The Pony Rider Boys in Texas (13 page)

Finding that all had left him, the lad decided to get his pony and
follow.

"What's the matter, Pong?" he called, observing the Chinaman up and fixing
the curtains about his wagon.

"Allee same likee this," answered Pong hopping about in imitation of an
animal running away.

"He's crazy," muttered Chunky, going to his pony and swinging himself into
the saddle.

Chunky urged the animal along faster and faster. He could hear the cowboys on
beyond him though he was able to see only a few yards ahead of him. However, the
boy was becoming used to riding in the dark and did not feel the same
uncertainty that he had earlier.

"I'll bet they are getting ready to run away," he decided.

In that, Stacy was right. Before he realized where he was he had driven his
pony full into the rear ranks of the restless cattle.

Chunky uttered a yell as he found himself bumping against the sides of the
cows and sought to turn his pony about.

The startled steers nearest to him fought desperately to get away from the
object that had so suddenly hurled itself against them. Instantly there was a
mix-up, with bellowing, plunging steers all about him.

"Help! Help!" shouted the boy.

Now his pony was biting and kicking in an effort to free itself from the
animals that were prodding it with horns and buffeting it from side to side.

Only a moment or so of this was necessary to fill the cattle with blind,
unreasoning fear. With one common impulse they lunged forward. Those ahead of
them felt the impetus of the thrust just as do the cars of a freight train under
the sudden jolt of a starting engine.

"What's up?" roared the foreman.

"They're off!" yelled a cowman.

"Head them!"

"Can't. They're started in the center of the herd."

With heads down, the entire herd was now charging straight ahead. Big-foot
Sanders and Tad Butler, nearly half a mile ahead, felt the impetus, too.

"Keep your head, boy," warned the cowpuncher. "We are in for a run for our
money, now."

It came even as he spoke. With a bellow the cattle started forward at a
lively gallop.

"Whoa-oo-ope!" cried Big-foot, riding in front of the plunging leaders.

He might as well have sought to stay the progress of the wind. The leaders
swept man and boy aside and dashed on.

"Better keep them straight and not try to stop them, hadn't we?" shouted Tad,
with rare generalship.

"That's the trick! Can you hold your side?" roared Big-foot in reply.

"I'll try," answered the boy, riding so close to the leaders that they rubbed
sides with his pony. The latter, understanding what was wanted of him, pushed
sturdily on holding the cattle with his side, leaning toward them to give the
effort the benefit of his entire weight.

One end of Tad's neckerchief had come loose and was streaming straight out
behind him, while the broad brim of his sombrero was tipped up by the rushing
breeze.

It was a wild and perilous ride. Yet the lad thought nothing of this. His
whole thought was centered on the work in hand, that of keeping the cattle
headed northward. Tad was unable to tell whether they were going in a straight
line or not, but this time he had the big cowman to rely upon.

"Give way a little!" warned Big-foot.

"Right!" answered the lad, pulling his pony to one side, then straightening
him again.

"We'll hit the Injun Territory by daylight if we keep on at this gait! You
all right?"

"Yes. But I think the herd is spreading out behind me," answered Tad.

"Never mind that. They'll likely follow the leaders."

Off to the rear they could hear the sharp reports of the cowboys' revolvers
as they sought to stay the mad rush. Big-foot, however, had thought it best not
to resort to shooting tactics. They were making altogether too good headway. If
only they were able to keep the cattle headed the way they were going the herd
would be none the worse off for the rush and the outfit would be that much
further along on the journey. The thundering hoof-beats behind them as the
living tide swept down upon them, was not a pleasant sound to hear. Yet Big-foot
and Tad were altogether too busy to be greatly disturbed by it.

They had gone on for fully half an hour, after that, with no apparent
decrease in the speed of the stampede. The ponies were beginning to show their
fatigue. Tad slowed down a little, patting his faithful little animal to
encourage it and quiet its nerves.

As he did so, the boy's attention was again called to the fact that a solid
wall of cattle had apparently closed in behind him.

