There He Goes"There He Goes!"
There He Goes"There He Goes!"
"There he goes," wailed Ned.
"After him!" shouted Tad.
"Guide! Guide! Come back here, guide!" roared the Professor. But Chops was on fleet feet, with four shouting, yelling boys in hot pursuit.
"That's the last we shall see of our guide," moaned the Professor, sitting down heavily.
The yells of the Pony Rider Boys, instead of inducing Chops to stop only caused him to run the faster. Stacy Brown was soon at the tail-end of the procession. Tad was in the lead, Ned Rector close upon his heels, with Walter Perkins a good thirty yards behind Ned.
"Stop, you ninny!" shouted Tad. "Come back here."
"N-n-nassir," floated back the voice of the guide. Chops had enough. He was more frightened than ever before in his life. He believed that the fat boy had really had the dream, and that trouble was brewing for Billy Veal.
"We'll never get him," gasped Rector.
"Yes, we shall. Get your rope. We'll have him. We'll chase him all night but we'll land him. Chops! Oh, Chops!"
"Save your breath," jeered Ned.
"I'm going to. Oh, what I won't do to that guide when I do catch him!" gritted Tad.
"Yes, when you do."
Butler put on a fresh burst of speed, touching the ground only with his toes, as he ran, leaving Ned still farther behind.
"Gracious, I didn't think Tad could sprint like that," gasped Rector.
"Wait for me," howled Chunky, now far to the rear.
The boys got to laughing so heartily at this that Chops gained several rods on them, but Tad quickly closed up the gap and was soon drawing down on Billy Veal at a killing pace. The guide was a good runner, but he did not have the staying powers possessed by Tad Butler. Tad, no doubt, could have run all night had such a thing been necessary, for he was a strong, healthy boy with not an ounce of extra flesh on his body, and his muscles were of the quality of pliant steel.
Tad now drew out to one side and a few minutes later he passed the man they were chasing, though Veal did not know of this. The colored man came tearing along at almost express train speed, when Tad's rope wriggled through the air. The throw was a true one. The loop landed fairly over the head and shoulders of Chops, was drawn taut by the runner himself, and in the next instant Billy Veal stood pivoting on his head on the ground.
"Gracious, I hope he hasn't broken his neck," cried Tad. "I—I didn't think he would go down so heavily as that."
"Where is he? Where is, the guide?" shouted Ned Rector, coming up with a splendid burst of speed, and not breathing hard at all.
"Look out, or you'll step on him," warned Tad.
"Where is he?" repeated Ned.
"Chops is standing on his head just ahead of you behind those bushes. Get hold of him so I can let up on the rope."
With a yell of triumph, Ned threw himself on the colored man, who was too dazed from the shock of his fall to offer much resistance.
At this juncture Walter Perkins came in on a trot, followed after an interval of a minute or so by the shouting, puffing fat boy.
"You are to blame for this, Chunky," growled Ned, trying to be stern.
"It strikes me that you are sitting on Chops yourself. You surely can't blame me for that," retorted Stacy.
"Here, you, get up and come back to camp with us," commanded Tad.
"Yes, Chops, the gnomes will get you out here," reminded Stacy.
"Stop it! You'll have him on the run again," rebuked Tad.
Chops looked up, wide-eyed.
"Hit jes' lak dat, fer fae'," muttered Billy. "Ah done seen dem myself."
"There! What did I tell you?" demanded Chunky triumphantly. "He 'seen dem himself.' Did they have biscuit in their mouths, Chops?"
"Yassir, nassir. He ain't say nuffin' 'tall. He jess look lak dat." The guide made big staring eyes, as if peering at something in a world unseen by the rest.
"Say, quit that! You'll give me the creeps soon," declared Ned. "Are we going to take him back to camp or must I sit on him all the rest of the night?"
"Let him up, Ned," nodded Tad, recoiling his rope. "If you try to run, Billy, I'll rope you again. Do you want me to rope you some more?"
"Yassir, nassir."
Chops was shivering as he got up and started slowly back towards camp, casting apprehensive glances at every bush he passed. A wild yell from the bushes bordering the trail they were following nearly sent the guide off on another sprint. He surely would have run had not Tad grabbed him by the arm and given him a shaking.
"Stacy Brown, if you do that again you will have to answer to the Professor. Fun is fun, but the fun's all played out of this affair. Come along here, Billy."
Billy was marched into camp, set down by the fire, and ordered to remain there till told to get up. The Professor tried to assume a stern expression, but the attempt was a failure, finally ending in a chuckle, in which Chunky, who had just arrived, joined with his familiar "haw, haw, haw."
"Oh, stop it!" commanded Ned. "You make me think I'm back among the Missouri mules. What are we going to do with this fellow, Professor?"
