The Rover Boys on the Plains: or, The Mystery of Red Rock Ranch

"Go on, and do your talking outside," interrupted the hotel proprietor, and then the disgruntled traveling man had to leave, with the angry mob of colored men following him. He was so pestered by the latter that he had to take a train out of town the very next morning.

"That was piling it on pretty thick, Tom," said Dick, after the excitement was over.

"He deserved it, Dick. I made some inquiries around the hotel, and not a single person liked him. He was the torment of all the hired help, and was keeping them in hot water continually."

"Well, if he finds you out, he'll make it warm for you."

"I intend to keep mum," answered the fun-loving Rover, and he did keep mum. It may be added here that he never met Sladen again.

CHAPTER IX

HANS AS A POET

Dick was down in the stable attached to the hotel on the following morning, when a man came in and approached him. He was the same individual who had drawn near when the eldest Rover was talking to the government detective.

"Getting ready to leave, stranger?" he said in a pleasant tone.

"Yes, we are going to start right after breakfast."

"Bound for the Denton plantation, so I hear?"

"Yes. Do you know Mr. Denton?"

"I met him once or twice – when he was in business in Braxbury. A nice man, so I understand."

"Yes, he is a very nice man."

"It might be that you are related to him?"

"No."

"That's a nice hoss you've been riding."

"I find him so," answered Dick shortly. He did not fancy the appearance of the man who was speaking to him.

"Looks something like a horse was here yesterday and the day before," continued the man, following Dick up. "I reckon you remember him?"

Dick did remember, for the horse had been ridden by James Monday.

"By the way, who was your friend?" added the man with assumed carelessness, but eying Dick closely.

"I can't tell you anything about him," was the sharp answer. "Have you a horse here?" continued Dick, to change the subject.

"Certainly. Then you didn't know the man?"

"Oh, I met him once or twice, years ago – when he was in business up in New York." And without waiting to be questioned further, Dick walked out of the stable. The man eyed him as closely as he had the government detective the day previous.

"He isn't much more than a boy, but I'd like to know if he is out here only for pleasure or on business," said the man to himself. "We can't be too careful in our work," and he smiled grimly.

"That fellow wants to know too much," said the eldest Rover in talking it over with his brother Sam. "I must say I don't like his looks at all."

"Nor I, Dick. I'll wager he has some game up his sleeve."

"Perhaps he is the fellow Mr. Monday is watching?"

"That is possible, too. He was certainly very inquisitive."

After a good breakfast, the Rovers and their friends prepared to resume their journey. From the landlord of the hotel they obtained information regarding the roads and trails to follow.

"They ain't none of the best," said the hotel man. "But they are the best we possess, so you'll have to put up with them," and he laughed at his little joke.

They were soon on the way. A good night's rest had put all in the best of humor, and they joked and sang as they rode along.

"Songbird, this ride ought to be full of inspirations for you," remarked Fred.

"I'll wager he is chockful of poetry at this minute," put in Dick.

"Then, for gracious' sake, turn on the spigot before you explode, Songbird," cried Tom. "Don't pen up your brilliant ideas when they want to flow."

"An idea just popped into my head," said the so-styled poet. "Now you have asked me, you have got to stand for it." And in a deep voice he commenced:

"The road is dusty, the road is long,But we can cheer our way with song,And as we ride with gladsome hearts – "

"Each one can wish he had some tarts," finished Tom, and continued:

"Or pies, or cakes, or ice-cream rare —Good things that make a fellow stare!"

"Don't mention ice-cream!" cried Fred. "Oh, but wouldn't it be fine on such a hot day as this?"

"No ice-cream in this poetry," came from Songbird. "Listen!" and he went on:

"The road doth wind by forests deep,Where soft the welcome shadows creep.Down the valley, up the hill,And then beside the rippling rill.The welcome flowers line the way,Throughout the livelong summer day,The birds are flitting to and fro – "

"They love to flit and flit, you know," came from the irrepressible Tom, and he added:

"The bullfrog hops around the marsh,His welcome note is rather harsh.The lone mosquito shows his bill,And, boring deep, secures his fill."

"Hold on, there!" came from Dick. "I draw the line on mosquitoes in poetry. They can do their own singing."

"And stinging," added Fred gayly.

"Mape I vos make some boultry vonce, ain't it?" said Hans calmly.

