CHAPTER XVII
AT THE RANCH
"Followed!" exclaimed Archie Lynch, after the pause that greeted Billy's announcement. "What do you mean? Who would want to follow us?"
"I don't know," replied Billy frankly. "Certainly it can't be Shackmiller, for he's in the hospital. But that's the same wagon we saw a while ago, and we thought it had turned back. Those fellows are certainly following us."
There was no doubt about it, as all four of them could see a little later, for, as the vehicle in the rear topped a rise, it could be noted advancing slowly along the private road that led to the ranch.
"They don't seem to want to catch up to us," observed Andy.
"Maybe they're afraid we'll ask them some questions they don't want to answer," suggested Frank.
"I don't like the looks of it," murmured Billy. "But I'm glad Uncle Richfield has that paper."
"And he can look out for himself," observed the old cattleman, with a grin. "I guess there's nothing for us to do, Billy. We can't very well order the men off the road, for, though it's a private one, your uncle doesn't object to folks using it."
"No, I guess we can't do anything," agreed the Western lad. "But we'll tell Uncle Richfield about it, and he can make some inquiries."
"Look!" suddenly exclaimed Frank, and the eyes of all were once more turned on the wagon, which had been lost sight of for a moment in a cloud of dust. "They're turning off the road."
"So they are," agreed Andy. "I didn't notice any other road there."
"There isn't a regular road," said Archie Lynch. "But there's a sort of trail that leads to the river and the big dam that's almost completed. They've taken that road."
"What for?" asked Billy suspiciously.
"Say, I believe I have it!" exclaimed the old cattleman. "Your uncle was telling me the other day that he'd sent for a water-works expert, to report on the dam, and to see that everything was in good shape for the completion of it. He didn't quite trust the contractors, for they'd never tackled a job exactly like this before. That's who that party must be—the expert and his assistants. They're going to the dam."
"Oh, then that puts a different face on it," said Billy, much relieved. "But I should think Uncle Richfield would like to be with 'em when they make the inspection."
"He may come later," suggested Archie. "I guess it's all right. Giddap!" and his horses started off. The boys watched the other wagon. It was swinging away from them now, and a little later was lost to sight below some foothills, that marked the beginning of a rise of land, in which rose the river, that the ranch owner proposed curbing to make water his crops.
"Well, we'll be there in five minutes more," said Billy, as he stretched out his arms, and playfully poked Andy in the ribs.
"Ouch! Quit that!" yelled the younger Racer lad. "But I don't see any ranch."
"You will as soon as we get up on the next rise," was the answer. "The hills hide the houses. There's some of our stock, though," and he waved toward a herd of cattle that was roaming over the prairie.
"Golly! What a lot of 'em!" exclaimed Frank.
"Oh, that's only a small bunch," replied Billy. "Wait until you see 'em all—but you can't—not at once, for they cover a big stretch."
The Racer boys were beginning to realize the extent of the Thornton ranch, and to get some idea of the immensity of the prairies which stretched out for miles and miles in every direction.
A little later, as the buckboard swung over the rise, there came into view a cluster of low buildings, and the cattle corrals that made up the Double X ranch.
"Here we are!" yelled Billy, and the next minute he had leaped from the seat and was racing toward the stables, calling: "Matt! I say, Matt! Where are you? Where's Buffalo?"
A short, squat figure of a man came out, a bridle dangling from his arm. At the sight of Billy he threw up his hands.
"Glory be!" he ejaculated. "It's Billy himself! Well, but I'm glad t' see you! It's been a long time you were away among them tenderfeet. An' so you're back. Buffalo is it? Sure an' he's as lonesome for you as I am myself. I'll trot him out," and, having shaken hands with the lad, the man turned back into the stable, to come out presently leading a black horse that whinnied with delight when Billy approached.
"That's Matt Boyle, the ranch foreman," explained Archie; "and that's Billy's horse—Buffalo, he calls him—and a finer piece of horse-flesh never was."
"Jove, look at Billy ride!" cried Frank, for the Western lad had, with a bound, leaped to the back of his animal, and was speeding around the corral at a swift pace.
"I never knew he could do that," spoke Andy.
"Oh, shucks!" exclaimed Archie. "That's nothing. You wait until you see Billy do somerealridin'. Then you can open your eyes."
"I wonder if we'll ever be able to ride like that?" mused Andy.
"Of course you will, if you stay here long enough," said the cattleman. "It only takes practice."
"That's right, the same as it does for anything else—like being good," added Frank, with a nudge at his brother's ribs, bringing forth a grunt of protest.
Billy swept up to the buckboard, on the seat of which his chums still were, and pulling up his mount, suddenly cried out:
"Say, I didn't mean to be so impolite, but I couldn't wait any longer to get on Buffalo's back. Come on down and I'll take you into the house and introduce you to Aunt Kittie."
"That's all right—no apologies needed," said Frank. "We were just wishing we could ride like you."
"I'll have some mounts for you in a jiffy," replied the Western lad. "Come on now."
He slipped from the saddle, and, clapping his horse on the flank, said:
"Stable, old boy. I can't ride you any more now. I'll see you later."
But the beautiful animal turned and began nosing in Billy's pocket.
"He thinks I've got some lumps of sugar," the lad explained with a laugh. "No, not now, Buffalo. I'll bring some out to you. Better come and get him, Matt," he called to the foreman, and, as the latter approached, Billy introduced the genial Irishman to his chums.
"Well, Aunt Kittie, here we are!" cried Billy, a little later, as he led his chums to the residence of the ranch owner. The house was a low one, and all about it were various buildings, where horses were kept, the tools and implements for the ranch work stored, and quarters for the men provided.
"Oh, land sakes!" cried a voice, and a little woman, in an apron that seemed larger than she herself, hurried out on the porch, her face all smiles. "Land sakes, I'd have known you were here, even if you hadn't told me!" she cried, as she kissed Billy. "Oh, I'msoglad you're back," she went on. "It's been so lonesome without you. And these are the Racer boys, I expect," she went on, as she shook hands with them.
"Guessed it the first time, Auntie!" exclaimed Billy. "And now what have you got to eat? We're starved."
"I never saw you when you weren't!" she laughed. "But I guess the meal is ready. I told——"
She was interrupted by the thrusting forth of a head from a window of a small house a little distance from the main building, and a voice exclaimed:
"No hab got, Mlissie Tholnton. No hab got!"
"Hello, Sing-Song!" yelled Billy, as he saw the Chinese cook. "Got plenty of grub?"
"Me no Sing-Song—me Song Lee, Mlister Billy!" objected the Oriental. "Me Sing Lee!"
"Well, Sing-Sing or Sing-Song or Lee Song, never mind about that," laughed the Western lad. "Rustle up the grub and we'll call you anything you like."
"Billy, Billy!" expostulated his aunt, "wait a moment. Sing Lee wants to tell me something. What is it, Sing?" she asked.
"No hab got, Mlissie Tholnton," went on the Chinaman, making all his "r" sounds like an "l." Then, working his fingers into a complication of knots and twists, he continued: "No hab got pig glease for make twisty cakes."
"Pig grease," murmured Billy wonderingly. "That's a new one on me. And twisty cakes? What in the world does he mean, Aunt Kittie?"
"I expect he wants to tell me that he hasn't any lard to fry the crullers in, Billy," she answered, with a laugh.
"That's light," assented the cook. "No hab got—what can do?"