"I'll tell you what to do with him," spoke up Chunky. "Give him a tostie wostie—in other words, a petrified biscuit, and tuck him in his li'l crib where the little gnomes can't tickle his feet, and he'll be all right after he gets to sleep," suggested the fat boy without so much as the suggestion of a smile on his face.
"Guide, you must not take the jokes of these young men seriously. They were just fooling," began the Professor.
"They? You mean Stacy Brown," interrupted Ned.
"I wasn't fooling anyone. He saw them himself. Didn't you see the gnomes sitting on a rock, Chops, and didn't they make faces at you because you were running away?" persisted the fat boy.
Billy nodded weakly, moistening his lips with his tongue and swallowing a lump in his throat. Such a hopeless expression of fright appeared on his face that the boys, unable to contain their mirth longer, uttered shouts of laughter, in which the dignified Professor joined.
"You see! I told you so," nodded Stacy.
"Young man, I shall have to ask you to cease playing pranks on the guide. We can ill afford to be without a guide in this wilderness of trees and rocks."
"A guide?" laughed Tad.
"Yes, a guide."
"Too bad we haven't one," muttered Stacy.
"It is to you I am speaking, Master Stacy. You must not tantalize Billy. Let him alone. Have I your promise that you will do so?"
"If I promise I have to, don't I?" questioned the fat boy.
"Certainly you do."
"Then I guess I won't promise," he replied after a brief reflection.
The Professor gave it up with a shrug of his shoulders. He asked the guide if they should tie him up for the night or if he would lie down and behave himself. Billy decided that he would prefer the latter, so they left it that way. Chops was then permitted to return to his duties, getting the camp to rights for the night, but it was observed that he gave a nervous little jump every time he heard an unusual sound.
"I'll bet he sees more than a black cat in his sleep tonight," Tad confided to Rector.
"I don't care what he sees so long as he doesn't snore. And I give you due notice that if Chunky persists in snoring as he has been doing lately either he or I will have to sleep out in the bushes out of sound of the camp. Why, Tad, I am on the verge of nervous prostration from loss of sleep," declared Ned.
"You surely look it, too," replied Tad with a grin.
"If Stacy chases Chops out of camp again I am quite positive that it will be Stacy Brown who will sleep in the bushes," resumed Ned in a tone of voice loud enough for Stacy to hear.
"Not so that anyone will notice it, he won't," called back the fat boy.
The night passed uneventfully. On the morrow, bright and early, the party continued their journey into the heart of the mountains. That day being Saturday, according to their usual practice, the Pony Riders went into camp to remain until Monday morning. This also gave the ponies a much-needed rest.
For this weekend stay, the tents were pitched in a deep, sombre canyon, that reminded the boys of Bright Angel Gulch in the Grand Canyon where they had encountered so many exciting experiences.
It was near the middle of the forenoon on Sunday when a stranger walked into camp, moving in long, determined strides. In the crook of his right arm he carried a rifle. The boys greeted the newcomer pleasantly, at the same time offering him the hospitality of a cup of coffee.
"I don't want no coffee," grunted the stranger, with a reckless disregard for the English language. "I want a heap sight more of you, though."
"First, may I ask who you are?" questioned Tad Butler.
"I'm not here to answer questions. I reckon you'll have to answer some instead."
"Let's have the questions, then," smiled Tad. "But if you won't answer questions why should you expect it of us?"
"Because I'm an officer, and I'm here on business."
"Business! What business?" blurted Stacy, jumping up. "Are you after Chops?"
"Humph! More likely I'm after all of you," rejoined the stranger. "But that depends."
"If you are an officer I wish you had happened along a couple of days ago," said Tad. "We had a lot of trouble with an imitation bad man, Smoky Griffin. Know him?"
"No. I'm not that kind of an officer."
"He's a corporal in the Home Guards," guessed Chunky.
"My man," broke in Professor Zepplin, with extreme dignity, "will you be good enough to explain just what your business is?"
"Yes. I'm a government officer, and I've come to give you notice to quit, and right smart at that. It's your move, and you'll have to get up and dust out of these parts. If you don't, I'll lock you up in jail, to start with. Then, after you've waited a few months for the court to sit, you'll find that you have worse medicine to take. Is that plain enough?"
"I—I don't understand your attitude," stammered Professor Zepplin.
"Mebby this will mean something to you," said the newcomer, holding up a furry object.
"What is it?"
"Looks like the paw of the black cat that I dreamed I saw chasing the three-legged rat through the field of red clover," declared Stacy.
Tad motioned to the fat boy to be silent.
"It is a deer's foot, isn't it?" he asked.
"You've guessed it, young man."
The thought came to some of them that perhaps they had a crazy man to deal with. The Professor decided to humor their caller.
"Very interesting, very interesting," he nodded. "You shot him, eh?"
"I did not."
"No? Then I do not understand what particular interest attaches to the foot."
"I reckon you would if you wanted to. You've seen it before," grunted the man.
