The Broncho Rider Boys on the Wyoming Trail Part 11

When they had packed things, and were all ready to start, Donald went to the man who was such a heavy eater, and whom they judged to be the most tractable of the lot.

"We're going to take you along with us, to help drive the herd," he told him; and the fellow's face immediately took on a serious look.

"But what'll they do to me over at the Bar-S, if they git hands on me, pard?" he asked, uneasily. "That same old Comstock, if ever he _does_ break away from under the thumb of his wife is sure agoin' to throw things around promiscuous like; and mebbe he'll begin by makin' me an awful lesson. Seems like I c'n feel the feathers asproutin' out all over me a'ready, 'case he'll git the tar heated, sure-pop. Say, there's Bemis as kin drive herd a heap better'n me any day agoin'. Hadn't ye sooner pick him to help out?"

"Oh! don't worry," remarked Donald as he cut the fellow's bonds; "get up now, and walk ahead of me. We don't mean to take you all the way, but along about noon we might send you back with the ponies belonging to your crowd."

"If that's a fact I don't mind ahelpin' drive," declared the man, with a relieved look on his face.

He might have thought that there would come a chance for him to slip away while chasing after the cattle; but if so he reckoned without his host; for Donald and Adrian were too smart to allow such an opening.

One of them kept close to the rustler all the while; and he was given plainly to understand that if he tried any such sneak game they would leave the cattle to shift for themselves temporarily while they ran him down, and filled him full of lead.

The sight of the repeating rifles which all the Broncho Rider Boys carried, and handled as though they knew well how to use the same, filled him with a certain amount of respect; and if he had cherished any hopes of escaping they were kept carefully in restraint.

They had little trouble in getting the herd out of the coulie. The range boys knew just how to go about this sort of business; and when the rustler heard them yelling, and slapping their hats on their chaps as they started the feeding cattle, he knew that they were old hands at driving, even if young in years.

He did his part of the work all right, for he saw that this was the easiest way of getting on the good side of these energetic lads.

The three who were left behind called out, and told their captors they hoped they would not be forgotten in the shuffle; because before now cow-punchers had starved to death, or fallen victims to the hungry wolves that roamed the plains of nights.

Paying no further attention to them the boys chased after the moving herd, soon running along the back trail, with the drivers whooping, and dashing here and there to keep some stray animal from breaking away.

All went well, because both Adrian and Donald made it a point that one of them keep close enough to the rustler driver to see that he was given no opportunity to escape. Billie's duty was not so much to drive, as to lead; in other words he had charge of the three cattle ponies belonging to the men who had been left bound in the camp at the mouth of Bittersweet Coulie; and which were to be generously turned over to Corney when they allowed him to depart, along about the middle of the day perhaps.

"I hope it's _before_ lunch time that they let him go scot free," Billie was muttering to himself from time to time, as he frowned, and watched the evolutions of the puncher named Corney; possibly Billie had good reason for wishing this, since he happened to know that their rations had reached a rather low ebb by now; and if that enormous eater was invited to sit down with them at noon, and devour at will, what was going to become of those who had a better right to the "grub" than the rustler?

Some two hours after the start they discovered that several riders had headed in their direction. At first the boys were bothered a little, until they made the pleasing discovery that these were the same three friendly cow-punchers whom they had met on the previous day.

A sudden idea flashing into Adrian's mind, he made signals that he would like to talk with the trio. At that they turned directly, and came galloping along; for up to then it seemed they were inclined to sheer off, and mind their own business; because in these unsettled days it was not always the wisest thing to push up alongside those who were driving stock, lest they b.u.t.t in on matters that were not intended to be known outside of certain Walker circles.

At discovering their young friends of the preceding day circling the herd that bore the brand of the Bar-S Ranch, the three punchers exchanged looks of intense surprise; and their wonder evidently took leaps and bounds when they also recognized in Corney a man of ill repute, who was known to be connected with the Walker crowd.

Adrian had rather fancied the three punchers, and meant to see if he could not offer them inducements to engage with him, as he feared he would need a new supply of men, when he started to weed out the Bar-S employees.

CHAPTER XIII.

ADRIAN HIRES MORE HELP.

"We didn't reckon we'd meet up with you so soon again," remarked one of the cow-punchers, as, with his two companions, he drew in alongside Adrian; Donald at the time was "keeping tabs" on the rustler at some little distance away.

"And you're wondering your heads off right now," Adrian told him, with one of his rare smiles that made him so many friends, "what under the sun we're doing with this bunch of cattle. It's a long story, so I'll just say that we saw a stampede with four rustlers managing it, and chased after. We found them in camp at the mouth of Bittersweet Coulie, up which they had chased the herd, where they could change the brands in the morning, and drive the lot away to one of the Walker ranches. Well, we managed to make the four punchers our prisoners; and leaving three bound there, we're taking the other fellow part way along the back trail. When we got a few miles from the ranch buildings we thought we'd let him go back with the four ponies, so's to free his pards. That's the yarn in a nutsh.e.l.l, boys."

