The Pony Rider Boys in Texas (7 page)

"There, I'm glad that job is done," exclaimed Stallings, whipping off his hat
and drawing a sleeve across his perspiring brow.

"Too bad I had to go and upset things so," said Tad.

"Never mind. It's all in a day's work. On a cattle drive if it isn't one
thing it's sure to be another. We have been lucky enough not to have a stampede
thus far. That isn't saying we won't, however. If you feel like working you can
ride up and join the point men. We'll make five or six miles before it is time
to bed down the herd."

To Tad's companions was left the task of driving the strange cattle a couple
of miles to the west and leaving them there.

The boys could not well lose the main herd; for, no sooner had they started
on the trail than a great cloud of dust slowly floated up into the air. Tad, in
his position near the head of the line, and well out to one side of it, was free
from this annoyance. The longer the lad was in the saddle, the stronger he
seemed to feel, and the only trace that was now left of his recent experience
among the hoofs of the Mexican steers was a bump on one side of his head almost
as large as a hen's egg.

It was near sundown when the foreman, who had ridden on ahead some time
before, came back with the information that a broad stream that was not down on
his map lay just ahead of them.

"There's not more than thirty feet of swimming water there, and I believe
I'll make a crossing before we go into camp," he announced briefly.

"How deep is the water?" asked Big-foot Sanders.

"In the middle, deep enough to drown, but on the edges it's fordable. The
cows will be glad of a drink and a swim after the heat of to-day."

With this in mind the cowmen were instructed to urge the cattle along at a
little stronger pace, that they might all get well over before the night came
on.

The animals seemed to feel the presence of water ahead of them, for they
ceased their grazing by the wayside and swung into a rapid pace, such a pace as
always gladdens the heart of the cowboy. The steers held it until the rays of
the setting sun were reflected on the surface of the broad sluggish stream.

The Pony Riders dashed forward intent upon reaching the stream first. Tad
followed them upon receiving permission from the foreman to do so.

The banks on each side were high and steep, making it far from an ideal
fording place. Stallings, however, thought it better to cross there than to take
the time to work the herd further down. Joining the boys, he cast his glance up
and down the stream to decide whether his judgment had been correct.

"I thought we were going to cross the river," said Stacy Brown.

"That's exactly what we are going to do," replied the foreman.

"But where's the bridge? I don't see any?" objected the lad.

"Right there in front of you."

"Where?"

"Chunky, there is no bridge," Tad informed him. "We have to wade, just as the
cattle will."

"And swim, too, part of the way," added Stallings.

"But we'll get wet," wailed Chunky.

"No doubt about that," roared the foreman.

"Swim the river with our horses?" exclaimed Ned. "Hurrah! That will be
great!"

"I shall be glad to get some of this dust washed off me," laughed Tad.
"Besides, the bump on my head will feel better for it, I think."

"Spread out, boys. The cattle are coming up on the run. They will push you
into the river before you are ready if you happen to be in their way," warned
Stallings.

The riders clucked to their ponies and all galloped up stream some distance
that they might be well out of the way of the oncoming herd.

The thirsty animals plunged into the water with a mighty splash. Some forded
until their feet could no longer touch the ground, after which they swam to the
other side, while others paused to drink until those behind them forced them out
into the stream also.

In a few moments the stream was alive with swimming cattle, the herd being
spread out for a full quarter of a mile up and down the stream. To the rear,
yelling cowboys were urging on the stragglers and forcing the herd into the cool
waters.

It was an inspiring sight for the boys.

Here and there a cowman would ride his pony into the water and turn the
leaders, who were straying too far up or down the river.

After half an hour of watering, the men began to force the cattle to the
opposite bank. There was a great scramble when the steers started to climb the
steep bluff. The first ones to try it went half way up on a run.

Losing their footing they came tumbling to the foot of the bluff, knocking a
number of the other cattle back into the water.

