The Pony Rider Boys in Texas (11 page)

Big-foot Sanders grunted and turned his back on the grinning face of
Pong.

"One of these days I sure will forget that heathen's the cook," he
growled.

"We will move to-morrow shortly after daybreak," announced the foreman at
supper that night.

"Will you put me on the fourth guard this evening, Mr. Stallings?" asked Tad
Butler.

"You take the fourth guard? A cowpuncher who hasn't had a wink in more than
two days? Why, I wouldn't ask a steer to do that! No kid, you roll up in your
blankets and sleep until the cook routs you out for breakfast."

"I'll take my trick just the same. I can sleep at home when I get back. I
don't want to miss a minute of this fun," returned Tad.

"Funhe calls it fun!" grunted Lumpy.

"It's just the beginning of the fun," answered Big-foot. "I knew things would
begin to happen when we got near the Nueces."

"Why?" asked Ned Rector.

"I don't know. There seems to be some queer influence at work round these
parts. Last time I was over this part of the trail we had a stampede almost
every night for a week. Two months ago I heard of an outfit that lost more'n
half its stock."

"How about it, Mr. Stallings?" laughed Tad. "Are you superstitious, too?"

The boys noted that the foreman frowned and would not answer at once.

"Not exactly. Big-foot means the adobe church of San Miguel."

"What's that?" interrupted Chunky.

"An old Mexican church on the plains. Probably hasn't been used for a hundred
years or more. You boys will have a chance to explore the place. It's not far
from the Ox Bow ranch, where we take in another herd. We shall be there a couple
of days or so until the cattle get acquainted. Besides, we shall have to buy
some fresh ponies. Four of ours broke their legs in the stampede and had to be
shot."

"Oh, that's too bad," answered Tad. "I'm sorry. I don't like to see a horse
get hurt."

"No more do I, Master Tad. But in this business it is bound to happen. I
think we shall be able to get some green bronchos. They usually have a bunch of
them at the Ox Bow ranch. You will see some fun when we break them in," laughed
the foreman.

"I think I should like to take a hand in that myself. But I am anxious to
hear more about the haunted church."

"Who said anything about a haunted church?" demanded Stacy Brown.

"The gopher is right. The church isn't haunted. It just happens that cowmen
fall into a run of hard luck in that neighborhood now and then."

"Do you believe in spooks, Mr. Stallings!" asked Walter.

"Never having seen one, I don't know whether I do or not. Were I to see one I
might believe in them," laughed the foreman.

"I saw a ghost once," began Stacy Brown.

"Never mind explaining about it," objected Ned. "We'll take your word for it
and let it go at that."

Tad Butler had gotten into a fresh change of clothes after having taken a
bath in a wash tub behind the trail wagon. His wounds pained him, and he was
sleepy, so the lad turned in shortly after his supper, and was soon sound
asleep.

Nothing occurred to disturb the camp that night, and when finally Tad was
awakened to take his watch, it seemed as if he had been asleep only a few
minutes. However, he sprang up wide awake and ready for the work ahead of him.
As usual, he went out with Big-foot. A warm friendship had sprung up between the
big cowboy and Tad Butler. They were together much of the time when their duties
permitted.

"Is there any truth in that spook story?" asked Tad, as the two rode slowly
out to where the herd was bedded down.

Big-foot hesitated.

"You can call it whatever you want to. I only know that things happen to most
every outfit that gets within a hundred miles of the place. Why, out at the Ox
Bow ranch, they have the worst luck of any cattle place in the state. If it
wasn't for the fact that they keep their cows fenced in with wire fences, they
wouldn't have a critter on the place."

"But, I don't understand," protested Tad. "I don't seem to get it through my
head what it is that causes all the trouble you tell me about."

"No more does anybody else. They just know that hard luck is lying around
waiting for them when they get near and that's all they know about it."

"When shall we be near there?" asked Tad Butler.

"We are near enough now. Our troubles have begun already. Herd stampeded.
Ponies broke their legs and had to be shot. Nobody knows what else will break
loose before we get a hundred miles further on."

