The Border Boys with the Texas Rangers

by John Henry Goldfrap

  CHAPTER XXIV.

  BY SHEER GRIT.

  Owing to the delay caused by the storm, it was late when they reachedthe Lagunitas Rancho. It was too dark for them to form any idea of theplace, but Mr. Reeves, who greeted them warmly, ushered them into along, low room hung with skins and trophies of the hunt, and ornamentedat one end by a huge stone fireplace. The boys were surprised to findthe ranch very comfortably furnished, almost luxurious, in fact. Everycomfort of civilization was to be found there, even down to a grandpiano and a phonograph. After a plentiful supper Mr. Reeves entertainedthe boys with selections on both of these instruments.

  The rancher was married and had three children, but his family was atthe time away on a visit to the East. Mr. Reeves said that while hewas sorry that the boys had not had an opportunity to meet them, he wasglad of their absence in another sense, for times were very troublousalong the Border.

  It was decided that the boys were not to go on duty that night, butwould turn in early and spend the next day getting acquainted with theranch so that they could ride over it “blindfold,” as Mr. Reeves putit. He informed them that he had six cowboys on duty, but that twoof them were not very reliable and could not be depended upon in anemergency.

  “I feel much easier in my mind now that I have three of the famousTexas Rangers to help me out,” he said with a kindly smile.

  “I hope we shall be able to live up to what the name stands for,” saidJack gravely.

  “Bravo, my lad; that’s the proper spirit,” declared the rancher warmly.

  The boys slept that night in a comfortably furnished bedroomcontaining three cots. Before daybreak they were awake and discussingthe coming day. Sunrise found them outside the ranch house, eagerlyinspecting their new surroundings. But, early as they were, Mr. Reeveshad been up before them and was ready to show them around.

  “Now, you boys must each pick yourself out a pony,” he said, leadingthem toward a big corral in which several ponies were running loose.

  “But we have our own,” objected Ralph, who knew what western bronchosare when they are first taken out of a corral.

  “I know that,” responded Mr. Reeves, “but your ponies are pretty welltuckered out after all they went through yesterday. Fresh mounts willbe very much better.”

  “You have some fine ones here, too,” said Jack, who had been inspectingthe twenty or more cayuses in the corral.

  “Yes, Lagunitas is famous for its stock,” was the response. “Will yourope the ones you want for yourselves, or shall I tell a puncher to doit for you?”

  “We’d be fine Rangers if we couldn’t rope our own ponies,” laughed Jack.

  So saying, he selected a rope from several which were hanging on thecorral posts. He tried it out and found it a good, pliant bit ofrawhide. In the meantime Walt and Ralph had each taken another “riata”and were testing them.

  So far as Ralph was concerned, his knowledge of lariat throwing wasstrictly limited. He had practiced a bit on the Merrill ranch, but hedid not know much about the art—for an art it is to throw a rope withprecision and accuracy.

  By this time several of the cow–punchers attached to the ranch hadassembled and watched the boys critically.

  “Watch the Tenderfeet throw a rope, Bud,” said one of them, a short,freckle–faced fellow.

  “Waal, I don’t know but that tall one knows how to handle a lariat,”rejoined Bud, fixing his eyes on Jack as he entered the corral withhis rope trailing behind him, the loop ready for a swing. As soon asthe boys were within the corral they started “milling” the ponies, asit is called, that is, causing them to run round and round in circles.In this work they were aided by the shrill whoops and yells of thecow–punchers, who perched on the fence like a row of buzzards.

  A buckskin pony with a white face and pink–rimmed eyes caught Jack’sfancy, and in a jiffy his rope was swishing through the air. It fellneatly about the buckskin’s neck, and Jack quickly brought the littleanimal up with a round turn on the “snubbing post” in the center of thecorral. Then came Walt’s turn and after some difficulty he succeededin lassoing a small but wiry chestnut animal that looked capable ofcarrying his weight finely.

  Last of all came Ralph. He set his lips firmly and made the best casthe knew how at a sorrel colt that was galloping past him. The cowboysset up a jeering yell as they saw the way he handled his rope, andRalph flushed crimson with mortification. Again and again he cast hisrope, each time failing to land his animal. At last Mr. Reeves orderedone of the punchers to catch the pony for him. Ralph, feeling muchhumiliated, saw the sorrel caught with neatness and despatch.

  “Must have bin practicing ropin’ with yer maw’s clothes line,” grinnedthe cowboy who had effected the capture as he handed the pony over toRalph.

