“OFF TO NUGGET CAMP!”
The X Bar X Boys at Nugget Camp. ([Page 62])
THE X BAR X BOYS
AT NUGGET CAMP
BY
JAMES CODY FERRIS
Author of “The X Bar X Boys on the Ranch,”
“The X Bar X Boys at the Round-Up,” etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY
Walter S. Rogers
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Made in the United States of America
WESTERN STORIES FOR BOYS
By JAMES CODY FERRIS
THE X BAR X BOYS BOOKS
THE X BAR X BOYS ON THE RANCH
THE X BAR X BOYS IN THUNDER CANYON
THE X BAR X BOYS ON WHIRLPOOL RIVER
THE X BAR X BOYS ON BIG BISON TRAIL
THE X BAR X BOYS AT THE ROUND-UP
THE X BAR X BOYS AT NUGGET CAMP
(OTHER VOLUMES IN PREPARATION.)
———
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
Copyright, 1928, by
GROSSET & DUNLAP, Inc.
——
The X Bar X Boys at Nugget Camp
CONTENTS
THE X BAR X BOYS AT NUGGET CAMP
CHAPTER I
A Dangerous Cast
By the time Roy Manley shortened the stirrup that had loosened and slipped down two holes, his brother Teddy was nearly out of sight behind the hunch-backed rise of ground. Roy heard a faint yell as pony and boy disappeared completely.
“Got lightning grease on his heels,” he grumbled, struggling with the stirrup. “Belle, why don’t you take Nell in out of this sun? You and Curly get one on each side of her, and cart her along.”
“Cart me along!” Nell Willis responded indignantly. “Think I’m a bag of potatoes?”
Belle Ada, the girl Roy Manley had addressed, laughed merrily. She was Roy’s sister, a dark-haired, dark-eyed daughter of the plains, thirteen years old, with a gift for practical jokes that was often extremely disconcerting.
Belle Ada, with her two brothers, had been visiting the 8 X 8 ranch, belonging to Peter Ball, a close friend of the two brothers and of their father. Some time before Nell Willis and Ethel, or “Curly,” Carew, had come from the East to see their aunt, Mrs. Ball. Whether it was due to their liking of Western scenery or to the fact that the X Bar X ranch—where Teddy and Roy lived—was within riding distance, is a question still to be determined; but at any rate, they stretched their visit from one month into many months.
They were rapidly growing to look upon the great spaces of the West as their real home. But an incident, such as had just occurred, served to show that they had not quite earned the title of cowgirls.
Nell had been thrown. Her mount stopped suddenly, and the girl had taken the shortest route to the ground, fortunately lauding free of the horse and unhurt aside from a severe shaking up. The pony tossed his head, rolled his eyes significantly, and streaked in the general direction of Chicago, Teddy hot on his trail. Roy’s stirrup had taken that moment to slip.
“Be good now, Nell,” Roy admonished. “You put an awful dent in mother earth, you know. Yay—there she is!” He gave the strap a final tug and then vaulted into the saddle. “If Teddy catches that bronc while his big brother is playing nursemaid to a horse, I’ll never hear the last of it. Got to get me a new pair of stirrups. Get in out of the sun, Nell! We’ll have you—”
“Never mind about the sun!” Nell called. “You rope yourself tight to Star and keep your feet out of the stirrups!”
It is doubtful if Roy heard the remark, however well directed it was, for he had given his pony a quick jab with his heels and was dashing toward the hills behind which his brother had disappeared. Seventeen is not an age which will gracefully admit the superiority of another, even though that other be a brother. Roy wanted very much to catch Nell’s runaway pony before Teddy did.
He bent low over Star’s neck and watched the little spurts of dust fly up as the pony pounded over the dry earth. To his ears came the low murmur of Rocky Run River, a stream which skirted both the X Bar X and the 8 X 8 ranches. The spring sun was melting the mountain snows, and the river was at its highest point.
“If Teddy heads him in the right direction, he can corner him,” Roy muttered. “And that means I’ll arrive just in time to be late. Blame that stirrup! If it had been Curly’s horse it wouldn’t be so bad. But I ought to catch Nell’s bronc—instead of Teddy catching him.”
He did not explain this enigmatical statement, even to himself. It just occurred to him, and re-occurred with added force as the moments passed. He, and not Teddy, should capture the runaway.
“But what chance have I?” he murmured. “I can’t—Sweet daddy, there he is! There he is! He must have doubled back!”
In the distance Roy caught a glimpse of a riderless pony, tail straight out in the wind.
“Here we go, Star!” Roy shouted. “Take him down! Atta baby!”
Star, quick to sense what was wanted of him, swung toward the runaway. He seemed to feel something of his rider’s anxiety, and his breath came more swiftly as he settled down to the task.
Now the other pony saw them, and hesitated, head held high, forefeet straight as poles. Then he bobbed toward the ground as though he were making a bow and was off like a shot.
It never entered Roy’s head to think what had become of Teddy. He was too intent on one thing—catching Nell’s pony and bringing it to her.
“All right, Star,” Roy muttered. “A little of the old fight now.”
He sat in the saddle as though he were part of the horse, a centaur come to life on the plains of the West. As his steed’s feet tapped the ground, to draw apart and then tap again, the boy’s body moved back and forth with a rhythm that was beautiful. Not once was the motion interrupted.
