CHAPTER IV
At the ranch that evening, there was much talk of the landslide and of how Nick came upon the two boys “wanderin’ around within five hundred yards of each other an’ each thinkin’ the other was settin’ on the ground, tossin’ little rocks after big ones,” which was Nick’s way of telling of the incident.
Mr. Manley, the soul of bluff friendliness and humor, laughed until the ends of his long black mustache curled inward.
But Mrs. Manley, she whom the boys and their father often called, half jokingly, half seriously, “the blonde angel of the West,” smiled tenderly. Now that the danger was over, she would not worry. Still in her mother’s heart was a prayer of thankfulness for the boys’ safety. Often had she watched her sons off on a dangerous mission with a laugh on her lips and anguish in her soul, but they never knew that.
Perhaps Mr. Manley suspected, for at times he would gather her in his arms without a word of warning, and in a soft voice ask her if she was sorry she had come out to “this roughneck West where there’s nothin’ but cyclones an’ wild steers an’ rustlers.”
Then she would lift her face to his, her eyes shining with just a hint of tears—of happiness, and in a moment Mr. Manley’s laugh would go booming out into the sunny yard. Seldom would she answer his question. He knew the reply without being told.
Belle Ada, the daughter of the family, she of the dark eyes and wavy black hair, characterized by Sing Lung, the cook, as “Plitty like litta’ black jade house-god,” was disappointed that Teddy had not brought home the porcupine. Belle was twelve years old, and a fitting partner for Teddy when any joke was afoot.
“We could have had loads of fun with him,” she declared. “Golly! Imagine Pop Burns trying to get him to shoot his quills! I know we could have fixed up something, maybe with rubber bands, so when Pop went near him the quills would shoot! Of course I don’t say wecouldhave. I just say maybe. But, anyway—”
“Hey, take it easy!” Teddy interrupted. “We haven’t got old Needleback; so what’s the use of supposing? You’re lucky to have us back at all, Miss Maybe. Do you realize that?”
“Bugs,” Belle stated definitely, with that callousness so attractive in sisters of twelve. “I know you and Roy. It ’ud take more than a landslide to put you under. Like that time you went after the rustlers. If I could have come with you, I’ll bet none of them would have gotten away!”
“Is that so!” Roy interrupted, getting up from the steps of the front porch, where he had been sitting, and walking toward Belle. “Is that so! How would you work? What would you do? Shoot ’em all? Would you? Would you? Would—”
“Roy Manley, don’t you touch my hair! I just combed it! Roy! If you don’t stop—”
With a bound, Roy cleared the railing, while Belle stood in mock fury, shaking her fist.
“Come on, Teddy,” the departed brother called back. “Let’s go see Nick down at the bunk-house. We can’t be bothering with children.”
With a laugh, Teddy arose and followed his brother.
“We’ll see you later,” he whispered as he passed Belle. “Think up a good one, and I’ll help you.”
Approaching the bunk-house, the two boys saw that Nick, Pop Burns, and Gus Tripp were leaning against the side talking—“settling their supper.” In the dusk of the evening, they resembled a picture, so quietly did they stand. The cowboy will seldom move unless it is necessary, but at those times he makes up for his former quiescence.
“Greetings, boys,” Teddy called softly.
“And to you, great chiefs, the blessing of the harvest moon,” came from Gus. “What brings you-all to the abode of the humble?”
“Make talk,” Teddy grunted. “Where do you get that ‘humble’ stuff? Been getting more love letters, Gus?”
“You tell ’em,” Pop chuckled. “Pop” was the oldest puncher on the X Bar X. He claimed to have invented the brand of the Manley ranch when the present owner’s father first settled it. Thus he felt entitled to a certain consideration from the “youngsters,” as he called the other hands. This respect he often sought to enforce by criticizing the rising generation, much to his later dismay. In the words of Nick, they “hopped all over him.”
“Never mind about my love letters,” Gus responded, grinning. “I guess Nick, here, can tell us all we want to know about love. He’s the hombre that writes the ‘advice to the lovelorn’ in theHawley Register; ain’t you, Nick? An’ I know where he gets his dope from, too! Me, if I liked Norine as well as you do, I’d marry the girl, that’s what I’d do! Yessir!”
“Dry up,” Nick growled. Norine was the daughter of Mrs. Moore, a widow, who for many years had been the housekeeper at the ranch house of the X Bar X. Norine was Irish—and pretty. Nick was not the only puncher on the ranch who had fallen a victim to her charms.
“Yep, these kids amuse me,” Pop chuckled, sliding gently down the side of the bunk-house until he sat upon the ground, when he proceeded to light and fill a pipe. “They sure tickle me! Talkin’ about love! Huh! Why, you birds don’t know what love means. Me, I had experience. First gal I ever loved was the dar’ter of a bouncer in a drinkin’ place over Tacoma way. She was a gal fer yuh! Shoot? That gal could shoot the eye outta a fly at ten paces. That’s the reason I didn’t marry her. She wastoogood. The next one was—”
“Aw, take a rest!” Nick exploded. “How do you get thataway? Must think you’re King Solomon, or somebody! Pop, there’s only one trouble with you. You’re too verbose.”
