Boy Scouts on the Open Plains; The Round-Up Not Ordered

“The herds are all out on the range, unfortunately, and it is too late now to get them in,” the lady went on to say, dejectedly. “Oh! how unfortunate that you did not arrive a few hours ago, when my husband would have been here to take charge of things, for we have no foreman, you know.”

“It may not be too late, even now, to get the herds rounded up and brought in to the corral where the boys can guard them,” Ned told her.

She looked at him admiringly, doubtless impressed, as many others had been before then, with his manly bearing and the resolute look on his face.

“I really believe that if any one could manage it, you could, my son!” she said, with a simplicity and ardor that caused the warm glow to spread over Ned’s face.

“With what assistance you might give us, Mrs. Haines, we believe we can save the cattle from this threatened raid,” he continued, calmly. “And first of all it is of the utmost importance that we learn just who these other four punchers may be who are hand in glove with Ally Sloper – the man who has sent the pigeon messenger.”

“Oh! so he is the one?” she cried, “and I never could bear the sight of his face, because of the cast in that evil eye of his. But Job always laughed at me, and said Ally Sloper was one of the best men he had on the place. What do you want me to do, for you said I could help you win out?”

“First of all, in the absence of your husband and Harry’s other uncle,” began the scout master, just for all the world, Jimmy thought, like a great general, such as Napoleon or Grant, laying out his campaign, “it seems as if the men would take orders from you. Am I right there?

“Yes, it has happened a few times, but I would not have known a thing about what to do, only for Chunky’s advice,” she told him.

“Oh! you can rely on Chunky then, can you?” asked Ned, quickly, for that was one of the points he wanted settled, because a great deal depended on it.

“Always. My husband would trust him with his life. If ever we do have a foreman at the Double Cross, Chunky will be the one.”

“I’m glad to hear that, because I rode in behind him, and somehow I fancied he would be the one to confide in. Please send out for him as soon as you can, ma’m, because we have little time to waste. I hope to learn from Chunky just who the other four traitors are, for he will have noticed how this Ally Sloper picks out his friends. Birds of a feather flock together, you know; and these fellows would feel safer if they kept in constant touch with each other.”

The other scouts approved of what Ned was doing, as their manner of nodding at different times indicated. They knew that their leader was equal to running things, even though he might not know so much about the working of a cattle ranch. And in times gone by they had seen him pitted against what seemed to be overwhelming odds, to win out in the end; so that they had unbounded confidence in whatever he started to do.

The rancher’s wife left them for a minute, and presently came back to say that she had sent out the Chink cook, Chin-chin Charlie, to find Chunky, and tell him to come right to the house on important business.

“We’ll get this working pretty soon, I think,” Jack declared, with animation.

“And they’ll just have to hunt up some broncs for the lot of us to straddle, too,” added Harry.

“Tell me about that,” chuckled Jimmy. “How glad I’ll be to mount a fiery charger and dig me heels into his flanks, after all this terrible walkin’ the lot of us have been doin’ lately. I do be wishin’ Chunky’d hurry. If he’s gone off now, and couldn’t be found at the bunkhouse, we’ll be in a nice pickle, sure.”

“Don’t worry, because I think he’s coming,” Ned told him.

Just as he said, this lanky puncher came up on the verandah of the ranch. He was quickly put in possession of the facts, and expressed himself in forcible terms concerning the alleged treachery of Ally Sloper and his four allies.

“I c’n put a hand on the hull blooming lot,” he declared, “because it happens as how that same Ally has been keepin’ company with jest four punchers. They are Lefty Louie, Coyote Smith, Bob Caruso that the boys calls Robinson Crusoe, and Tinplate George – all clever punchers, but mighty slick articles at that. If Miss Haines sez as how we take our orders from you, Ned, just give the word, and you’ll see them warts arounded up like grease.”

“Oh! well, we ought to go to extremes only as a last resort, I think,” said Mrs Haines, who dreaded lest there be some shooting in making the arrest, and that some of the boys who were her favorites would get hurt. “Ned has a plan that might answer the same purpose. Tell him about it, Ned, please.”

So the scout master unfolded his scheme.