"I beg to differ with you. I have not seen a deer foot, let alone the animal belonging to it, in some months. Why do you insist upon this?"
"Because one of your party shot the deer. You've got deer inside of you at this particular minute and—"
Stacy rubbed his stomach and rolled his eyes.
"I wish I had," murmured the fat boy.
"Now just what do you want to say to us?" demanded the Professor, considerably irritated.
"That you'll have to get off this Ridge right quick or it'll be the worse for you," announced the stranger in a commanding voice.
"Leave the Ridge?" cried the boys in chorus.
"Leave these mountains? Is that what you mean?" demanded the Professor indignantly.
"I reckon that's it."
"Why so? Why should we leave here until we have finished our journey?" interjected Tad, eyeing the man keenly.
"Because I say so. I'm not talking to you."
"But I am talking to you, sir. I am one of the interested parties, you see, and I want to know."
"I'm from Missouri, also," spoke up Ned, stepping forward.
"I'm one of the leading citizens of that state, too. I'm not a voter, but I can make just as much noise as any voter in the state when it comes to the cheering," declared the fat boy, pushing his way into the semicircle about the visitor, who was seated on a rock with his rifle over his knees.
"Maybe you fellows think this is a joke. Anybody'd think so from the way you act," snapped the officer.
"Far from it," replied the Professor sharply.
"Well, you've got to git, that's all, and right smart at that."
"How do we know you are an officer?" demanded Butler.
"Because I say so."
"That's no proof," declared Ned boldly.
"Your authority—what is your authority?" urged the Professor.
"I reckon this is authority enough," declared the man, tapping his rifle significantly.
"We've got some of the same kind, several of them in fact," answered Tad, with a good-natured laugh. "When it comes to that I think you will find our authority fully as convincing as yours."
For the moment matters looked serious. The man's face turned red. He shifted his weapon a little and glared at the young man who had really uttered a challenge.
"Whether or not you are an officer I do not know," went on the Professor. "However, I have a right to know why you make this singular request."
"No request about it. I told you to mosey."
"But why?"
"You're on government property."
"Well, what of it?"
"You've been shooting on government property?"
"I deny it," thundered Professor Zepplin, slapping his thigh with the flat of his hand.
"We may have been shooting, but not at game," explained Tad. "Professor, are we on a government reservation?"
"I was not aware of the fact," was the reply, made in a half sarcastic tone. "I'll look at the map. Go and bring it, Tad."
"Stay where you are!" commanded the officer.
"My, but he's touchy, isn't he?" wondered the fat boy. "Guess we'll have to serve him the same way we did Chops last night, rope and sit on him."
"What is your name?" asked Professor Zepplin, regarding the man shrewdly.
"Never you mind about my name. Uncle Sam is a good enough name."
"Depending upon who wears it," scoffed Ned Rector.
"See here, I don't want to hear any more of your talk, not from any of you. You're an impudent lot of youngsters, though you're old enough to know better."
"You will kindly direct your conversation to me, my man," broke in the Professor. "I am in charge of this party and wholly responsible for anything they may do. In the first place, I deny that any of us has shot any game on the Ridge. In the second place, I know of no law that will prevent our passing over a government preserve, though there are preserves where firearms are not permitted."
"This is one of them," interrupted the man.
"Where do the preserves end and where do they begin?" demanded Tad shrewdly.
The mountaineer hesitated. For the moment he appeared confused. Then he made answer.
"I reckon a few miles this side of Hunt's Corners and on to the other side of old Smoky Bald."
"Nonsense!" exploded Butler. "I don't believe it."
"Quiet, Tad," rebuked the Professor.
"Say, you Mister Man, we don't talk business on Sunday," spoke up Stacy. "Come around tomorrow morning and we'll talk to you during business hours and give you all the talk you want, with a little something else it you are looking for trouble. I guess you're another of those bad men from Smoky Creek, and the further up you get the worse they are."
The face of the officer turned white with anger.
"I agree with the young man," nodded the Professor. "You may call here tomorrow morning, stranger. We shall be here until nine o'clock, after which we shall no doubt be on our way toward Smoky Bald, provided we do not change our minds. By that time we shall be in a position to talk more intelligently with you and perhaps you on your part will be able to converse more courteously. Good-day."
The Professor uttered the words with more than his usual firmness. Always firm and decisive in his manner of speaking, the present utterance was calculated to impress him to whom it was directed.
The supposed officer started, shifted his gun, then rose angrily.
"I haven't got time to argue here all day—"
"Nor have we," replied Professor Zepplin evenly.
"I reckon my boss will have something to say when I report how you used a government officer."
"If you could show us any good reason why we should be ejected we should be glad to comply with your command. As it is I do not believe you have the least right in the world to order us from the Ridge. If such a right existed, you wouldn't have to order us off. We should go without being told," said Professor Zepplin.
"If ye don't keep shet I'll arrest the whole pack and parcel of ye."