“Here!” the old man sat upright, startled. “Don’t go callin’ names at me, Nick, ’cause I won’t have it. I’m tellin’ yuh now, I—”
“Take it easy, Pop,” Roy broke in. “That doesn’t mean anything to get sore about. It means you talk too much.”
“Oh!” Pop returned, mollified. “I thought it meant somethin’ else. Got to be careful these days, with all the youngsters readin’ dictionaries. When I was your age, Nick, all my knowledge I got out of Harvey’s Encyclopedia an’ an almanack containin’ the names of every bird, animal an’ fish in creation, with a remedy for all ills the flesh is heir to. Yep, an’ she stood me in good stead, too. I remember the time—”
“Gettin’ late,” Gus declared, stretching high. “Got a pack of tobacco, Nick? I’m all out. Say, what you boys been doin’ all day? Seems like I heard some talk of a landslide.”
“That was us,” Teddy said grimly. He told the story of their escape once more, since Nick had not yet repeated it.
“Guess you were glad to be on the backs of Flash an’ Star,” Gus commented when Teddy had finished.
“I’ll tell a maverick we were!” Roy burst out. “Those horses are almost human! Now you take that jump that Flash made, with Teddy on him. I saw the place, and, baby, it was some leap! How many horses could do that? Then when I gave Star his head, as the rocks started to play tag with me, why, he knew which way to go. Brought me right out of it. By golly, I—”
“Guess during the time the rustlers had them broncs you didn’t lose any love for ’em, did ya?” Nick remarked dryly. “Well, you’re right, Roy. They’re sure some horses!”
“Can’t tell me different!” Teddy agreed. “Say, Roy, did you let the boys know about that rider you saw on the mountain? Maybe they know who it is.”
“What was that?” Gus asked quickly.
“Well, nothing much,” Roy answered, “except that I saw a man who looked a great deal like one of those punchers we rounded up when they tried to steal our cattle. As I remember there was one hombre who sat kind of slouched in the saddle—leaning to the left. Any of you recall that?”
“I do,” Nick stated definitely. “When he heard that Froud had knifed Brand, he took a pot shot at him, only he missed. Sure, I remember that slouch. But as far as I know he’s in the hoosegow at Hawley. There were only three of the rustlers that made a getaway. That waddy who rides leanin’ in his saddle we got. Still, I reckon there’s more than one side-winder in these parts.”
“Guess so,” Roy said musingly. He stared up at the sky through which tiny stars were now peeping. “Going to be a nice day to-morrow,” he said in a low tone. “Just right for a ride. Maybe—”
“Maybe,” Teddy repeated. “Why not? I’ll go with you.”
“Huh?” Roy came to with a jerk and looked at his brother. “What do you mean—you’ll come with me? Do you think you’re a mind reader?”
“Sure do,” Teddy replied, grinning broadly. “Guessed right, didn’t I? You mean to ride over to the 8 X 8 and see Nell and Ethel, don’t you? Oh, never mind denying it. Anyway, I’ll go along to see that you get there all right. Can’t have bogie-mans get my ’ittle brother. No, sir! Would be terrible. Would be awful. Would be—”
“Chuck it,” Roy growled, making a pass at Teddy. “If you come along, it’s not to save me from any bogie-man. It’s for just one thing—to see Curly! Hey, Pop, what about that? You qualify as an expert. What should a man do when he wants to see a girl and she’s ten miles off on another ranch?”
“Buy an airship,” Pop chuckled. “Then you can make flyin’ visits. Pete Ball would be glad to see you comin’, I know. He’d maybe climb up on the roof an’ wave to you.”
“You’re all locoed, I think,” Teddy said casually. “I’m going in. Got some work to do.”
“Yea, work! Going to write a note to Curly because too many people may listen in if you telephone! Do you call that work?” gibed Roy.
“I would not—anything but!” returned Teddy. “The note wouldn’t be poetry though,” and he grinned at his brother, who was a lover of verse. “Say, Gus,” he went on in a different tone of voice, “how’s that cow that was sick? Getting better?”
“She’s comin’ along all right, Teddy,” Gus replied.
Mr. Manley gave the charge of the ranch over to the boys on alternate weeks, and this week Teddy was the foreman. He was responsible for the management of the entire business of the X Bar X.
“Don’t let her mix with the others until she’s entirely well,” Teddy went on. “We don’t want any more sickness on our hands. Well, see you boys in the morning. Coming in, Roy?”
“Not just yet. I want to—”
Roy had been facing Nick while he was talking, and now he stopped suddenly and whirled about. From around the corner of the bunk-house came the clatter of a pony’s feet. The five men stood perfectly still, waiting. The rider appeared, flashing through the night like an apparition. His hat was pulled low over his eyes, and Teddy noticed that he rode not straight up, but leaning to the left.