“How many herds are there on the range just now, Chunky?” he asked.

“Four, all told, with a smattering of others that don’t ’mount to much.”

“Suppose, then, you make me out a list of the punchers, so that there will be one of these suspects with every bunch, not counting Ally Sloper,” Ned continued.

“Hello! I’m beginnin’ to tumble to the game and, let me say, it fills the bill first-class,” was the quick comment of the lanky one.

He gave the names to Ned as rapidly as the other could write them down; and it was speedily arranged, so that of the four parties one of the conspirators had been designated to accompany each. As for Ally himself, it did not matter much what he did, though they must keep him under surveillance, lest he upset all their cleverly laid plans by cutting the corral or, in some other fashion, rendering it impossible to keep all the hundreds of longhorns near the ranch house, where they could be guarded.

All this was fixed up in a very short space of time and then Ned declared they ought to get busy. The sun was sinking toward the western horizon; but they knew there was going to be no period of darkness, because the moon was full, which meant that it would rise exactly at sunset.

“We can eat after we’ve got those herds rounded up and safe in the corral, not before,” was Ned’s ultimatum, when Mrs. Haines spoke about supper; and this caused one long face to make itself seen among the scouts, for Jimmy dearly loved his feed.

CHAPTER XII.

NIPPING A MUTINY

Once Chunky knew what was expected of him, and he proved that he could do things with a hurricane rush. Most cow-punchers are of his stripe, and speed is a mania on the range.

“First thing I’ll run out some ponies for you young fellers to mount,” he told the scouts, as he turned to leave the verandah where the short talk had taken place.

“Me for a piebald mustang!” called out Jimmy, “I’ve somehow had that in my mind ever since I set eyes on that speckled pony belongin’ to Amos. Fix me up that way, if you want to see me happy, Mister Chunky.”

And greatly to Jimmy’s delight, he was later on given just such a mount as he called for; though as for Ned, he did not wholly fancy the peculiar whitish eyes that were a feature of the fancy looking beast. He imagined that the animal had an ugly temper, if crossed, and hoped that Jimmy might not rue the day he yearned for a mottled cow pony.

Meanwhile the big bell had been clanged that would serve as a signal to tell all on the place that their presence was immediately desired. They came trooping out of the bunk house and from the direction of the corral, where it chanced they had been busily engaged at the time.

Curiosity could be seen stamped on most of their bronzed faces. Ned looked for the man called Ally Sloper, and who had been described to him so cleverly that he fancied he could pick him out among the throng.

Even if he had not been advised beforehand, he knew he could have settled upon the man; because, while nearly all the others seemed jolly and carefree, his face bore a dark frown.

Ned believed the man suspected something; that he feared this hasty and unusual summons might interfere with the cunning scheme engineered for that night. And while not appearing to watch the puncher at all, Ned could easily see that he made frequent signals, when he thought himself unobserved, to several others, whom Ned also marked down as the secret allies of the rustler’s spy.

These things, while seemingly unimportant, were really of considerable consequence, because much depended on their keeping the traitors from communicating with their friends in the hills.

“Is that Sloper with the hat on the back of his head?” he asked Chunky, in a low tone, as the men were coming up.

“Yes, and the one with him is Lefty Louie; that sneak trailin’ along at his heels is Coyote Smith. Bob Caruso is the feller larfin’ right now, and which makes him look like he could swallow a heifer easy; and Tinplate George is at the end of the bunch, limpin’ some, ’count of a fling he got yesterday with a buckin’ broncho. Got ’em all sized up now, have ye, Ned?”

“Yes, and tell Mrs. Haines to start the circus right away, Chunky,” was the reply.

The rancher’s wife had been nervously waiting for a sign. She now stepped forward and held up her hand, so that all noise ceased, and the men listened eagerly, for their curiosity had been greatly excited.

“During the absence of Colonel Haines and Mr. Henshaw, you are to take your orders from this young man here, Ned Nestor, and through Chunky, who will act as temporary foreman. An emergency has arisen, making it very necessary that all our herds be rounded up immediately and driven into the big corral, where they can be guarded to-night. Ask no questions, but do your duty as employees of this ranch. That is all I wish to say, and I feel sure that every one of you will understand that I am in consultation with those I have put in charge and that it is my wishes they are carrying out.”