“There he goes—straight for the river!”
It was impossible to tell at that distance whether or not Roy was gaining on the runaway. At times he seemed closer, then a clump of trees would block the boy’s view, and when he again caught sight of the horse it would appear as though he had lost ground.
“Somethin’s got to happen pretty quick,” the boy said aloud. “He can’t go far to the left when he reaches the river on account of the rocks. He’ll have to take the right trail. That means a good long chase unless he gets winded soon—and I don’t think he will. Star, old boy, we’ve got to work!”
The horse nodded his head to shake a bit of foam from his lips, and Roy chuckled. It looked as if Star had understood and agreed.
“So you do know what it’s all about? Well, I won’t talk any more—might disturb you. Anyway, you don’t have to answer me. Just you go along, and we’ll have a speech making contest when this thing’s over—you and me.”
It was characteristic of Roy to think of the unusual even at a moment like this. The idea of him and his horse standing opposite each other and discussing the pros and cons of a question struck him as extremely humorous, and he snickered loudly. Star raised his head inquiringly, and as he did so the pony in front changed its direction and headed for the left.
Roy was jolted out of his mood. The left! That meant the rocks!
“Is he crazy enough to try to get out that way?” Roy ejaculated. “He’ll burst his fool head open, if he does! Reckon I have to reach him before he takes a dive! Be a fine thing for me to tell Nell her pony is waiting to be made into sausages. Step on it, Star!”
To one who did not know the pony, it would seem that Star had already done all the “stepping on it” he was able. But now he drew his ears just a little closer to his head, bunched his muscles a little tighter, and flashed ahead.
This time it was apparent the pursuers were gaining. The white spot on the runaway’s flank was plainly visible.
“Now we have it! Now we have it! Now we have it!” Roy grunted, the words keeping time with the beat of the pony’s feet. “Into the rocks he goes, and in we go after him. ‘Into the valley of death rode the six hundred!’ ‘Mighty is he who wields the sword, but mightier still—’ I forget the rest of that. Good start, though.” He was talking aloud, not conscious of what he was saying, finding the effort necessary to pronounce the words a relief to his pent-up emotions.
Ahead were the rocks, black and forbidding, out of keeping with the placidness of the rest of the scene—a strange contrast to the gentle sloping prairie. At some time in the formation of the earth this portion was fated to retain the characteristics of the early terrain while the surrounding landscape was calmed by some giant hand. Silhouetted bluntly against the sky, the rocks were the bane of cattlemen who had to skirt them in a wide path instead of following the river directly.
Their edges bordered on the water and in storms the river roared sullenly over their shiny backs. Frequently cows were found dead at their base, who, coming to drink, had slipped and been drawn into the turmoil.
“Pretty looking sight,” Roy muttered, glancing toward the black mass. “Just the place a crazy horse would head for. Yep—there he goes!”
The runaway had reached the first of the rocks, and, without stopping a moment, sprang for the lower ledge. Roy fancied he heard the hoofs scrape as the steed pulled himself up.
“We’ve got to do that pretty soon,” the boy said. No thought of abandoning the chase came to him. “Get out the old ground-grippers, Star.”
He came to the ledge, and pulled upward on the reins. With a little whinny Star tensed his muscles and sprang. The ledge was on a level with his chest, but it is one thing to clear a barrier, another to mount it. For a moment it seemed as if the horse and rider must slip back, but, with a supreme effort, the pony forced himself up and stood trembling on the rocky shelf.
“That’s the first of them,” the boy breathed. “Watch it, Star! Take it easy. We can’t rush this.”
As a mountain climber tests the ice before trusting his weight to it, Star touched each bit of rock before placing his hoof on it. Sharp corners and jagged points of rock surrounded them. A misstep would mean a painful, if not fatal, injury.
“And we’re not at the worst part yet,” the boy murmured. “Wait till we reach the edge. Where in thunder is that horse? If he—”
A sound came to his ears, a sound of breaking rock. He waited, and heard a splash.
“Missed that one. He’s not far off, at any rate. All right, Star—up we go!”
He hoped the runaway was standing still, perhaps frightened by the stone his feet had dislodged and sent into the river. He should come into sight soon.
The river roared louder with each step Star took, and the boy knew they were approaching the edge, with a sheer drop to the water below. Higher and higher Star mounted, and at last stood with his forefeet braced against a stone, his widened eyes staring into the depths. They had reached the edge.
Not fifty feet from them was the runaway bronco, his head moving from side to side in bewildered fright, his whole body trembling violently.
Roy whistled softly.
“That way, Star,” he whispered. “Easy, now! Just a little more—”
His hand was on his rope that hung from the saddlehorn. If he could ring the bronc, the rest would be easy, for the pony was much too frightened to resist. He could lead the animal down safely.
Pulling the reins ever so slightly, Roy brought Star to a halt. He was near enough to throw. Carefully he poised the lariat. His knees gripped Star’s side.
The rope whistled overhead, straightened out like a snake. True was the throw, and truly the noose landed, full over the pony’s neck.
Then, from below, came a yell of exultation.
“Atta baby, Roy! Great stuff! I knew you’d make it! I waited until—”
The pony, with the rope about his neck, jerked as though he had been stung with fire. A shrill cry, almost human, burst from him. He leaped forward.
“Roy! Roy! Cut loose! Don’t let him—Oh-h-h!”