  While this was going on Jack had secured his heavy stock saddle andapproached the buckskin to put it on its back. But the instant thelittle brute saw the saddle it began a series of wild buckings,lashing the air frantically with its hind feet.

  “Now look out for fun!” yelled a cow–puncher.

  “The kid’s got hold of old Dynamite,” laughed another.

  Jack heard this last remark and realized from it that the pony he hadselected was a “bad one.” But he determined to stick it out.

  Mr. Reeves came over to his side.

  “I wouldn’t try to ride Dynamite, my boy,” he said. “He’s the mostunruly broncho on the ranch. Take a quieter one like your chums have.”

  “I like this buckskin, sir, and, if you have no objection, I mean toride him,” spoke Jack quietly.

  Something in the boy’s eye and the determined set of his mouth and chintold the ranch owner that it would be useless to argue with Jack.

  “At any rate, I’ll send Bud in to help you cinch up,” he volunteered.

  “Thank you,” said Jack, keeping his eyes on the buckskin, which had hisears laid back, and was the very picture of defiance.

  Bud, grinning all over, came into the corral swinging a rope. Heskillfully caught the broncho’s legs and threw the refractory animal tothe ground. The instant the pony was down Jack ran forward and put ablindfold over his eyes.

  “Waal, I see you do know something,” admitted Bud grudgingly, “but youain’t never goin’ ter ride Dynamite.”

  “Why not?”

  “Cos there ain’t a puncher on this ranch kin tackle him and I ’low nobloomin’ Tenderfoot is going ter do what an old vaquero kain’t.”

  “Well, we’ll see,” said Jack, with a quiet smile.

  Having blindfolded the pony, a “hackamore” bridle was slipped over hishead. To this Dynamite offered no resistance. The blindfold made himquiet and submissive for the time being. When the bridle was in placehe was allowed to rise, and before the pony knew it, almost, Jack hadthe saddle on his back and “cinched” up tightly. This done, the boythrew off his hat, drew on a pair of gloves and adjusted his heavyplainsman’s spurs with their big, blunt rowels.

  “All right?” grinned Bud.

  “All right,” rejoined Jack in the same quiet tone he had used hitherto.To judge from outward appearances, he was as cool as ice; but inwardlythe Border Boy knew that he was in for a big battle.

  “Waal, good–bye, kid, we’ll hev yer remains shipped back home,” shouteda facetious puncher from the group perched on the fence.

  “Dynamite ’ull send you so high you’ll get old coming down,” yelledanother.

  “Better let the job out, kid,” said Bud. “We don’t want to commitmurder round here.”

  “I guess I’m the best judge of that,” spoke Jack quickly. “Get ready tocut loose that rope when I give the word, and take the lasso off thesnubbing post.”

  THEN BEGAN A SERIES OF AMAZING BUCKS.]

  This was quickly done and Dynamite stood free, but still blindfolded.Jack poised on his tip toes and gave a light run forward. His handswere seen to touch the saddle and the next instant he was in it. Heleaned forward and lifted the blindfold.

  For an instant Dynami
te stood shivering, his ears laid back, his eyesrolling viciously. Then, before the broncho knew what had happened,Jack’s quirt came down on his flank heavily.

  “Yip!” yelled the cow–punchers.

  “Yip! Yip!” called Jack, and hardly had the words left his mouth beforehe was flying through the air over the pony’s head. Dynamite’s firstbuck had unseated him. Mr. Reeves ran forward anxiously as Jack plowedthe ground. But his anxiety was needless. By the time he reached theboy’s side Jack was up again, brushing the dirt of the corral from hisclothing. He was pale but determined.

  “You see, I told you it was impossible,” said the ranch owner. “Give itup.”

  “Give it up!” exclaimed Jack. “Why, I’ve only just begun.”

  “The kid’s got grit,” exclaimed a cowboy who had heard this last.

  “Yep, more grit than sense, I reckon,” chimed another.

  Jack picked up his rope once more and recaptured the buckskin, whichwas trotting about the corral, apparently feeling that the fight wasover and he had won. Once more Bud held the rope while Jack vaultedinto the saddle.

  This time, however, there was no preliminary pause. Dynamite plungedstraight into his program of unseating tactics.

  With a vicious squeal the pony’s hind feet shot out and the nextinstant as Jack jerked the little animal’s head up it caroomed into theair, coming down with a stiff–legged jolt that jarred every nerve inJack’s body. Then began a series of amazing bucks. It seemed impossiblethat anybody, much less a mere boy, could have stuck to the pony’s backthrough such an ordeal.

