was riding with elbows up to a level with his shoulders, one hand grasping reins and quirt, the other holding the sandwich to his mouth.
The spectators shouted with laughter at the sight.
"There goes somebody!" cried Walter.
One of the ponies had fouled the first hurdle and gone down, plowing the dust with its nose, while the cowboy made a fairly graceful dive through the air, landing on his head and shoulders. The riders directly behind him were obliged to hurdle pony and rider, which they did without mishap to either. Stacy, fortunately was ahead, else he too might have come a cropper.
This left a field of eleven, all of whom were bunched, their mounts almost rubbing sides. By this time the dust cloud was so dense that the spectators were able to make nothing at all of what was going on at the other end of the course.
"I hope the youngsters are all right," said Phipps a little anxiously, for the race was one of the roughest he had ever seen, and then the young miner was not much of a horseman, which made the contest seem much more hazardous to him than it really was.
"They're coming back," shouted a voice.
The turn had been made, but at the expense of two riders, whose mounts, less sure footed than the rest, had gone down in the sharp whirl for the home stretch.
The prize in this contest was to be a handsome telescope repeating rifle, and the rivalry for it was keen. The battle would be a stern one, and it was a foregone conclusion that the best horse would win.
Stacy Brown had not leaned far enough in at the turn, his saddle girth slipping a little as a result. He felt the saddle give a little beneath him, but did not realize what had happened until the pony had straightened away on the home stretch. The saddle then slipped still further under the weight of the rider.
Stacy threw almost the whole force of his weight on the right stirrup to offset the list of the saddle on the other side, where the stirrup had gone down too far for him to reach. And the first hurdle found the lad clinging desperately to the pony's mane with one hand, the jolt of the jump nearly dislocating his neck as the animal took it.
The youthful rider, finding himself safely over, uttered a series of shrill yells and began urging on the pony with quick, short encouraging blows of the quirt, though the blows were not heavy enough to hurt the tough little beast at all. It was used to much more serious treatment.
Somehow the animal seemed bent on doing its best, though the more it strove to reach the goal, the greater was the fat boy's torture.
Stacy Brown's grit was aroused. He seemed to have come into his own at last.
"They laughed at me," he muttered. "I'll show them that Chunky Brown isn't a tenderfoot. Even if I don't win the race, there will be some others who will finish after I get through." He was reasonably certain of this from his present position. "But I hope I don't fall in," he grinned.
By this time the dust caused by their first trip over the course, had settled so that the spectators were enabled to get a view of the last quarter of the race. And they all admitted, without exception, that it was a real race that they were watching.
Over the last hurdle went two ponies in beautiful curving leaps, ahead of all the others. With their cowboy riders they took the obstruction neck and neck. A full length behind them rode Stacy with the rest of the field strung out to his rear.
The spectators were able to identify the black now from their point of vantage, and Stacy could hear their cheers, though unaware that these were for him. Tad Butler, second to him in the race, was getting every ounce of speed from his pony that the animal possessed. Yet instead of feeling chagrin over the fact that his companion was out-footing him, Tad was elated.
"Go it, Chunky! Go it!" he encouraged.
"I am going," floated back to Tad faintly, causing him to laugh so heartily that he was nearly unhorsed when his pony rose to the hurdle.
As Stacy's mount cleared the last barrier, the fat boy fell forward on the pony's neck, which he grasped wildly, for the saddle in that final leap had, with disheartening suddeness, given way beneath him, slipping clear down under the animal's stomach.
Nothing daunted, Stacy, with his newly discovered grit, worked both spurs vigorously, eyes staring straight ahead of him over the head of his fleeing pony.
They were almost at the finish. Now the dust of the two cowboy leaders in the race did not smite him in the face as heretofore. He was too close up with them for that.
All at once the lad realized that he was gaining. Excitement among the spectators ran high. Observing his predicament and understanding full well the grit he was exhibiting, they were yelling like mad. Chunky began to yell also, uttering a series of shrill whoops, using voice and spurs incessantly, urging the pony to the goal.
The black pony, almost gray with the dust that had settled on his sleek, glossy coat, forged ahead in a noble sprint with head on a level with its back, nose reaching for the finish.
A roar of applause sounded in the fat boy's ears. Yells, cat calls and shrill whoops rent the air.
All at once a pistol barked, the black pony's feet plowed the dust, bringing it to a sharp halt.
The suddenness of the movement caused Chunky's feet to rise straight up into the air. For a few brief seconds he was standing on his head on the pony's neck like a circus performer.
Then, as the animal lowered its head, the rider toppled over, still clinging to the neck of his mount. Such a chorus of laughter and shouting the Jessup ranch had never known before.
"How is it, Mr. Umpire?" piped Stacy, releasing one hand from the pony's neck and raising it questioningly.
"This isn't a baseball game, young fellow," jeered the foreman. "This is a hoss race and you've won it. The black wins and you get the rifle."
The grimy hand that the lad had held aloft still clung to the remnants of the roast sandwich that he had carried throughout race.