It was too late. Star, trying vainly to keep his balance, toppled outward, and Roy, in full view of Teddy, hurtled toward the river that hissed over the waiting rocks below!
CHAPTER II
Out of the Depths
The thoughts that flashed through Teddy Mauley’s brain as he stood below watching that terrible fall will never be known. If he had not called out, the runaway would not have jumped and dislodged Roy. He, Teddy, was responsible. If Roy was killed—
To say that a man’s life whirls through his mind a moment before death is to state that which has been said many times. It may be that his senses are sharpened to such an extent that he can appreciate things in one second that otherwise would take him many minutes to think of. But here Teddy stood at the base of the mass of rocks. He was in no personal danger. Flash, his horse, was close beside him, his head tilted to one side, his eyes regarding his master calmly.
In that tiny space of time, while Roy, hands outstretched, was dropping toward the river, there came to Teddy in a swift panorama the events of the last hour—Nell Willis thrown from her pony; Teddy taking up the chase; his capture of the bronco; the realization that Roy, and not he, was the logical one to take the horse back; the wait for his brother and the driving back of the runaway so that Roy would see him and take him to Nell; then following Roy to this place, watching him mount the rocks and rope the pony; and finally, the cry that Teddy could not hold in check—the cry that sent Roy to—
A terrible wave of intense suffering passed through Teddy, shaking him from head to foot. His brother! Roy!
There was one little ray of hope, and even before Roy struck the water, Teddy seized on it fiercely. Seven feet from the base of the rocks the water had hollowed out a deep pool. Not more than five feet across and about ten feet long—then the rocks again. If Roy hit this, he had a chance. If!
With eyes that burned, Teddy watched his brother’s descent. He was out from the cliff, far enough out perhaps to reach the deep pool. “Let him be saved, Lord! Give him a chance!”
Then, with horrible suddenness, boy and horse struck. High in the air rose the white spray. Through it Teddy could see a dark form and he heard the shrill scream of the pony; a cry once heard never forgotten.
As a man is awakened from a trance, the sound shocked Teddy into action. He flung himself into the saddle. His hand flailed the bronco’s side. Flash, hunching his hind legs, sprang forward.
“Down to him, Flash! Down to him! We’ve got to—”
The horse understood. Oblivious of his own safety, he plunged headlong toward the rocky beach and toward the boy and horse struggling in the water. Teddy, in a passing moment, knew that the runaway had, after all, remained safely on the ledge above.
As the boy neared the spot, he saw with a heartfelt prayer of thankfulness that Roy had cleared the rocks and had fallen into the deeper part of the river.
Even before Flash had reached the water’s edge, Teddy had his rope in readiness. If Roy were conscious, he could grab the end and be pulled ashore. If not—
Then Teddy saw his brother. The rushing waters calmed for a moment and disclosed Roy, his hand still clutching the bridle of his pony, lying inertly on the surface of the pool, kept afloat by that grip alone. His face was upward, a red streak showing across the forehead.
Teddy uttered not a word. His lips were bloodless and pressed tightly together. He slid swiftly from the saddle.
Without a single waste motion he uncoiled his rope and tied the loose end of it about his waist. The other was fastened to the saddlehorn. Between the shore and Roy was a fierce current, and it was into this that Teddy threw himself. Flash, his neck craned forward, stood like a rock a little distance from the turbulent stream.
Everything was fighting Teddy—the stream, the rope about his waist, and a growing sense of panic, a fear that when he reached his brother it would be too late. But he kept on, scarcely daring to hope, swimming with a fierce determination to see it through. Now he could hear the breathing of Star. Now he saw the drawn, grey face of his brother. Now he could reach him!
The current released its clinging swirls from his body, and Teddy floated in the comparative stillness of the pool. His arm encircled Roy’s shoulders. For one long moment he gazed into the face of him who had been always at his side, who had shared every danger with him—his brother.
“Roy!”
The pallid lips moved. The eyes opened.
“Teddy, old boy—all right, Teddy—let’s get—”
A great sob forced the breath from Teddy’s lungs.
“Roy! Thank God! Oh, Roy, I was afraid—”
“Not this time, old boy! Still kicking. Only I feel—funny.”
“Now, Roy, let go the bridle. That’s it! All right, kid. Here we go. Don’t move. I have you. Don’t shake your head. Easy, kid—easy! Let yourself slide. A-a-a-atta baby! Here we go, now. Star’s all right. He’s just watching you, that’s all. I have you, kid. Easy, big feller—just a little—”
They were out into the stream. Holding his brother with one hand, Teddy pulled on the rope with the other. Flash braced his feet and stood firm. The current drew them down hungrily, but Teddy fought toward the shore. Closer, closer—he felt the rocks under his feet—and then Roy was laid gently on the ground and Teddy was bending over him, the tears coursing unashamed down his cheeks. Roy was safe.
It might be wise for the moment to leave these two alone. We won’t hear the first words that Roy said to Teddy, nor shall we hear Teddy’s answer. We sha’n’t watch Teddy’s hand meet his brother’s in a firm grip, nor shall we see the look that passed between the boys. It is better to leave the curtain drawn.