"That's it, Hans," cried Sam. "Go ahead, by all means." And the German youth started:

"Der sky vos green, der grass vos plue —I sit town to an oyster stew;Der pirds vos singing all der night —You vill get choked of your collar is tight!Oh, see der rooster scratching hay —Ven der pand begins to blay!At night der sun goes town to ped —Und cofers mid clouds his old red head!At night der moon she vinks at me – "

" – for making such bad poetree!" finished Tom, and added with a groan: "Hans, did you really make that all up by yourself?"

"Sure I did," was the proud answer.

"You must have had to eat an awful lot of mince pie to do it," put in Sam.

"Vot has mince bie to do mit boultry?"

"It's got a lot to do with such poetry as that," murmured Songbird in disgust.

"Oh, I know vots der madder. You vos jealous of me, hey?"

"Sure he is jealous, Hans," said Dick. "Songbird couldn't make up such poetry in a hundred years."

"It runs in der family," went on the German boy calmly. "Mine granfadder he vonce wrote a song. Da sung him py a funeral."

"Did it kill anybody?" asked Fred.

"Not much! It vos a brize song. He got a dollar for doing it."

"It must run in the family, like wooden legs among the soldiers," said Tom, and there the fun for the time being came to an end.

The road now ran up a hill, and then they came to a thick patch of timber. Before they left the timber, they rested for their mid-day lunch, camping out, as suited them.

"This is something like," remarked Fred. "I think it first-rate."

"It is very nice to be outdoors when it doesn't rain," answered Dick.

"How nice it would be if we had the girls along," said Sam.

"Oh, ho! Sam is pining for Grace!" cried Tom teasingly.

"Pooh! you needn't to blow," returned the youngest Rover, blushing. "Last night you called out for Nellie in your sleep. You must have been dreaming of her."

"I'll dream you!" burst out Tom, getting as red as Sam had been, and he made a move as if to throw a cup of coffee at his brother.

"Children! children!" said Dick sweetly. "I am – er – amazed."

"He's sorry because you forgot to mention Dora," said the irrepressible Tom. "Now, Dora is just the cutest – "

"Avast, Tom, or you will get it," said Dick. "We haven't got the girls with us, so let us drop the subject."

It was very pleasant in the timber, and they did not leave until thoroughly rested. Near at hand was a small but pure stream, and here they washed up and watered their horses.

While the others were at the stream, Tom wandered off in the direction of the road. Now they saw him coming back full of excitement.

"Whom do you suppose I saw on the road?" he said.

"Give it up," returned Fred.

"Dan Baxter."

"Baxter!" came in a chorus.

"Yes. He was with that fellow who was at the hotel, the chap with the bushy hair," added Tom to Dick. "The man who asked so many questions."

"Were they on horseback?" asked Sam.

"Yes. When Baxter saw me, he looked frightened. I called to him to stop, but he wouldn't do it."

"Where were the pair going?" asked Dick with interest.

"In the same direction we are going."

"Perhaps we can catch up with them," went on Dick. "Anyway, it is worth trying."

A minute later all were in the saddle and on the trail once more.

CHAPTER X

A TWENTY-DOLLAR BILL

"It's odd that Dan Baxter should be out here," observed Sam as they journeyed along. "Can he be following us?"

"It is possible," returned Dick. "You know he would do almost anything to harm us."

"He has got to keep his distance," said Fred. "I shan't put up with any more of his games."

When they came to a turn of the road, they saw Dan Baxter and the bushy-haired man a long distance ahead. The former bully of Putnam Hall was on the lookout for them and at once urged his steed onward at an increased rate of speed.

"He means to get away if he possibly can," cried Songbird. "If we want to catch him, we have got to do our utmost."

On and on they rode, until another turn hid Baxter and his companion from view again.

The bully was frightened, for he did not know what would happen to him if he was caught by the Rovers and their friends in such a lonely spot as this.

The man who was with him, a fellow named Sack Todd, noticed his anxiety, and smiled grimly to himself.

"You're mighty anxious to git away from them fellows," he remarked.

"Well, if I am, what of it?" returned Dan Baxter sharply. So many things had gone wrong lately that he was thoroughly out of humor.

"Oh, I allow you have a perfect right to give 'em the go-by if you want to," answered Sack Todd. "I wouldn't mind helpin' you a bit – maybe. Tell me about 'em, will you?"