In their enthusiasm two of the ranchers hoisted Chunky to their shoulders and marched about singing. Others fell in behind them until fully half the spectators had joined the procession. Chunky leered down at his companions as he passed them and winked solemnly.
"I didn't suppose he could ride like that," marveled Tom Phipps.
"Neither did any of the rest of us," answered Walter.
"I never saw a more plucky piece of work in my life."
Tad came up to where they were, laughing heartily.
"Doesn't that beat all, Walt?"
"It certainly does."
"Our friends who were defeated do not seem to appreciate the humor of it, though," interjected the young engineer.
"No, not very sportsmanlike, is it? Who is that fellow with whomChunky's competitors are talking?"
"Name is Cravath. Queer sort of a chap."
"Haven't I seen him about the Red Star?" asked Tad.
"Yes, no doubt. He is a checker at the mine. He and his wife and daughter have a cabin out near the Ruby Rock that you are so much interested in. I know very little about him—"
"Don't like his looks at all," decided Tad.
"No, I never warmed up to him very much myself. I understand he is not very popular among the men, either. But I guess that is because he wins their money in games of chance."
"A gambler?" questioned both boys in surprise.
"I wouldn't go far enough to say that. What are they going to do next here do you know?" asked the engineer, changing the subject.
"I believe it is to be a roping contest. That will be a lot of fun."
"You are not going in it, are you?"
"Of course. Why not? I don't know what they are going to rope, but I'll take my chance with the rest of them whatever it is. Guess I'll ride over and ask Mr. Jessup. I see him over there now."
Mr. Jessup when questioned informed the boy that it was to be a most realistic contest in which two men mounted were to try to rope each other. One of the rules of the contest was that the roper, when he caught his opponent, was to drop the lariat instantly so as not to pull his victim from the saddle.
As only two could meet for the prize it was decided that lots should be drawn from a hat. The two who drew slips of paper with the word "rope" written on them, were to have the honor of meeting in a test of skill.
The prize was a Mexican saddle, silver mounted, at which all the cowmen looked with covetous eyes.
"Think you want to take a chance for the saddle, boy?" asked Mr.Jessup.
"That I do," laughed Tad. "That's the saddle I want—I always have wanted one just like it. But I'm afraid I shall not get the opportunity to try for it."
"They are getting ready to draw. You had better go over," advised the rancher.
Tad found that they were not only getting ready, but that most of the men had already drawn. Only one "rope" slip had been taken from the hat, however, so there still was a chance.
He rode up to the foreman, who was holding the hat from which the drawing was being done.
"May I draw?" he asked.
"Do you know how to sling a rope, kid?"
"A little," answered Tad, with an embarrassed smile, for the cowmen were making uncomplimentary remarks about letting babies into a man's game. The boy's face burned, but he gave no heed to their ungentlemanly remarks.
The foreman held up the hat. Tad leaned over and drew from it a slip of paper.
"Next—who draws next?" demanded the foreman.
"If it will save you any trouble, I might suggest that it isn't necessary to draw further," Tad informed him, with the suspicion of a smile on his face.
"What's that?" asked the foreman sharply.
"I have the second slip," was the quiet reply.
The cowboys broke into loud exclamations of disapproval.
"Fair is fair, boys," warned Mr. Jessup. "You all had your chance and you lost."
"Yes, that's right," agreed the foreman. "You fellows will have to swallow your pills without making faces."
The man Cravath was now talking with the cowboy who had drawn the other slip. He was one of the men Chunky had won from, though Tad did not know it at the moment.
Tom Phipps pushing his way up to the lad informed him of this fact, and drawing Tad to one side whispered something to him.
"Is that so?"
"Yes, Cravath owns one of the ponies that came near winning the race. He is not a very good-natured man and I imagine they are putting up some plan to get even with you boys," warned Tom.
"I'm not afraid. They won't let them do anything unfair," said Tad. "Besides, I ought to be able to take care of myself, by this time, though I haven't been doing much with the rope of late. Is that chap an expert roper?"
"I couldn't say as to that. But he's big and strong—"
"Which doesn't count for very much in this sort of a contest," laughed the boy.
"Very well, you know best. But keep your eyes on him."
"Are you gentlemen ready to begin?" called the rancher.
"I must go now," said Tad hurriedly.
"Good-bye and good luck," breathed Mr. Phipps, as the lad rode away at the same time straightening out his rope which he allowed to drag behind his pony while he recoiled it, working it in his hands to limber the rawhide.
"It's a good rope," decided Tad.
The foreman halted them for final instructions.
"Now, gentlemen, understand that the rope must go over the head and be drawn taut, after which you are to let go of it. You are to take your places some distance apart—I'll place you—and start at the crack of the pistol, not before. Understand?"
Tad and the cowman opposed to him nodded, the latter with a sarcastic grin on his face.
The miner had lost the rifle which he coveted, and the cowboy did not propose to have the same luck in the case of the saddle, which was very valuable.
The cowboy had his rope in hand ready to begin, while Tad's had been hung over the saddle horn. The lad was sitting in his saddle easily, with a quiet smile on his face, and the spectators noted that he was not in the least nervous.