"I should esteem it a favor if you would," retorted the Professor belligerently. The boys wanted to cheer Professor Zepplin, but they did not think that would tend to soothe the spirits of their visitor.
"I'll give ye till tomorrow morning to get off the range," declared the man. "If you're here it will be the worse for you. I reckon I haven't got anything more to say."
"I am glad of it. You have said quite enough already," snorted Professor Zepplin.
Without another word the stranger got up and strode away. Tad stood irresolute for a moment, then he skulked away on the trail of their late visitor.
"Tad, Tad!" called the Professor. "Where are you going?"
"I'll be back in a minute. I'm just going over here a piece. Don't worry. I may learn something," answered the boy, trotting back so that the stranger might not hear what he was saying.
"I reckon I'll go with you," announced Ned.
But Tad merely shook his head, and disappeared around the corner of a rock. The lad came upon their visitor much sooner than he had expected. In fact, the Pony Rider Boy had a narrow escape from being discovered. Had he not thrown himself flat on the ground, the mountaineer surely would have seen him, for at the moment of discovering the man the fellow was turning to look back.
Tad was screened by a clump of bushes, through which he was peering. The late visitor started on; then, when he considered it safe to do so, Tad followed. A short distance from the camp the visitor paused, giving a low whistle. Another man rose and came forward to meet him, much to the lad's amazement.
"Good gracious, the woods appear to be full of these fellows. I wonder what it means?"
Tad's question was not to be answered at that moment. After holding a brief conversation the two men walked away together. Butler saw them mount their ponies that had been secreted in among the trees and ride away.
"A precious pair of rascals," decided the Pony Rider Boy, hurrying back to camp.
"Well, you came back with a whole skin, did you?" grinned Ned.
"Did you discover anything, Tad?" questioned the Professor.
"Yes, sir, I did, though I don't see that the knowledge I gained is going to be of any great use to us."
"What is it?"
"There are two men. The man who was here met another fellow in the clearing over yonder. They talked together a little and then rode away. It's my opinion that something is going on in these mountains and that it might be a good idea for us to keep a weather eye open."
"What did I tell you?" demanded Stacy.
"About what?" questioned Tad, turning to his companion.
"About the blind men and the one-eyed horse, and the black cat and the three-legged rat," answered the fat boy triumphantly. "I knew something was going to happen. Chops knew it, too. Those gnomes weren't roosting on the rocks for nothing. I guess I know something about gnomes. Look out for the black cat. He's a trouble-maker."
"We have important matters to discuss," interrupted Professor Zepplin. "Be good enough to cease your nonsense, Stacy."
"Nonsense? Nonsense? Well, I like that. Here I give you warning of trouble and you call it nonsense. I'd like to see any weather bureau hit off the weather as closely as I hit off trouble."
"You cause more than you hit off," answered Tad. "Professor, what do you make of this?"
"Nothing. I don't know what to think of it."
"Nor do I, but as I said before, it seems to me that, if that fellow really is an officer, he must be crazy. Oh, I forgot, we were going to look at the map."
"To be sure. You will find it in my dufflebag."
Walter ran to the bag, returning with the map, which they straightened out on a rock, placing four small stones on the corners to keep the map open.
"There is the southern line of the government preserves," said Tad, pointing.
"About where are we now?" asked Rector.
"I should say about here," answered Butler, laying a finger on a dark spot on the map.
"Here is Smoky Bald, here is the pass in which we are encamped, and yonder is the rise of ground over which we came on our way from Hunt's Corners. According to my reckoning, we must be a good twenty-five or thirty miles to the south of the government line. I guess we've got our friend now."
"He's a scoundrel!" cried the Professor.
"He is. He must be," declared Tad. "But, what have the men in mind?"
"That remains to be seen," replied the Professor. "Perhaps their only object is to get rid of us, and perhaps—"
"Perhaps they are planning some crooked business," finished Butler. "What have you decided to do, Professor?"
"What do you boys wish to do?"
"We don't want to be turned back if we can help it. So long as we are convinced that the fellow is a fraud, I say let's go right along regardless of him and his crooked business," urged Tad.
"Are you all agreed on this, boys?" demanded the Professor.
"We are," cried the Pony Rider Boys.
"Then the matter is definitely settled. We move tomorrow morning, the same as usual, and if our friend sees fit to interfere with us we will show him that we are well able to take care of ourselves, that we are not tenderfeet," declared the Professor belligerently.
"No, we will not break camp until nine o'clock," said the Professor when, on the following morning, Ned proposed that they get under way immediately after breakfast. "We promised our friend that we should be here until that hour, you know."
"Then I think I will scout around to see if anything is doing," suggested Tad, who immediately hurried from camp. He returned half an hour later with the information that there wasn't a human being within a mile of them so far as he had been able to learn. It then lacked an hour of nine, so the boys passed the time with packing, joking and talking. They were not greatly troubled, nor would they have been had they known what was before them that day.