"I am anxious to see the place," commented Tad.

"You won't be after you've been there. I worked on a cow herd near the place
two years ago."

"Yes?"

"Well, I got out after I'd been pitched off my pony and got a broken leg.
That was only one of the things that happened to me, but it was enough. I got
out. And here I am running my head right into trouble again. Say, kid!"

"Yes."

"You'd better ask the Herr Professor to let you carry a gun. You'll need
it."

"What forto lay ghosts with?" laughed the boy.

"Well, mebby something of that sort."

"Don't need it. I guess my fists will lay out any kind of a ghost that I run
against. If they won't, no gun will do any good. I don't believe in a boy's
carrying a pistol in his pocket. It will get him into more trouble than it will
get him out of."

"Well, that's some horseback sense," grunted Big-foot. "I never built up
against that idee before, but I reckon it's right. We don't need 'em much
either, except to frighten the cows with when they start on a stampede,
and"

"It doesn't seem to stop them," retorted Tad, with a little malicious smile.
"It strikes me that a boy without a gun can stop a runaway herd about as quickly
as can a cowboy with one."

"Right again, my little pardner. Scored a bull's-eye that time. I guess
Big-foot Sanders hasn't any call to be arguing with you."

"We were talking about spooks," the boy reminded him. "I am anxious to see
that church. I've wanted to see one all my life"

"What? A church?"

"No; a spook."

"Oh! Can't promise to show you nothing of the sort. But I'll agree to stack
you up against a run of hard luck that will make you wobbly on your legs."

"That will be nothing new, Big-foot. I've had that already."

"Sure thing. That's the beginning of the trouble. As I was saying before, we
don't need the guns for any other reason unless it's against cattle rustlers.
Sometimes they steal cattle these days, but not so much as they did in the early
days of the cattle business."

"Think we will meet any rustlers?" asked Tad, with sudden interest.

"Nary a rustler will tackle this herd. First place, we are not yet in the
country where they can work profitably"

"Where's that?"

"Oh, anywhere where there's mountains for them to hide in. I'll show you
where the rustlers used to work, when we get further along on the trail. But, as
I was saying, there are no rustlers hereabouts."

"Oh," answered Tad Butler, somewhat regretfully.

"You never mind about hunting trouble. Trouble is coming to this outfit good
and plenty, and I reckon a kid like you will be in the middle of it, too. You
ain't the kind that goes sneaking for cover when things are lively. I saw that
the other night. Stallings is going to write to Boss Miller about the way you
stuck to the herd when it ran away."

"What for?"

"I dunno. Guess 'cause he knows it'll make the old man smile. We boys will
come in for an extra fiver at the end of the trip, for saving the herd, I
reckon."

"That's where you have the best of me," laughed Tad. "No fives for me. I get
my pay out of the fun I am having. I think I am overpaid at that. Well, so long,
Big-foot," announced the lad as they finally reached the herd.

"So long," answered the cowman, turning his pony off to take the opposite
side of the sleeping cattle. In a few moments Tad heard his strident voice
singing to the herd again.

The hours passed more quickly than had been the case the last time Tad was on
guard, for he had much to think of and to wonder over.

Daybreak had arrived almost before he knew it and the call for breakfast
sounded across the plain.

As soon as he had been relieved, Tad Butler galloped back to camp,
bright-eyed and full of anticipation, both for the meal and for the ride that
was before them that day.

Corn cakes were on the bill of fare that morning and the Pony Riders shouted
with glee when they discovered what Pong had prepared for them.

"Bring on the black strap," called Stallings.

Stacy Brown glanced at the foreman suspiciously.

"Why do you want a black strap for breakfast?" he demanded.

"To put on the corn cakes of course, boy," laughed Stallings.

"I've heard of using a black strap to hitch horses with"

"And to correct unruly boys," added Professor Zepplin.

"But I never did hear of eating it on corn cakes."

Everybody laughed at Chunky's objection.

