Ruth Fielding at Silver Ranch; Schoolgirls Among Cowboys

“Sure, Ruthie,” he said, “I’ll advise ye if I can.”

So she told him about Uncle Jabez’s mixup with the Tintacker mining properties. Bill Hicks listened to this tale with a frowning brow.

“Bless your heart, Miss!” he ejaculated. “I believe you’re chasin’ a wild goose. I reckon your uncle’s been stung. These wildcat mining properties are just the kind that greenhorn Easterners get roped into. I don’t believe there’s ten cents’ worth of silver to the ton in all the Tintacker district. It played out years ago.”

“Well, that may be,” returned Ruth, with a sigh. “But I want to see the records and learn just how the Tintacker Mine itself stands on the books. I want to show Uncle Jabez that I honestly tried to do all that I could for him while I was here.”

“That’s all right, Ruthie. You shall see the records,” declared Mr. Hicks. “I know a young lawyer in town that will help you, too; and it sha’n’t cost you a cent. He’s a friend of mine.”

“Oh, thank you,” cried Ruth, and rode along happily by the big cattleman’s side.

They were not far from the house when Bashful Ike, who had been out on the range on some errand, came whooping over the low hills to the North, evidently trying to attract their attention. Mr. Hicks growled:

“Now, what does that feller want? I got a list as long as my arm of things to tote back for the boys. Better have driv’ a mule waggin, I reckon, to haul the truck home on.”

But it was Ruth the foreman wished to speak to. He rode up, very red in the face, and stammering so that Bill Hicks demanded, with scorn:

“What’s a-troubling you, Ike? You sputter like a leaky tea-kettle. Can’t you out with what you’ve got to say to the leetle gal, an’ let us ride on?”

“I – I was just a thinkin’ that mebbe you – you could do a little errand for me, Miss,” stammered Bashful Ike.

“Gladly, Mr. Stedman,” returned Ruth, hiding her own amusement.

“It – it’s sort of a tick-lish job,” said the cowboy. “I – I want ye should buy a leetle present. It’s – it’s for a lady – ”

Bill snorted. “You goin’ to invest your plunder in more dew-dabs for Sally Dickson, Ike? Yah! she wouldn’t look at you cross-eyed.”

Bashful Ike’s face flamed up redder than ever – if that was possible.

“I don’t want her to look at me cross-eyed,” he said. “She couldn’t look cross-eyed. She’s the sweetest and purtiest gal on this range, and don’t you forgit that, Mr. Hicks.”

“Sho, now! don’t git riled at me,” grunted the older man. “No offense intended. But I hate to see you waste your time and money on a gal that don’t give two pins for ye, Ike.”

“I ain’t axin’ her to give two pins for me,” said Ike, with a sort of groan. “I ain’t up to the mark with her – I know that. But thar ain’t no law keepin’ me from spending my money as I please, is there?”

“I dunno,” returned Bill Hicks. “Maybe there’s one that’ll cover the case and send a feller like you to the foolish factory. Sally Dickson won’t have nothing to say to you.”

“Never mind,” said Ike, grimly. “You take this two dollar bill, Miss Ruthie – if you will. And you buy the nicest box o’ candy yo’ kin find in Bullhide. When you come back by Lem Dickson’s, jest drop it there for Sally. Yo’ needn’t say who sent it,” added the bashful cowboy, wistfully. “Jest – jest say one o’ the boys told you to buy it for her. That’s all, Miss. It won’t be too much trouble?”

“Of course it won’t, Mr. Stedman,” declared Ruth, earnestly. “I’ll gladly do your errand.”

“Thank you, Miss,” returned the foreman, and spurring his horse he rode rapidly away to escape further remarks from his boss.

CHAPTER VIII – WHAT WAS ON THE RECORDS

“Now, what can you do with a feller like that?” demanded Mr. Hicks, in disgust. “Poor old Ike has been shinning around Sally Dickson ever since Lem brought her home from school – from Denver. And she’s a nice little gal enough, at that; but she ain’t got no use for Ike and he ought to see it. Gals out here don’t like fellers that ain’t got sperit enough to say their soul’s their own. And Ike’s so bashful he fair hates hisself! You’ve noticed that.”

“But he’s just as kind and good-natured as he can be,” declared Ruth, her pony cantering on beside the ranchman’s bigger mount.

