The Pony Rider Boys in Texas Part 42

"No; I have decided to let Big-foot go back after he has eaten. He can remain with you until ten-thirty, when he takes his trick on guard. Then the rest of you may go out if you wish. It isn't fair to leave the Pinto there alone all night. If I change my plans I'll send out Master Ned or Walter. Run along now, Tad."

The lad mounted his pony and galloped slowly out for his long vigil. He was greatly disturbed over the loss of Chunky. Yet he could not bring himself to believe that great harm had come to the boy.

"Anything new?" he called as he rode up.

"Nary a thing. Plenty of funny noises inside the shack. Kinder gives a fellow the creeps; that's all."

"You are to come back and remain with me until your watch, I believe, Big-foot."

"Nice job you've cut out for me," answered the cowman.

"I had nothing to do with it. It's the foreman's order," answered Tad.

"Better bring a lantern with you. We may need it before the night is over."

"All right," answered Big-foot, swinging into his saddle. After the cowmen had left, Tad walked out a little way from the church and sat down in the sand. He was within easy hearing of the place in case anyone should call out.

It was a lonely spot. Tad had not sat there long before the noises that the cowmen had spoken of began again.

The lad listened intently for a moment.

"Bats," he said. "I can hear them flying about me. I hope none of them hit me in the face. I've heard they do that sometimes."

The pony, which had been staked down well out on the plain, was now moving about restlessly.

"I wonder if the noises are getting on the broncho's nerves, too?

There's nothing here to be afraid of. I'm not afraid," declared Tad firmly, rising and pacing back and forth.

He was relieved, just the same, when the big cowman rode back, an hour later, and took up the vigil with him. The two talked in subdued tones as they walked back and forth, the lad expressing the opinion that they would find Stacy unharmed when they once discovered the mysterious place into which he had unwittingly stumbled.

"You see, those walls are so thick that we couldn't hear him even if he did call out. He may even have gotten in where they buried those monks we've heard about. I hope not, though."

"He wouldn't know it," said Big-foot.

"No, probably not in the darkness. Did you bring that lantern?"

"Pshaw! I forgot it. Mebby I'd better go back and get it."

"No; never mind, Big-foot. The moon will be up after a time. Then we shall not need it. You are going in for the ten-thirty trick, are you not?"

"That's what the boss said," replied Big-foot.

The right section of the herd was now bedded within a short distance of the church. They could hear the singing of the cowboys as they circled slowly around the sleeping cattle.

"Guess we are not going to have any more trouble with them," said Tad, nodding toward the herd.

"Don't be too sure. I feel it coming. I have a feeling that trouble ain't more'n a million miles away at this very minute."

"I wish you wouldn't talk that way. You'll get me feeling creepy, first thing you know. I've got to stay here all night," said Tad.

Big-foot laughed. They pa.s.sed the time as best they could until the hour for the departure of the cowboy arrived. Then Tad was left alone once more. He circled about the church, listening. Once he thought he heard the hoof-beats of a pony. But the sound died away instantly, and he believed he must have been wrong.

After half an hour Big-foot returned. The foreman had decided, so long as the cattle were quiet, to have him remain with Tad. If the cowboy should be needed in a hurry the foreman was to fire a shot in the air as a signal.

Tad was intensely pleased at this arrangement. After chatting a while they lay down on the ground, speaking only occasionally, and then in low tones. The mystery of the night seemed to have awed them into silent thought. They had lain there for some time, when Tad suddenly rose on one elbow.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered.

"Yes," breathed the cowman.

"What--what do you think it was?"

"Sounded as if some one had jumped to the ground. We'd better crawl up there. It was by the church. I told you it was coming."

"Do you suppose it was Chunky?"

"No. He'd be afraid of the dark. You'd hear him yelling for help."

Tad had his doubts of that; but, just the same, he, too, felt that the noise they had heard had not been made by Stacy Brown. A silence of several minutes followed. The two had crawled only a few feet toward the church, when, with one common impulse, they flattened themselves on the ground and listened.

Now they could distinctly hear some one cautiously moving about in front of the church. It seemed to Tad as if the mysterious intruder were standing on the broad stone flagging at the top of the steps leading into the adobe church.

Tad slowly rose to his feet.

"Who's there?" he cried in a voice that trembled a little.

A sudden commotion followed the question, and the listeners distinctly caught the sound of footsteps on the flagging.

A flash lighted the scene momentarily.

Big-foot had fired a shot toward the church. A slight scream followed almost instantly.

"I winged it!" shouted the cowman, lifting his weapon for another shot.

Tad struck the gun up. The lad was excited now.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Don't do that again. Do you want to kill somebody?"

With that Tad ran, his feet fairly flying over the ground, in the direction of the church steps. In the flash of the gun he had caught a glimpse of a figure standing there. The sight thrilled him through and through.

As the plucky lad reached the steps some one started to run down them.

Tripping, the unknown plunged headlong to the ground.

The boy was beside the figure in an instant.

"Big-foot!" he shouted.

The cowman came tearing up to him.