They stared at him, as though hardly able to believe their ears. It seemed incredible that three mere lads should have managed to get the better of a bunch of the Walker rustlers, men whom all honest punchers wanted as little to do with as possible.

Still, there were the cattle as positive evidence of the truth of Adrian's story, and they knew Corney, as well as his reputation, well enough.

"That beats anything I've heard tell of for many a day!" exclaimed one puncher, looking as though he might be ready to shout, and swing his hat in glee.

"First time them Walkers has been rubbed the wrong way for a hull year or more," added the second fellow in chaps and flannel shirt, and boots that sported enormous Mexican spurs; "fact is, ever since Fred Comstock took water, and quit fightin' 'em, an' that was after he married that sister of Hatch Walker's."

"He did used to be a fighter; but seems like his heart it's broke with havin' her hands in his hair so often; and he never lets out a yawp these days, no matter what happens. And say, them steers is got the Bar-S brand on right now; seems like they must a come from his place, the third lot he's lost in nine months."

"It's going to be the last, if I know anything about it!" declared Adrian; at which suggestive words the three cow-punchers exchanged significant glances, and then the lanky fellow remarked:

"We doesn't mean to be personal, you know, stranger, but might we ask what that's got to do with you?" he went on to say.

"Only this," replied the boy, quickly; "they've been robbing me long enough, and I think it's about time this Walker gang was broken up, in the bargain. There's a new sheriff just come into office, I'm told, and as soon as I can get word to him I'm going to demand that he come to the Bar-S Ranch with a posse, to take some decided action. Perhaps, when they find out that there's something on foot, the other ranch owners around this part of the Wyoming range country will join in with me. Oh!

I forgot that I hadn't introduced myself yet. I'm Adrian Sherwood, and it's my Uncle Fred Comstock you've been telling such queer stories about."

"Put her there, Adrian!" shouted the lanky puncher, thrusting out his hand. "I sure am proud to meet up with the son of a man that had such a good name as your dad. And if what you've started in to do is a sign of what's goin' to happen here, I reckons as how the Walkers'll hev to walk purty soon, eh, boys?" and he turned to nod his head at his comrades.

These two were just as desirous of shaking hands with young Sherwood as the lanky fellow had been; and Adrian liked them more than ever.

"I've been surprised at the bad returns I've been getting a long while now, from Uncle Fred," he went on to say, "and made up my mind to run along here from Arizona, where I was visiting my friend Donald Mackay, on his father's ranch, just to find out for myself what was going on."

"Then Comstock nor his big wife don't suspicion that you're around, is thet it, Adrian?" exclaimed the thin puncher, grinning as though vastly pleased.

"The first they'll know about it," the other went on to say, "will be this afternoon when we come driving this recovered herd back home. One of the three men we left at the mouth of the coulie said he'd give something to be on hand when that took place, just to see what happened."

"You bet I would, too!" declared the lanky puncher; "and my pards here would be tickled to death if they could see what _she_ looks like when you kim aridin' along, drivin' your own cattle back home, which she expects are carryin' the Walker brand by this time."

"Sure we would!" burst out the other two, eagerly.

"All right, then, you can see that sight if you'll engage with me for a year at the regular wages, and agree to stand back of me!" observed Adrian, thinking the time had come to strike while the iron was hot.

"D'ye mean that, Adrian Sherwood?" asked the other, after he had caught affirmative nods from both his companions.

"Just what I do!" was the reply the ranch boy gave. "I expect there'll have to be an overhauling of the pay roll when I take the reins in my own hands; because of course some of the punchers at the ranch will be Walker sympathizers, put there to cow the rest. My uncle will know those he can trust, and the rest must go; so you see I'll need a few good trusty fellows to back me up. What do you say?"

"It's a go!" exclaimed the lanky puncher, as he again thrust out his hand; "for it happens just now that we're lookin' for a job, as our boss sold out his ranch business, and the new man brought his own crowd along with him. We even thought of hiking over to Bar-S to see what chance there might be there; but since that Walker crowd has been runnin'

things up yonder none of us kinder like the idea of hitchin' up with Mr.

Comstock. But since you've come, and mean to do things like you say, why, we'll throw in with you, sure we will, Adrian."

That pleased the other more than he could find words to say.

"Then let's call it a bargain, and first chance we get we'll put the same down in writing so there'll be no mistake. And now tell me what your names might be."

The lanky one gave his as George Hess; the little "sawed-off" announced himself as Andy Hickenlooper; while the last puncher declared that he would respond to any name, especially when the cook was pounding on a frying-pan with a big spoon to announce dinner; but that if he had to sign any legal doc.u.ment he believed he could swear to the fact that he had once been called Septimus Green, shortened to plain Sep.

It was determined that they might carry the rustler along for a few more miles and then send him about his business, with the other ponies in his charge. To be sure, the news would thus be carried to the Walker headquarters in due time; but long ere that could happen Adrian expected to have reached the ranch with his cattle, so that it did not matter much anyhow.

Of course Adrian felt it his immediate duty to inform his chums of his good fortune in making arrangements with such a husky lot of punchers, and ones they had particularly fancied when they met them before.