CHAPTER XVIII
MR. THORNTON IS WORRIED
Laughing heartily at the Chinese cook's queer talk, Billy and his chums followed Mrs. Thornton into the house.
"Now, Billy," said his aunt, "you make the boys feel at home. Show them to their rooms—you know, the two near yours—and I'll see what I can do for Sing Lee. I told him to make some crullers when I knew you were coming, as I remembered how fond you used to be of them."
"Usedto be!" exclaimed Billy, with the accent on the first word. "I am yet, Aunt Kittie, and I guess these fellows are too; aren't you?"
"Well, I guess we can manage to eat a few," assented Frank.
"Same here," came from Andy.
"All right," went on Mrs. Thornton. "Now just make yourselves at home, Frank and Andy, and I'll see if I can find some 'pig grease' for my queer cook."
"He certainly is a star," commented Frank. "'No hab got—what can do?' That's the limit in talk."
"Oh, that isn't a marker to what he says sometimes," declared Billy. "But come on and I'll show you where you're going to bunk. You can unpack as soon as Archie brings in your trunks."
The boys found pleasant rooms assigned to them. The house was like a large bungalow, all on one floor, for sometimes strong winds—cyclones in fact—blew over that portion of Kansas, making high buildings dangerous. The eating and sleeping quarters were in one building, and the cooking was done in another, a covered way connecting the two structures.
"Say, where'd you get all this stuff?" asked Frank, admiringly, as he saw Billy's room hung about with guns, knives, revolvers, horns of steers and buffaloes, and Indian trophies, such as bows, arrows, tomahawks and other implements of the chase.
"This is slick!" agreed Andy. "If we had this at Riverview we'd have the finest den going. Why didn't you bring it on?"
"Too much trouble to cart," answered Billy, with a laugh. "I picked up some of this stuff myself, and some my uncle had when he was a young fellow, when there were Indians out here and a few buffalo. Then my friends gave me things once in a while."
"It's swell, all right," said Frank admiringly, as he took down an Indian bow.
"I'd like to have some of these," remarked Andy, as he reached for a sheaf of arrows.
"Look out!" suddenly cried Billy.
"Why, what's the matter?" asked the Racer lad.
"Some of those points may be poisoned," explained Billy. "I cleaned them, as I got them, for fear of that, but I can't be sure that I got all the venom out at that. Better not scratch yourself with 'em. I ought to fasten them higher up."
"How are they poisoned?" asked Andy wonderingly, as he backed away, and looked up at the weapons.
"Of course I'm not sure that particular bunch is poisoned," went on the ranch boy; "but it's best to take no chances. Archie gave me those. He says the Indians used to get a big rattlesnake, and irritate him so he'd strike at anything. Then they'd fasten him in front of a cow liver and he'd bury his fangs in it until the liver reeked with poison. Then they'd rub their arrow tips in it, and there you are—or, rather, there you aren't, if you happen to be scratched by one.
"Of course that may not be so, but it sounds plausible, anyhow," concluded the Westerner, as he took down a handsome rifle, to show to his friends.
"Crimps! I wish there were Indians here now," said Andy, wistfully.
"Why, are you anxious to see how fast you can run—away from them?" asked Frank.
"Huh! I guess I wouldn't run any more than you," retorted Andy.
"The Indians are a back number," said Billy. "What few there are left are on reservations. But come on, I think I smell the ham and eggs," and he led the way to the dining-room.
It was not yet time for supper, but Mrs. Thornton, knowing the appetites of the boys, had prepared a meal for them, and they did ample justice to it.
"Did Sing-Sing-Song-Song 'hab got'?" asked Billy, as the time for dessert approached.
"Well, he has something, at any rate," answered Mrs. Thornton, and she placed on the table a pie ornamented with all sorts of devices made from sugar. The cook had drawn his patterns from the Orient.
"Looks like a Chinese laundry ticket," commented Billy, and truly the icing on the pie was in the shape of the queer letters of the Flowery Kingdom.