The punchers stared at each other. They could, of course, give a pretty good guess what this must mean, for the only real danger that could be feared at this time of year would be from rustlers.

As a rule, they were a jolly lot of carefree fellows, willing to work double one day and loaf the next, as the occasion arose; it was all in the line of business with them.

Ned had been watching Ally Sloper out of the tail of his eye. He saw the man scowl like a pirate of the Spanish Main. Of course, this was going to interfere seriously with all the well-laid plans between the spies and their rustler allies. They may have waited a long time for this very chance, when both proprietors of the ranch would be away at the same time; and, now that it had come, to be balked in their designs was enough to throw such a tempestuous man into a fury.

“He’s going to make trouble right away, Ned,” whispered Jack in the ear of the scout master.

“Let him try it, and see what he runs up against, that’s all,” Ned replied, as he watched Ally Sloper pushing his way to the front.

Somehow the other four did not follow him. They were wise enough to realize that such a move might expose them to suspicion. If Sloper chose to protest against being sent out on the range at this late hour of the day, that was his privilege; but there was no necessity for them to show their hand so early in the game. They knew what the anger of cow-punchers was like and had a healthy respect for it.

Before the advancing man could get near enough to say anything, Chunky began to speak as though he did not notice this aggressive movement.

“I’ll head one party, and with me will go Arizona Tom, Dutchy, Ally Sloper and two of the visitors at the ranch. Skinny will take another party to bring in the herd from the alfalfa prairie,” and so he went on apportioning the men, placing one he could positively trust at the head of each detachment, and making sure that each squad held a “suspect.”

It had all been well laid out, and in the strongest bunch, consisting of seven riders, two of the unfaithful lot had been included. Each party had been given a particular herd to manage, so that the work could be carried out in systematic order.

Of course, Chunky intended to give the several leaders a quiet tip before they started out, so that they could keep an eye on the suspects and thwart any move that looked as though they meant to slip away, or send warning to their friends in the hills.

Sloper had stood and listened to what Chunky said. Evidently it confirmed what suspicions he may have already had concerning the breaking up of their plot. And he would have been a stupid man not to have connected the coming of the scouts with this sudden move, looking to a round-up that had not been ordered by the proprietors of the big ranch.

Some of the men had started to hurry away; others stood there in a half-hesitating way, as though they had noticed the belligerent attitude of Ally Sloper and wished to see what he meant to do. He may have given trouble on other past occasions and was only kept on account of his acknowledged skill as a puncher.

“Hold on there, Chunky, I want to say as I aint agoin’ out on the range with ye this time. I reckons as how I’ve done a good hard day’s work a’ready. ’Sides that, take it from me straight that I don’t mean to look to a kid like this here newcomer for my boss. I’m alayin’ down on the job for onct, see?”

“No, I don’t see, Sloper,” returned the emaciated puncher, facing the other, a gleam in his eyes that was not nice to watch. “Are you sick?”

“What, me? Did ye ever know me to be sick? No, ’taint that. I jest don’t keer to work any more to-day. I’m agoin’ to the bunk house an’ lie down to smoke.”

“You’re goin’ out on the range with me, Sloper, hear that?” gritted Chunky, as he faced the other defiantly. “You heard the rancher’s wife give her orders; and, also, the fact that she says as how we are all to look to this young chap as her representative; likewise that I’m to advise him, seein’ as how he ain’t well up in range ways. I’ve selected you to be in my party. I want you for a good many reasons, one o’ which are that you ain’t got anything on me when it comes to roundin’ up longhorns. So make up your mind you’re agoin’ out and help git that prize herd in from the Washout Coulie.”

“I don’t take my orders from any snip like that, I tell you, and I ain’t agoin’ to stand for you bein’ foreman here, Chunky, understand that!” the mutineer rasped, while four other punchers moved a little closer and waited to see how their ally came through, before they tried to copy his tactics; if he succeeded, they could follow suit; whereas, should he make a failure, they were at liberty to draw back and hold their horses for a more convenient season.