We may, instead, say something of these two who have just gone through such a vivid experience. Teddy, one year younger than his brother, was in his sixteenth year. His life had been spent mainly on the plains, as had Roy’s. Their father, Bardwell Manley, was the owner of a large cattle ranch, the X Bar X, and when he took his sons out of school to help him with the management of it, they were anything but sorry. They were born to the life of the cattle rancher and loved it. On the plains they were receiving a better education than many who attend college.
In the first book of the series, “The X Bar X Boys on the Ranch,” it is told how Teddy and Roy Manley captured a band of cattle rustlers after many trials and adventures. The friends they made in those hazardous days stayed with them through other exciting times, and, in the book just preceding this, called “The X Bar X Boys at the Round-Up,” they reached the peak of every cattleman’s desire—first prizes at the rodeo. At the same time they saved their father from some cattle swindlers, and succeeded in establishing themselves more strongly than ever in the hearts of the cowboys at the X Bar X.
Their two friends, Nell Willis and Ethel Carew—officially friends of their sister, Belle Ada—shared in many of their adventures. It was while visiting the girls at the 8 X 8 that the runaway, with the consequent disaster, took place as has been set down.
Now we might steal a quick look at the two boys, who stood on the banks of Rocky Run River. Star had been rescued—Teddy roped him from the shore, and Flash drew him from the water. Miraculously, he was unhurt except for a few minor cuts and scratches. He trembled until Roy, weak, but standing upright, placed his hand on the pony’s neck.
“Needs some liniment,” Roy said, and laughed a little. After that one pregnant moment when Roy was brought to the shore the boys studiously avoided any mention of the incident, so close to tragedy, or of the rescue.
“Reckon he thinks it’s Saturday,” Teddy replied, laughing himself, albeit somewhat shakily. “Snakes, I’m wet! Good thing my skin doesn’t leak.”
“I’ll tell a maverick,” Roy chuckled. “Take you to think up that one. Now then! Yep, she’s stopped bleeding.” He put his hand to his head. “Glad of it—I don’t want to take the pony back to Nell looking like the Spirit of ’76. Say, by the way—”
“Take a look,” Teddy interrupted. He motioned with his hand, and Roy turned.
Gazing at them calmly from level ground was the runaway pony. His saddle was still on.
“Well, you big, animated hunk of limburger!” Roy exclaimed. “Think it’s a joke, do you? Go on, tell a funny story now! Wait a second!” He walked toward the horse and stopped suddenly. “Say, Teddy, if it’s all the same to you—”
“You bet,” Teddy answered quickly. “I’ll get him. Better for you to keep quiet. You can ride him home.”
He started for the pony and led him without resistance to Roy.
“Here’s the creature, Roy, that started the whole thing,” he muttered. “Want to ride him? I’ll lead Star.”
“You bet I want to ride him!” was the vehement answer. “Say, what happened to you, Teddy? You had a long start on me.”
“Lost him,” Teddy said laconically. Not for worlds would he have told his brother that he had captured the horse and turned him loose so that Roy could have the glory of taking him to Nell. “He got away from me. Come on, let’s get started. Feel O. K. now?”
“Little damp,” Roy responded, and grinned. He climbed into the saddle. “Try to act up now, you bronc, and see where it gets you! All right, Teddy. We’re off!”
CHAPTER III
Mysterious Riders
The two Manley boys rode back slowly, Roy glancing over his shoulder toward the rocks just before they were lost to sight. Teddy saw the gesture, and grinned.
“How high is the top of that cliff from the water, Roy?” he asked.
“One hundred feet; maybe less.”
“And how high was it when you were falling?”
“Seventeen and three-quarter miles.”
Teddy nodded. “I believe you have made a great discovery, Roy. Of course, some one else may have thought of it ahead of you. I seem to remember a man by the name of Einstein who made a crack about relativity—”
“That had to do with motion,” Roy answered seriously. “You see, he said that all motion is relative. For instance, suppose two trains are moving at the same rate of speed and you’re sitting in one of them. If there were no stationary objects near, it would be impossible to tell—”
“Oh, the sun shines bright in my old Kentucky ho-o-ome!” Teddy sang loudly. “’Tis summer, the darkies are gay. And the little tots play in the cabin round the do-o-o-ore! For my old Kentucky ho-o-o-o-o-ome—”
Roy leaned toward him casually, stretched out his arm and caught Teddy just under the fifth rib with his open hand. The “h-o-o-o-o-ome” was ripped apart, the pieces being expelled by a vigorous “ooof!”
“And no insurance,” Teddy grunted regretfully. “The home that had sheltered those people all these years, to be broken up by a careless blow of a calloused hand! My! My! Here, Flash, cut that out! Roy, hang on to Star for a second.”
He looked at his brother. Roy’s face was white and his eyes had little crinkles of pain at the corners.
“What the mischief?” Teddy demanded. “Your head, Roy? That was a pretty mean sock you got. Here, you tie this handkerchief around it—or let me. Go on, now, mind, little brother.”
“Guess I shouldn’t have been so funny, whacking you that way,” Roy muttered, and smiled weakly. “I don’t want that thing on my head, Teddy. If Nell sees me coming all tied up she’ll think something happened.”
“And nothing did happen—we’ve just been to a tea, and you got a little damp trying to do a six beat crawl in the punch bowl,” Teddy said sarcastically. “Listen to me, bucko! They’ll know you took a spill. How can they help knowing? But what of it? Tell ’em you got out all right—crawled ashore. Remember that? You crawled ashore.”