"I guess that boy knows his business," muttered Mr. Jessup, who had been observing him keenly. "At least he's got the pluck and will give a good account of himself, though he never will be able to win against a professional rope thrower."
In the meanwhile, the foreman had started to place the contestants. Tad had the sun in his eyes, but he made no protest, knowing that he could change his position as soon as they got the word to go.
"Are you ready?"
"All ready," answered Tad cheerfully.
"Yes," said the cowboy shortly.
Tad's rope was now held in his right hand. Both men put spurs to their mounts almost before the report of the revolver had died way. The ponies leaped forward and the two opponents rode straight at each other.
They passed at racing speed, neither making an attempt to cast.
No sooner had they cleared each other, however, than the cowboy pulled up his horse sharply, wheeled and dashed after the Pony Rider Boy. Tad, having foreseen the movement, had likewise stopped his mount, and turned about. But instead of spurring on, he stood still.
The cowboy had hoped to come up behind Tad and rope him as he raced away. He was slightly disconcerted when he noted Tad's position. But the smiling face of the boy angered him, and the cowman's rope squirmed through the air.
Tad ducked, allowing the lariat to shoot on over him. It fell harmlessly on the other side of his pony and a quick pressure of the spurs took boy and pony from under it.
With a "yip-yip" Tad rushed at his opponent. The latter had had no time to gather in his own lariat, but he began shortening it up intending to swing it from where it lay on the ground.
His opponent gave him no time for this.
Tad made a quick cast. The cowboy threw himself to one side, but the loop of the lariat that had been thrown true reached his broad sombrero, neatly snipping it from his head.
The spectators uttered a yell of approval. They shook out their revolvers, sending a rattling volley up into the air.
Tad Butler had scored first.
His opponent was angered almost beyond control. That a mere boy could thus outwit him, which Tad had neatly done, was too much for his fiery temper.
With a growl of rage he drove his horse straight at the lad. It was plain that it was the fellow's intention to ride him down, which Tad circumvented by standing still until the man was nearly upon him, and then driving his pony out of the path of the oncoming horseman.
Each began a series of manoeuvres, the purpose of which was to place the rider behind his opponent, but each proved too wary to be caught in any such way.
The contest was growing hotter every moment, and the spectators were getting worked up to a high pitch of excitement. They had never seen a more interesting roping exhibition than this, and that a boy was one of the contestants gave their enthusiasm an added zest.
The two were, by this time, working far out on the field. Tad realized this and sought to get back nearer to their starting point. He did not, however, understand that his adversary had any object in getting so far away, though the man had a distinct purpose in so doing, as Tad eventually learned.
The foreman was shouting a warning to them, which Tad tried to heed, although his adversary prevented his doing so by blocking the way each time.
Whenever the opportunity presented itself the cowboy would bump his pony violently against the one that Tad Butler was riding, in an effort either to so jar the boy that he could rope him or else possibly to unhorse the lad.
"See here, you stop that!" shouted Tad after the third attempt. "What are you trying to do to me?"
"I'll show you, you freckle-faced tenderfoot!" yelled the cowboy, making a vicious rush. At the same time his rawhide shot out.
Tad narrowly missed being caught that time, and in turn the cowboy was nearly caught by Tad's loop. A lucky sweep of his arm brushed I the lariat away not a second too soon.
Tad observing that his adversary, who was about to cast again, had him at a dangerous advantage, threw himself down on the side of the pony's neck. Both animals were running almost neck and neck at the moment.
With a whoop the cowboy let go. His loop closed around the boy's ankle which from his position on the pony's side, was sticking well up in the air. Tad's opponent, suddenly braced his pony, while the boy's mount raced straight ahead.
The result of this move was that Tad Butler was torn from his saddle, fetching away the stirrup box on one side with him. He struck the ground violently, and for a moment lay still, while the cowboy sat grinning, making no effort to learn how badly his adversary was hurt.
The foreman and several others were rushing to the scene. By the time they reached it, Tad was scrambling to his feet.
"I roped the kid," announced the cowboy, as if it were all finally settled.
"You roped me by the foot," retorted Tad.
"Yes, that was a foul," said the foreman. "I saw it myself. How'd you come to do that, Bob?"
"Mistake," answered the cowboy, thus admitting that they were right.
Tad turned on him sharply.
"Did you say it was a mistake?" he asked with a world of meaning in his tone.
"We will award the prize to you, Butler," announced the owner of the ranch. "That's the usual way when a foul has been committed."
The cowboy glowered angrily.
"I couldn't think of accepting it, Mr. Jessup," answered Tad, straightening to his full height. "I'll go on with the contest, but he mustn't do that to me again or there will be trouble."
Some of them laughed at the boy's veiled threat.
"There certainly will be trouble," agreed Mr. Jessup—"trouble with me. I want you two to keep up the field further so we can see what is going on. Are you hurt, boy?"
"Shaken up a little that's all. Guess my saddle was worse used than I was."
The contestants lined up for another bout, amid the most intense excitement. So closely had the spectators gathered about them that the ropers had no room in which to work, and the foreman found it necessary to urge them back before giving the word to start.