Three times the bronco tried this trick, and the third time Dave came close to falling off. Then the bronco gave a dart forward, like an arrow from a bow.
"There he goes!" yelled the senator's son, but the words were not yet out of his mouth when the bronco stopped short. Dave slid to the animal's neck, but there he clung, his face pale and determined, and his teeth set.
"Hi! hi! what's this!" shouted a voice, and, turning, the crowd saw Sid Todd approaching on the run. "Yates, what do you mean by letting him git up on that critter?" he demanded, indignantly.
"Ain't that the bronco you wanted him to try?" asked the other cowboy, innocently.
"No—an' you know it!" stormed Todd. "Do you want him to break his neck? Hi, Dave, jump down! You can't tame that beast, nohow!"
"I—I'm all—ri—right!" jerked out Dave, between his teeth. "Ke—keep away," he added, as Todd came closer, to lend his assistance.
"He's a bad one, boy—one o' the worst on the ranch. Yates had no call to offer him to you."
"Ke—keep away," was all Dave replied. He could not say more, for the bronco claimed all his attention.
"Yates, if that boy is hurt, you'll have an account to settle with me," said Sid Todd, and shook his fist at the other cowboy.
"I—er—I was sure you wanted me to bring out that beast fer him," murmured Yates, uneasily. He was sorry now that he had played the trick on Dave.
The bronco had taken another run, coming to as sudden a halt as before. Dave slid up almost to the animal's ears, but still clung on, and quickly regained his seat in the saddle. Then, without warning, the pony dropped to the ground and started to roll over.
"Look out! you'll have your leg broken!" yelled Phil. But Dave was on his guard, and, as the pony dropped, he leaped away to safety. Then, as the animal arose once more, the youth grabbed the saddle and vaulted into the seat.
"Say, that's goin' some, I tell you!" roared one of the cowboys in delight. "He ain't givin' in yet, he ain't!"
"Look out that he don't bang you into a fence, or one of the buildings!" yelled Sid Todd. He was alarmed, yet delighted at the manner in which Dave clung to his difficult and dangerous undertaking.
With Dave once more on his back, the pony tried new tactics. Around and around he went in a circle, sending the dust of the corral flying in all directions. Then, like lightning, he reversed, nearly breaking his own neck, and causing Dave to slip far down on the outer side. But the youth hung to the saddle, and, leaning forward, slapped the bronco a smart crack on the neck. This he followed up with a blow on the head.
The effect was just what the boy desired. The pony forgot all his tricks, and leaping high into the air, he shot off like a streak toward the corral gate. Once outside, he headed for the open plains, going with the speed of a racer on the track.
"They're off!" cried Roger.
"Don't let him throw you!" yelled Todd.
"Can't we ride after 'em?" queried Phil.
"Sure we can ride after 'em," responded Todd. "An' we better do it, too, fer there ain't no tellin' what that pony will do to Dave," he added, anxiously, and with a black look at Yates, which made the other cowboy cast his eyes to the ground.
On and on sped the bronco, with Dave sitting firmly in the saddle. So long as the pony kept going, the lad felt he had nothing to fear. But he was on the alert, for he did not know but that the animal would play another trick at any instant.
"Go on, old boy!" he muttered. "We've got miles and miles of prairie ahead of us. Run till you are tired! But remember, you've got to carry me back," he added, grimly.
Soon the ranch house and the corral were mere specks in the distance, and then even these faded from view. The pony kept to the open country, and not once did he slacken his speed.
"I guess he'll drop into a walk when his wind is gone," thought Dave. But the pony's breathing apparatus showed no sign of giving out. Dave allowed his eyes to turn back, and calculated he had gone two or three miles. "Maybe we had better turn back now," he murmured, and tried to guide the steed in a circle. But this was a failure. The pony kept straight ahead, running due eastward, as the youth could see by the sun.
"All right, go as far as you please," said Dave, grimly. "If you can stand it, so can I," and he settled in the saddle.