Close to the five punchers he swung. When he got opposite them, he yelled something and tossed a light stick at Roy. Fluttering from the stick was a piece of white paper. The next moment the rider had swept out of sight behind the bunk-house. The beating of his pony’s feet upon the hard earth sounded loud, then the noise grew gradually fainter and at last died away in the distance. He went as he had come.
Teddy stooped forward and picked up the stick with the paper tied to it. He walked into the bunk-house and held it under the lamp. The others crowded around eagerly. Teddy spread the paper out. On it were scribbled the words:
“Bardwell Manley:“If you press the charge against those men at Hawley you’ll get yours with interest. Take our advice and let it drop if you want to stay healthy. We mean what we say.“Reltsur.”
“Bardwell Manley:
“If you press the charge against those men at Hawley you’ll get yours with interest. Take our advice and let it drop if you want to stay healthy. We mean what we say.
“Reltsur.”
CHAPTER V
The bunk-house lamp illuminated the faces of five very much surprised cow-punchers. Teddy, who was holding the note, turned it over as though the explanation of its strange arrival might be printed on the back.
“ ’Pears like we’re a gang of hicks,” Gus drawled. “Nick, why didn’t you stop that guy? Maybe he could have told us when he was appointed postman.”
“Why didn’t you stop him yourself?” Nick snorted. “You were as near to him as I was. He rode by almost on yore feet.”
“Notice anything queer about the way he rode?” came from Pop. The veteran puncher pulled at his pipe calmly and surveyed the men about him.
“Sure!” Teddy answered. “He was slouched to the left, like he was aiming to sweep something up from the ground. Why, say, Roy, he might have been—”
“He might have been and was,” Roy returned grimly. “I’ll take a bet that he was the same hombre I saw back on the trail!”
“You mean the waddy you thought was one of the rustlers?” Pop asked curiously.
“Yes, that’s just what I mean. Of course I didn’t get a very good look at him as he flashed by, but he sure looked familiar. What was that he yelled out?”
“Couldn’t get it,” Nick replied. “Don’t matter, anyway. Now about this note. What’ll we do with it?”
“Give it to Sing Lung to make a stew out of,” Pop suggested ironically. “Or maybe you’d rather frame it? But unless you want to do that, itmightbe a good idea to show it to the boss.”
“Go ahead, ride right on,” Nick growled. “I’m just standin’ here. Roy, you want to take it in to your dad, an’ see what he thinks of it?”
“Sure. Let’s go, Teddy. Dad’s in his room, I think.”
At that moment a step sounded at the door, and all turned quickly—more quickly, perhaps, than such an interruption at another time might merit.
“What’s this, a meetin’ of discontented workers?” a voice asked, and chuckled. “Seems to me you might close the screen unless youlikebugs.”
“Boss!” Gus exclaimed. “Hey, take a look at this, boss! Just came. By pony express, too.”
“Guy rode up, goin’ like a jack-rabbit,” Nick began, “an’ tossed this here—”
“Just this second,” came from Pop. “I was standin’ by the door, talkin’ to Nick an’ Roy an’ Teddy an’ Gus, an’ I was just sayin’ that these days ain’t like the old days when I fust came here an’ invented the X Bar X brand, when all of a sudden, boss, I heered a pony come tearin’ toward—”
“What in thunderation?” demanded Mr. Manley, taking the paper Teddy held silently out to him. Quickly his eyes ran over the words. As he read his lips closed together tightly. Then he looked up.
“This ain’t a joke?” he asked.
“Not any!” Teddy exclaimed.
“I’ll tell a maverick it isn’t!” Roy cried. “At least, it doesn’t look like one. It happened just as Pop said when he started that speech of his. We were standing at the door, talking, and a rider came out of the dark and threw this at us, tied to this stick. Then he beat it again before we could wink.”
For a moment Mr. Manley said nothing. He pulled first one side of his mustache, then the other. Then he put the paper in his pocket, took out a corncob pipe, filled, and lit it.
“Regular Wild West stuff,” he remarked slowly, removing the pipe from his mouth. “Deadeye Bill. Well, let him have his little fun. He don’t annoy us any.”
“What you goin’ to do?” Pop asked.
“Me?” Mr. Manley turned to the speaker, a surprised look on his face. “Why, I’m goin’ to hit the hay pretty soon. Gettin’ kind of late. She’s sure some warm out, ain’t she? We’ll probably have a long Indian summer. Nick, will you see that General is saddled for me early to-morrow? Want to take a ride over Hawley way. Got somethin’ I want to tell the sheriff. Well, I’ll be gettin’ back. Watch out for that door, Gus, or you’ll have all the gnats an’ millers in the whole state flyin’ around in here.”
With a glance toward Roy and Teddy, the ranch owner stepped out into the night. Gus chuckled.
“He’s some worried, ain’t he? They might just as well have written ‘Merry Christmas’ on that note for all the boss cares.”
“The man that tries to buffalo dad has got a mean job on his hands,” Roy declared, with a grin. “He’ll push that charge now harder than he would have before. Well, I’ll tell you one thing. Froud didn’t have a hand in this. He knows dad—and with good reason. He’d never send a note like this if he really wanted the charge dropped. He’d know it would be the one sure way of getting dad to force it.”