“Oh! is that so, Sloper?” remarked the tall puncher, quickly, “an’ tell me how you expect to keep from goin’ out on the range with my party?”

“I throw up my job right here, see?” almost shouted Sloper. “You get what I says, don’t you? You can’t order me around, when I’m a free agent. And I ain’t workin’ for the Double Cross people any more. I’m done.”

“Oh! yes, you are,” sneered Chunky. “We’ll just look into that, Sloper. I reckons as how Colonel Job fixed things so he could count on your services a certain time. You’re under contract here. Mrs. Haines, kin you tell me how much longer Sloper’s agreement to work for the owners of the Double Cross Ranch, or whoever they chose to app’nt foreman here, has to run?”

“Just two months more,” replied the colonel’s wife, who kept the books of the ranch and, therefore, knew all about the dealings with all the hands.

“That settles it then, Sloper,” said Chunky. “We need your services right bad to git them cattle into the stockade. And let me tell you right here, you’re agoin’ out on the range with us now and work alongside the rest of the boys, or somethin’ is likely to happen right suddent.”

He carelessly let his hand slip around to the butt of his gun while saying this. Jimmy and, perhaps Harry, anticipated seeing some fireworks, because they thought Sloper was a gunfighter; but Ned could read character better and he had already decided that the man had a craven soul back of all his bluster. So he was not at all surprised to see him quail before the steady gaze of Chunky.

“This is a raw deal you’re givin’ me, Chunky!” he muttered.

“I’m doin’ jest what Colonel Job’d do if he was on the spot, and one of his contract men tried to lay down on him,” retorted the other positively. “After he gits back, if you care to take it up with him, ye kin do it. But while I’m runnin’ things, alongside o’ this younker here, you’ll do your part, or I’ll know the reason why. Now, boys, git your ponies and we’ll be off. Thar’s a heap o’ hard work to do afore we kin take things easy.”

He managed matters so that he could say a few words to Skinny and the other two dependable punchers who had been placed in charge of the third and fourth parties.

They were told to keep a watchful eye on the suspected ones, though there was no time to explain just why. But, after all, there could be but one reason for giving this warning, and Skinny, as well as the other leaders, were able to figure it out. They had already guessed that news had come concerning a contemplated foray on the part of rustlers and that these men were suspected of being hand in glove with the lawless night runners of cattle.

There was presently a bustling scene as the punchers saddled their ponies and prepared for hard work out on the range.

Chunky managed to keep close to Ally Sloper all of the time and the man, seeing this, did not dare venture anything like flight, lest he be followed by a shower of bullets.

Orders were given for ponies for the four scouts and it was not long before they found themselves mounted on frisky bronchos, which it took all their skill to manage. But fortunately all of them had done considerable riding in times past, so that they did themselves credit. And doubtless the punchers had picked animals that, according to their way of thinking, were exceedingly docile, though quite lively enough to suit Ned and his chums.

There was Jimmy grinning from the back of a beautifully spotted animal, and apparently as happy as any one could be. He had found a way to sling his gun, so as to have both hands free to manage the mount; and, truth to tell, there were times when Jimmy was apt to wish he had a third hand in the bargain, for the calico pony proved to be the most unruly one of the quartette.

All this was done in a comparatively short time, because each puncher looked out for himself. Harry and Jack were to accompany Skinny’s bunch, while Jimmy and Ned meant to be with Chunky. This arrangement satisfied the scout master, who felt that if there was anything going on it was apt to be in connection with that detachment which had Ally Sloper on its roll call. And, as usual, Ned wanted to be on the firing line when things were happening.

Owing to various causes Chunky’s bunch was the last to get away. In three separate directions could be seen little clouds of alkali dust in which the reckless riders had vanished, heading for the feeding grounds of the herds, to which they had been assigned.

As these lay some miles away, and the task of rounding up the cattle, as well as driving them on the return trip, would consume considerable time, it was not expected that the first of the herds would reach the stockade until the moon was several hours high.