"They are fellows I hate, and I've always hated them!" cried the bully fiercely. "We used to go to the same boarding academy, and they did their best to get me into trouble. Then I tried to get square, and that put me in hot water and I had to leave. After that, we had more trouble. They tried to prove I was a criminal."

"I see. Go on."

"It's a long story. I hate 'em, and I'd do almost anything to get square with them."

"Good for you!" cried Sack Todd. "I like a fellow who wants to stand up for himself. But just now you are running away."

"I can't stand up against such a crowd alone. But some day it will be different."

"Let us turn down a side road," said Sack Todd. "That will throw 'em off the scent."

He was a good judge of character, and fancied he could read Baxter's story fairly well. The young man had come down in the world, and he was bitter against everybody and everything.

They passed down a side path and then on to a trail that was all but hidden by the grass and bushes.

"It's a short cut to Cottonton," said the man. "We can reach there in no time by this trail. Very few, though, know of the route."

As they rode along the half-hidden trail, he questioned Dan Baxter more closely than ever, and as a result learned as much as he cared to know. He realized that the former bully was hard up and ready to do almost anything to make some money. What he had possessed, he had spent in gambling and other forms of fast living.

"Perhaps I can put you in the way of making some money," said Sack Todd slowly. "That is, if you are not over particular as to what it is," he added, looking at Baxter sharply.

"I'm not looking for hard work, thank you," was the ready answer. "I am not used to that sort of thing, and couldn't stand it."

"This sort of work would be easy enough. But it would require judgment – and a little nerve at first."

"Well, I think I have fairly good judgment, and, as for nerve – why, try me, that's all."

"Then there is another point to the business. You'd have to drive some pretty sharp bargains."

"I can do that."

"Sometimes the goods are not exactly as represented – "

"I guess I understand, and that wouldn't stop me," and Dan Baxter grinned. "But I'd want pretty good pay."

"I think I can make that suitable – after we know each other better," said Sack Todd.

He continued to draw Baxter out, and hinted at a scheme to make big money. At last, the former bully of Putnam Hall could stand it no longer.

"See here," he cried. "If you mean business, spit out what is in your mind. You can trust me with anything. I am not of the milk-and-water sort. I am out for money, first, last and all the time."

"Then you are a fellow after my own heart," answered the man. "I reckon we can come to terms. But not just yet."

"Well, I've got to have something pretty quick. I am next to dead-broke."

"Perhaps I can help you out a bit."

"I wish you would."

"Here is twenty dollars. I reckon that will prove that I am taking an interest in you." And the bright, crisp bill was handed over.

"Money talks!" cried Dan Baxter. He gazed at the bank note in genuine pleasure. "I am much obliged."

"Here is where I must leave you," went on Sack Todd as they reached a crossing in the trails. "Keep right on, and you'll soon come in sight of Cottonton. Meet me there to-night at the Planters' Rest."

"I will."

"You had better keep out of sight – if those Rovers are on your trail."

"Trust me to lay low," said Baxter with a short laugh.

In another moment the former bully of Putnam Hall found himself alone.

Sack Todd had galloped off at a high rate of speed.

"He is certainly an odd sort," mused Baxter. "But I guess he means to do right by me, or he wouldn't lend me a twenty so readily. He must be used to handling big money, by the roll of bills he carried. I wish I possessed such a roll. There must have been several hundred dollars in it, at least."

He felt to make sure that the bill was safe in his pocket, and then continued on his journey. Several times he looked back, but he could see nothing of the Rover boys or their friends.

Dan Baxter felt particularly downcast and desperate. Since the capture of Lew Flapp, he had been without a companion in whom to confide, and the peculiar loneliness among utter strangers was beginning to tell on him. This was one reason why he had told Sack Todd so much of his story.

Coming to the end of the timber and brush-wood, he saw, lying before him in something of a valley, the town of Cottonton, consisting of several well laid out streets and an outlying district of pretty homes. At a distance was the regular road, but so far his enemies were not in sight.

The ride had made Baxter hungry and, reaching the town, he lost no time in hunting up a modest restaurant on a side street, where, he hoped, the Rovers would not find him.

"What can you give me for dinner?" he asked. "I want something good."