“You’re right, Roy,” Teddy remarked. “This was written by one of the men that got away. Wouldn’t be surprised if old Slouch himself did the job. Must think he’s some hot stuff! Well, he’ll learn. He sure will. He’s young yet.”
“Check,” Nick agreed, with a laugh. “Teddy, yore dad is one fine man; you know it? Best boss I ever had. I’m sure glad he’s not gonna be scared out of puttin’ those rustlers in jail for a long stretch. Yessir, I’m fer the boss every time.”
“Me too,” came from Gus emphatically. “Ever since that day he went into Rimor’s place and took a chance on gettin’ plugged in the back just to get some information about the stolen horses, I knew he was the man for me. Notice how he took that note? Never batted an eye. They have to come pretty high to stop him!”
“Sure do,” Teddy assented. Then he laughed. “I knew dad ’ud take it that way. Now he’ll go over to Hawley in the morning just to tell the sheriff to convict those rustlers sure.”
“And I’m sure glad of it,” Gus declared. “If I can, I’ll ride over myself when they get sentenced! The dirty thieves!”
The puncher has small use for rustlers. The labor of raising cows until they are fit to sell cannot be lightly forgotten and the rustler who steals them is hated with the vindictiveness of a man who has seen his hard work go for nothing.
Later, Teddy and Roy strolled back to the ranch house, leaving Pop to explain to unwilling listeners how the mysterious rider had come and gone so quickly.
The boys were tired, as well they might be, and sought their beds early. They roomed together, their beds being in a room facing the east. The sun was their alarm clock, and the next morning they arose and hurried down to breakfast with an idea of riding with their father to Hawley. But they found he had already left.
The business of the ranch occupied the attention of the brothers until early afternoon, and they had little time to talk of the events of the preceding night. Four new horses had arrived at the X Bar X, and both Teddy and Roy were eager to see if they would make good saddle ponies. Of course the boys were bound to their own mounts by ties of real affection, but it was necessary that some additional riding broncos be made ready each year for the fall round-up.
Teddy, upon investigation of the newly arrived animals, declared that while three seemed fair enough, the fourth had a queer look in his eye.
When Nick saw the bronco, he grunted.
“Bad actor,” he said. “I know them kind. Send him back. Tell Clews we don’t want no tigers on this ranch. When’d the broncos arrive?”
“Little while ago. I kind of hate to send this pony back, though. Look at the chest on him, won’t you!”
“Yea, an’ did you take a look at his teeth? Made fer bitin’, they are. Better send him back than have him take a chunk out of somebody.”
“Think he’d do that?” Roy asked.
“Sure do! If you don’t believe it, just you fork him—only leave word what kind of flowers you want.”
“Well, now, I don’t know about that,” Teddy said slowly. He walked over to where the horse stood, rubbing against the bars of the corral, and peered into his eyes. “He doesn’t look so bad. Nick, I’d like to take a crack at him. Lend a hand with this cinch, will you?”
“Listen, Teddy,” Nick remonstrated. “Don’t do nothin’ foolish. Even if he don’t bite, he’s a buckin’ fool. I’m certain sure of that. Why take a chance?”
“Yes, Teddy, if I were you I’d wait until dad comes back,” Roy added. “He may want to return the pony. Don’t ride him.”
Teddy did not answer for a moment. Then he took a coin from his pocket.
“Heads I do, tails I don’t,” he said briefly. “Dad won’t want to send the bronc back without knowing what he’s good for. The only way to find out, so far as I can see, is to ride him. Here she goes.”
The boy spun the coin in the air. As it landed, both Nick and Roy bent over it eagerly.
“Heads,” Nick reported. “Now watch your step, Teddy. I know you can ride, but I don’t want to see you ploughin’ a trench in the dirt. I’ll get this here cinch strap good an’ tight, so the saddle won’t sway none.”
In silence the horse was made ready. Teddy stood by his side, and at a signal from him, Roy and Nick stood away. Teddy vaulted into the saddle.
The animal stood like a statue. Not a muscle moved. Teddy whipped his hat from his head and “fanned” the pony. And this time he got results. Straight into the air the animal leaped, landing with legs as stiff as boards. But Teddy was ready for this maneuver, and took the shock with his feet firm in the stirrups.
“Stick to him!” Nick yelled. “Watch out that he doesn’t swing his head on you!”
The warning came not a moment too soon, for the horse flung his head around savagely and bared his teeth. But these teeth never met in Teddy’s flesh, for at the same instant the boy sawed fiercely on the reins, jerking the head straight again.
Now the bronco settled down to the business on hand, and showed the two breathless watchers some of the finer points of bucking. But Teddy stuck, and not once did he “go to leather,” as gripping the pommel of the saddle is called. At the end of several minutes, each of which seemed an eternity, the pony stopped as suddenly as he began, cocked one eye at the top rail of the corral fence, and sprang again into action, this time on a dead run.
“Watch it!” Roy yelled. “He’ll never make it, Teddy! Pull him up! Pull him up!”
