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Pony Rider Boys in the Alkali

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<h3> CHAPTER VI </h3> <h4> BAGGED BY LUCKY SHOTS </h4> "K-I-I-O-O-O-O! K-I-I-I-O-O-O!" "There he goes!" shouted Walter. Stacy was picking himself up from the ground where the rifle had kicked him. Bang! Ned Rector had risen to his feet the instant Stacy fired. Throwing his rifle to shoulder, he fired at an object that he saw bounding down the opposite side of the hill. "I got him! I got him!" shouted Ned, dancing about in his glee. "Chunky Brown, you're no good. All you can do with a rifle is to get kicked and fall in. Take a lesson from your Uncle Dudley——" "Good shooting, boys," said a laughing voice behind them. They whirled around and found themselves facing Tom Parry, who had crept up to see that the boys got into no trouble. "You here?" demanded Tad Butler sharply. "I am that. Think I could let you boys go off with a couple of guns to hunt wild animals? Not without Tom Parry—no, indeed!" "I got him, Mr. Parry," glowed Ned. "Did you see me tumble him over?" The guide nodded good-naturedly. "And Chunky missed him, even though he had a rest over Tad Butler's shoulder. Chunky can't shoot." "Yes, I can, too," objected the fat boy. "We'll see," replied the guide. "I am not sure whether he can shoot or not." "What do you mean, Mr. Parry!" asked Walter. "Chunky shot at the animal and missed it, didn't he?" "What kind of an animal was it?" interjected Ned. "A coyote." "I thought it was a wolf," muttered Stacy Brown. "How many of them was there?" "Only one, you ninny. And I shot him," scoffed Ned. "We'll go down the hill and find the one you got, Master Ned," decided the guide, moving away, followed by the rest of the party. No sooner had they started than they heard Professor Zepplin, down in the camp, shouting to know what the shooting meant. "It's all right, Professor," called the guide. "The boys have been shooting up some wild game. You'll be surprised when you see what they got." Down the hillside sprang the enthusiastic lads. "Remember, you're all barefooted," warned the guide. "You don't want to pick up any more cactus thorns." "Were you here then?" demanded Tad, glancing up sharply. "I was with you from the time you left the camp." "Here he is," shouted Ned, who had run on ahead of the others in his anxiety to learn the result of his shot. "And I caught him on the wing, too, didn't I?" "You certainly did." "Just lift him. He's a whopper," went on the lad enthusiastically. "I'd like to see any of the others in this outfit make a shot like that——" "Chance shot," mumbled Stacy. "Hit a bird once myself a mile up in the air, but I didn't flap my wings and crow about it. I couldn't have done it again. Neither could you have hit that—that—what do you call it!" "Coyote," replied the guide, but he pronounced it "kiute." "Oh, I don't know," grumbled Stacy. "Suppose we go up the hill now and see what Master Stacy shot," suggested the guide, starting away. "Shot?" sniffed Ned Rector. "Don't you know what he shot?" "Yes, we know," interrupted Walter. "He shot thin air, that's what he did." "We shall see, we shall see," answered the guide enigmatically. Though Stacy did not grasp the guide's meaning, he did catch a note in the tone that filled him with hope. Yet Chunky was unable to see how he could have hit anything, in view of the fact that Ned had shot the coyote. Tom Parry strode up to the crest of the hill and began looking about, peering behind sage bush and greasewood. The boys were a little to the north of him, all hunting for they knew not what. Ned Rector had seated himself by the side of his dead coyote, stroking its rough coat proudly. A sharp whistle from the guide attracted their attention. "What is it?" called Tad. "Come over here. I've got a surprise for you." The boys obeyed on the run. Tom Parry stood with a grin on his face, pointing a finger to the ground. "What is it? What is it?" demanded the lads in chorus. "Why, it's a dead animal," marveled Walter. "Then that's what the coyote was doing up here. It was after the meat on the dead one," announced Ned. "I knew there must be some good reason for its remaining so near camp all that time." "Guess again," sniffed Stacy, who had thrown himself down beside his prize. "What's that?" asked Tad, who already suspected something of the truth. "It's my coyote, that's what it is." Tom Parry nodded. "He's right. He killed the animal the first shot——" "Then—then——" stammered Ned. "There were two of them. Master Stacy killed one and you the other, and for your gratification I'll say that they are a very difficult animal to kill. One might try a hundred times and never hit one." "If one knows how to shoot, it isn't," spoke up Stacy pompously. "Which you certainly do," laughed the guide. "May we take them back to camp and skin them?" asked Ned. "You may take them in, of course; but I would not advise you to skin the brutes. The skins are not worth anything in the first place, and in the second, we should be unable to keep them all the way across the desert, I am afraid." "You mean they would spoil?" questioned Ned. "Yes." "Then we'll take them down to show to the Professor. After that we'll bury them." "Not necessary at all," smiled the guide. "The buzzards will attend to that part of the work. They'll be around in the morning. You'll see them." "But how will the buzzards know?" asked Walter. "That I cannot say. They do know. Instinct, I suppose. All animals and birds have the instinct necessary for their kind, yet it is all a mystery to us." Very proudly the lads dragged their trophies to camp, where, after heaping fresh sage brush on the fire, the youngsters stretched the carcasses out full length that Professor Zepplin might see. "Very fine, young men. You say they were howling and woke you up?" "Yes; didn't you hear them!" answered Stacy loudly. "Indeed I did not. The first thing I heard was the report of a rifle, and then, in a few seconds, another. I couldn't imagine what was going on. When I tumbled out and found the camp deserted, I was alarmed. I feared you boys had gotten into other and more serious trouble. You should not take the guns out without either myself or the guide being with you." "He was with us," interrupted Chunky. "Then that was all right." "But we didn't know he was with us, Professor," Tad Butler hastened to explain. "So we were in the wrong, even if he was along. However, it has turned out all right, and we've bagged two coyotes. Wish we could take their pictures. Why didn't we think to bring a camera with us?" "I think I can supply that," laughed the guide. "I always carry one with me. In the morning I'll take your pictures. I got a new camera in Eureka yesterday, having lost my old one in the blow-out we had the other night." The boys gave three cheers and a tiger for Tom Parry. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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