"I don't care how it looks, as long as it's got the taste," said Frank.
"And it sure has," added Andy, as he sampled the pastry.
The meal went on, with gaiety and laughter lending their aids to digestion, and when it was about over Mr. Thornton came in.
"Well, boys!" he exclaimed, "I see that you got here all right."
"Yes," replied Andy and Frank, while Billy asked:
"Did you meet those engineers, Uncle Richfield?"
"Engineers? No. What do you mean?"
"Why, when we drove out we saw a wagon back of us. It seemed to be following us—I mean the men in it did—and then they turned off by the short cut that leads to the dam. Archie thought maybe they were the men you sent for to inspect the concrete work, to see if it was all right. Were they?"
For a moment the ranch owner did not answer, and then he said slowly:
"No, Billy, they weren't. And you say they went out to the dam?"
"Well, they headed out on the cut-off road. But if you didn't see them, how do you know they weren't the expert and his men that you sent for?"
"Because," replied Mr. Thornton—and there came over his face a worried look—"because I got a letter from this expert just as I was leaving town to-day, saying he could not come out until next week. That's why I know that couldn't be his party. Besides, he'd come here first, as he doesn't know the location of the dam. I wonder who those fellows can be?"
There was something strange about it all, and the boys felt that Mr. Thornton was alarmed over the news.
"Can't you imagine who they might be?" asked his wife.
"No," he answered, with a shake of his head and a frown. "I don't like it, either. If I didn't know that this Shackmiller was laid up, as you told me, Billy, I'd say it was that rascal. And yet he would hardly come on my land, when he knows how I feel toward him."
"But I thought he and his crowd owned—or claimed to own—some land in between your two ranches," said Billy.
"He does claim to own it—a strip leading to Golden Peak—but he doesn't have to come on my land to get to it. I'm going to look into this," and Mr. Thornton got up to take down his hat and coat, which he had hung up on entering the house.
"Oh, Richfield!" exclaimed his wife. "You'll be careful; won't you?"
"Of course," he laughed. "But if any of that crowd is trespassing on my land they'd better go off in a hurry."
There was determination in Mr. Thornton's face as he prepared to investigate the occurrence that had given him cause for alarm.
"Get my horse ready, Archie," he called to the cattleman, who was out in the yard. "I'm going over to the dam."
"May we go along, Uncle Richfield?" asked Billy, eagerly.
"Oh, no!" exclaimed his aunt quickly. "If there's any danger——"
"There won't be," spoke her husband. "Yes, I guess you boys can trail along if you want to. But can you ride?" he asked, looking at Frank and Andy.
"Just a little," they confessed.
"I'm going to teach 'em soon," volunteered Billy. "But they can do well enough on Max and Major."
"Yes, I guess those animals are safe enough," admitted the ranchman, with a smile. "But they can't make very good time."
"Never mind," said his nephew. "You can ride on ahead, and I'll come along with Frank and Andy."
"Oh, we don't want to keep you back," protested the elder Racer lad.
"That's all right," returned Billy. "Maybe when Max and Major see Buffalo galloping along they'll show some speed. It's all right; we'll get there sometime, anyhow. Come on to the stables."
"Now you will be careful; won't you?" pleaded Mrs. Thornton, as the boys followed the ranchman out of the house.
"Of course, Aunty," promised Billy.
"Do you think there is any danger?" asked Andy, as he swung along beside the Western lad.
"Danger? Why, no, I guess not," said Billy, thoughtfully.
"Gee! I wish there was!" went on Andy, eagerly. "I'd like to see a good fight—not where anyone got hurt, of course," he hastened to add; "but just for some excitement."
"Oh," laughed Billy. "That's how the wind blows; eh? Well, you may see some excitement if Uncle Richfield finds those fellows on his land, and there may be a fight, but it will be the good old-fashioned kind, with fists. We don't run to guns out here half as much as some writers of Western stories would have it appear. But come on, there are the horses."