"Big-foot!" he shouted.

"Yes?" answered the cowboy, in a far away voice, for some distance now
separated the two.

"It looks to me as if they were closing in on us. What do you think?"

"Wait! I'll see."

The cowboy pulled up a little and listened.

"Right you are. They have spread out in a solid wall."

"What shall we do?"

"Ride! Ride for your life!" came the excited reply.

"Where?"

"To your right. Don't let them catch you or you'll be trampled under their
feet. They'll never stop, now, till they get to the river."

"Is it near here?"

"Only a few miles ahead. I can hear it roar now. A flood is coming down it.
Hurry!"

Tad had barely heard the last word. Already he had swung his pony about and
was galloping with all speed to the right in an effort to get free of the herd
before they crowded him and his pony into the turbulent, swollen river.

The first light of the morning revealed to Tad Butler the narrow escape he
had had. He had barely passed the outer point of the stampeding herd when the
cattle rushed by him.

On beyond, less than half a mile away, he made out the river in the faint
light. His companion was nowhere to be seen. However, that was not surprising,
as the cattle now covered a large area; so large that Tad was unable to see to
the other side of the herd.

As the day dawned the cattle began to slacken their speed, and, by the time
the leaders reached the river bank, the rush was at an end. Some of the stock
plunged into the edge of the stream where they began drinking, while others set
to grazing contentedly.

As the light became stronger, the lad made out the figure of Big-foot Sanders
approaching him at an easy gallop.

"We did it, didn't we, Big-foot?" exulted Tad Butler.

"That we did, Pinto. And there comes the rest of the bunch now," Big-foot
added, pointing to the rear, where others of the cowboys were to be seen riding
up.

Stallings was the first to reach them.

"Good job," he grinned. "We are at the river several hours ahead of schedule
time. Doesn't look very promising, does it?"

"River's pretty high. Are you thinking of fording it this morning?" asked
Big-foot, looking over the swollen stream.

"We might as well. The water will be higher later in the day. We may not be
able to get across in several days if we wait too long."

"What do you think started the cattle this time?" asked Tad.

"I don't think. I know what did it."

"Yes?"

"It was that clumsy friend of yours."

"The gopher?" asked Big-foot.

"Allee same, as Pong would say. That boy is the limit. Is he always falling
into trouble that way?"

"Yes, or falling off a pony," laughed Tad.

"There he comes, now."

Stacy rode up to them, his face serious and thoughtful.

"Well, young man, what have you to say for yourself?" asked the foreman.

"I was going to ask you, sir, where we are going to get our breakfast?"

Stallings glanced at Tad and Big-foot, with a hopeless expression in his
eyes.

"Go ask the Chinaman," he answered rather brusquely.

"I can't. He isn't here."

"Well, that's the answer," laughed the foreman, riding to the river bank and
surveying the stream critically.

Tad and Big-foot Sanders joined him almost immediately.

"Think we can make it, chief?"

"I think so, Sanders. One of us had better ride over and back to test the
current."

"I'll try it for you," said Tad.

"Go ahead. Sanders, you ride back and tell Lumpy to return to camp and bring
on the outfit. They can't reach us until late in the afternoon, as it is. I
presume that slant-eyed cook is sitting in his wagon waiting for us to come
back. Hurry them along, for we shall be hungry by the time we have finished this
job."

Tad promptly spurred his pony into the stream. After wading out a little way
he slipped off into the water, hanging by the pommel, swimming with one hand to
relieve the pony as much as possible.

The boy made the crossing without mishap, Stallings observing the performance
to note how far down the stream the pony would drift. Tad landed some five rods
lower down. On the return, the drift was not quite so noticeable.

"We'll make it," announced the foreman. "If you want to dry out, ride back
and tell the bunch to crowd the cattle in as rapidly as possible. The faster we
can force them in the less they will drift down stream."

"Very well, sir," replied the boy, galloping off to deliver his message.