“That don’t help a feller none with a gal like Sally,” grunted Mr. Hicks. “She don’t want a reg’lar gump hanging around her. Makes her the laffin’ stock of the hull range – don’t you see? Ike better git a move on, if he wants her. ’Tain’t goin’ to be no bashful ’ombre that gets Sally Dickson, let me tell ye! Sendin’ her lollipops by messenger – bah! He wants ter ride up and hand that gal a ring – and a good one – if he expects to ever git her into double harness. Now, you hear me!”

“Just the same,” laughed Ruth, “I’m going to buy the nicest box of candy I can find, and she shall know who paid for it, too.”

And she found time to purchase the box of candy while Mr. Hicks was attending to his own private business in Bullhide. The town boasted of several good stores as well as a fine hotel. Ruth went to the railroad station, however, where there was sure to be fresh candies from the East, and she bought the handsomest box she could find. Then she wrote Ike’s name nicely on a card and had it tucked inside the wrapper, and the clerk tied the package up with gilt cord.

“I’ll make that red-haired girl think that Ike knows a few things, after all, if he is less bold than the other boys,” thought Ruth. “He’s been real kind to me and maybe I can help him with Sally. If she knew beans she’d know that Ike was true blue!”

Mr. Hicks came along the street and found her soon after Ruth’s errand was done and took her to the office of the young lawyer he had mentioned. This was Mr. Savage – a brisk, businesslike man, who seemed to know at once just what the girl wished to discover.

“You come right over with me to the county records office and we’ll look up the history of those Tintacker Mines,” he said. “Mr. Hicks knows a good deal about mining properties, and he can check my work as we go along.”

So the three repaired to the county offices and the lawyer turned up the first records of the claims around Tintacker.

“There is only one mine called Tintacker,” he explained. “The adjacent mines are Tintacker claims. The camp that sprang up there and flourished fifteen years ago, was called Tintacker, too. But for more than ten years the kiotes have held the fort over there for the most part – eh, Mr. Hicks?”

“And that crazy feller that’s been around yere for some months,” the ranchman said.

“What crazy fellow is that?” demanded Lawyer Savage, quickly.

“Why, thar’s been a galoot around Tintacker ever since Spring opened. I dunno but he was thar in the winter – ”

“Young man, or old?” interrupted Savage.

“Not much more’n a kid, my boys say.”

“You’ve never seen him?”

“No. But I believe he set the grass afire the other day, and made us a heap of trouble along Larruper Crick,” declared the ranchman.

The lawyer looked thoughtful. “There was a young fellow here twice to look up the Tintacker properties. He came to see me the first time – that was more than a year ago. Said he had been left his father’s share in the old Tintacker Mine and wanted to buy out the heirs of the other partner. I helped him get a statement of the record and the names of the other parties – ”

“Oh, please, Mr. Savage, what was his name?” asked Ruth, quickly.

“I don’t know what his name really was,” replied the lawyer, smiling. “He called himself John Cox – might have been just a name he took for the time being. There wasn’t any Cox ever had an interest in the Tintacker as far as I can find. But he probably had his own reasons for keeping his name to himself. Then he came back in the winter. I saw him on the street here. That’s all I know about him.”

“Tenderfoot?” asked Hicks.

“Yes, and a nice spoken fellow. He made a personal inspection of the properties the first time he was here. That I know, for I found a guide for him, Ben Burgess. He stayed two weeks at the old camp, Ben said, and acted like he knew something about minerals.”

Mr. Savage had found the proper books and he discovered almost at once that there had been an entry made since he had last looked up the records of Tintacker a year or more before.

“That fellow did it!” exclaimed the lawyer. “He must have found those other heirs and he’s got possession of the entire Tintacker Mine holdings. Yes-sir! the records are as straight as a string. And the record was made last winter. That is what he came back here for. Now, young lady, what do you want to know about it all?”

“I want a copy, please, of the record just as it stands – the present ownership of the mine, I mean,” said Ruth. “I want to send that to Uncle Jabez.”

“It is all held now in the name of John Cox. The original owners were two men named Symplex and Burbridge. It is Burbridge’s heirs this fellow seems to have bought up. Now, he told me his father died and left his share of the Tintacker to him. That means that ‘Symplex’ was this young Cox’s father. One, or the other of them didn’t use his right name – eh?” suggested the lawyer.

“But that doesn’t invalidate the title. It’s straight enough now. The Tintacker Mine – whether it is worth ten cents or ten thousand dollars – belongs to somebody known as John Cox – somebody who can produce the deeds. You say your uncle bought into the mine and took personal notes with the mine for security, Miss?”

“That is the way I understand it,” Ruth replied.