He glanced at Roy significantly.
If any one else had saved his life and Roy were asked to say nothing of it, he would have refused immediately. The smallest recompense one may offer to his rescuer is to acknowledge the debt publicly. But between these two there was no such formality. They were not concerned with what others thought of their relationship to one another. Calmly each accepted the full devotion of his brother, knowing that his own was accepted in turn. Thus, when Teddy signified that he did not wish known the part he had played in saving Roy, the other agreed at once to keep the true story hidden.
“All right, I crawled ashore,” Roy said. “And if you feel like playing doctor, go right ahead.”
He edged the pony toward Teddy and submitted to the ministrations of his brother. When the large handkerchief had been tied about the cut, Teddy removed his hat and placed it lightly on his brother’s head. Roy’s own hat was floating somewhere in Rocky Run River.
“It won’t hurt you with that bandage on,” he declared. “And this sun is pretty strong. No, leave it tilted that way.”
“Yes, doctor,” Roy replied meekly. “Anything you say. Now they’ll think I’m a gunman.”
“You look like a pirate,” Teddy laughed. “How does that bronc ride, Roy?”
“Pretty steady. Shakes now and then, that’s all. Jiminy! I didn’t notice that long scratch on Star’s hind leg.” He glanced down at the pony Teddy was leading. “Let me take him for a while.”
“No, you’ve got enough to attend to,” Teddy insisted. “Star’s all right. Needs a good rubdown, that’s all, and he’ll soon get it. We’ll be at the ranch in fifteen minutes.”
“Meantime—” Roy pulled his pony to a halt and began searching through his pockets.
“Money?” Teddy asked. “Forget it. If you had any in your pockets, it’s gone. Besides, what can you buy for eleven cents?”
“Not money,” Roy replied. “It’s—ah, here we have it!” He pulled a sodden mass from one of his pockets. The gleam of tinfoil showed as he held the object proudly up.
“For the love of Pete, what’s that?” Teddy gasped. “A first-aid kit?”
“Chocolate!” Roy exclaimed. “Real, honest-to-goodness chocolate—even if it is a little mildewed. Here, take a piece.”
“Not me,” Teddy said firmly. “I like my chocolate in a cup or dry—but not half and half. You go ahead and eat it.”
“I will,” Roy answered, munching on the candy. “It’s good, too.”
“Is it?” Teddy commented. “Well, that’s nice.”
He could think of nothing else to say, and the two boys rode for a while in silence. The chocolate gave Roy added strength, and gradually his cheeks were resuming their normal color, that peculiar reddish brown that comes to the faces of men who live in the open. There is nothing more sickly looking than to see a man whose skin is tanned go suddenly pale beneath it.
“You know,” Roy said after a few minutes, “I would have been after this bronco as quickly as you, only my stirrup slipped.”
“I thought something happened. I—er—thought I had him when he doubled back and got away again. Hope Nell didn’t get hurt when she fell off.”
“She didn’t,” Roy assured him. “Wanted to know if I thought she was a bag of potatoes when I suggested that Belle and Ethel carry her in. Or maybe I did say cart her in.”
“You probably did. From a youth you were given to the use of the correct expression in the incorrect place.”
Another period of silence. Then, from Teddy:
“Well, I’m glad of that.”
“Huh?”
“That she didn’t get hurt when she fell off. Just continuing the conversation. How’s your head feel now?”
“Is by me Ho Kay! Such is the resilience of youth that—”
“Applesauce! Snakes, it’s getting hotter by the minute! I’m nearly dry. And that reminds me—”
“Yes, I thought of that, too,” Roy said meaningly. “How’d you get wet watching me swim to shore?”
“Well, I waded in and helped you, then. That’ll pass.”
Both Roy and Teddy knew the real reason for not saying anything about the rescue. In the first place, Nell Willis would berate herself for having fallen off, and so, consequently, having exposed Roy to danger. In the second place—and this Teddy realized more than Roy—there would be small glory to Roy in having to be dragged from the river. And after all, it was Teddy’s fault, for his cry startled the runaway. For these and other reasons the boys judged it best that none but themselves should know the true story.
Ahead of them now was the hill that over-topped the 8 X 8 ranch. Within ten minutes they would be greeting the girls.
Suddenly Teddy, who was ahead leading Star, held up his hand.
“Got a question to ask?” Roy said laconically. “Well, go ahead. But remember teacher isn’t here to—”
“I heard a yell,” Teddy interrupted shortly. “A funny yell.”
“A funny yell?” Roy noticed the seriousness of his brother’s face and did not carry the joking further. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it sounded like a yell for help. Pipe down a second while I listen.”
The horses were brought to a halt. The boys remained silent, but heard nothing but the murmur of the river in the distance.
“Reckon I was mistaken,” Teddy said finally. “I must be hearing things. What say we get a wiggle on? You feel all right?”
“Sure! Step on it. Don’t worry about me. That chocolate brought me around.”
They swung their mounts into a trot. Both Star and Flash were well schooled, and could trot as well as any Eastern pony. Nearly all Western steeds will go right from a walk into a gallop, since there are few times when a trot is demanded of them. The Western stirrup is usually too long to allow “posting,” which is the peculiar rising and falling of the rider to co-ordinate with the pony’s motion.
At the foot of the hill was a small clump of trees, the only shade visible for miles around. Teddy headed for this.