But Teddy had a look in his eyes not unlike the fire that gleamed in the eyes of the bronco. He was doing no “pulling up.”
“Yeo-o-o-ow!” he shouted. “Go to it! We’re off! Baby, if you clear that—”
There was no time for more. The horse had reached the rails. Teddy felt the muscles of his mount contract like steel springs, and then he was flying through the air, up, up, up—
“He’s over!”
“Man, what a jump!”
The hind feet of the horse had just grazed the top bar. And now he stood outside the corral, trembling violently, but, somehow, appearing as if in making the tremendous leap he had proved himself and would henceforth be content with this. In other words, it seemed as though he had changed in a second from a “bad actor” to a real saddle horse.
Teddy gently rubbed the sides of the sweating animal.
“All right now, old boy?” he asked. “No more fireworks? Guess he’ll do, Nick. Some one must have been feeding him on yeast. That was some jump!”
“I’ll tell a maverick it was!” Roy was hurrying toward his brother. “Boy, you’re lucky! I never thought he’d make it. And with that extra bar dad put up! That bronc is ajumper. What do you say, Nick?”
“Sure is!” Nick approached, and gazed at the horse closely. “Salivate me if he ain’t as gentle-eyed as a rabbit! Teddy, you cured him. Didn’t think it could be done. If I know anything about horses, that one’ll make a fine ridin’ pony.”
Teddy climbed off, stiff legged.
“He put on quite a show for a while, didn’t he? All right, Nick, let down the bars an’ we’ll bring him in again. I’ll have another look at him to-morrow. Want to make sure he’s broken.”
A little later the boys were saddling their own mounts, Flash and Star. The new pony was standing calmly within the corral, and Teddy grinned at him.
“Dad ought to be back soon,” Roy remarked, and he slid the bit gently into Star’s mouth.
“Wish we’d gone along with him,” came from Teddy. “Say, we could ride part of the way to meet him. How about it?”
“Sure,” and Roy grinned. “The 8 X 8 is on the way to Hawley, isn’t it? Yea, let’s start to meet him. But if we reach Pete Ball’s place, we won’t stop in. Oh, no!”
“Chuck it,” Teddy replied. “You know you’re anxious to see Nell. Come on, let’s be on our way.”
CHAPTER VI
Teddy treated the riding of the wild bronco as an incident in the day’s work. It might well have turned out disastrously for him, but, now that it was over, the youth thought no more about it except to remember that it would be well to ride him again to-morrow before the pony forgot his lesson. Thus, while the two boys rode toward Hawley, their conversation was mostly taken up with the note Mr. Manley had received and the possibility of trouble.
“Though I don’t see exactly what they could do,” Roy mused, shifting in his saddle.
The day was warm, even for Indian summer, the heat seemed to beat up from the stretch of bare ground the boys were riding over.
“I can’t understand it!” exclaimed Teddy. “Those hombres are in jail, aren’t they? What in thunder can they do? Unless they have a gang of friends around. And that isn’t so likely. Honestly, I don’t believe that Gilly Froud has a friend in the world. Why, even the men he rustled with, hate him. I guess we can count him out, anyway.”
Roy removed his sombrero and ran his finger around the sweat band, bringing it forth as wet as though he had dipped it in a pail of water.
“I’m not worrying about Froud,” he stated, picking up his reins, which he had allowed to fall loosely on Star’s neck. “He’s had his turn and has said his little piece. He won’t do any more talking in public for a long time. But I tell you, Teddy, that puncher with the riding slouch has got me thinking. How about it—was he one of the rustlers?”
“Question—who struck Bill Patterson?” Teddy grinned. “That reminds me. Mother said that Curly—”
“Leaping lizards!” Roy groaned. “Can’t you be serious for a minute? This is important, I tell you! Suppose the rustlers—er—well, suppose they—”
“No! Theycouldn’tdo that! You know they couldn’t! That ’ud be fearful—simply fearful! And, besides, I think it’s going to rain to-morrow. No rustler wants to go out in the rain. ’Cause why? ’Cause somebody has to tell them to come in, and if there’s no one around, they just get al-l-l-l wet.”
“And there’s another thing,” Roy went on, ignoring his brother’s somewhat sarcastic levity. “What or who is ‘Reltsur?’ I mean the name that was signed to the note.”
“I know!” Teddy’s face was alight with a sudden idea. “There’s a fellow down at Eagles who just came to town. Gus Tripp was telling me about him—said he saw him when he rode in for the mail yesterday. Well, this geezer—”
“What about him?” Roy asked eagerly.
“He sells patent medicine! And I bet Reltsur is the name of one of his cures. Good for man or beast—positive cure or your money back. Read our testimonials. Mr. L. J. McPhoff, of Chickawalla, says: ‘I have used Reltsur now for thirteen years. When I started I was only twenty years old. Now, I’m thirty-three.’ Or hear what Mr. Specknoodle reports: ‘I highly recommend Reltsur for—’ Hey, cut it out! Don’t get that hat dirty!”
But it was too late. Roy had scaled his brother’s sombrero as far as he could. Then he clucked to Star, and, yelling like an Indian, bore down upon the hat.