“And it looks as though the young man used the money to buy out the other owners. That seems straight enough. Your uncle’s security is all clear as far as the title of the mine goes – ”

“But according to what I know,” broke in Mr. Hicks, “he might as well have a lien on a setting of hen’s eggs as an interest in the Tintacker Mine.”

“That’s about it,” admitted Mr. Savage. “I don’t believe the mine is worth the money it cost the young fellow to have these records made.”

“Well,” said Ruth, with a sigh; “I’ll pay you for making the copy, just the same; and I’ll send it home to uncle. And, if you don’t mind, Mr. Savage, I’ll send him your name and address, too. Perhaps he may want you to make some move in the matter of the Tintacker property.”

This was agreed upon, and the lawyer promised to have the papers ready to send East in two or three days. Then Mr. Hicks took Ruth to the hotel to dinner, and they started for the ranch again soon after that meal.

When they came in sight of the Crossing, Ruth saw that the little red painted schoolhouse was open. All the windows were flung wide and the door was ajar; and she could see Sally Dickson’s brilliant hair, as well as other heads, flitting back and forth past the windows.

“Hi Jefers!” ejaculated Bill Hicks. “I reckon thar’s goin’ to be a dance at the schoolhouse Saturday night. I nigh forgot it. We’ll all hafter go over so that you folks from Down East kin see what a re’l Montany jamboree is like. The gals is fixin’ up for it now, I reckon.”

“I want to see Sally,” said Ruth, smiling.

“Huh!” grunted Bill, with a glance at the big box of candy the Eastern girl held so carefully before her. “You kin see her all right. That red head of hers shines like a beacon in the night. And I’ll speak to Lem.”

Ruth rode her pony close to one of the open windows of the little schoolhouse. She could see that the benches and desks had been all moved out – probably stacked in a lean-to at the end of the house. The floor had been swept and mopped up and the girls were helping Sally trim the walls and certain pictures which hung thereon with festoons of colored paper. One girl was polishing the lamp chimneys, and another was filling and trimming the lamps themselves.

“Oh, hullo!” said the storekeeper’s daughter, seeing Ruth at the window, and leaving her work to come across the room. “You’re one of those young ladies stopping at Silver Ranch, aren’t you?”

“No,” said Ruth, smiling. “I’m one of the girls visiting Jane Ann. I hope you are going to invite us to your party here. We shall enjoy coming, I am sure.”

“Guess you won’t think much of our ball,” returned Sally Dickson. “We’re plain folk. Don’t do things like they do East.”

“How do you know what sort of parties we have at home?” queried Ruth, laughing at her. “We’re not city girls. We live in the country and get our fun where we can find it, too. And perhaps we can help you have a good time – if you’ll let us.”

“Well, I don’t know,” began Sally, yet beginning to smile, too; nobody could be grouchy and stare into Ruth Fielding’s happy face for long.

“What do you do for music?”

“Well, one of the boys at Chatford’s got a banjo and old Jim Casey plays the accordion – when he’s sober. But the last time the music failed us, and one of the boys tried to whistle the dances; but one feller that was mad with him kept showing him a lemon and it made his mouth twist up so that he couldn’t keep his lips puckered nohow.”

Ruth giggled at that, but said at once:

“One of my friends plays the piano real nicely; but of course it would be too much trouble to bring Jane Ann’s piano away over here. However, my chum, Helen, plays the violin. She will bring it and help out on the music, I know. And we’d all be glad of an invitation.”

“Why, sure! you come over,” cried Sally, warming up to Ruth’s advances. “I suppose a bunch of the Silver outfit boys will be on hand. Some of ’em are real nice boys – ”

“And that reminds me,” said Ruth, advancing the package of candy. “One of the gentlemen working for Mr. Hicks asked me to hand you this, Miss Dickson. He was very particular that you should get it safely.” She put the candy into the red-haired girl’s hands. “And we certainly will be over – all of us – Saturday evening.”

Before Sally could refuse Ike’s present, or comment upon it at all, Ruth rode away from the schoolhouse.

CHAPTER IX – THE FOX IS RECKLESS

When Ruth arrived at Silver Ranch that afternoon she found that the ranchman’s niece and the other girls had planned an outing for the following day into the hills West of the range over which Mr. Hicks’ cattle fed. It was to be a picnic jaunt, the object being mainly to view the wonderful “natural bridge” in a small cañon, some thirty miles from the ranch.