A number of dishes were named over, and he selected roast beef, potatoes, beans, coffee and pie. He was quickly served, and pitched in with a will.

"Riding makes a fellow feel hungry," he explained to the proprietor of the eating house, who hovered near.

"Yes, sah, so it does. Going to stay in town, sah?"

"I don't know yet. I'm just looking around."

"Yes, sah, certainly. If you stay, I'll be pleased to furnish meals regularly, sah."

"I'll remember that."

Having disposed of the meal and also an extra cup of coffee, Dan Baxter called for a cigar and lit it. Then he hauled out the twenty-dollar bill. As he did so, he gave a slight start. He had handled a good deal of money in his time, and the bank bill looked just a bit peculiar to him.

"What if it isn't good?" he asked himself.

"Forty-five cents, please," said the restaurant keeper. His usual price for such a meal was thirty cents, but he thought Baxter could stand the raise.

"Sorry I haven't a smaller bill," answered the bully coolly. "I ought to have asked the bank cashier to give me smaller bills."

"I reckon I can change it, sah," said the restaurant man, thinking only of the extra fifteen cents he was to receive.

"Take out half a dollar and have a cigar on me," continued Baxter magnanimously.

"Yes, sah; thank you, sah!" said the man.

He fumbled around, and in a minute counted out nineteen dollars and a half in change. Pocketing the amount, the bully walked out, mounted his horse once more and rode away.

"Nice chap, to pay forty-five cents and then treat me to a cigar," thought the restaurant keeper. "Wish I had that sort coming in every day."

He lit the cigar and smoked it with a relish, particularly so as it had not cost him anything. He put the twenty-dollar bill away, to use when he should go to a neighboring city to buy some household goods, two days later.

When he went to buy his things, they came to twenty-six dollars, and he passed over the new twenty-dollar bill, and also an old one received some weeks before.

"I'll have to get change at the bank," said the store keeper, and left his place to do so. In a few minutes he came back in a hurry.

"See here," he cried. "They tell me one of these bills is a counterfeit."

"A counterfeit!" gasped the restaurant man.

"So the bank cashier says."

"Which bill?"

"The new one."

"You don't mean it! Why, I took that bill in only a couple of days ago."

"Then you got stuck, Mr. Golden."

"Is he sure it's a counterfeit?"

"Dead certain of it. He says it's rather a clever imitation, and that a number of them are afloat around these parts. Where did you get it?"

"A stranger gave it to me," groaned the restaurant keeper. "I thought he was mighty smooth. He treated me to a cigar! I wish I had him here!"

"You had better watch out for him."

"Sure I will. But I suppose he'll know enough to keep out of my way," added the man who had been victimized.

CHAPTER XI

A MIDNIGHT SCARE

The Rovers reached Cottonton without catching sight of Dan Baxter again, nor did they locate him while stopping at the town.

"He knows enough to keep out of our way," remarked Dick. "Even now he may be watching every move we make."

They did not remain in Cottonton long, and that night found them once more on a trail leading to another patch of timber. All were in excellent spirits, and Hans enlivened the time by singing a song in his broken English in a manner which convulsed them all.

"Hans would make his fortune on the variety stage," remarked Fred.

"His manner is too funny for anything."

"Vot you said apout a stage?" demanded the German youth. "I ton't vos ride on no stage ven I got a goot horse alretty."

"Fred wants you to go on the stage," said Sam,

"He thinks you might play Shakespeare," said Tom.

"Vot kind of a play is dot Shakespeares?"

"It's a farce in 'steen acts and twice as many scenes," said Dick.

"You might play the double-tongued mute."

"I like not such a blay. I like dot blay vere da vos all killed off kvick."

"Good gracious! Hans wants to go in for tragedy!" ejaculated Tom.

"Who would think he was so bloodthirsty. If you keep on like that,

Hansy, dear, I'll be afraid you'll murder us in our sleep."

"I like dem murders. Da vos alvays make dem goose skins mine back town."

At this there was a general roar.

"'Goose skins' is good," came from Fred.

"Vot you laffin' at, hey?" demanded Hans.

"Nothing."

"Dere don't been noddings to laugh at by a murder, not so?"

"That's true, Hansy," said Sam.

"Maybe of you vos killed, you vould sit ub and laugh at him, hey?"

"I shouldn't laugh," said Tom. "I'd keep quiet about it."

