The Broncho Rider Boys on the Wyoming Trail Part 12

So he had George keep the rustler under his eye, while he called Donald and Billie to him, to explain the situation. No doubt the boys had partly guessed the truth as soon as they heard those yells, and saw the three newcomers swing out to start driving the herd; but all the same it sounded fine to them as Adrian spun the story.

"Great work, old chum!" exclaimed Billie, approvingly; "and already the atmosphere up around these diggings seems different. The punchers think so; and say, wouldn't it be a _stupendous_ thing now if our coming started the ranchers to getting their pluck back, so that they'd rise up, and chase this old Walker tribe out of Wyoming. Hope that's what's going to happen, you hear me talking, boys!"

When Billie was pleased his round red face fairly beamed with the smile that came so easily upon it. It was a catching smile, too, and many times those who saw the same just had to chime in from sheer sympathy.

For some time longer the drive went on, and they must have covered more than half of the territory over which the stampeded cattle had chased on the preceding night. As yet there was not the first sign of any pursuit on the part of the punchers connected with the raided ranch; as George Hess said, they were "lying down, like whipped dogs, and letting things go as they pleased, because it wouldn't do any good if they did want to follow the thieves, with that woman holding her thumb on Fred Comstock so that he didn't dare call his soul his own these days, without dodging."

Adrian began to recognize numerous marks in the landscape. He knew that in not more than another couple of hours they ought to arrive at their destination, unless something not down on the bills happened to interfere; which could only come from a meeting with a large bunch of the Walker punchers, and consequent war.

Billie was eagerly waiting to hear one of his chums remark that it was time they turned the rustler loose. He was beginning to get uneasy, under the dreadful fear that this dismissal might be delayed so long that they would have to feed the fellow again, and that Billie believed would be a misfortune in many ways.

Finally he saw Adrian beckon the rustler, and head him toward where Billie had the three ponies belonging to the prisoners of Bittersweet Coulie trailing along after him. That could only mean one thing, the sending of Corney about his business, and allowing him to gallop back to release his unfortunate companions.

"Here's your ponies," Billie called out, after he had heard Adrian tell the fellow he was at liberty to ride away; "and don't forget that we treated you white on this trip. I only hope that if ever I have the misfortune to be held a prisoner among your crowd that you'll see to it I don't starve; because I always did say there was no death I dreaded more than going without my regular allowance of grub."

But n.o.body was listening to Billie talk. The rustler had taken the bridles of the ponies and without a word turned to gallop away. Once he did turn in his saddle to shake his clenched fist back at the boys, and then immediately duck down until he lay flat along the neck of his mount, half fearing lest one of them answer his challenge with a shot from his rifle.

But such a thing did not occur to any one of the three chums. They were really too glad to see the ugly-faced Corney depart to think of trying to detain him a minute longer than seemed absolutely necessary; and least of all would Billie have put out a restraining hand, because it was nearly noon, and lunch time.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE LAME PILGRIM ON THE TRAIL.

"There's a cowboy riding this way, and seems like he might have come from your place, too, Adrian!" Donald called out, soon after they had let the rustler depart.

"It must be some messenger Uncle Fred's sending to town, perhaps with a letter to me, telling about this new outrage, and that he'll just have to throw up his job here, and clear out, since he's powerless to help things," the other suggested; as he watched the lone rider drawing near, evidently more than curious at discovering the lately stampeded bunch of cattle heading back toward the ranch house.

Upon being signalled he headed for them, and soon came riding up, his eyes round with wonder as he surveyed the six who const.i.tuted the drivers of the cattle.

"h.e.l.lo! Frank," called out George Hess, who seemed to know the other; "reckon as how you're struck next door to dumb awonderin' what all this means; but I'll leave it to the boss here to explain. This same is Frank Bowker, Adrian, and about as decent a puncher as the ole man's got left on the place. Reckon that's why he's asendin' of him to town right now on business."

"Is that where you're bound, Frank?" asked Adrian; "perhaps you'll think I've got no right to ask, but you see, I'm the owner of the Bar-S Ranch, and my name's Sherwood."

The puncher's puzzled face was quickly wreathed in a grin, and as rapidly as he could speak he declared that he was mighty glad to meet up with Mr. Sherwood; and that it sure looked as though he had got busy the very first thing he arrived, in recovering the bunch of cattle that the rustlers had run off in a stampede.

Of course Adrian quickly gave him such facts as he deemed the other should know.

"And we're going to clean up things here, Frank, remember that," the boy wound up by saying in a quiet but positive way that made the others smile again, and act as though they would like to shake hands all around. "Are you really going to town for Uncle Fred; and if so would you take a written message to the new sheriff for me?"

"Will I?" burst out the other, excitedly; "say, you just try me, that's all. And I'll see that he gets the same as sure as I live. And I'll tell him the time's come at last for something to be done to round up that Walker crowd. We've stood for it too long already; and say, I'm just tickled to death to know there's a real change acomin'. Wisht I could go back with you; mebbe I wouldn't give my best pair of boots to be on hand when _she_ larns who you are, and sees them steers adrivin' right home to the Bar-S corrals. Wow! it'll be some sight, believe me."

But Adrian soon convinced Frank that it was his duty to get along to town as speedily as possible, so as to find the new sheriff, and place the letter he, Adrian would write, in his hands.

It took only a short time to prepare the communication, though the boy tried to explain the situation, and impress on the peace officer how necessary it was for him to lose no time in summoning a reliable posse, and riding out to the ranch house of the Bar-S outfit; for there was likely to be war around that section shortly, since the Walkers must fight before they would acknowledge defeat.