With a great shouting and much yelling the cowboys began their task of urging
the cattle into the river. Not being over-thirsty, it was no easy task to induce
the animals to enter the water, but when the leaders finally plunged in the rest
followed, fairly piling on top of one another in their efforts to follow the
pilots of the herd. Above and below, the cowboys who were not otherwise engaged
were swimming the river endeavoring to keep the animals from straying one way or
another.

Tad Butler and his companions were aiding in this work, shouting from the
pure joy of their experience, and, in an hour's time, the last steer had swum
the stream and clambered up the sloping bank on the other side.

"There!" announced the foreman. "That's a bad job well done. I wish the trail
wagon were here. A cup of hot coffee wouldn't go bad after an hour in the
water."

"After several of them, you mean," added Tad. "You know we have been out in
the rain all night."

"Yes, and you did a bang-up piece of work, you and Big-foot. How did you
happen to lead the cattle straight ahead, instead of turning the leaders?"

"It was the kid's suggestion," answered Big-foot Sanders. "He's got a man's
head on his shoulders that more'n makes up for what the gopher hasn't got."

"It does, indeed," agreed Stallings.

"How are we going to get that trail wagon over when it comes up!" asked one
of the men.

"That's what's bothering me," answered the foreman. "Perhaps our young friend
here can give us a suggestion. His head is pretty full of ideas," added the
foreman, more with an intent to compliment Tad than in the expectation of
getting valuable suggestions from him.

"What is your usual method?" asked the boy.

"Well, to tell the truth, I've never had quite such a proposition as this on
my hands."

"I guess you will have to float it over."

"It won't float. It'll sink."

"You can protect it from that."

"How?" asked the foreman, now keenly interested.

"First take all the stuff out of it. That will save your equipment if
anything happens to the wagon. Ferry the equipment over on the backs of the
ponies. If it's too heavy, take over what you can."

"Well, what next?" asked Stallings.

"Get some timbers and construct a float under the wagon."

"Where you going to get timber around these parts?" demanded Big-foot.

"I see plenty of trees near the river. Cut down a few and make a raft of
them."

"By George, the kid's hit it!" exclaimed Stallings, clapping his thigh
vigorously. "That's exactly what we'll do. But we'll have to wait till the wagon
gets here. The axes are all in the wagon."

"Mebby I'm particularly thick to-day, but I'd like to inquire how you expect
to get the outfit over, after you have the raft under it?" demanded Shorty
Savage. "Answer that, if you can?"

"I think that is up to the foreman," smiled Tad. "Were I doing it I think I
should hitch ropes to the tongue and have the ponies on the other side draw the
wagon across. Of course, you are liable to have an accident. The ropes may break
or the current may tip your wagon over. That's your lookout."

"Now will you be good?" grinned the foreman. "You know all about it, and it
would be a good idea to let the thought simmer in your thick head for a while.
It may come in handy, some day, when you want to get across a river."

Shorty walked away, none too well pleased.

About three o'clock in the afternoon the wagon hove in sight, and the boys
rode out to meet it.

It was decided to camp on the river bank until after they had eaten their
evening meal, after which there would still be time to ferry over. While the
meal was being cooked Stallings sent some of the men out to cut down four small
trees and haul them in.

They grumbled considerably at this, but obeyed orders. Tad went along, at the
suggestion of the foreman, to pick out such trees as he thought would best serve
their purpose.

The trail wagon's teams were used to haul the logs in and by the time the
work was finished a steaming hot supper had been spread by the smiling
Chinaman.

Professor Zepplin had come along with the wagon. He said he was a little
stiff from the wetting he had received, but otherwise was all right.

"Now, young man, I'll let you boss the job," announced Stallings as Tad rose
from the table. "I give you a free hand."

With a pleased smile, Tad set about constructing his raft. Ned Rector swam
the river with the ropes, and fastened them to trees so they would not be
carried away by the current. The wagon was then run down into the water by hand,
the ropes made fast, and all was ready for the start.