“Pony express!” he yelled. “Buck Wallace in his famous picture ‘The Bad man of the Bad Lands!’ You! Yip-yip-e-e-e-e!”
Leaning over, he swept the hat from the ground as he dashed by. Then he wheeled, and, with a bow, presented it to Teddy.
“Just found it,” he said, with a grin. “Yours, maybe? Allow me! Rather warm isn’t it? But it’ll be cooler this winter, I expect.”
“My nice new Stetson,” Teddy remarked ruefully as he dusted it off. “Suppose Star had stepped on it? Fine pony express you are!”
“He didn’t,” Roy said, with a laugh. “Now what was that about Curly, Teddy?”
“Well, who doyouthink Reltsur is?”
Roy let out a roar of laughter. Then for some minutes Teddy was content to discuss their visitor of the night, but neither of the boys reached any conclusion, and at last they dismissed the subject.
Both were eager to hear what their father had to report when he returned from Hawley. The trail they were on led to the town where the rustlers were jailed, and the boys had hopes of meeting Mr. Manley on his way home. Yet the 8 X 8 Ranch was not out of their way, and if they missed their father, Teddy and Roy would not be at all averse to stopping off for a short visit.
The 8 X 8 was owned by Peter Ball, a neighbor and friend of Bardwell Manley. His two nieces from New York were paying their first visit to the West, and, as Teddy had said, they were planning to stay all winter at the Ball ranch. Since the girls were young and comely, it is not to be wondered at that Teddy and Roy took advantage of every opportunity to see them. Ethel Carew, or “Curly,” as the boys called her, seemed to hold special attraction for Teddy, while Nell Willis and Roy found each other’s company mutually agreeable.
Thus, while both boys declared their purpose in riding out was to meet Mr. Manley, they would not bother to avoid the 8 X 8 by circuitous riding.
After his imitation of the “pony express,” Roy settled into a moody silence, which all Teddy’s efforts failed to disperse. Roy was given to these spells of thoughtfulness, though perhaps more so lately than before. His brother had accused him of being in love, but Roy denied this so calmly that Teddy knew that the thrust was ineffectual. The only other conclusion was that the older youth felt a responsibility growing with his years, and was taking more of a burden upon his shoulders than the occasion warranted.
As they rode along, Teddy stole a glance at the boy at his side. He noted the stiffness of the back, and the firm set of the head upon the shoulders.
“He’s worrying about something,” the younger lad thought. “He always takes everything so seriously! I’ll bet it’s that note. Maybe I shouldn’t have kidded him about it. But, golly, there’s no reason to get so low over it! Roy!” he said aloud. “Snap out of it! What’s on your mind?”
“Who, me?” the other turned, startled. Then he grinned. “Was I asleep? Guess I must have been thinking. What was that you asked me?”
“Why, I just wanted to know what you were mooning about. You were riding along staring straight ahead as though you were in a trance. What in thunder is the matter with you lately, Roy?”
“Oh, nothing,” the boy answered, laughing a bit uneasily. “I was wondering about that note, that’s all. I’d hate to have anything happen just when we’ve got over our trouble with the rustlers. Although I’ll admit we had some exciting times for a while,” and Roy’s eyes sparkled. Then he grew grave again. “But dad sort of counts on us to keep things going, you know. That’s why I’m anxious to see what he has to say when he gets back from Hawley. That gang can—”
“Aw, what can they do?” Teddy demanded. “They’re all in jail. Forget about ’em, Roy. What’s the use of crossing bridges before you reach ’em?”
“That’s true enough. But you know I saw that slouched puncher right after the landslide. If he’s really one of the rustlers, he doesn’t bear us any love, I reckon.” The boy patted Star on the side to brush off a fly. “And seeing him right after the landslide—”
“Well, for Pete’s sake!” Teddy burst out, “you don’t think he started the slide, do you? Roy, come to life! Be yourself! Now how in the name of cackling cows could he have anything to do with that?”
Roy shook his head.
“I don’t mean that,” he explained. “But it sure looked as though he’d been following us. At least it did to me. How’d he know when to ride by last night? He timed that perfectly! By jinks, I’ll bet he was watching us all the time!”
“Maybe,” Teddy said laconically. “But wondering won’t get us any place. We’ll have to sit tight and watch our step, that’s all. Come on, it’s gettin’ late.”
As they rode forward at a faster gait, Teddy suddenly called his brother’s attention to a figure on horseback coming toward them.
“It’s dad!” Roy exclaimed. Then, as the figure neared: “He looks worried, too. Wonder what happened?”
“Howdy, boys!” called Mr. Manley, as he rode up. “Come to meet the old man, hey?”
“What’s the news, Dad?” Teddy asked eagerly.
A frown came to Mr. Manley’s face.
“Not so good,” he said slowly. “We won’t be able to prosecute those hoss thieves after all.”
Hesitating, he drew a corncob pipe from his pocket and stuck it between his lips, unlighted.
“The whole caboodle of ’em escaped yesterday,” he added tersely.