There was much bellowing and floundering about, but the relentless forcing
from the other side swept the unfortunate ones to the crest of the tide and up
the steep bank.

Now that the loose dirt had slipped down the footing grew more secure, and
the animals soon fell into trails of their own making, up which they crept three
and four abreast.

Once on the other side they started to graze as contentedly as if they had
not just passed through a most trying experience.

Two of the cowmen who had forded the stream further down, now appeared
opposite the main fording place, to take charge of the cattle.

"Get across, boys," shouted the foreman.

With an answering shout Tad and Ned slid their ponies down the sharp bluff,
plunging into the water and heading straight across.

"Slip out of your saddles and hang on!" called the foreman.

Without an instant's hesitation the two boys slid into the water with a
splash, but keeping tight hold on the pommels of their saddles.

"Let go the reins," directed Stallings. "The ponies know where to go."

Now the lads were being drawn rapidly through the water, and almost before
they knew it their feet rested on the bottom of the shallow stream a short
distance from the opposite bank.

"Hooray!" shouted Tad, waving his water-soaked sombrero. "Come in. The
water's great!"

"Come on, Chunky," called Ned.

"I'll wait and go over in the wagon," decided Chunky.

"You'll do nothing of the sort," snapped the foreman. "You will swim, if you
get over at all."

Professor Zepplin, not to be outdone by his young charges, bravely rode his
animal into the stream.

The boys set up a shout of glee when he, too, finally dropped into the river
with a great splash. Instead, however, of allowing the pony to tow him, the
Professor propelled himself along with long powerful strokes of his left hand,
while with the right he clung to the saddle pommel.

"Three cheers for Professor Zepplin!" cried Tad as the German, dripping but
smiling, emerged from the water and scrambled up the bank, leaving his pony to
follow along after him.

The cheers were given with a will.

Stacy Brown, however, was still on the other side with the straggling cattle
which were coming along in small bunches.

"Young man, if you expect to get in for supper, you'd better be fording the
stream," suggested Big-foot Sanders.

The mention of supper was all that Stacy needed to start him.

"Gid-ap!"

The pony slid down the bank on its haunches, Stacy leaning far back in the
saddle that he might not pitch over the animal's head.

"Chunky would make a good side hill rider, wouldn't he?" jeered Ned.

"Depends upon whether he were going up or down," decided Tad.

"Look out! There he goes!" exclaimed Walter.

The boy's mount had mired one foot in a quicksand pocket and had gone down on
its knees. But Chunky kept right on going.

He hit the water flat on his stomach, arms and legs outspread, clawing and
kicking desperately.

The fat boy opened his mouth to cry out for help.

As a result Stacy swallowed all the water that came his way. Floundering
about like a drowning steer, choking and coughing, he disappeared from
sight.

"He's gone down!" cried a voice from the other side of the stream.

Tad sprang down the bank and leaped in, striking out for the spot where Stacy
had last been seen.

Cattle were scattered here and there and the boy had to keep his eyes open to
prevent being run down. He had almost reached the place where he had made up his
mind to dive, should Stacy not rise to the surface, when a great shout from the
bluff caused Tad to turn.

"Whawhat is it?" he called.

"Look! Look!" cried Ned Rector.

"I don't see anything. Is it Chunky? Is he all right?"

"Yes. He's driving oxen just now," answered Ned.

By this time the cowpunchers had joined in the shouting. Tad could see,
however, that they were shouting with merriment, though for the life of him he
could not understand what there was to laugh about.

Several steers were between him and the spot on which the glances of the
others were fixed.

"Come on in," called Ned.

The lad swam shoreward with slow, easy strokes. Then he discovered what they
were laughing at.

Stacy, grasping desperately as he went down, had caught the tail of a
swimming steer. He had been quickly drawn to the surface, and out through an
opening between the treading animals, appeared the fat boy's head.