Another two miles were covered, and then the bronco commenced to slacken his speed. Dave was on guard at this, and it was well to be, for, a second later, the pony once more tried the trick of flinging his rider over his head. But the effort was a failure, and in return Dave dug his knees deeply into the steed's ribs. Then off went the pony on a run again.
This time the bronco did not cover over a mile before dropping into a walk. Then Dave tried again to turn the animal, but without success.
"Don't want to go back, eh?" said the youth. "Well, you've got to, and that is all there is to it!" And he hit the pony a sharp slap on the neck and dug his knees into the animal's ribs as before.
The bronco was now losing courage. He commenced to run, but did not keep it up for more than a hundred yards. But when he dropped into a walk, Dave urged him up, and again he ran, but now only a dozen steps. Then the youth pulled on the left rein, and the bronco came around with scarcely any trouble.
"You aren't mastered yet, but you're pretty close to it," said the boy. "We are going home, understand, home!"
The bronco moved forward about a hundred feet. Then he deliberately dropped on the prairie and lay on his side, as quiet as a lamb.
"Want to rest, eh?" said Dave. "Well, not out here. You brought me here and you've got to take me back. Get up!"
He gave the animal a prod in the side. The bronco kicked out. Then Dave gave a harder prod. This the pony would not stand, and up he came with surprising agility. He tried to bolt, but Dave caught the saddle and clung there. They headed again eastward, away from the ranch.
"All right, now run for it, and keep it up as long as you please!" cried the boy, and urged the steed forward. Over the prairie the pony sped, as if he had just started in the race. Thus another mile was covered, and now Dave calculated he must be six or seven miles from Star Ranch. The country about him looked strange, and he wondered where he was. Nothing in the shape of a trail had come to view during the last run.
When the bronco stopped his racing, the youth turned him around again. He now showed signs of fatigue, but Dave urged him on, digging his knees into the animal's ribs as tightly as ever. Dave was almost "used up" himself, but he resolved to make the bronco take him back to the corral or die in the attempt.
"They shan't have the laugh on me," he argued. "It's back to the ranch or nothing!"
Dave steered the best course he could for the corral, but with nothing to guide him he did not know if he was moving exactly in the right direction or not. He kept on, with his eyes trying to look beyond the wide-stretching prairies.
Presently he saw in the distance what looked to be a row of low buildings. He headed in that direction, and then saw that the objects were moving towards him.
"They can't be buildings, for buildings don't move like that," he mused. "Must be cattle, or horses. Cattle, most likely."
To avoid the cattle, he turned slightly southward. But the animals kept coming closer, and now he saw that they were running in something of a semicircle.
"Can anything be wrong with them?" he asked himself, and watched the approaching herd with interest. The bronco, too, pricked up his ears, and gave a sudden snort of alarm.
Then to Dave's ears came the thunder of the herd's hoofs, and he saw that the cattle were on a mad run. He drew rein and stood up in his stirrups.
The sight that met his gaze was truly alarming. At least a thousand head of steers were coming toward him, running swiftly, and with their horns bent low.
"They have stampeded!" he gasped. "And they are coming straight this way! What shall I do to escape them?"
* * *
CHAPTER XXIV
THE CATTLE STAMPEDE
Dave had often
heard of cattle stampedes, and he knew how truly dangerous such a mad rush can become. Sometimes, from practically no cause whatever, a herd of cattle will start on a wild run, going they know not where, and carrying all down before them.
What had started the present stampede did not interest the youth, but he was interested in the question of how he might get out of the herd's way, so that he would not be run down and trodden to a jelly. To scare the leaders off might be easy, but would not those in the rear push on until he was simply overwhelmed?
"I've got to get away somehow!" he reasoned, and turned his pony at right angles to the approaching cattle. For the moment the bronco seemed too frightened to budge, but at a cry from Dave, he leaped forward, and then went streaking across the prairies as if he knew his life and that of his rider depended on his speed.
It was now a race for life, for the cattle were still moving in something of a semicircle, and Dave did not know whether or not he would be able to clear the end of the line before it reached him. He called to the pony, but this was unnecessary, for the bronco evidently understood the peril fully as well as his rider.