“Escaped? The prisoners?” Roy Manley looked at his father incredulously. “What do you mean, Dad?”
“Just what I said, son,” and the pipe never wavered between the set teeth. “They took French leave. Yesterday morning, early—’bout five o’clock, they said—two men started to shoot up the town. Of course the sheriff an’ his two deputies got on the job. When they come back, after chasin’ the gunman out, they found the jail empty an’ the bars in the windows sprung. Guess that’s all.”
CHAPTER VII
Teddy and Roy looked at each other with startled eyes. That rider on Mica Mountain, the puncher who sat slouched in the saddle!
“Any trace of ’em?” Teddy asked.
“Not any, son. They vamoosed clean. But lemme tell you something funny. Two days ago they decided the jail was too crowded an’ they moved Froud over to the calaboose in Marxsted. An’ he’s the only one of the rustlers they still got! Can you beat that? So, at all events, Gilly Froud is where he won’t do any harm. Anything new at the ranch?”
The ride back home was occupied with a discussion of the situation. Teddy and Roy had, of course, given up the idea of riding on to the 8 X 8, as they were anxious to know their father’s plan of action. Yet, as Teddy suggested, what could they do? It would be useless to go after the escaped rustlers. Besides, there was no need for it. Until the enemy showed his hand, they just had to sit tight. Of course it would be well to have some extra men ride herd, but, somehow, both Mr. Manley and the two boys felt the blow, if it did fall, would come from another direction.
“Maybe we’re makin’ a mountain out of a molehill,” Mr. Manley declared, as he stood near the hitching rail by the corral, the horses having been watered. “Those hoss thieves are loose. What more do they want? Why should they bother us? If they want to start up another gang and go back to rustling again, that’s up to them. But I have a hunch that’s not what they’re after. They’ve had their fill of that game. And, besides, the sheriff said that two of those babies came from New York. That mean anything? Remember the barkeeper in Rimor’s place who tried to crash me with a bottle when I went in after that hombre with the checkered shirt?”
“Sure do!” Teddy remarked excitedly. “He came from New York, too, didn’t he? They must be importing a bunch of gunmen down here! Do you think the bird in Rimor’s is one of the gang, Dad?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me a bit,” Mr. Manley answered. “He’s not there any more, you know. He ducked out. It may be—I don’t say it is—but it’s just possible that he and his friends got the rustlers out of jail. Boys, I hate to say it, but somehow it looks like trouble was stirrin’ up.”
“But why?” Teddy asked insistently. “What makes you say that, Dad? Roy’s been like that all day, too. Why the worry?”
“So you been thinkin’ too, have you, Roy?” the ranch owner repeated, glancing over at his son. “Well, I’ll tell you, Teddy. All of us have our friends and our enemies. When my dad—your grandfather, that was—first settled here there was nothin’ but a lot of space. Pop Burns can tell you about that. Then later Eagles came, and with it some punchers that wanted money without workin’ for it. About six years ago they wanted me to go into a scheme of weighting the cattle scales down at the railroad corral. But I soon set ’em right on that!”
Teddy and Roy nodded.
“Pop told us,” Roy stated. “That put you sort of in wrong, didn’t it?”
“Yep. Then a queer gang from the East began to head for Eagles. You know most of ’em I guess. That barkeeper was the worst of the lot. They joined up with the element that had it in for me. You know the result—how we had our horses stolen and our cattle rustled. Then, when we landed the gang an’ jailed ’em, I figured they were out of the way for a while. But now—they’re out. An’ I get this note.”
Slowly he took the paper from his pocket and gazed at it.
“Reltsur,” he mused. “Sounds like a foreign name. Well, by jinks, whoever he is—” The man’s eyes blazed and he crumpled the paper up and flung it savagely from him. “Whoever he is, if he fools around here he’ll wish he hadn’t! An’ that’s that!”
Turning, he strode into the house.
“You were right, Roy,” Teddy remarked in a low voice, watching his father’s form pass through the door. “Dad does take it seriously. He’s all het up. I wonder what— Oh, fishcakes! What’s the use of wondering? I’m going in.”
The next morning when Mr. Manley came toward the bunk-house to speak to one of the punchers, Nick, who was standing in the doorway, noticed with surprise that the boss had a six-gun fastened to his belt.
“Goin’ huntin’, boss?” the puncher asked.
“Mebbe,” Mr. Manley answered laconically. “Want to be ready in case any two-legged rattlesnakes are wanderin’ around. Where’s Jim Casey?”
“Around back. Want him?”
“Yea.”
When Jim approached he was given directions to set three more men to riding the cattle.
“Tell Teddy who they’ll be,” Mr. Manley directed. “He’s foreman this week. If you want anything else, ask him. And listen. If you see any strangers around here, ask ’em their business. Especially if you see a puncher that rides leanin’ a little to the left in his saddle. I guess you all know who I mean. I’m going to head for town. Be back in a few hours.”
“The boss means business,” Gus Tripp declared, when Mr. Manley had left. “There’s Teddy. Yo-o-o, Teddy! Yore dad was just here. Told Jim to put some extra riders out.”
