The Pony Rider Boys in Texas (14 page)

"What are you going to do about the drift?" asked the foreman, who had been
interestedly watching the preparations.

"We are going to tie ropes to the two wheels on the upper side. One is to be
held on this side of the river, the other from the opposite side. I think the
kitchen will ford the river as straight as you could draw a chalk line,"
announced Tad.

"I guess it will," answered the foreman, with a suggestive glance at
Professor Zepplin.

"All right when you get ready over there," called Tad to the waiting cowboys
on the other side.

They had taken firm hold of the ropes with their right hands, their left
hands holding to the pommels of their saddles.

"Ready!" came the warning cry from the other side.

"Haul away!" shouted Tad.

The ropes secured to the tongue of the trail wagon straightened, and the
wagon began to move out into the stream.

"Be careful. Don't pay out that rope too fast," directed Tad to the man on
his side of the stream.

The trail wagon floated out easily on the swiftly moving current. It was
greeted by a cheer from the Pony Rider Boys. Those of the cowboys who were not
otherwise engaged joined with a will.

"There's that fool Chinaman," growled Stallings, observing the grinning face
of Pong peering from the tail of the wagon. "Look out, the dragon will get you,
sure, if you fall out!" he warned. "I don't care anything about you, but we
can't afford to be without a cook."

"There goes the fool!" cried Big-foot. "Now we sure will starve to
death."

As the wagon lurched in the current, the Chinaman had plunged overboard and
disappeared beneath the surface.

"Save him, somebody! The fool's fallen overboard!" roared the foreman. "I
can't let go this rope!"

Tad had not seen the cook take his plunge, so, for the moment, he did not
realize what had occurred.

"Who's overboard," young Butler demanded sharply.

"The cook," answered Stallings excitedly. "Can't any of you slow pokes get
busy and fish him out?"

"Pong!" cried Tad as the head of the Chinaman appeared on the surface.

Without an instant's hesitation the lad leaped into his saddle.

"Yip!" he shouted to the pony, accentuating his command by a sharp blow with
the quirt.

The pony leaped forward.

"Here, he's not up there; he's in the river I tell you!" shouted the
foreman.

Tad had driven his mount straight up the bank behind them. He paid no
attention to the warning of the foreman, having already mapped out his own plan
of action.

Reaching the top of the sloping bank, Tad pulled his pony to the right and
dashed along the bluff, headed down the river.

"Watch your lines or you'll have the wagon overboard, too," he called back.
"I'll get Pong out."

Big-foot Sanders scratched his head reflectively.

"Ain't the Pinto the original whirlwind, though?" he grinned. "I never did
see the like of him, now. He'll get that heathen out while we are standing here
trying to make up our minds what to do."

"Yes, but I'm afraid the Chinaman will drown before Tad gets to him," said
the foreman, with a shake of his head. "Here, don't let go of this rope while
you are staring at the kid. I can't hold it alone."

Tad drove his pony to its utmost speed until he had reached a point some
little distance below where the head of the Chinaman had last been seen.

All at once the lad turned sharply, the supple-limbed pony taking the bank in
a cat-like leap, landing in the water with a splash.

Tad kept his saddle until the pony's feet no longer touched the bottom. Then
he dropped off, clinging to the mane with one hand. The cook was nowhere to be
seen, but Tad was sure he had headed him off and was watching the water above
him with keen eyes.

"There he is below you!" shouted a voice on shore. "Look out, you'll lose
him."

Tad turned at the same instant, giving the pony's neck a sharp slap to
indicate that he wanted the animal to turn with him.

The lad saw the Chinaman's head above the water. Evidently the latter was now
making a desperate effort to keep it there, for his hands were beating the water
frantically.

"Keep your hands and feet going, and hold your breath!" roared Tad. "I'll
be"

Before he could add "there," the lad suddenly discovered that there was
something wrong with his pony. It was the latter which was now beating the water
and squealing with fear.

One of the animal's hind hoofs raked Tad's leg, pounding it painfully. Tad
released his hold of the mane and grasped the rein.