Professor Zepplin, too, was filled with the spirit of the occasion. The old soldier never shrank when it came to a battle, though naturally he felt the responsibility of having four boys to look after, even though those boys were pretty well able to take care of themselves, as they had demonstrated on numerous occasions.
An inventory of the supplies showed that everything was accounted for. This, Stacy declared, was because he had frightened the three-legged rat away from camp. He said he had a worse fright in store for it if it showed itself around that outfit again. Chops looked very solemn at this. The fright the guide had had served to chasten and subdue him. This was not lost on the Pony Rider Boys, nor was the significance of it, either.
"Nine o'clock. Time to move," announced the Professor finally, closing his watch with a snap. "We will start now. Are you ready, boys?"
"All ready," answered the lads in chorus.
"All ready to start—something!" added Chunky.
"No, we will not start anything, my boy," rebuked the Professor.
"Stacy is quite given to slang of late," laughed Tad.
"I have observed as much," answered the Professor dryly. "I trust you will cut out slang, young man." The Professor eyed the fat boy sternly.
"I trust you will, too, Professor," retorted Stacy.
"I—I use slang?" demanded the Professor indignantly.
"Yes. You said I must 'cut out' slang. If that isn't slang, my dictionary is ahead of the times," returned Stacy triumphantly.
"He has you there, Professor," chuckled Tad.
"He surely has," agreed the other boys smiling broadly.
"Young men, I admit it. I am properly rebuked, and I assure you the offense will not be repeated. I promise to refrain from anything of the sort in the future, and I shall expect you to do the same."
"Well, I won't promise, but I'll try," drawled Stacy. "If I promised, honest Injun, I'd have to keep my promise. You know I don't like to be roped with a promise. It's like being tied to a tree. A fellow can't let himself out when he wants to."
"You'll have plenty of opportunity to let yourself out, I am thinking. Something do—" began Tad.
"Ah—ah!" warned Chunky.
"I guess I nearly forgot myself, didn't I?" grinned Butler.
"Yes, you'll have to cut it—"
"Whoa, Chunky!" shouted Ned. "There you go again."
"Hopeless! Hopeless!" groaned Professor Zepplin. "But that's right. Correct one another and you will soon overcome the habit. We are forced to live a semi-barbarous life, but that is no reason why we should forget either our manners or our English."
"We shouldn't were it not for Stacy Brown," declared Rector.
"That's right. Lay everything to me. I'm tough. I can stand it. But I'm the prophet of this outfit; I'm a necessary encumbrance."
"Mount!" commanded Tad. "Billy, did you bring that bundle of dry sticks for kindling the fire?"
"Nassir, yassir."
"Then, forward march!"
"Giddap, you old bundle of bones," jeered Chunky, giving his pony a smart unexpected slap.
The pony kicked and squealed, giving Stacy a lively tussle for a few moments.
"Why do you stir him up so?" rebuked Tad. "That isn't horsemanship. You act like a beginner."
"He always is that way in the morning. It's his way of showing his pleasure at having me on his back. Whoa, there, you cayuse!" shouted the fat boy.
Stacy lost part of his pack, necessitating a halt while he got down to repack and take a fresh hitch. Finally having arranged it to his satisfaction the fat boy mounted. His companions had waited with long-suffering patience, and there were sighs of relief when Stacy was once more ready. The party moved off at a leisurely walk, for the ground was rough and the trail not easy to follow.
A close watch was kept ahead as far as they could see, and on all sides as well. But nothing of a disturbing nature occurred until near noon, when Stacy, having ridden off to one side, scared a doe, which fled through the brush making a great crashing, nearly frightening the fat boy out of his wits.
Tad and the Professor rushed to Stacy's assistance. Their disgust was great when they discovered the cause of the uproar. It was then decided that Chunky must keep close to the party and try to behave himself.
After a brief rest following the noon meal they once more mounted their ponies and set out. They had been on their way less than an hour when, riding out into an open space, they halted rather suddenly.
As they entered the open space two horsemen rode in on the opposite side. The men carried rifles across their saddles, and came directly toward the Pony Rider Boys' outfit.
"There he is!" exclaimed Tad.
"Who—who—who?" demanded Stacy.
"The black cat," answered Rector under his breath.
Professor Zepplin recognized one of the men instantly. The Professor's lips closed firmly. One of the horsemen was the man who had claimed to be an officer when visiting their camp and ordering them to leave the Ridge.
"Well, I see you fellows are still here," he said mockingly as he rode up to the outfit.
"Your eyes do not deceive you, sir," answered the Professor coldly.
"Where do you fellows reckon you are going?"
"In the first place, we are not fellows," resented Tad, his face flushing. "In the second, we do not consider it any of your affair where we are going."
"The young gentleman is right," added the Professor. "You have no right to interfere with us. What do you want?"