“Any special reason?” Roy inquired.
“For going this way? Well, it’s no longer, and that yell—if it was a yell—came from this direction. We might take a look—see?”
“Check! We shall investigate the ghostly sound.”
The boys were intent on this new experience now. The fall into the river was forgotten for the moment. Roy scarcely realized that his head was injured, yet was forcibly reminded of the fact when he took off his hat to rub an itchy place.
“Man’s yell?” Roy asked after an interval. They were approaching the trees.
“I thought so. Not shrill enough for a woman or a girl. And it couldn’t have been a cat.” Teddy was referring to a mountain lion, not a house cat.
Coming into the shadow of the trees, Teddy halted again, as a man does who is uncertain of things around him. The woods were about a quarter of a mile deep, tapering off at one end like a triangle.
“Going to ride through?” Roy asked.
“Might as well.” He urged Flash forward. “Maybe—”
The sentence was never finished. So close to them that they started violently, as did their horses, came a cry:
“Don’t! For heaven’s sake, don’t shoot! I haven’t got it with me, I tell you! I—”
The roar of a gun cut the voice short. It died out in a groan. From the point of the triangle two men rushed into the open—two men, riding hard and leading a third horse.
CHAPTER IV
The Old Miner
A boxer who has trained his muscles to react automatically and to dodge a blow from an antagonist almost before it has started, does not consciously order his knees to bend or his body to shift. Those things happen without deliberate volition, simply because the habit has been formed. Thus, when Teddy and Roy heard that shot, they crouched low in their saddles and jumped their mounts forward without the loss of a second. It was Star’s bridle pulling him that caused Teddy to hesitate and to give thought to the best procedure.
Roy flashed ahead, intent on the pursuit of the men who, undoubtedly, had been engaged in the commission of something they wanted to keep hidden.
He was actually gaining on them when he heard his brother shout:
“Roy! Come back here! Here’s a man dying!”
Roy pulled up his pony. The two men gave a quick glance to the rear and swung to the right, mounting the hill. They evidently thought the chase had been abandoned.
“Never mind about them, Roy! I need help here!”
Roy yanked the bronco’s head in the air and turned him as on a pivot. He could hear his brother, but could not see him.
“Where are you?”
The question remained unanswered, for at that moment Roy reached the edge of the trees and saw Teddy.
The boy had dismounted and was leaning over a figure stretched out under a pine tree. The two ponies stood near by.
“Right, Teddy! Be with you in a second.”
Roy slid from the pony before it had come to a full stop. Then he was at his brother’s side and staring down at the body of a man—a miner, from his clothes—who lay breathing noisily, a thin trickle of blood running from his neck and spreading over the blue denim shirt.
“Got it good,” Teddy whispered. “Afraid he’s going to pass out pretty soon.”
The man was past fifty, from his grey hair, and nearly sixty from the lines creased deeply in his face. His eyes were sunken, the cheeks hollow, betokening much hardship. About six feet tall he was, with long arms that now lay like rods of flesh at his sides. The fingers opened and closed convulsively, then quieted.
As Roy bent toward him, he thought how much this unfortunate reminded him of Pop Burns, an old hand on the X Bar X. Tall, thin, grizzled, same facial characteristics, same broad forehead and large ears.
“Enough to be his brother,” Roy muttered.
Teddy nodded, understanding the remark.
“Does look like Pop,” he said in a low voice. “Gosh, he’s bleeding.”
Roy tore the handkerchief from his head and, using another and smaller one for a pad, he bound up the wound. Unskilled as the boys were in matters pertaining to surgery, they saw that the jugular vein was not severed, but that the blood came from smaller vessels beneath the skin.
“He’s got a chance if we can stop the bleeding,” Roy declared. “I wonder why—”
The man groaned and opened his eyes. They stared up at the two boys unseeing, and after a moment closed again.
“Wants to say something,” Teddy muttered. “Lie still, sir. You’ll be all right. Just lie still.”
Roy shook his head. The man’s face was growing greyer every second.
“We’ve got to get him out of here! Teddy, there’s only one thing to do. You ride like the mischief for the ranch and get Mr. Ball or somebody to bring a car. See if you can bring some aromatic spirits of ammonia. I’ll wait here.”
“Right!” Teddy wasted no words, but swung himself into the saddle. “Suppose they come back?” he called suddenly, as Flash started.
“Go on!” Roy yelled. “I can take care of myself!”
Teddy raised his elbows and Flash galloped away. In a moment horse and rider were out of sight.
Roy sat down on the ground beside the man, stretched his left leg out, and carefully raised the man’s head. Using his leg as a cushion, he managed to elevate the head and shoulders, so that the flow of blood somewhat diminished. As he did so, he noticed that there was no gun in the holster that lay by the man’s side.
“Murderers!” he muttered viciously. “Took his gun away and then shot him. Fine bunch! Something tells me we’re going to have a look for the boys who did this job. I think I’d recognize ’em if I saw ’em again.”
He touched the bandage lightly and observed that the bleeding had almost stopped. There was a dark stain on his leather chaps and on the ground near the man’s head.
“Lost plenty. They sure tried their best to finish him. They took his bronc, too. Maybe they had it in for him. Looks like a miner to me. Poor old geezer!”
He was talking aloud without realizing it, and, of a sudden, the man’s lips began to move. Roy bent closer.
