Jack Ranger's Western Trip Part 41

The horse was up an instant later, and dashed off, but had not gone a hundred yards before the saddle fell to the ground, the holding straps having broken. At this the animal stopped, and seemed all over its excitement.

"That's funny," said John. He dismounted from his horse and ran toward Jack's animal. The horse allowed himself to be taken by the briddle and lead, showing no sign of fear. John bent over and was examining the saddle.

"I guess your yell must have scared him," spoke Jack. "It was the worst I ever heard."

"It wasn't that," replied John. "Western horses are used to all sorts of yells. Ah, I thought so," he went on, "this explains it."

He pulled something from the underside of the pad and held it up to view. It was a long cactus thorn.

"That was what bothered the horse," John said. "It must have been torture to have any one on the saddle. See there," and he pointed to several drops of blood on the animal's back.

"Why didn't it act so as soon as I got on?" asked Jack.

"Some one has played a trick," said John "See, the thorn was trapped in cloth, so the point would not work through until the horse had been ridden some distance. I wonder who did it, and what for?"

"I know," Jack exclaimed, as the memory of the talk under his window the night previous came to him. "It was Cactus Ike," and he told what he had heard. "He wanted to get even with me for having been the cause of his being turned out of his room. No wonder they call him Cactus Ike."

"I'll tell uncle Morris," cried Nat.

"No, say nothing about it," counseled John. "We'll get square in our own way. Pretend nothing happened. If Ike asks us how we liked the ride, we'll never let on we had any trouble. It will keep him guessing."

The broken straps were repaired and, by making a pad of his handkerchief Jack was able to adjust the saddle without causing the horse any pain. The animal seemed quite friendly, after all the excitement, which was only caused by its efforts to get rid of the terrible thorn that was driving it frantic. In its roll it had accomplished this, and had no further objection to carrying a boy on its back.

Cactus Ike cast several inquiring glances at the lads as they rode into the ranch yard about an hour later. But he did not ask any questions. As the chums were going toward the house Jack heard one of the cowboys remark to Ike:

"The black horse looks as if it had been ridden pretty hard."

"I'll make him ride harder next time," muttered Ike, but whether he referred to the horse or to himself, Jack was not sure. He watched and saw Ike looking at the sore on the animal, over which the boy's handkerchief was still spread. Jack's first inquiry was as to the condition of Old Peter Lantry.

"He's no better," replied Mr. Kent "You'll have to be patient, Jack.

All things come to him who waits. Did you have a good ride?"

"I got lots of practice," replied Jack, not caring to go into details.

"Can't get too much of it," replied Nat's uncle. "You can see some good examples this afternoon."

"How's that?" asked Nat.

"Some of the boys are going to have a little sport among themselves,"

replied his uncle. "They do every once in a while when the work gets slack. They're coming in from some of the outlying ranches, about forty of 'em, I guess."

"What'll they do?" asked Jack.

"You'll see," replied Mr. Kent.

Before dinner time the cowboys began arriving. And in what a hurly- burly manner did they come! On their fleet horses or cow-ponies they rode along the trails as if it was in the early days and a tribe of wild Indians was after them. They came up on the gallop, shouting, yelling, and firing their big revolvers off into the air.

Up they would rush, almost to the porch that surrounded the house.

Then they would suddenly pull their horses back on their haunches and leap off with a whoop, the well-trained beasts standing stock-still when the bridle was thrown over their heads.

Then began such play as the boys had never seen before,--such riding as is not even seen in the best of the Wild West shows. The men seemed part of the horses they bestrode, as the animals fairly flew over the ground.

"If we could only do that!" exclaimed Nat.

"Maybe we can, with practice," said Jack. "John has learned a lot already."

"But he knew some before he came here," replied Nat.

The men had impromptu contests to see who could pick up the most handkerchiefs from the ground, leaning from their saddles as their horses galloped past. They picked up potatoes in the same way. They roped wild steers, dropping the lariat over a designated horn or leg, and throwing the animal on whichever side the judge suddenly called on them to do.

Then such shooting at marks as there was! The men used their revolvers with almost the skill of rifles. They cut cards, punctured cans tossed high in the air, and clipped upright sticks at distances from which the boys could scarcely make out the marks.

It was an afternoon of wild, exciting, blood-stirring and yet healthy, clean fun, and the boys were so worked up they hardly knew whether they were standing on their heads or their feet.

The last contest of the day had been called. It was a test between two of the most skillful cowboys, to see who could la.s.so the other.

As they were circling around on their horses, each seeking an opening, there came dashing up the road a man, on a foam-flecked steed. He put the horse right at the fence, which it leaped, and rode to where Mr. Kent stood.

"The cattle on the upper range have stampeded!" he yelled. "They're headed for the canyon!"

"Here boys!" shouted Mr. Kent. "Sharp work now! Send my horse here!

We must head 'em off!"

CHAPTER XXVII

THE CATTLE STAMPEDE

If there had been confusion and excitement before there was more of it now. Yet no one lost his head. There was a way of going about it, and though it seemed as if everyone was running here and there, without an object, there was a well-worked-out system evident.

The cowboys began looking to their saddle girths, for there was hard riding ahead of them. Some ran to the supply house for extra cartridges, and these were hurriedly thrust into belts or pockets.

Coats and hats that had been discarded were donned, and several men began packing up some bacon and hardtack, while others strapped simple camp outfits back of their saddles, for there was no telling how long they would be obliged to be on the trail.

"Come on! Let's go!" cried Jack, and he and his two chums raced for the stables.

"Will they let us, do you think?" asked John, whose eyes sparkled at the thought of the chase.

"Of course," replied Nat. "Uncle said he wanted us to learn the ranch business. I'll ask him."

But Nat did not get a chance. Mr. Kent was too busy preparing to ride after his stampeded cattle to pay any attention to the three boys. It is doubtful if he thought of them.

So the chums, without further permission than Nat's idea that it would be all right, saddled their horses, Jack taking the black which he had come to like very much. They rode from the corral and out on the road that led to the north where the upper range lay. The lads at once found themselves in the rear of a galloping throng of cowboys.

"Come on, let's get up ahead," shouted Nat, and they urged their horses forward, pa.s.sing the others. When they were almost in the van a voice hailed them:

"Where you boys going?"