"I want you to turn your nags about right smart and head in the other direction. This is a preserve, and—"
"I deny it!" snapped Professor Zepplin. "It is not a preserve and what is more I don't believe you are an officer. Will you stand aside and permit us to go our way?"
"I will not."
"What do you propose to do?"
"I reckon I'll wait here till I see you headed t'other way."
"Then you will wait a long time," exclaimed Butler. "We are not going to turn about. We are going straight ahead, and we are going to keep on going until we are ready to head the other way, and—"
"I reckon you won't do nothing of the sort." The mountaineer nodded to his companion, who started to ride around to one side of the outfit.
Tad saw the purpose of the movement at once. They proposed to make a flanking movement where they would have more advantage so far as position was concerned.
"If you please, stay where you are!" commanded Tad sharply.
"What—what! You reckon to give me orders?" demanded the man furiously.
"I'm telling you two to stay where you are if you know what's good for you. We have had about enough of your nonsense. Professor, are we going to stand for any more of this foolishness?" demanded Tad heatedly.
"No, not much, Tad. But be patient for a moment. I want to talk with this man further. Do I still understand you to persist that we are on a government preserve?" he asked, turning to the mountaineer.
"I reckon I've told you that before and I'll tell it to you again."
"Say it as many times as you choose, sir, if it pleases you," answered Professor Zepplin sarcastically. "We heard you the first time. It's getting to be an old story now."
"Well?"
"I deny that this is a preserve. I further state that in my opinion you are a scoundrel. If you are not you will resent the accusation, and I am ready to meet any such resentment," added the plucky Professor, permitting one hand to drop lightly to his pistol holster.
The movement was not lost on the mountaineer. Nor was the fellow to be deterred from carrying out his purpose. He shifted his rifle into a more convenient position.
"It's the black cat," muttered the fat boy. "And we'll all be lame ducks in a minute."
"Keep steady, lads," warned the Professor in a low tone.
Tad nodded, taking in his fellows in the same nod as indicating that they were to take no action until ordered to do so.
"Professor, I'm going on," announced Butler. "We may stand here all day arguing at the present rate."
With that Tad clucked to his pony and started, picking his way through the growth in the open space.
"You stop where you are!" commanded the mountaineer.
"You stop me if you dare," retorted the Pony Rider Boy. "Come along, Professor."
Instead the Professor sat grimly in his saddle, eyeing the mountaineer sternly. The latter half raised his rifle, bringing the muzzle to bear on the advancing Tad.
"Oh, fudge! Put that gun back in your boot!" scoffed Butler. "You know you don't dare to use it. You know very well that you would get the worst of it if you dared to pull the trigger."
"Are you going back?" roared the mountaineer.
"No, I'm going forward," answered Tad, putting spur to his pony and starting at a jog trot. He was headed directly towards the mountaineer, and the latter's pony took a step aside in order to prevent a collision. The muzzle of the mountaineer's rifle almost grazed Butler's sleeve as he trotted past the man who had threatened to shoot him.
"Come on, fellows. Are you going to camp there in your saddles?"
For answer the Professor and the three lads started to follow their companion. It was at this juncture that the mountaineer's companion took a hand in the affair and changed the situation instantly into a much more serious one. Up to this time Tad's sheer grit had overcome the desperate purpose of the alleged officer. The intervention of the other man had put a new complexion on the affair.
"Make 'em dance!" shouted the second man.
Two revolvers banged. Tad's pony leaped up into the air, for the two shots had been fired right under the pony's hind feet. Ere the lad could subdue the little animal two more shots had landed under the fetlocks of the spirited animal.
"Stop that!" thundered the Professor.
"Don't be alarmed, Professor. They are only bluffing," called Tad. "I'll take care of these gentlemen when I get my pony subdued."
Bang, bang!
Two bullets fanned the feet of Professor Zepplin's mount. This was more than the old fighter could endure. He whipped out his own revolver and began peppering the ground under the feet of the mountaineers' horses. It was the turn of the assailants' animals to cut up now. And they did, threatening to unhorse their riders.
At the moment when the Professor let go his bullets the supposed officer was about to fire another shot under Professor Zepplin's mount. But the pony leaping, spoiled the mountaineer's aim. One of his shots bored a hole through the crown of the Professor's hat. A bullet from the Professor's revolver fanned the cheek of the mountaineer.
"Hold your fire!" shouted Tad to his companions.
The mountaineer, not waiting to reload, began tugging at his other weapon. Tad drove his pony straight at the man who, by this time, was leveling the pistol at Professor Zepplin. The Pony Rider Boy hit the weapon with his quirt. The bullet went high above the head of its intended victim. The second swing of the quirt was even more of a surprise to the mountaineer than had been the first. The quirt landed on the fellow's cheek with such force as to lay it open and draw blood.
