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Pony Rider Boys in Texas, The

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<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> <h3>CHUNKY ROPES A COWBOY</h3> "Wow! Help! Help!" The herd had been moving on for several hours, grazing comfortably along the trail, when the sudden yell startled the entire outfit. The cowboys reined in their ponies and grasped their quirts firmly, fully expecting that another stampede was before them. Instead, they saw Stacy Brown riding away from the herd, urging his pony to its best speed. Right behind him, with lowered head and elevated tail was a white muley, evidently chasing the lad. What the boy had done to thus enrage the animal no one seemed to know. However, it was as pretty a race as they had seen thus far on the drive. "Point him back! He can't hurt you!" shouted the foreman. Instead of obeying the command, Stacy brought down his quirt on the pony, causing the little animal to leap away across the plain in a straight line. The cowboys were shouting with laughter at the funny spectacle. "Somebody get after that steer!" roared the foreman. "The boy never will stop as long as the critter keeps following him, and we'll have the herd following them before we know it." "I'll go, if you wish," said Tad Butler. "Then go ahead. Got your rope?" "Yes." "It'll be good practice for you." Tad was off like a shot, leaving a cloud of dust behind him. "That boy's got the making of a great cowpuncher in him," said the foreman, nodding his head approvingly. Tad's pony was the swifter of the two, and besides, he was riding on an oblique line toward the runaway outfit. It was the first opportunity the lad had had to show off his skill as a cowman, for none had seen his pointing of the herd on the night of the stampede. He was burning with impatience to get within roping distance of the steer before they got so far away that the cowmen would be unable to see the performance. "Pull up and turn him, Chunky," called Tad. "I can't." "Why not? Turn in a half circle, then I shall be able to catch up with you sooner." "Can't. The muley won't stop long enough for me to turn around." Tad laughed aloud. He now saw that it was to be a race between the steer and his own pony. The odds, however, were in favor of the steer, for Stacy Brown was pacing him at a lively gait, and Tad was still some distance behind. The latter's pony was straining every muscle to overhaul the muley. Tad finally slipped the lariat from the saddle bow. Swinging the great loop above his head, he sent it squirming through the air. At that instant the muley changed its course a little and the rope missed its mark by several feet. Now it was dragging behind the running pony. By this time Tad had fallen considerably behind. He took up the race again with stubborn determination. Coiling the rope as he rode on, he made another throw. The noose fell fairly over the head of the muley steer, this time. Profiting by a previous experience, the lad took a quick turn about the pommel of the saddle. The pony braced itself, ploughing up the ground with its little hoofs as it did so. A jolt followed that nearly threw Tad from his saddle. The muley steer's head was suddenly jerked to one side and the next instant the animal lay flat on its back, its heels wildly beating the air. "Whoop!" shouted Tad in high glee, waving his hat triumphantly to the watching cowpunchers. The steer was up in a moment, with Tad Butler watching him narrowly. "Cast your rope over his head, Chunky." Chunky made a throw and missed. The angry steer rose to its feet and charged him. Stacy Brown held the muleys in wholesome awe, though, having no horns, they were the least dangerous of the herd. "Yeow!" shrieked Chunky, putting spurs to his pony and getting quickly out of harm's way. The steer was after him at a lively gallop, with Tad Butler and his pony in tow. Tad had prudently shaken out the reins when he saw the animal preparing to take up the chase again. Waiting until the steer had gotten under full headway, the lad watched his chance, then pulled his pony up sharply. This time the muley's head was jerked down with such violence that it turned a partial somersault, landing on its back with a force that must have knocked the breath out of it. Again and again did Tad repeat these tactics, the pony seemingly enjoying the sport fully as much as did the boy himself. After a time he succeeded in getting the unruly beast headed toward the herd. Once he had done that he let the animal have its head and they sailed back over the trail at a speed that made the cowboys laugh. Tad seemed to be driving the steer, with Stacy Brown riding well up to the animal's flanks, laying on his quirt to hasten its speed, every time he got a chance. As they neared the herd, Tad in attempting to release the rope from the pommel let it slip through his hands. The lad was chagrined beyond words. "Rope him quick, Chunky!" he cried. Lumpy Bates, observing