“Take it easy, old boy,” he said soothingly. “Don’t try to talk. We’ll soon have you fixed up.”
“Did they—did they—”
The voice was scarcely more than a whisper.
“Everything’s all right,” Roy insisted. “Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of time to talk later. Just lie still now.”
“—get it?” The lips moved, then were quiet.
Roy thought the man had lapsed into unconsciousness again, but the nostrils were twitching.
“They didn’t get anything,” the boy said stoutly. “And we’ll get them, too, as soon as you’re fixed up!” A quick suspicion flashed through his mind. This was a robbery. The man had been carrying a sum of money and had been waylaid and robbed. Little as he knew about the case, Roy realized that the thing to do was to relieve the man’s mind as much as possible.
“It’s safe,” he said, talking as he would to a child. “They didn’t get it. Forget about that. It’s all right—all right.”
“I’m—I’m thankful!”
The whole body seemed to relax still more and the chest rose and fell with better regularity. Roy looked swiftly about him.
“Teddy ought to be back any minute,” he said to himself. “Maybe I’m lying to this fellow, but it’s for the best. He won’t have a show if he starts to fret about what he lost.”
The minutes passed. Roy’s leg stiffened and a painful cramp seized his thigh. But he moved it not an inch. The least motion might start the bleeding again, and the longer the flow of blood was arrested, the better chance the man had for recovery.
Finally, after what seemed weeks of waiting, Roy heard the exhaust of a car and a screeching of brakes as it came to a stop just outside the fringe of trees. A man came running toward him.
“Bug Eye!” Roy called softly. He held up his hand. “Take it mighty easy,” he said. “The bleeding’s stopped. We don’t want to start it again.”
“Who is he? What happened? Snakes, he sure looks done in!” Bug Eye, a puncher on the 8 X 8, bent over solicitously, a look of awe on his face. Bug Eye was young and impressionable. Every emotion showed plainly on his frank features.
“Don’t know,” Roy answered. He glanced toward his brother, who, at that moment, came upon the scene.
“Couldn’t find Mr. Ball. Got Bug Eye and a car as soon as I could,” Teddy explained. “Told Curly to see that a bed was fixed up. They’ve already telephoned for a doctor. Nell thought it was you, at first—had an awful time convincing her it wasn’t. She wanted to come with us. Say, what’s the orders? Are we—”
“Have to get him to the car,” Roy said swiftly. “One of you hold his head and shoulders while I get from under.”
Bug Eye placed his arms about the man’s body and held him while Roy removed his leg. The circulation had stopped, and when he tried to step forward he would have toppled over had not Teddy caught him.
“Asleep,” Roy declared, slapping and pinching the leg. “Be all right in a second. Now!” He straightened. “This isn’t going to be any cinch, Teddy. Bug Eye, you kneel down and get your arms under his legs. Teddy, you get next to Bug Eye, and support his back. I’ll watch his head. Careful, now! Easy!”
Inch by inch they raised the unconscious man, and then walked with him toward the car slowly, for the least jar might start a hemorrhage.
“Who shot him?” Bug Eye whispered.
“Don’t know who they were. I saw ’em, though.” Roy stopped and frowned for silence. He did not want the man to hear what really had happened, in case he were able to listen.
The auto Teddy had brought was a touring car with a large rear seat. The top was down.
“Good,” Roy said, as he saw it. “In the back with him. You go first, Bug Eye, then get out the other door. That’s it.”
They lifted the man and, under Roy’s direction, succeeded in placing him on the rear seat, Teddy still holding his body and Roy his head. Bug Eye released his hold on the legs and slid out the opposite door.
“I’ll tie the broncs to the back,” Bug Eye stated. “They can easy follow at the speed I’ll be goin’.”
So intense was the moment that the puncher neither noticed the cut on Roy’s head nor the condition of Star. He fastened the ponies to the top supports, and then got behind the wheel.
“As easy as you know how, Bug Eye,” Teddy cautioned. “Watch for every bump and slow down. All right. Let’s go!”
The starter whirred, the motor awoke, and the car began to move. Roy studied the man’s face anxiously. He and Teddy tried to hold the body so that it was absolutely immovable, but that was impossible. The plains are vastly different from a macadamized road. Try as they would, the boys could not keep the man from shifting a little.
The right arm moved and the hand clutched at the pocket.
“What’s he want?” Teddy whispered.
Roy did not answer. When the man lay quiet again, he touched his side lightly. The pocket was empty. As he held him, Roy could feel that there was nothing resembling a bag of money or gold about his person. The trousers were of khaki, and, unlike the trousers of a cow puncher, fitted tightly.
Roy looked at his brother and his lips formed the words:
“Whatever he had is gone, Teddy.”
He hesitated a moment. The man was limp, obviously unconscious. There was no danger of his hearing now.
CHAPTER V
Belle Ada’s Nerve
“Then—” Teddy Manley began, and stopped. “I see,” he said after a minute. “They plugged him, robbed him, and took his bronc.” His voice was low—bitter. “The spirit of the West! Romance! Well, we can do very well without that. Blamed cowards!” He clenched his fist. “Why couldn’t they take his money and call it a day? What did they have to—murder—him for?”
Roy placed a hand on his brother’s arm.