Suddenly, when it looked as if pony and youth could not escape, Dave heard a whistle float across the prairie. Looking in the direction, he made out the form of Sid Todd, riding like the wind toward him. Behind him came Roger and Phil, but the two boys were soon stopped and told to go back.
"I'll head 'em off!" yelled Todd, coming closer. And waving his big sombrero in one hand he commenced to fire his pistol with the other. He shot rapidly, aiming for the ground and sending streaks of dust into the air. All the time he yelled at the top of his lungs, and, understanding the move, Dave yelled too, and swung one arm wildly.
Soon the leaders of the herd took notice and came to a sudden halt. The rest of the cattle shoved from behind, and then the leaders broke, some going to the right, and the others to the left.
"Look out, Roger! Phil! They are coming your way!" screamed Dave.
He was right, and for the minute it looked as if Dave had been saved at the expense of his chums. But only a few cattle were headed for the other boys, and as soon as Roger and Phil commenced to yell and wave their arms, these broke again, and thus the herd was completely scattered. They ran a short distance further, then halted, and a little later began to graze as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
"Are you all right, son?" asked Sid Todd, anxiously, as he ranged up beside Dave.
"Yes, but—I—I am a lit—tle wi—winded," answered Dave, when he could speak.
"Good enough! Then you mastered the bronco, eh? Didn't he throw you at all?"
"No."
"Didn't he roll?"
"Oh, yes, and I got off and on pretty quick, I can tell you."
"It's wonderful! I never would have thought it!" And Sid Todd's face showed his great admiration. "Why, don't you know that that is one of the wickedest ponies on this ranch? Yates and some of the others have tried to ride him more than once."
"And they couldn't do it?"
"Not much they couldn't! Why, that pony bit one of the men in the arm when he got too near!"
"He snapped at me once."
"Did, eh?"
"Yes, and I slapped his face."
"Well, that's the best way—show 'em you ain't afraid. But it's wonderful! When I see you on this pony I was sure you'd be killed, and I made up my mind to give Yates the wust lickin' he ever had."
"He's as mild as a lamb now," went on Dave, as he eyed the pony.
"Don't you go for to trustin' him too much, yet," were Sid Todd's words of warning, and Dave took them to heart, and it was well he did so, for while returning to the ranch, the bronco tried several tricks to get rid of his rider, but without success.
"I never thought you would do it," said Roger, earnestly. "Are you sure he is safe now?" he added, anxiously.
"I wouldn't try to ride that beast for a million dollars," was Phil's comment. "When he went off with you I thought you'd never get back to tell the story. Roger and I and Todd were so worried we rode after you just as fast as we could."
"I hope the girls don't hear of this," said Dave. "If they do, they'll worry themselves sick every time we go out."
"Oh, we've got to let folks know how you busted that bronco!" cried Sid Todd. "Why, son, you don't understand, but it's the finest bit o' bustin' ever done on this ranch!" he added, vehemently.
"Well, I am glad I won out, for one thing," answered Dave, dryly. "You won't have to give Yates that licking." And this remark made the cowboy laugh in spite of himself. Nevertheless, later on he gave Yates a lecture that the latter never forgot.
"The boy had one chanct in a hundred o' winning out," was what he said. "One chanct in a hundred, an' you knew it! If he had broken his neck I'd 'a' held you responsible, an' so would the boss."
"But he's a great rider," pleaded Yates.
"Sure he is, better nor you'll be if you live to be a hundred, Yates. But it was wrong to pile such a thing up his back,—an' don't you go for to do it again."
The news soon spread that Dave had "busted" the wild bronco, and this, coupled with the fact that he had aided in bringing down the bobcat, gave him an enviable reputation among the cowboys. But the girls were quite alarmed, Jessie and Laura especially.
"Oh, Dave, how could you!" cried Jessie, when they were alone.
"Well, Jessie, you wouldn't want me to appear like a coward, would you?" he asked.
"No, of course not, Dave! But—if you had been—killed!"