Chunky was not swimming. He was allowing the steer to do that for him,
clinging to its tail with all his strength. The lad's eyes were blinded for the
moment by the water that was in them. He did not release his hold of the tail
when they had reached the shore, but hung on desperately while the steer,
dragging him along through the mire, scrambled up the bank.

There was no telling how long Stacy might have hung to the animal's tail, had
not Stallings grabbed him by the collar as he rose over the crest of the bank.
Stallings shook him until the water-soaked clothes sent out a miniature rain
storm and the boy had coughed himself back to his normal condition.

"Well, you are a nice sort of cowboy," laughed the foreman. "When you are
unable to do anything else to interest your friends, you try to drown yourself.
Go, shake yourself!"

Stacy rubbed the water from his eyes.

"II fell in, didn't I?" he grinned.

After having ferried the trail wagon over, everybody was ready for supper. No
one seemed to mind the wetting he had gotten. Professor Zepplin made a joke of
his own bedraggled condition, and the boys gave slight heed to theirs.

The cattle were quickly bedded down and guards placed around them almost
immediately, for the clouds were threatening. Stallings' watchful eyes told him
that a bad night was before them. How bad, perhaps he did not even dream.

Supper was ready a short time after the arrival of the wagon, and, laughing
and joking, the boys gathered about the spread with a keen zest for the good
things that had been placed before them.

"Do you boys feel like going out on guard to-night?" asked the foreman while
they were eating.

"I do for one," answered Tad.

"And I," chorused the rest of the lads.

"I see your recent wetting has not dampened your spirits any," laughed
Stallings.

"Conditions make a lot of difference in the lives of all of us," announced
the Professor. "Now, were these boys at home they'd all catch cold after what
they have been through this afternoon. Their clothes, as it is, will not be dry
much before sunrise."

"And perhaps not even then," added the foreman, with an apprehensive glance
at the sky.

"What did you say, Mr. Stallings?"

"I am thinking that it looks like rain."

"What do we do when it rains?" asked Stacy Brown.

"Same as any other time, kid," growled Big-foot Sanders.

"I know; but what do you do?" persisted Chunky.

"Young feller, we usually git wet," snapped Curley Adams, his mouth so full
of potatoes that they could scarcely understand him.

"He means where do we sleep?" spoke up Tad.

"Oh, in the usual place," answered the foreman. "The only difference is that
the bed is not quite so hard as at other times."

"How's that, Mr. Stallings?" inquired Walter.

"Because there's usually a puddle of water under you. I've woke up many a
morning on the plains with only my head out of water. I'd a' been drowned if I
hadn't had the saddle under my head for a pillow. However, it doesn't matter a
great sight. After it has been raining a little while a fellow can't get any
wetter, so what's the odds?"

"That's what I say," added Ned Rector.

Stacy Brown shook his head, disapproval plainly written on his face.

"I don't agree with you. I have never been so wet that I couldn't be
wetter."

"How about when you came out of the river at the end of a cow's tail this
afternoon? Think you could have been any more wet?" jeered Ned.

"Sure thing. I might have drowned; then I'd been wet on the inside as well as
the outside," answered the fat boy, wisely, his reply causing a ripple of
merriment all around the party.

"I guess the gopher scored that time, eh?" grinned Big-foot.

That night Stacy was sent out on the second guard from ten-thirty to one
o'clock. They had found him asleep under the chuck wagon, whence he was hauled
out, feet first, by one of the returning guards.

Tad had turned in early, as he was to be called shortly before one to go out
with the third guard and to remain on duty till half-past three.

For reasons of his own the foreman had given orders that all the ponies not
on actual duty, that night, were to be staked down instead of being hobbled and
turned out to graze.

Tad heard the order given, and noting the foreman's questioning glances at
the heavens, imagined that it had something to do with weather conditions.

"Do you think Mr. Stallings is worried about the weather?" asked the lad of
Big-foot Sanders, as he rode along beside the big cowman on the way to the
bedding place of the herd.