Frank Merriwell's Athletes Part 53

"You reached for him. You found him, too. Here come more cowboys!"

Another party of hors.e.m.e.n were seen tearing down toward the ranch, and the wild and reckless manner in which they rode made it a thrilling spectacle.

"Ah!" cried Jack; "those fellows are hors.e.m.e.n! It is not often you see men who can ride like that."

"Vale, I don'd know!" put in Hans. "You don'd seen me ride a p.r.o.ncho alretty yet, eh? I vos a vonder. Pimeby britty soon I vos goin' to shown you der sort uf a vild parepack rider I peen. You pet I vill surbrise meinself!"

"That's right, b'gosh!" grinned Ephraim. "It will be better'n a circus to see ye."

"Mebbe you don'd think I can't ride a p.r.o.ncho?" cried Hans, resentfully.

"You gif me a chance un I vill shown you."

"Begorra!" cried Barney; "it's a chance ye can be afther havin' now.

Come on, ye Dutch chaze."

"Oh, gone avay mit yourself!" said Hans, quickly. "I nefer ride a pig preakfasts on."

"Haw! haw! haw!" laughed the Vermonter. "I knowed he'd back aout. Why, you couldn't ride a saw-hoss!"

"Vot?" screamed Hans, angrily. "Don'd you pelief me! I pet myself zwei tollar I can ride der pestest horse vot you never saw! Yaw! I done him any oldt times!"

"Then come on, an' don't ye darst back aout."

Hans was wildly excited. His fat face was flushed and his eyes were bulging. He presented such a ludicrous spectacle that the boys broke into shouts of laughter.

"You hadn't better try to ride a broncho, Hans," warned Frank, who feared the fat lad might be injured. "Keep away from the deceptive broncho. Only the most expert hors.e.m.e.n can ride them."

"Vale, I peen der most exbert horseman vot you nefer saw. Yaw! I profe him to yourself. Come on!"

Hans ran down the steps, tripped over his own feet, and rolled on the gra.s.s, producing still more amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Come on!" he wildly cried, as he struggled up. "You don'd know der kindt uv sduff I vasn't made uf. Shust you pring me to a hoss vot I don'd peen aple not to ride! You can't done dot!"

"He'll nivver dare throy it, b'ys," grinned Barney. "He'll back out th'

minute he sees th' baste. Come on. It's poiles av shport we'll be afther havin' wid him."

"Come on, fellows!" shouted Rattleton. "Here's where we have a circus!

Hurrah for fun!"

A moment later they were following the fat Dutch boy around to the nearest corral, in the vicinity of which a number of cowboys were gathered.

"Pring der p.r.o.ncho oudt righd avay alretty!" shouted Hans, as he waddled around toward the corral, with the others following him. "I peen goin'

to shown you how to ride him, you pet!"

The cowboys stared at him in astonishment.

"Hey?" cried Hank Kildare, putting his hands on his hips and glaring at the Dutch lad. "Whatever is thet thar ye say?"

"Vere dot p.r.o.ncho vos, ain'd id? I peen goin' to took a whirl oudt of."

"Git out! Ye're crazy! Why, you couldn't ride a dead cow!"

Hans grew still more excited. His face was red, and he wildly flourished his short arms, fairly choking in his excitement.

"Py ginger! I shown you dot about pritty queek right avay!" he cried.

"Uf I don't ride der vorst p.r.o.ncho I nefer seen you vos a liar!"

The cowboys shouted with laughter.

"Why, dern my eyes!" came from Pecos Pete, who was a veteran "broncho buster," or horse trainer. "I reckon mebbe I'll have to git you to show me a few p'ints about ther business."

"I shown you somedings vot I don't know," flung back the excited Dutch boy. "Pring oudt der p.r.o.ncho!"

"Hyar," said one of the cowboys, dismounting from the tough little beast upon which he had ridden up to the ranch; "hyar's yer chance. Git right on hyar."

"Vot am I gifin' you!" shouted Hans. "Dot peen a drained horses. Vot I vos lookin' for been a horse dot don'd peen drained alretty yet."

"I'll allow as how you'll find ther critter ain't trained any too much.

You can't ride him."

"Vot vill I pet you apout dot?" excitedly demanded the fat boy. "You don't think I can't ride him, ain'd id?"

"Wa-al, I judge he'll make it right lively for ye."

"Dot seddles id! How I peen aple his pack to ged on?"

Frank interfered, seeing Hans was in earnest about attempting to ride.

"You hadn't better try it," he said. "The broncho might kill you."

"Vot? Don'd you pelief me! Der p.r.o.ncho vot could done dot don'd peen p.o.r.n alretty yet. Get oud der vay of."

Hans was determined, and Frank found it useless to argue with him.

"Is the animal vicious?" he asked in an aside of its owner.

"Wa-al, he ain't bad," was the slow reply. "He kin buck a leetle, but he's trained to it, an' he won't try it unless I set him at it."

"Then don't set him at it, for Hans might be thrown off and killed. Let him ride, and he will be satisfied. It'll be more sport to hear him boast than it would be to see him flung off and injured."

The cowboy looked doubtful, but Frank finally succeeded in getting him to agree not to set the broncho to bucking.

Then Ephraim and Barney each got hold of one of Hans' legs to a.s.sist him to mount.

"Are yez riddy?" asked the Irish lad, a twinkle in his eyes, with one of which he winked a signal at the Vermonter, who grinned back knowingly.

"Vait a leedle!" squawked Hans, as he reached up with his short arms and got a hold on the saddle-"vait till I ged me der saddles hold uf!"