“Take it easy, boy,” he said slowly. “Talking won’t do a bit of good. We’ll have to wait and hear his story. Then, perhaps—”
The fire gradually died out of Teddy’s eyes. He realized that his brother was right, that it would do no bit of good to avenge the wounded man mentally. There would be time to take up the chase of the highwaymen after their charge was delivered into the hands of a doctor.
They reached the 8 X 8 without the man regaining consciousness. Mrs. Ball, a motherly woman who had within her the courage of the plains, was waiting for them at the door of the ranch house. She hurried forward as she saw the car pull into the yard.
“Where is he?” she exclaimed, although she plainly observed the figure in the rear. “Now, then—”
Bug Eye brought the car to a stop and Mrs. Ball fairly leaped to the running board.
“The poor soul! The poor soul! The doctor will be here any minute. I sent the girls upstairs and told them to stay there. This is no sight for them. Bug Eye, you take them horses to the back. All right, boys, bring him into the front room. I fixed the cot.” She looked again at the sunken cheeks of the old man. “Ah, the poor soul!” she muttered. “He’s going to have a bad time of it!”
Carefully the Manley boys lifted the sufferer out and bore him into the house. Nell and Ethel, wide-eyed, were leaning over the banisters. Belle Ada was sitting composedly on the top step. She saw Roy, and noticed the cut on his forehead.
“I’m going down,” she announced definitely. Wisely, she said nothing to the others of her brother’s injury. “You two stay here. No use crowding around him.”
Nell nodded, rather white of face. She had no wish to view the proceedings from a closer point.
Belle walked down the stairs calmly and when the man had been laid on the cot she approached Roy.
“What happened to you?” she asked in a low voice.
He turned swiftly.
“Nothing of any account, Sis,” he answered. “Tell you later. I got hurt a little trying to catch Nell’s bronc. Say, you’d better get some water boiling.”
Belle started toward the kitchen without a word. She was not unused to emergencies.
Mrs. Ball was doing all in her power to make the man comfortable. As the two boys stood there, contemplating the figure on the cot, the front door opened and the doctor entered, followed by Mr. Ball.
One glance Peter Ball took at the wounded man.
“Stranger,” he said briefly. “Miner, from his clothes. All right, doc, he’s yours. We’re waitin’.”
The doctor, a young chap but newly arrived in that section, seemed a trifle nervous. He set his bag on the floor and opened it. The moment he started to work, however, his nervousness disappeared. His entire thought was concentrated on the case before him.
“Boiling water,” he said sharply. “Where is it? Should have been ready!”
“It is,” a girl’s voice replied. “Here.”
Belle handed him a kettle and placed a basin at his side. Strangely enough, although the young doctor had scarcely looked at the others in the room, he glanced swiftly up at Belle and smiled.
“Thanks,” he said. “I didn’t mean to speak shortly. But I’ve got to work fast.”
The bandage about the man’s neck was removed and a thick stream of blood welled out. Mrs. Ball grew white, and leaned against her husband.
“I guess—after all—” she faltered.
“Out you go, honey, with me,” Peter Ball said simply. “This ain’t for you. There’s enough in here as it is.” He led her to the stairs and up.
The doctor looked swiftly about him. “I need some one—” he began, and fixed his gaze on Belle.
“Could I?” she asked eagerly. “I’m not afraid, you know.”
“I know you’re not,” was the quiet reply. “Now, boys, if you’ll just leave us alone for a while—I could work better. Mind?”
“Sure not!” Teddy answered heartily. He watched his sister for a moment, then turned to Roy. “Let’s go,” he said softly. “Belle is all right.”
They walked across the room and out of the door. Bug Eye was leaning against the railing, his eyes wide with anticipation.
“How is he? Find out who he was? Is he hurt bad? How much was he robbed of? Say, I bet—”
“Get a cinch-strap on that tongue of yours,” Roy said calmly. “Feels like a wind coming up.”
“Aw, but listen,” the puncher protested. “I want to know—”
“So do we,” Teddy interrupted. “But we don’t, yet. The doc’s in there fixing him up. By the way, Roy, when he comes out—” Teddy nodded significantly.
“Forget it!” his brother exclaimed. “You mean this scratch? I can’t tell it’s there.”
“Say, jingo, I never noticed that!” Bug Eye declared excitedly. “They get you too, Roy?” The puncher at this moment resembled a small boy who has just seen a circus wagon tip over. “When did that happen? The blamed polecats! Well, scorch my pants—”
“Switch over—you’re on the wrong track,” Roy said, with a grin. “This has got nothing to do with—him.” He jerked an expressive thumb. “I fell into the river and struck a rock. Teddy helped pull me out. That’s why we’re both rather damp. That’s all!”
“Oh,” said Bug Eye weakly. “I see.”
“Well, you old galoot!” Teddy cried. “I actually believe you’re disappointed! I bet you’d rather have him shot, wouldn’t you? Say, you have a fine nerve!”
“That ain’t so!” Bug Eye protested. “I thought maybe—”
“I know. I was only kidding,” Teddy said in a lower voice. “But we have other things to worry about now. I’d like to find out how much he was robbed of, if he was robbed.” He walked toward the corral, a little distance from the ranch house. “Let’s sit,” he suggested, and climbed to the top rail.
Roy and Bug Eye followed Teddy’s example.
“Say, one of the boys is fixin’ your bronc up,” Bug Eye said suddenly. “He’s got quite a few scratches, Roy.”