the mishap, had spurred toward the running steer, intending to cast a lariat over one of the animal's feet and throw it so they could remove the lariat from its neck. Just as the cowboy wheeled his mount in order to reach one of the steer's hind feet, Chunky clumsily cast his own rope. Instead of reaching the muley steer, the loop caught the left hind foot of the cowpuncher's galloping pony. "Cinch it!" called Tad as the loop followed an undulating course through the air. Chunky did cinch it gleefully about his saddle pommel. At the same time he cinched something else. The cowpuncher's mount went down, its nose burrowing into the turf. Lumpy was so taken by surprise that he had no time to save himself. He shot over the pony's neck, landing flat on his back several feet in advance of the pony's nose. The watching cowboys set up a jeering yell. Lumpy scrambled to his feet, his face purple with rage. "You tenderfoot!" shrieked Curley Adams. "To let the gopher rope you like a yearling steer!" Chunky sat on his mount with blanched face, now realizing the enormity of his act. "I—I didn't mean to do it," he stammered. At first Lumpy did not know what had caused his pony to fall. But no sooner had he gotten to his feet than he comprehended. With a savage roar he sprang for the fat boy with quirt raised above his head, prepared to bring it down on Stacy Brown the instant he reached him. The blow would have been bad enough had it been delivered in the ordinary way. The cowboy, however, had gasped the quirt by the small end and was preparing to use the loaded butt on the head of the boy who had been the cause of his fall. Tad had halted upon observing the accident, laughing uproariously at the spectacle of Lumpy Bates being roped by Stacy Brown. When he saw the quirt in the hands of the cowpuncher, however, and realized what his purpose was, the laughter died on the lips of Tad Butler. "Drop that quirt, Lumpy!" he commanded sternly. Lumpy gave no heed to the command, but broke into a run for Stacy. Tad, who was a few rods away, put spurs to his pony, at the same time slipping off the lariat from the other side of his saddle. "The Pinto's going to rope him," gasped the cowboys. All were too far away to be of any assistance. Stallings was with another part of the herd, else he would have jumped in and interfered before Tad's action had become necessary. Tad's pony leaped forward under the pressure of the spurs. The boy began spinning the noose of the lariat above his head. The cowboys were watching in breathless suspense. Tad sent the loop squirming through the air, turning his pony so as to run parallel with the one on which Stacy was sitting, half paralyzed with fear, as he gazed into the rage-contorted face of Lumpy Bates. As the quirt was descending, Tad's rope slipped over the cowboy's head and under one arm. This time, however, the lad did not cinch the rope over his saddle pommel. He held it firmly in his hand, with a view to letting go after it had served its purpose, having no desire to injure his victim. Lumpy Bates went over as if he had been bowled over with a club, and before he had realized the meaning of it he had been dragged several feet. Tad jerked his pony up sharply and slowly rode back to where his victim was desperately struggling to free himself. "Y-e-e-e-o-ow!" screamed the cowboys, circling about the scene, their ponies on a dead run, discharging their six-shooters into the air, giving cat calls and wild war-whoops in the excess of their joy. Big-foot Sanders, however, had not joined in their merriment. Instead, he had ridden up within a couple of rods of where Lumpy Bates was lying. Big-foot sat quietly on his pony, awaiting the outcome. At last Lumpy tore off the lariat's grip and scrambled to his feet. He glared about him to see whence had come this last indignity. "I did it, Lumpy," announced Tad Butler quietly. "You——" "Wait a minute before you tell me what you are going to do," commanded Tad. "Chunky did not mean to throw you. He was trying to rope the steer. He'll tell you he is sorry. But you were going to hit him because you were mad. If you'd struck him with the butt of that quirt you might have killed him. I had to rope you to prevent that. Is there anything you want to say to me now?" "I'll show you what I've got to say," snarled the cowboy, starting for Tad. "Stop! Lumpy Bates, if you come another foot nearer to me I'll ride you down!" warned Tad, directing a level gaze at the eyes of his adversary. The cowboy gazed defiantly at the slender lad for a full moment. "I'll fix you for that!" he growled, turning away. At that moment Big-foot Sanders rode in front of him and pulled up his pony. "What's that ye say?" "Nothing—I said I'd be even with that cub." "I reckon ye'd better not try it, Lumpy. The kid's all right. Big-foot Sanders is his friend. And that's the truth. Don't let it get away from you!" <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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