When Ned and Jimmy galloped forth, keeping close to the other four riders, they turned in the saddle to wave to the stockman’s wife, who stood on the piazza, to see the last of them off, with the Chinese cook close by, and also a couple of women, who were also employed in the house.

The scout master believed he had reason to feel satisfied, because he had been allowed to balk the treacherous designs of those who would have sacrificed the property of their employer by sending word to the cattle rustlers. But as his eye wandered over to where the sullen Ally Sloper sat his saddle, Ned knew that this was hardly the end. A man of his double nature was not apt to throw up his hands and acknowledge himself beaten, just because he had been knocked down in the first round.

“He’ll bear close watching,” was Ned’s mental comment, “and even then chances are he may find a way to slip us, when the excitement of rounding-up the steers and the cows is on. But once we get the herd started home, I don’t believe he’d be able to do us any great harm, if he did skip out. Still, Chunky is dealing with the hound and I mustn’t interfere.”

CHAPTER XIII.

AT WASHOUT COULIE

“Is it very far we have to go for our herd, Ned?” asked Jimmy, as he galloped along briskly at the side of his chum, managing the calico pony pretty fairly for one who had never been used to range riding and knew very little about the tricks of cow ponies.

“Yes, I believe further than any others of the lot,” Ned told him.

“I heard some mention of a Washout Coulie; is that where we’re headin’ right now; and why d’ye reckon they give it such a funny name?” Jimmy continued.

“We’re making for a place of that name, I understood Chunky to say,” the accommodating scout master replied, “and he spoke as though their best herd might be using that section for a feeding ground just now; but why they call it Washout Coulie, I’m unable to say.”

“A coulie is always connected with some sort of hill, isn’t it, Ned?”

“Strikes me that way, Jimmy, and, as you know there are hills over this way, for we could see them when we came from the west and struck the ranch. It might be the name came from a washout that happened some time ago. They don’t get much rain in this region, but once in a long time there’s a regular cloudburst and a flood.”

Jimmy might have tried to keep the conversation going, for there were a number of things he wanted to ask the scout master; but it happened that the obstreperous calico pony developed a streak of ugliness just about that time and, consequently, Jimmy had all he could do to manage the beast so as to keep his seat in the cowboy saddle.

The sun had set shortly after they started away from the ranch, and the sky took on the brightest red colors that could be imagined. But neither of the boys felt in a humor to admire the view. They had business on their hands of a nature to engross their every thought – Jimmy, with the control of his vicious mottle mount; and Ned, in calculating what the ill-natured suspect might attempt, in order to outwit those who were pitted against him.

Night settles down promptly after sunset in this far southern country, there being very little gloaming, such as people living in more northern latitudes are accustomed to. But as the moon was due to peep above the eastern horizon in short time this was not apt to give them any trouble.

Besides, Chunky and his riders knew every rod of the plain and could easily avoid such places, where the prairie dogs had their underground homes and which have been the means of breaking the legs of many valuable horses.

Ned had already noticed how careful Chunky was to keep in a certain position on the gallop. Here he could watch Sloper and at the same time be ready to draw quickly upon him should the suspect attempt any crooked business.

“He doesn’t trust the man any further than he can see him,” Ned was telling himself, as he noticed this game that was being played between the two men; and, at the same time, he meant to try and keep his own eye on the slippery customer, in so far as the conditions would allow.

The evening star shone in the western sky and they were making in a straight line away from it, Ned noticed. This told him what the course was. While Jimmy was apparently paying not the least attention to such things, content to trust himself in the hands of the puncher guide, Ned believed in knowing for himself. There might arise an occasion where he would be thrown on his own resources; and, in such an event, it would be a valuable asset to know just which way to head, in order to fetch up at the ranch house.

That was scout tactics and scout practice – being prepared against possible need.

And now over the low rim in the far east, where the squatty hills lay against the sky line, a yellow glow began to appear. It was the moon rising to fulfill a night’s vigil as sentinel while men slept.

Ned greeted it as an old friend, and Jimmy, too, expressed his satisfaction over seeing it come upon the scene, for Jimmy and darkness never did agree, and that was one reason he always wanted to keep the fire burning through the night while in camp, during the period when there was no moon.