A sixty-mile drive within twenty-four hours seemed a big undertaking in the minds of the Eastern young folk; but Jane Ann said that the ponies and mules could stand it. It was probable, however, that none of the visitors could stand the ride in the saddle, so arrangements had been made for both buckboards to be used.

Tom and Bob were each to drive one of the vehicles. Jib Pottoway was to go as guide and general mentor of the party, and one of the little Mexican boys would drive the supply wagon, to which were hitched two trotting mules. The start would be made at three in the morning; therefore the ranch-house was quiet soon after dark that evening.

Maria had breakfast ready for them as soon as the girls and Bob and Tom appeared; and the wagon was laden with provisions, as well as a light tent and blankets. Tom and Bob had both brought their guns with them, for there might be a chance to use the weapons on this jaunt.

“There are plenty of kiotes in the hills,” said Jane Ann. “And sometimes a gray wolf. The boys once in a while see cats about – in calving time, you know. But I reckon they’re mighty scarce.”

“Cats?” cried Heavy. “Do you shoot cats?”

“Pumas,” explained Jane Ann. “They’re some nasty when they’re re’l hungry.”

“Oh, I don’t want to see any more of the wildcat tribe,” Ruth cried. “I had my fill of them last winter at Snow Camp.”

Tom of course was to drive the buckboard in which his twin and Ruth rode; but the chums certainly would not have chosen Mary Cox for the fourth member of the party. However, The Fox usually knew what she wanted herself, and got it, too! She liked Master Tom and wished to ride beside him; and the instant she learned which pair of ponies he was to drive, she hopped into the front seat of that buckboard.

“I’m going to sit with you, Tom,” she said, coolly. “I believe you’ve got the best ponies. And you can drive better than Bob, too.”

Tom didn’t look overjoyed, and Helen, seeing the expression of her twin’s face, began to giggle. There was, however, no polite way of getting rid of The Fox.

In a few minutes they were off, Jib Pottoway heading the procession, and Ricardo, the Mexican, bringing up the rear with the mule cart.

“You keep a sharp eye on them younguns, Jib!” bawled Bill Hicks, coming to the door of the ranch-house in his stocking feet and with his hair touseled from his early morning souse in the trough behind the house. “I’ll hold you responsible if anything busts – now mind ye!”

“All right, Boss,” returned the Indian stolidly. “I reckon nothin’ won’t bite ’em.”

Driving off thirty miles into the wilderness was nothing in the opinion of these Westerners; but to the girls from Briarwood Hall, and their brothers, the trip promised all kinds of excitement. And they enjoyed every mile of the journey through the foothills. There was something new and strange (to the Easterners) to see almost every mile, and Jane Ann, or Jib, was right there to answer questions and explain the wonders.

At first they saw miles upon miles of range, over which fed the Silver Ranch herds. Heretofore Ruth and her friends had not realized the size of the ranch itself and what it meant to own fifty thousand cattle.

“Why!” exclaimed Heavy, with some awe. “Your uncle, Nita, is richer than Job – and the Bible says he was the greatest of all the men of the East! He only owned seven thousand sheep and three thousand camels and a thousand oxen and five hundred she-asses. Why, I believe there are more creatures in that one herd yonder than poor old Job owned.”

“I guess that was a pretty good herd for ’way down there in Arabia, and so long ago,” returned Jane Ann. “But cattlemen have learned a lot since those times. I expect Uncle Bill has got more ponies than Job had mules.”

“And the men who looked after Job’s cattle were a whole lot different from those fellows,” cried Helen, from the forward buckboard, pointing to a couple of well-mounted punchers spurring after a score of strays that had broken away from the main herd. “Dear me, how recklessly they ride!”

“But I guess that all cowboys have been reckless and brave,” said Ruth, quickly. “Somehow, herding cattle on the open plains and hills seems to make for rugged character and courage. Think of King David, and lots of those Biblical characters. David was a cowboy, and went out and slew Goliath. And I expect any of these punchers we see around here wouldn’t be afraid of a giant,” she concluded.

“Huh!” snapped The Fox, who usually found something sharp to say in comment upon Ruth’s speeches, “I guess these cowboys aren’t any better than the usual run of men. I think they’re rather coarse and ugly. Look at this half Indian ahead of us.”

“What do you mean —him?” exclaimed Tom Cameron, who was pretty well disgusted with The Fox and her sly and sneering ways. “Why, he’s got a better education than most of the men you meet. He stood high at Carlisle, in his books as well as athletics. You wouldn’t scoff at any other college-bred fellow – why at Jib?”

“Indian,” said Mary Cox, with her nose in the air.