"I was watching out, I can tell you that," he answered, and then changed the subject, for he did not like to see the girl he admired so distressed.
After the excitement of the bronco riding, the boys were glad enough to take it easy for several days. Belle had a tennis court and a croquet ground, and they played each game for hours at a time. The girls were all good players and won the majority of the games.
"Tennis and croquet are all well enough when you have nice girls to play with," remarked Roger. "But otherwise I fancy I'd find them dead slow."
"He'd play twenty-four hours at a stretch with Laura," was Phil's comment.
"Not to mention how long you'd play with Belle," retorted the senator's son.
"Dave doesn't care to play at all when Jessie is around," went on Phil, slyly.
"Neither of 'em cares to play—if there's a hammock and a chair handy," added Roger.
"I noticed yesterday, when Jessie and I were playing tennis, you fellows were so busy talking to the girls you forgot all about your games," retorted Dave. "And one of you was spouting poetry, about 'eyes divine,' or something like that."
"Not me!" cried Roger.
"Then it must have been Phil!"
"No, it was Roger," protested the shipowner's son. "I saw him writing poetry when he should have been sending a letter home."
"You go on, you manufacturer of bombastic fairy tales!" cried the senator's son, and he commenced to chase Phil around the piazza. The other boy leaped the rail and Roger followed, and then both commenced to wrestle on the grass.
"Mercy me! What's going on?" cried Laura, coming from the sitting-room.
"Greatest exhibition on the globe!" called out Dave, in showman style. "The two marvelous lightweights of the United States, Master Hitem Morr and Lamem Lawrence. They will fight to a finish, without gloves, weather permitting. Walk up, tumble up, or crawl up! Admission ten cents, one dime; young ladies with grandfathers in arms, half-price!"
"Oh, Dave!" cried his sister, and burst out laughing. The noise brought Jessie and Belle to the scene, and seeing what was going on, all of the girls commenced to pelt the boys on the grass with tennis balls. The "attack" lasted for several minutes, and then the girls ran away, and the boys went after them, into the house and out again, and across the yard, and then through the kitchen, much to the astonishment of the Chinese cook. Here Phil scooped up a ladleful of soup.
"Halt, base enemy!" he cried, holding the soup aloft. "One step closer and thou
shalt be——" And then he slipped and the soup slopped over his hand and his shoes. He ran for the yard again, dropped on a bench, in mock exhaustion; and there the others joined him; and the fun, for the time being, came to an end.
"We are going to the railroad station this afternoon with papa," said Belle. "Want to go along?"
"Will a duck drink ice-cream soda!" cried Roger. "Of course we will go along."
"Then you had better get ready now—for we are to start directly after lunch."
"Anything special at the station?" questioned Dave.
"Papa is going to see a man about some horses. He wants to buy a few more good ones, if he can."
"It's a pity we can't find out what became of the others," went on Dave.
It took the girls some time to prepare for the journey to the railroad station, so the start from Star Ranch was not made until after two o'clock. Mr. Endicott rode in advance, and the young folks paired off in couples after him.
When they got to the bridge Dave was much surprised to see a couple of men at work repairing the structure. They were putting down some planking that was bound to last a long while.
"Mr. Merwell must have opened his heart at last," said Dave, to the railroad president.
"Not at all, Dave; I am having this work done," was Mr. Endicott's reply.
"But I thought you said it was up to Mr. Merwell to keep this bridge in repair."
"So it is, but as he won't do anything, rather than have a quarrel, I am repairing it myself."
"Do you think he wants to sell out? Maybe that is his reason for not spending money in repairs."
"He will sell out, but his price is very high—too high to suit the man who wants to buy."
Leaving the vicinity of the bridge, the party continued on the way to the railroad station. The train was not yet in, but it soon arrived and on it came the man Mr. Endicott wished to see. From the train also stepped Hank Snogger. The ranch hand had evidently been to a barber in the city, for he was shaven and his hair was closely trimmed.
"He looks like quite a different person," remarked Belle. "He always wore his hair long and straggly before."
Dave Porter at Star Ranch Page 15