"You will eat this strap when you see it," answered Stallings, taking a jug
from the hands of the Chinaman and pouring some of its contents over the cakes
on his plate.

"What is it!" asked Ned Rector.

"Molasses. It's what we call black strap. Help yourselves. Never mind the
gopher there. He never eats black straps for breakfast," the foreman jeered.

"Here, I want some of that," demanded Stacy, half-rising and reaching for the
jug. "My, but it's good!" he decided with his mouth full.

"That's all right," answered Walter. "But please do not forget that there are
some others in this outfit who like cakes and molasses. Please pass that jug
this way."

"Yes, the pony won't be able to carry him to-day if he keeps on for ten
minutes more, at the rate he's been going," laughed Ned Rector. "I never did
have any sort of use for a glutton."

"Neither did I," added Chunky solemnly, at which both Pony Riders and cowboys
roared with laughter.

"Going to be another scorcher," decided the foreman, rising and surveying the
skies critically. "We shall not be able to make very good time, I fear."

"When do you expect to reach the Nueces River?" asked the Professor.

"I had hoped to get there by to-morrow. However, it doesn't look as if we
should be able to do so if it comes off so hot."

"Is the Nueces a large river?" asked Walter.

"Sometimes. And it is a lively stream when there happens to be a freshet and
both forks are pouring a flood down into it. We will try to bed down near the
river and you boys can have some sport swimming. Do all of you swim?"

"Yes," they chorused.

"That's good. The cowpunchers will have a time of it, too."

"I can float," Stacy Brown informed him eagerly.

"So could I if I were as fat as you. I could float all day," retorted Ned
Rector. "You couldn't sink if you were to fill your pockets with stones. There
is some advantage in being fat, anyway."

"He didn't seem to float the day he fell in among the steers," said one of
the cowboys.

"That isn't fair," interrupted Stallings. "The steers put the gopher under,
that day. Any of you would have gone down with a mob of cows piling on top of
you."

"The river is near the church you were telling me about, isn't it?" inquired
Tad of Big-foot in a low tone.

Sanders nodded solemnly.

Tad's eyes sparkled eagerly. He finished his breakfast rather hurriedly and
rose from the table. As he walked away he met the horse wrangler bringing the
day ponies. The lad quickly saddled his own mount after a lively little struggle
and much squealing and bucking from the pony.

Tad was eager to reach the river and get sight of the mysterious church
beyond. Yet, he did not dream of the thrilling experiences that were awaiting
them all at the very doors of the church of San Miguel.

"Wow! Help! Help!"

The herd had been moving on for several hours, grazing comfortably along the
trail, when the sudden yell startled the entire outfit.

The cowboys reined in their ponies and grasped their quirts firmly, fully
expecting that another stampede was before them.

Instead, they saw Stacy Brown riding away from the herd, urging his pony to
its best speed. Right behind him, with lowered head and elevated tail was a
white muley, evidently chasing the lad.

What the boy had done to thus enrage the animal no one seemed to know.
However, it was as pretty a race as they had seen thus far on the drive.

"Point him back! He can't hurt you!" shouted the foreman.

Instead of obeying the command, Stacy brought down his quirt on the pony,
causing the little animal to leap away across the plain in a straight line.

The cowboys were shouting with laughter at the funny spectacle.

"Somebody get after that steer!" roared the foreman. "The boy never will stop
as long as the critter keeps following him, and we'll have the herd following
them before we know it."

"I'll go, if you wish," said Tad Butler.

"Then go ahead. Got your rope?"

"Yes."

"It'll be good practice for you."

Tad was off like a shot, leaving a cloud of dust behind him.

"That boy's got the making of a great cowpuncher in him," said the foreman,
nodding his head approvingly.

Tad's pony was the swifter of the two, and besides, he was riding on an
oblique line toward the runaway outfit.

It was the first opportunity the lad had had to show off his skill as a
cowman, for none had seen his pointing of the herd on the night of the stampede.
He was burning with impatience to get within roping distance of the steer before
they got so far away that the cowmen would be unable to see the performance.