"Yah, I know you, Tom Rofer. I bet you sixteen cents I vos a better actor mans as you been," continued Hans, warming up.

"I don't doubt it, Hansy. Some day we'll put you on the stage."

"Of I got on der stage, I make me a hundred dollars a veek, I pet you my head!"

"Maybe you'd make two hundred, Hans," suggested Songbird.

"You all peen jealous of vot I can do. But some day I vos show you, you see!" cried the German youth, and rode on ahead, somewhat out of sorts.

They had resolved to camp out that night in true hunter fashion, and approaching a spot that looked inviting, they came to a halt. The place was some distance from the road and ideal in many respects, being on high ground and with a spring of pure water flowing into a tiny brook but fifty feet away.

As they had no tent, they proceeded to make a shelter of boughs, and covered the flooring with the same material. In the meantime, a campfire was lit, and two of the number set about preparing the supper which had been brought along.

"This is all very well, when one has his stuff with him," observed Fred. "But if we had to go out and shoot game or catch fish, it would be a different story."

"Pooh, as if we haven't done that!" cried Tom. "I shouldn't like anything better than to go out into the woods for a month."

By the time the shelter was in readiness for the night, the supper was cooked, and all sat around the campfire to partake of the meal. A certain part of it had been slightly burnt, but to this nobody paid attention, although it would have been noticed if this had occurred at home or at a hotel. But camping out makes such a difference, doesn't it, boys?

"Supposing some wild animals came along to eat us up?" said Sam when they were finishing their meal.

"Are there any wild animals around here?" questioned Songbird.

"I am sure I don't know. There may be bobcats in the timber."

"Vot is a popcat?" asked Hans.

"It's a kind of a wildcat – very strong and very fierce."

"Of dot peen der case, I ton't vonts to meet Mr. Popcat."

"I don't think any of us want to meet such a beast," said Tom. "Is anybody to stay on guard to-night?"

"Don't ask me – I'm too dead tired," said Dick promptly.

"Nor me!" came from the others.

"Let us go to sleep and venture it," said Sam. "I don't think a thing will come near us."

So it was decided, and as soon as the campfire began to die down, one after another of the boys retired. Songbird was the last to lie down, and soon he was slumbering as peacefully as the rest.

Sam had been sleeping perhaps three hours, when he woke up with a slight start. He sat up and tried to pierce the darkness around him.

"Did anybody call?" he questioned after a pause.

Nobody answered, and he listened attentively. The horses had been tethered in the bushes close to the shelter, and now he heard several of the animals move around uneasily.

"Something must be disturbing them," he told himself. "I'll have to get up and see what it is."

At first, he thought he would arouse some of the others, but all appeared to be sleeping so soundly he hated to do so.

"They won't thank me for waking them up, unless it is worth while," was what he told himself.

He arose and felt his way over the others who lay between himself and the opening of the shelter. Outside, there was no moon, but the stars were shining brightly, and he could make out objects that were not too far off.

As he moved toward the horses, he heard a rustling in the bushes. He strained his eyes and made out a dark form stealing along close to the ground.

"A wild beast!" he muttered. "I wish I had a gun."

He turned back to the shelter and aroused Dick, and then Tom. This awoke all of the others.

"What's the matter?" questioned Dick, as he got out a pistol.

"Some sort of a wild animal is prowling around this place."

"Py chiminy! Vos it von of dem catpobs?" ejaculated Hans, turning pale.

"I don't know what it is."

"Where is it now?" came from Fred.

"I don't know that, either. It was slinking around yonder bushes a minute ago."

"Let us stir up the fire," put in Songbird. "All wild animals hate a big blaze." And he set the example, and Hans helped to heap up the brushwood.

"I ton't vont to become acquainted mit dem catpobs nohow," said the German youth. "He can go avay so kvick like he come."

After the fire was brightened, there came a painful pause. Each boy was on his guard, with eyes straining from their sockets.

"I see something!" cried Fred suddenly.

"Where?" asked the others in a breath.

"There – but it's gone now."

Again they waited, and soon came a rustling on the other side of the camp, followed by the cracking of a bone which had been thrown away during the evening repast.

"There he is!"

"Shoot him!"

"No, don't shoot!" burst out Tom. "I know what it is."

"What?"

"Nothing but a dog."