  “Wow! Dynamite’s sure steamboatin’ some!” yelled the cow–punchers.

  Suddenly Dynamite ceased bucking.

  “Look out for a side–jump!” shouted Mr. Reeves; but, even as he spoke,it came.

  The broncho gave a brain–twisting leap to the left, causing Jack tosway out of his saddle to the right. Luckily he caught the pommeland cantle just in time to save himself from being thrown. Dynamiteseemed surprised that he had not unseated his rider by his favorite andoft–tried method. He repeated his famous side–jump. But Jack stuck likea cockle–burr to a colt’s tail.

  All at once the buckskin gave a semi–turn while in the air. It was avariation of the regular “buck” that would have unseated half theveteran cowboys perched on the corral fence watching the fight betweenboy and broncho.

  “Good fer you, kid!” they shouted enthusiastically, as Jack maintainedhis seat.

  “Stick to it, Jack!” chimed in the voices of Ralph and Walt.

  But it is doubtful if Jack heard any of the applause. He was too busywatching Dynamite’s antics. Suddenly the pony rushed straight at thecorral fence and tore along it as closely as he could without cuttinghis hide. His object was to scrape off the hateful human who stuck sopersistently to his back. But Jack was as quick as the buckskin and asthe pony dashed along the fence he had one leg up over the saddle andout of harm’s way.

  All at once Dynamite paused. Then up went his head, his fore feet beatthe air furiously. Straight up he reared till he was standing almosterect. Then without the slightest warning he toppled over backward.

  A shout of alarm went up from the punchers, but Jack did not need it.As the pony crashed to earth Jack was not there. He had nimbly leapedfrom the saddle and to one side.

  Before the buckskin could rise again Jack was straddling the saddle. Asthe animal sprang up Jack was back in his seat once more with a sadlyperplexed broncho under him. Dynamite had tried everything, and moretoo, that he had used on the ranch riders and all had failed to removethe incubus on his back.

  “Good for you, Jack. You’ve finished him!” yelled Walt Phelps.

  “Don’t be too sure,” warned Mr. Reeves, who was standing by the boys.“See the way those ears are set? That means more trouble coming.”

  The words had hardly left the ranch owner’s mouth before the “trouble”came. Dynamite darted off as if he had been impelled from a cannon’smouth. Then all at once he set his legs stiff and slid along theground, ploughing up dusty furrows with his hoofs in the soft earth ofthe corral. Had Jack not been prepared for some such maneuver, he mighthave been unseated. But he had guessed that something more was comingoff and so he was prepared. Hardly had Dynamite come to his abrupt stopbefore he threw himself on his side and rolled over. If Jack had beenthere, he would have been crushed by the pony’s weight—but he wasn’t.

  As the pony rolled Jack stepped out of the saddle on the opposite side.The moment he slipped off he picked up the loose end of the lariatwhich was still around the pony’s neck.

  “Yip! Get up!” he cried.

  Dynamite, not thinking of anything but that he was free at last, wasoff like a shot. But, alas! he reckoned without his host. As thelittle animal darted off Jack took a swift turn of the rope around thesnubbing post. When Dynamite reached the end of the rope he got thesurprise of his life. His feet were jerked from under him and over hewent in a heap.

  Before he could rise Jack was over him. As Dynamite struggled up Jackresumed his seat in the saddle; but now he rode a different Dynamitefrom the unsubdued buckskin he had roped a short time before. Tremblingin every limb, covered with sweat and dirt, and his head hanging down,Dynamite owned himself defeated.

  A great shout of applause went up from the cow–punchers and from Jack’schums.

  “His name ain’t Dynamite no longer; it’s ‘Sugar Candy’!” shouted anenthusiastic cow–puncher.

  “Wow! but the kiddy is some rider,” yelled another.

  “You bet!” came an assenting chorus of approval.

  “Splendid work, my boy,” approved Mr. Reeves warmly, coming forward andshaking Jack’s hand. “It was as fine an exhibition of horsemanship andcourage as ever I saw.”

  “Thanks,” laughed Jack lightly. “I’ve got an idea that Dynamite and Iare going to be great chums. Aren’t we, little horse?”

  Jack patted the buckskin’s sweating neck and the pony shook his headas if he agreed with the boy who had conquered his fighting spirit bysheer grit.