Before the man could recover, Tad Butler had fastened upon his collar, and the fellow was jerked from his saddle and landed heavily on the hard ground.
"Cover the other man!" shouted Tad.
Four guns were pointed at the other mountaineer, who was so dazed over the sudden and unexpected turn of affairs that he seemed to have lost power of action of any sort.
In the meantime Butler had quickly disarmed the man whom he had so cleverly unhorsed, taking possession of his weapons and throwing them away.
The lad stepped quickly to the still mounted rider and walking right up beside him stretched up a hand.
"Give me that pistol!" commanded the lad.
The horseman hesitated. The boys held their breath. They expected to see Tad Butler shot where he stood. Nothing of the sort occurred. The man glanced quickly at the menacing weapons of the Pony Rider Boys, down into the resolute, fearless face of Tad Butler, then shoved the weapon, muzzle first, into Butler's face.
Tad didn't even wink.
"The other end to, if you please," he warned.
With a grunt the horseman turned the gun about and threw it rather than handed it to the victor.
"Now jerk that rifle out of your boot and drop it on the other side of your horse. Be quick. There will be some real shooting here if you dilly-dally any longer. We've stood all we're going to take from you ruffians."
The Pony Rider Boys gave a yell as the mountaineer's weapon dropped to the ground. By this time the supposed officer had scrambled to his feet. He was white with rage. He started for the weapons that Tad had taken from him.
"Steady, my friend!" warned the Professor. "This weapon in my hand might—might, you understand—go off unexpectedly. Right about face and get into your saddle. Mount!"
"I'll have the law on you!" roared the defeated mountaineer.
"Then why don't you? You say you are the law. Take us!"
"Get out of here, both of you, and don't you dare show your faces again," commanded Butler.
"And before you leave," added the Professor, "let me say that at the first opportunity I'll have the sheriff on your trail. Now go!"
With the howls of the delighted Pony Rider Boys ringing in their ears the two mountaineers rode away as fast as they could drive their ponies.
"Now where's your black cat?" demanded Tad with a grin.
"Oh, he's chasing a two-legged rat through the chaparral," answered the fat boy carelessly.
Professor Zepplin wiped the perspiration from his forehead with a savage swish of the handkerchief.
"The scoundrels!" he exclaimed, making a strong effort to control himself. "The scoundrels!"
"I agree with you, Professor," nodded Tad.
"It's my opinion that we had better get out of this country," declared Walter Perkins.
"We shall not. I am going on now, even if they bring in a regiment to put us out!" fairly shouted Professor Zepplin.
"Hurrah for the Professor! Three cheers for the Professor!" cried Ned. The boys gave three ringing cheers and a tiger.
"That will do, boys. We will be on our way now," said the Professor, having regained his composure.
"Are you going to leave the weapons of those men here, Tad?" asked Walter.
"Yes, but I'm going to fix them so they won't be of much use to their owners," replied Tad.
The lad, after drawing the charges from the guns, hammered them over a rock until the barrels of the rifles were bent and twisted and the butts broken, rendering the weapons utterly useless. He then took apart the revolvers and after damaging the parts so that the pistols could not be used heaped the remains of the mountaineers' arsenal on the rock over which he had broken them.
"I guess those guns won't do any damage," grinned the Pony Rider Boy. "I'm ready for the hike now, fellows."
The hike began at once. Even Chops, who had fled at the first indication of trouble, now came out from his hiding place and, mounting his horse, joined the procession.
"I reckon we've given those fellows a scare that will last them for a time," announced Tad, after they had traveled a short distance from the scene of the conflict. "But it was only a near fight after all. They hoped to frighten us. I don't believe they intended to do us harm."
"Yes, and I am surprised at you, Professor," reproved Stacy.
"Why?"
"I never knew you were such a savage. Why, if we hadn't restrained you, you would have hurt somebody. Don't ever let me hear you advising me to control my temper."
The Professor interrupted with an exclamation of disgust.
"I wish I knew what is in the wind," reflected Tad. "However, I don't suppose we shall know the motive for this attack. If ever we do you will see that it is some piece of rascality."
"I am of the same opinion," agreed Professor Zepplin. "I wish we knew where to find a sheriff or a constable, or whatever they may call them in this region."
"Why don't you get a telephone?" suggested Chunky.
The boys jeered.
"Yes, why don't we?" demanded Ned. "Just the very thing! Professor, if you don't mind I'll run over and call up the sheriff and—"
"Tell him you've discovered the black cat," finished Stacy. "Br-r-r!" said the fat boy, chancing to catch the eye of Billy Veal.
Billy exhibited signs of a panic.
"Let the guide alone," commanded the Professor. "We have had quite enough trouble resulting from your pranks."
"That's right, lay it all to me. I can stand it. That's what you have me along for—to take the blame for everything else that the rest of you don't want to stand for."