“His folks owned the country-the whole continent!” cried the excited Tom, “until white men drove them out. You’d consider an Englishman, or a German, or a Belgian, with his education, the equal of any American. And Jib’s a true American at that.”

“Well, I can’t say that I ever could admire a savage,” sniffed The Fox, tossing her head.

For the most part, however, the girls and their drivers had a very jolly time, and naturally there could not be much “bickering” even in the leading buckboard where The Fox rode, for Ruth was there, and Ruth was not one of the bickering kind. Helen was inclined to think that her chum was altogether too “tame”; she would not “stand up for herself” enough, and when The Fox said cutting things Ruth usually ignored her schoolfellow’s ill-nature.

Tom was not entirely happy with The Fox on the seat beside him. He had hoped Ruth would occupy that place. When Mary spoke to him perhaps the young fellow was a bit cold. At least, before they came to the cañon, through which flowed Rolling River, Master Tom had somehow managed to offend The Fox and her eyes snapped and she held her lips grimly shut.

The trail became narrow here and it rose steeply, too. The roaring river tumbled over the rocks on the left hand, while on the right the sheer cliff rose higher and higher. And while the ponies climbed the rather steep ascent Jib Pottoway spurred his horse ahead to see if the path was all clear to the place where the cañon became a veritable tunnel under the “natural bridge.”

“Go slow, Tom Cameron!” shouted the ranchman’s niece from the second carriage. “There are bad places when we get to the upper level – very narrow places. And the river is a hundred feet below us there.”

“She’s trying to scare us,” snapped The Fox. “I never saw such people!”

“I guess it will be best to take care,” grunted Tom. “She’s been here before, remember.”

“Pah! you’re afraid!”

“Perhaps I am,” returned Tom. “I’m not going to take any chances with these half wild ponies – and you girls in the wagon.”

In a minute more they were at the top of the rise. Jib had disappeared around a distant turn in the path, which here was straight and level for fully a mile. The muffled roar of the river came up to them, and the abrupt cliff on the right cast its shadow clear across the cañon. It was a rugged and gloomy place and Helen hid her eyes after glancing once down the steep descent to the river.

“Oh! drive on, Tommy!” she cried. “I don’t want to look down there again. What a fearful drop it is! Hold the ponies tight, Tommy.”

“Pshaw, you are making a great adieu about nothing,” snapped Mary Cox.

“I’ll have a care, Nell; don’t you fear,” assured her brother.

Ruth was as serious as her chum, and as she had a quick eye she noticed a strap hanging from the harness of one of the ponies and called Tom’s attention to it.

“There’s a strap unbuckled, Tom,” she cried. “Do you see it hanging?”

“Good for you, Ruthie!” cried the boy, leaning out of his seat to glimpse the strap. “Here, Mary! hold these reins, please.”

He put the reins into the hands of The Fox and hopped out. She laughed and slapped them across the ponies’ backs and the beasts reared and snorted.

“Have a care what you’re doing, Mary Cox!” shrieked Helen.

“Whoa!” cried her brother, and leaped to seize the nearest pony by the bit. But the half wild animals jerked away from him, dashing across the narrow trail.

“Pull up! pull up!” shouted Tom.

“Don’t let them run!” cried Jane Ann Hicks, standing up in the carriage behind.

But in that single moment of recklessness the ponies became unmanageable – at least, unmanageable for The Fox. She pulled the left rein to bring them back into the trail, and off the creatures dashed, at headlong speed, along the narrow way. On the right was the unscalable wall of rock; on the left was the awful drop to the roaring river!

CHAPTER X – RUTH SHOWS HER METTLE

Shouting after the runaway, and shrieking advice to The Fox, who still clung to the reins, was of no particular use, and Tom Cameron realized that as well as did Jane Ann. The boy from the East picked himself up and leaped upon the rear of the second buckboard as it passed him, and they tore on after the frightened ponies.

Mary Cox could not hold them. She was not a good horsewoman, in any case; and a moment after the ponies broke loose, she was just as frightened as ever she could be.

She did not drop the lines; that was because she did not think to do so. She was frozen with terror. The ponies plunged along the narrow trail, weaving the buckboard from side to side, and Mary was helpless to stop them. On the rear seat Helen and Ruth clung together in the first shock of fear; the threatening catastrophe, too, appalled them.

But only for the first few seconds was Ruth inactive. Behind the jouncing vehicle Tom was shouting to them to “pull ’em down!” Ruth wrenched herself free from her chum’s grasp and leaned forward over the seat-back.