“I know,” Teddy nodded. “Who do you want, Jim? How about Rad Sell, Nat Raymond, and—well, you want to take it, Gus?”
“Sure,” Gus answered. “Nick can hang around here. But don’t you go serenadin’ Norine, Nick. Guess I’d better have Pop keep an eye on you.”
“Dry up!” Nick growled. “You’ll have your hands full without worryin’ about Norine.”
At that moment Roy came from the ranch house and walked toward the group.
“Dad around?” he asked.
“Just left,” Teddy replied. “Went to Eagles, didn’t he, Nick? Say, did he have a gun on?”
“He did,” Gus drawled. “Said he might meet up with some two-legged rattlers. Yore dad worried about that note, Roy?”
“He’s sore about it, at any rate,” Roy answered. “Dad doesn’t like any one to try to bluff him. Then, too, he’s kind of waiting for something to start, I think. You knew the horse thieves that we rounded up are loose again?”
“Yep. All our work for nothin’! Well, let ’em try some more rustlin’, that’s all I ask.Thistime we’ll salivate ’em.”
“Dad said they might try another game,” Teddy declared. “He didn’t say what, but he mentioned the fact that there are several gunmen from the East mixed up in the crowd. Can’t tell what that bunch’ll pull. You men that are riding cattle, don’t stay in one place too long. Keep moving, and try to ride fence as much as you can. If you see a break that looks suspicious, report it. We can’t afford to take chances, because there’s a big shipment of Durhams due to go out this month, you know. For the love of Pete! Look who’s coming!”
Down the road swept a cloud of dust, punctuated by the sound of a horn, and now and then a hoarse shout. The cloud drew up by the bunk-house, and slowly drifted away to disclose a flivver, with a freckled, grinning youth at the wheel.
“Howdy!” this dusty apparition exclaimed. “It’s me. Me an’ my little peanut roaster. Waddaya say?”
“Hello, Bug Eye!” Teddy cried. “What’s the news? Why the rush?”
“Rush!” Bug Eye looked at the speaker reproachfully. “I wasn’t rushin’. I was goin’ slow! You want to see me when I’m in a hurry! Er—oh, yea, I knew I came over here fer somethin’. I got a message fer Belle.”
Bug Eye was a hand on the 8 X 8, and Mr. Ball frequently made use of him to drive one of the ranch cars. Bug Eye was always delighted to oblige, and had almost forsaken horses for the “puddle jumper.”
Now he reached laboriously inside an upper pocket of his shirt and unearthed tobacco, “makin’s,” and finally a soiled envelope.
“She’s a little dirty,” he apologized, “but I guess she ain’t hurt none. Got that way from Lizzie hoppin’ around so much. Baby, this here tin mule is a flyin’ fool! One minute she’s on the road an’ the next she’s skimmin’ over a cloud, or—or somethin’. Want a ride? Take you any place! I just put in a new dofunny, an she goes like a jack-rabbit. How about it, Teddy? Roy? Take a little jaunt? She’s good. Bust her hide, she’s good! Why, on the way over I seen a prairie dog that was goin’ the same way I was, an’—”
“Save it, save it!” Nick yelled. “Why don’t you write a book, Bug Eye? Snakes! I never see a man that could talk as much as you an’ say so little.”
“Yes?” Bug Eye glanced at Nick calmly. “Maybe you don’t understand. You know I talk English, an’ I guess it’s kind of hard for you birds to catch on. Here’s the note, Roy. Fer yore sister. Got anything to eat in there, Gus? Where’s Sing Lung? He ought to have some beans warmin’.”
Roy took the missive from Bug Eye, and the messenger stretched high and entered the bunk-house, carefully oblivious of Nick’s taunting reply. The note was addressed to “Miss Belle Ada Manley,” and, boylike, Roy held it to his nose and inhaled deeply.
“Perfume?” Teddy asked, grinning.
“Tobacco,” Roy answered briefly, making a wry face. “It was buried in Bug Eye’s pocket. Let’s take it in to Belle.”
Within the ranch house, the two boys stood about in careless attitudes as their sister ripped open the envelope. Belle paused and looked up.
“Something?” she questioned innocently.
“Come on, Belle—have a heart,” Teddy murmured. “What’s in it?”
“Oh, this!” The girl looked at the note calmly. Slowly she read it through, and then folded it carefully and replaced it in the envelope.
“Well?” Roy burst out.
“Oh, you want to know what she says?” Belle asked. “Why, it’s—it’s just a note.”
“Yea? What’s it say?”
“Why, Nell and Ethel want me to—is that mother calling?”
“No! Go on!”
“They want me to visit them. That’s all.”
“So that’s all?”
The two boys turned away.
“Well, they want to be remembered to you two. And they want you to stay to dinner to-morrow night when you take me over.”
“Oh, they do! Why didn’t you say so?”
“I forgot.”
“All right!” Teddy and Roy glared in mock anger. “We’ll remember this!” Then in chorus, “Re-e-e-e-e-venge!”
And they stalked out of the room, to execute a war dance in the hall.