The Pony Rider Boys in Montana Part 27

"I--I looked around, and there--there stood a lot of Indians----"

"On their heads!" asked Ned.

"No, sitting on their ponies. Then--then I--"

"Then you pitched into them and drove them away," laughed Walter.

"No, I didn't. I yelled and run away. So would you."

Every man and boy of the sheep outfit roared with laughter.

"My boy," said Mr. Simms, "you will have to get used to seeing Indians if you remain with us long. This state is full of them, some bad, some good. But you need not be afraid of them. They dare not interfere with us, so if you see any, just pa.s.s the time of day and go on along about your business."

"When I got back here I fell in----" Professor Zepplin here broke into the conversation to explain what had happened to the fat boy, whereupon the outfit once more shouted with merriment.

The camp finally having been restored to its normal state, plans were made for moving on to the north.

"I wish you would ride over to Groveland Corners and get me fifty feet of quarter inch rope, Tad," said Mr. Simms. "You will have no trouble in finding the way. I'll show you exactly how to get there and find your way back afterwards. And by the way, you might take Philip with you, if you don't mind. I want him to get all the riding he can stand."

"I'll answer yes to both, requests," smiled Tad. "How far is it to the--the----"

"Corners? Five miles as the crow flies. It will be a slightly longer distance, because you have to go around the Little b.u.t.te. The place is situated just behind it on the west side."

"Then, I'm ready now, if Phil is."

The young man was not only ready, but anxious to be off, so without delay, the two lads brought in their ponies and after receiving final instructions as to how to find the new camp, they set off at an easy gallop in the fresh morning air, their spirits rising as they rode over the green mesa that lay sparkling in the morning sunlight.

Groveland Corners was little more than its name implied, consisting of one store that supplied the wants of the half dozen families who inhabited the place, as well as furnishing certain supplies to near-by ranchmen.

A group of cattle men had gathered at the store. They were sitting on the front porch talking earnestly when the two boys rode up. Tad dismounted, hitching his pony, while Phil, shifting to an easy position on his saddle, waited until the purchase of the rope had been made.

The conversation came to a sudden pause as the boys rode up, the cowmen eyeing the newcomers almost suspiciously, Tad thought. However, he paid no attention to them, further than to bid them a pleasant good morning, to which one or two of them gave a grunting reply.

He had noticed one raw-boned mountain boy among the lot who had answered his greeting with a sneering smile and a reply under his breath that Tad had not caught. The lad gave no heed to it, but went about his business. Besides the rope, he made several small purchases for himself. In reply to a question of the storekeeper, Tad informed him that he was with the Simms outfit. One of the cowmen who had entered the store, overhearing this, went outside and informed his companions.

"h.e.l.lo, kid," greeted one, as the boy left the store. "How's mutton to-day?"

Busily coiling the rope, Tad paid no attention to the taunt; he hung the rope on his saddle horn and then methodically unhitched Pinkeye.

"Going to hang yerself?" jeered another. "That's all a mutton puncher's worth. I guess."

Tad felt his face flush. He paused long enough to turn and look straight into the eyes of the speaker.

"My, but ain't our little boy s.p.u.n.ky!" called the fellow in derision.

"If he is, he knows, at least, enough to mind his own business,"

snapped Tad.

A jeering laugh followed the remark.

"Did ye mean that fer me?" demanded the mountain boy, rising angrily.

"If the coat fits, put it on," answered the freckle-faced boy indifferently, vaulting lightly into the saddle.

"I'll bet that's Boss Simms's kid--the pale-faced dude, eh?" sneered one sharply.

An angry growl answered the suggestion. Tad thinking it was time to be off, turned his pony about and Phil did the same. But no sooner had they headed their mounts toward home, Tad being slightly in the lead, than a rope squirmed through the air.

It dropped over the shoulders of Mr. Simms' delicate young son, tightened about his arms with a jerk.

"Help!" cried the frightened boy.

Tad, glancing back apprehensively saw what had happened. He wheeled his pony like a flash, but not quickly enough to save his companion from falling.

Phil Simms was roped from his pony, landing heavily in the dust of the street.

"Y-e-o-w!" chorused the cowboys.

CHAPTER XVI

TAD WHIPS A MOUNTAIN BOY

"Shame! Shame on you!" cried Tad Butler indignantly.

The lad leaped from his pony which he quickly tethered to the hitching bar in front of the store.

This done he ran to his fallen companion, who still lay where the lariat had thrown him. He was half stunned and covered with dust. After jerking him from his pony, however, the cowboys, though continuing their shouts of glee, had made no further effort to molest Philip.

Tad quickly released him.

"I 've had a lot to do with cowboys, but you're the first I ever knew who would do a thing like that. The cowboys I know are gentlemen."

"Then, d'ye mean to say that we ain't, ye miserable cayuse?"

demanded one of the number, rising menacingly.

"The fellow who roped that boy is a loafer!" answered Tad bravely, taking a couple of paces forward and facing the crowd. "You wouldn't dare do that to a man, especially if he had a gun as you have. Why didn't you try it on Luke Lame when he was over here?"

"Oh, go back to yer mammy," jeered one.

"I want to know who threw that rope? If he isn't too big a coward, he'll tell me. I guess Mr. Simms will settle with him."

"It's up to you, Bob, I guess," nodded one of them, addressing the angry-faced mountain boy who was one of their number.

The latter rose with what was intended to appear as offended dignity.