When Frank started away, waving his hat above his head, and shouting as only an excited range rider can, Adrian declared he felt a thousand per cent better.

"It's all going to come out right in the end, Donald," he told his chum.

"But before we get there it's likely we'll see some rocky times,"

admitted the other, though his manner gave no evidence that the fact was causing him any particular uneasiness; for Donald had been brought up on a ranch, and often found himself confronted by difficulties that would have daunted any ordinary lad, but which he took boldly by the horns, and usually succeeded in getting the better of.

Once more they were on the way, and the boys began to look forward to the noisy greeting they might expect when they drove the herd up to the ranch house. Adrian had not forgotten how things looked around there, even though he had been absent for years; and he could picture Uncle Fred, his new wife, and the punchers connected with the place gathered in a big group, and staring at them while they rounded-up their charges, and drove them to the stock corral for safely, until things had simmered down somewhat.

"There's another fellow on foot ahead of us, and he seems to be staggering along like he might be hurt some, Adrian," Donald remarked, as he dashed over to where the other chum was riding along with Billie, content to leave much of the driving to the three punchers.

"Well, let's strike off, and see who he is, and what's happened to him,"

suggested Adrian, when he had located the object mentioned by Donald, and saw that if they kept directly on after the cattle they would not come within half a mile of the foot traveler.

Accordingly the three started on a gallop. The man saw them coming, and halted in his limping manner of locomotion to watch them, even waving a hand as if wanting to show by this salute that he was friendly, and hoped they were the same.

As they bore down upon him they saw that he was a rather forlorn looking chap. He might be called middle-aged, but his face was thin, and seemed to have a perpetual look of alarm and dread stamped upon it. When he got to talking the least thing would cause him to give a jump, and look hastily around as though he feared lest the heavy hand of the law was about to descend on his bony shoulder.

Still, he did not look at all like a bad man, and Adrian really felt more or less pity for the wretch, who was evidently footsore and weary, perhaps hungry in the bargain.

"What brings you away off here without a mount?" he asked, as the three of them sat in their saddles, and surveyed the old fellow.

"Oh! I had a hoss, all right, but he was that old and played-out that he just laid down on me, and gave up the ghost some miles back," the man told them; "I've been hoofing it ever since; and as I'm lame it's been a hard job for me. Never got over a little trouble I had two years back further south, a shooting sc.r.a.pe, though it was forced on me, gents, I a.s.sure you. Could you help me get to some ranch, where I might strike a job? I'm a master-hand at figures, and could keep the books for my board. If you leave me here I'm about ready to lie down, and give up the hull business. I'm that played out."

Adrian did not altogether know that he was doing right, but he could not bear to see a wretched being suffer. And there was Billie, ready to chime in and add his entreaties to those of the foot traveler. Besides, as has been said before, the fellow looked absolutely harmless; and had evidently been his own worst enemy in the past, having a weakness for strong drink, Adrian suspected.

"Well, it would be hard to leave you here," he said; "and perhaps my horse wouldn't mind carrying double. It's only for a short distance, anyway; and perhaps, who knows but what Uncle Fred might be glad to get some one to keep his books, when his board is all he asks. What's your name?"

"Thomas," the other started to say, and then paused for some reason; so that very naturally Adrian supposed he meant this was his last name.

"Well, see if you can climb up here then, Mr. Thomas; and hold on to me.

We don't expect to make fast time, and it'll be better than walking, anyway."

The dilapidated scarecrow hastened to avail himself of this opportunity.

Already the forlorn look on his emaciated face was beginning to give way to one of hope.

"This is right kind of you, sir," he said as he managed to get seated, with the a.s.sistance of the rider, though Ten Spot pranced more or less, as though to let them know he did not wholly approve of this double burden business; "and later on, if you could only manage to give me a few bites of food I'd be so thankful, because to tell you the honest truth I haven't eaten a bite since noon yesterday."

At that Billie was heard to give vent to a groan. Whether this was forced from his lips at the prospect of another hungry mouth to feed, or because he could sympathize with any one who was compelled to go without breaking his fast for such a length of time, it might be hard to say; though the latter seemed to be nearer the truth, judging from the way he began to search through his pockets until he had found a package wrapped in paper, which he thrust into the hand of Adrian's pa.s.senger with the remark:

"That's a piece of dried venison I've been carryin' all the while, to keep body and soul together in case I ever got lost again on the desert or the prairie. But you're welcome to it, Mr. Thomas. Don't swallow it in lumps, because you had ought to grind your food first, and that pemmican is tough stuff. But it'll keep you busy, and p'raps I'll find a chance to cook something when that's gone."

"Bless your kind heart, my boy!" muttered the man, who was already tearing the paper off, so as to get busy with the piece of dried meat, upon which Billie had been secretly nibbling between meals, to "stay his stomach," as he would say.

The herd had gotten some distance away, but the boys experienced no trouble in catching up again. As the three cow-punchers had their hands full keeping the cattle from breaking away, now that they were once more on familiar fields, they paid no attention to the newcomer. And Thomas was so savagely munching the tough dried meat that he did not seem to notice them.

A short time later the boys announced that they would stop alongside of a stream, let the cattle graze for a while, and get something to eat themselves. In spite of Billie's vivid fears there was plenty of provisions left for all hands, even including the latest edition to the force.

Adrian noticed that Thomas hesitated when the three punchers came in after Billie had called to them that lunch was ready. He seemed to scan each face as if he feared lest there might be some one who would know him; and the boy fancied it was a look of relief that swept over the wrinkled countenance of the lame man when he made sure that he had nothing to fear in that line.