Throwing up its head, uttering a snort, the pony sank out of sight, carrying
its master under. Tad quickly let go the reins and kicked himself to the
surface.

The pony was gone. What had caused its sudden sinking the lad could not
imagine. There was no time to speculatenot an instant to lose if he were to
rescue the drowning cook.

Throwing himself forward, headed downstream, Tad struck out with long,
overhand strokes for the Chinaman. Going so much faster than the current, the
boy rapidly gained on the victim.

Yet, just as he was almost within reach of Pong, the latter threw up his
hands and went down.

Tad dived instantly. The swollen stream was so muddy that he could see
nothing below the surface. His groping hands grasped nothing except the muddy
water. The lad propelled himself to the surface, shaking the water from his
eyes.

There before him he saw the long, yellow arms of the Chinaman protruding
above the surface of the river. This time, Tad was determined that the cook
should not escape him. Tad made a long, curving dive not unlike that of a
porpoise.

This time the lad's hands reached the drowning man. The long, yellow arms
twined themselves about the boy, and Tad felt himself going down.

With rare presence of mind the boy held his breath, making no effort to
wrench himself free from the Chinaman's grip. He knew it would be effort wasted,
and, besides, he preferred to save his strength until they reached the surface
once more.

Half a dozen cowpunchers had plunged their ponies into the river, and were
swimming toward the spot where Tad had been seen to go down, while the foreman
was shouting frantic orders at them. The wagon had been ferried to the other
side, and Stallings had run to his pony, on which he was now dashing madly along
the river bank.

"Look out that you don't run them down!" he roared. "Keep your wits about
you!"

"They're both down, already!" shouted a cowboy in reply.

"We'll lose the whole outfit at this rate," growled another. Yet, not a man
was there, unless perhaps it may have been Lumpy Bates, who would not have
risked his own life freely to save that of the plucky lad.

After going down a few feet, Tad began treading water with all his might.
This checked their downward course and in a second or so he had the satisfaction
of realizing that they were slowly rising. The current, however, was forcing
them up at an angle.

This, to a certain extent, worked to the boy's advantage, for the Chinaman
was underneath him, thus giving Tad more freedom than had their positions been
reversed.

"There they are!" cried Big-foot Sanders as the Chinaman and his would-be
rescuer popped into sight.

"Go after them!" commanded Stallings.

Urging their ponies forward by beating them with their quirts, the cowboys
made desperate efforts to reach the two.

Tad managed to free one arm which he held above his head.

"The rope! He wants the rope! Rope him, you idiots!" bellowed the
foreman.

Big-foot made a cast. However, from his position in the water, he could not
make an accurate throw and the rope fell short.

Tad saw it. He was struggling furiously now, ducking and parrying the sweep
of that long, yellow arm, with which Pong sought to grasp him.

A quick eddy caught the pair and swept them out into the center of the
stream, around a bend where they were caught by the full force of the current.
This left their pursuers yards and yards to the rear.

Tad saw that they would both drown, if he did not resort to desperate
measures. Drawing back his arm, the lad drove a blow straight at Pong's head,
but a swirl of the current destroyed the boy's aim and his fist barely grazed
the cheek of the Chinaman.

Quick as a flash, Tad Butler launched another blow. This time the Chinaman's
head was jolted backwards, Tad's fist having landed squarely on the point of the
fellow's jaw.

But Pong was still struggling, and the lad completed his work by delivering
another blow in the same place.

"I hope I haven't hurt him," gasped the boy.

Tad threw himself over on his back, breathing heavily and well-nigh
exhausted. He kept a firm grip on the cook, however, supporting and keeping the
latter's head above water by resting the Chinaman's neck on his arm as they
floated with the current.

In the meantime, Stallings was dashing along the bank roaring out his orders
to the cowboys, calling them ashore and driving them in further down. Yet, each
time it seemed as though the floating pair drifted farther and farther away.