"Oh, pooh! Can't you take a joke?" laughed Ned, riding up and slapping Stacy on the back. "You know we are only taking advantage of your giving us a chance to have fun with you. This outfit would be tame as fishing in a washtub if it weren't for you, Stacy Chunky Brown."
Chunky regarded Rector with round eyes.
"Do you mean that, Ned Rector?"
"Of course I do."
"Boo-hoo!" mocked the fat boy. "That's the first kind wor-r-d I've had since I left my happy home in Chillicothe. Give me your kind old hand, Ned Rector. May I never hold a dirtier one!"
"There! See! You won't let me be good to you. Remember, I tried to make amends for a lot of things I've said to and about you, but you wouldn't let me. This is the last time I try to make up. Do your worst."
"I will," agreed Chunky solemnly.
"You mean you have," called Tad.
"No, I mean I will."
"All right, only for goodness' sake don't try it on me."
"There are indications of gold here!" The Professor's voice was calm and analytical.
"What?" shouted the boys.
Professor Zepplin was leaning from his saddle, keenly scrutinizing the rocks at the side of the trail.
"I said, there are indications of gold in the quartz rock here—"
"Gold! Gold! Lead me to it," shouted Stacy. "I need some right now. Show it to me!"
"Kindly curb your emotions, Stacy," rebuked the Professor, eyeing the fat boy sternly.
"I need that gold," insisted Master Brown, unabashed.
"Please hand it to him, Professor," urged Tad. "Then Stacy will be able to pay what he owes me."
"Always that reminder of debt!" snorted Chunky indignantly. "What does a debt amount to between friends?"
"That isn't a very honest view to take, Stacy," teased Butler,
"Honest?" sputtered Chunky. "Tad Butler, I'm honest, and you know it! I owe you a few dimes, and I'd sooner owe them to you all my life than cheat you out of the money."
But Tad wasn't listening. He was off his pony now, bending near the Professor, and listening intently to what that scientific gentleman had to say of the gold signs.
"As to whether there is gold enough here to amount to what miners call 'pay dirt,'" Professor Zepplin continued, "I don't care to say just yet. Gold is plentiful in these mountains, yet there is rarely enough of it found in one place to pay for the trouble of getting it."
"Show me the gold," pleaded Chunky.
"Here is color," replied the Professor, resting a fingertip on a dull yellowish streak.
"I don't see the gold," said Stacy, after a hard stare.
"You're not used to the sight," jibed Tad. "Now, Walter's father is a banker, and I'll wager Walter has seen a lot of it at the bank."
"Only a few bushels of it at a time," said Walter dryly. "Of course a bushel of gold is a tame sight."
"That's enough! That's enough! I can't think in such large amounts. Pints are about as far as I can go when it comes to gold," retorted Stacy.
"Pennies, you mean," suggested Ned mischievously.
Chunky gave him a withering glance, then turned his attention to what the Professor was saying. The Professor was chipping away at the rock with his little geological hammer, carefully selecting samples of the ore, which he tucked in his coat pocket for future examination.
"Guide, do you think you would be able to lead us to this spot again were we desirous of returning here?"
"Nassir, yassir."
"He means that he could," interpreted Butler. "If he couldn't I could. I can follow any trail that I have been over. Is it so interesting as all that, Professor?"
"Mind you, I am not saying that it is. After I have made a test I shall be in better position to answer that question. Guide, has anyone, to your knowledge, discovered gold hereabouts?"
"Yassir; Ah doan know. Ah nebbah found no gold heah—nebbah found no gold nowhere. Nassir."
The boys shouted.
"He is just like Chunky. Pennies are his gait," scoffed Ned.
"I thought we'd agreed to cut—to stop using slang," reminded Stacy.
"Ned, Stacy is right. He has properly rebuked you this time," laughed Tad.
"Yes, sir. He did catch me napping, didn't he?"
"There he goes again, Professor," shouted Chunky.
"Well, I am not so sure. One would, indeed, have to draw the line very finely to class 'catch me napping' as a slang expression. As a matter of fact, it may be so, but I should hardly go so far as to characterize it as such," differed Professor Zepplin.
Ned winked at Stacy, but the fat boy, holding his chin high, pretended not to see the wink.
So interested was the Professor in his find that he decided to make camp for the night in that vicinity. Tad and Walter were sent out to choose a suitable site for pitching the tents. They found an ideal spot by a trickling stream of water that oozed from a crevice in the rocks, falling into a natural rocky bowl, almost if the bowl had been hewn to hold the sparkling fluid. Of course Tad saw at once that the water had worn away the rock, thus forming the bowl. Many years had been required to wear away the stone, all of which set Tad Butler to thinking over the wonders of time as well as those of nature.
They pitched their camp there that night. But the night was not destined to pass without some further excitement. Excitement had come to be almost a necessary part of the daily routine of the Pony Rider Boys, and they counted that day a dull one that held no thrills.