But Tad Butler was still cool. Now that he was getting his strength back, he
began slowly to kick himself in toward shore, aiding in the process by long
windmill strokes of his free arm.

He did not make the mistake of heading directly for the shore, but sought to
make it by a long tack, moving half with the current and half against it. The
lad had made up his mind that the cowboys would never reach them and that what
was to be done must be done by himself.

"Can you make it?" called Stallings.

"Yes. But have some oneon the other sidetoss me a ropeas soon as possible.
I don't knowwhether Pongis done foror not," answered the boy in short
breaths.

Stallings plunged his pony into the current and swam for the other side.
Reaching there, he galloped at full speed toward the point for which Tad seemed
to be aiming.

The foreman rode into the water until it was up to his saddle and where the
pony was obliged to hold its head high to avoid drowning.

There the foreman waited until the lad had gotten within roping distance.

"Turn in a little," directed Stallings. "You'll hit that eddy and land out in
the middle, if you don't."

A moment more and the foreman's lariat slipped away from the circle it had
formed above his head.

Tad held an arm aloft, and the loop dropped neatly over it. Stallings pulled
it and Tad grasped the rope after the loop had tightened about his arm.

"Haul away," he directed.

The foreman turned his pony about and slowly towed cook and boy ashore.

The cowboys, observing that Tad was being hauled in, headed for the shore.
Reaching it, they put spurs to their ponies and came down to the scene at a
smashing gait.

Leaping off, they sprang into the water, picking up Tad and the Chinaman and
staggering ashore with them.

The lad was pale and shivering. They laid him down on the bank. But Tad
quickly pulled himself to his feet.

"I must look after Pong," he said.

"You let the heathen alone," growled Big-foot Sanders. "Us tenderfeet'll look
after him. That's what we are, a bunch of rank tenderfeet. You're the only
seasoned, all around, dyed-in-the-wool, genuwine cowpuncher in the whole outfit.
That's the truth."

Tad smiled as he hurried to where the foreman was working over the
unconscious cook.

"Is he dead?" asked the lad, apprehensively.

"Dead? Huh!" grunted Curley Adams. "Heathen Chinese don't die as easy as
that."

After a few minutes the cook went off into a paroxysm of choking and
coughing. Then he opened his eyes.

Chunky Brown was standing near, blinking down wisely into the yellow face of
Pong.

"You fell in, didn't you?" he asked solemnly.

"Allee samee," grinned the yellow man, weakly.

Professor Zepplin, fully as wet as the others, met the returning outfit.
Everybody was wet. It seemed to have become their normal condition.

"Did you get the wagon over?" asked Tad.

"You bet," replied the foreman. "As soon as we get all the water shook out of
that heathen we'll set him to making coffee for the outfit. It's too near dark
now to do any more work; and, besides, I guess the cattle are bedded down for
the night. I think they're ready for a night's rest along with ourselves. What
happened to that pony?"

"I'm sure I don't know," answered Tad. "That was too bad, wasn't it?"

"Cramps I guess," suggested Big-foot. "They have been known to have 'em in
the water. That water must have had an iceberg in it somewhere up the state.
Never saw such all-fired cold water in my life. Whew!"

"That's one pony more we've got to buy, that's all. But I don't care. I'd
rather lose the whole bunch of them than have anything happen to the Pinto,"
announced the foreman.

"Or the cook," added Tad, with a smile.

"Yes; it's a very serious matter for an outfit of this kind to lose its cook.
We could get along without a foreman very well, but not without a cook."

"Especially when you have a bunch of hungry boys with you. What about the new
ponies?"

"I'll ride over to Colonel McClure's ranch in the morning and see what we can
do. You may go with me if you wish."

"I should like to very much. Is that where you expect to get the other herd
of cattle as well?"

"Yes. Better take an earlier trick on guard to-night, for we shall start
right after breakfast in the morning."

"Very well," replied Tad. "Guess I'll get my coffee now."

Big-foot Sanders was already helping himself to the steaming beverage, when
Tad reached the chuck wagon.