Boo-oo-oo-ng!
"Horn ob Gabrul! what am dat?"
Toots gasped the words, as he sat up and stared about him in the
semi-darkness.
Boo-oo-oo-ng! boo-oo-oo-ng!
"Wek up, chilluns!" gurgled the colored boy. "De crack ob doom hab come,
an' ole Gabrul am tootin' ob his horn fo' suah!"
"Shimminy Gristmas!" grunted Hans, as he sat up. "Vos dot a Dexas
cyclones vot you hear?"
"Gol darned if it don't saound like a kaow bellein'!" said Ephraim
Gallup; "only a heap laouder."
"Is it a stameboat we're on, Oi dunno!" murmured Barney, sleepily. "It's
th' foghorn Oi hear."
Rap! rap! rap! Rapp-er-ty-bang!
Some one was hammering on the door, and a voice called:
"Turn out--turn out for breakfast!"
"That was the breakfast horn, boys!" laughed Frank. "We must get a
hustle on, for this is the day of the great tournament on Rodney's
Ranch, and we are here for sport. Ye have been promised dead loads of
fun. Up, fellows--up!"
The boys scrambled to their feet. None of them had fully undressed, and
they had been sleeping in blankets spread on the floor of a large room
in the ranch house.
Through the open window, which was on the eastern side of the house, a
pink glow could be seen in the sky. In a moment, as it seemed, the rim
of the sun came into view, and morning had dawned with startling
suddenness.
"Oh, thunder!" grumbled Bruce. "The night was not half long enough. I'd
like to sleep about five hours longer."
"That's natural with you," chuckled Harry, as he drew on his shoes. "You
are always tired."
"Can't help it," admitted the big fellow. "I was born that way. This
sporting tour is killing me. How'd we happen to know anything about this
cowboy racket, anyway?"
"Oh, I'm onto all that's going," smiled Frank.
"That's right enough," agreed Bruce; "but you didn't know a thing about
it at noon yesterday, and we were on our way eastward over the Texas and
Pacific. None of us expected to stop short of Fort Worth, but, of a
sudden, you yank us off the train at Stanton and run us out here to this
ranch, without a word of explanation. When we arrive here we are
received with open arms and made to feel as if we had been expected.
I'll acknowledge that I don't understand it."
"Your eyes were not sharp, old fellow," said Frank. "Had they been, you
would have seen that we were invited here."
"By whom?"
"The daughter of the man who owns this ranch."
"Not the girl Miss Burrage met on the train?"
"Yes."
"How did Miss Burrage happen to know her?"
"The rancher's daughter went abroad last winter, and they became
acquainted in Italy."
"And so she invited Inza here when they met by accident on the train. Is
that the way of it?"
"Sure. Inza told her she and Miss Gale were traveling with us, and Miss
Rodney made the invitation include the whole of us. I was glad enough to
accept it when I learned there was to be a regular cowboy tournament
here to-day, to end to-night with a dance."
"That's all right," said Bruce, "if you'll let us be spectators. I don't
see any sense in getting out and trying to beat the punchers at their
own tricks."
"Don't let that worry you. I am not chump enough to try to do any trick
we'll not have an even show at. We'll see a bit of cowboy sport here,
and our tour eastward would not have been complete without it."
"That's so! That's so!"
The others of the party were very enthusiastic over the prospect of a
day of sport on a Texas cattle ranch.
"All right," grunted Bruce. "You fellows may hoe in and have all the
sport you like. I'll keep still and look on."
It did not take the boys long to dress and prepare for breakfast.
Bill Rodney, the rancher, greeted the boys heartily, his free and easy
manner making them feel that they were quite welcome.
"Sorry I had to stow you chaps the way I did, but every room in the old
ranch was filled," he said. "If I'd known in advance that you were
comin', I'd had better accommerdations for yer."
"We couldn't have asked for anything better," declared Frank,
pleasantly. "I didn't know but you might think it an imposition for us
to come the way we did, as----"
"My little gal asked ye, didn't she? Well, that settled it. What Sadie
does goes on this ranch, you bet! If she invited the whole of Texas
here, I'd do my best to entertain 'em. There'll be a few people here
before night, and I want you chaps to sail right in and have the best
time you can. Come on to breakfast."
They entered the big, low dining-room, trooping in after their host.
There were seats at the long table for twelve persons, and Toots had
asked the privilege of showing them how a real "cullud ge'man" could
wait on the party. This privilege had been granted, and he had
disappeared to the kitchen.
Inza and Miss Abigail Gale were on hand to greet the boys, and then, one
by one, the lads were introduced to a very pretty girl in a morning
gown.
This was Sadie Rodney, the rancher's daughter, with whom Inza had become
acquainted in Italy.
"Goodness!" exclaimed Miss Abigail; "what a crowd of men! It really
makes me feel timid!"
She did not look at all timid, for she had a face that was almost
masculine in its sternness, and she never seemed flustered.
The rancher sat at the head of the table, with Miss Rodney at the foot,
having Miss Abigail and Inza on either hand.
Frank had a seat near Inza, while Hans was placed beside the spinster.
Then Toots appeared in a white apron, and breakfast began, with the
morning sunshine streaming into the windows and lighting a pleasant
scene.
"Now I want you to make yourselves right at home," said the rancher,
sincerely. "We ain't able to put on so much style here as my gal has
been accustomed to away at boarding school and travelin' abroad, but we
have fodder that's fit to eat. Now, don't blush and shake your head at
me, Sadie. It's all right. The boys don't expect me to put on frills,
and I'd make a mess of it if I did."
He laughed heartily, and the girl blushed all the more.
"Oh, father!" she exclaimed, reprovingly.
"Ha! ha!" laughed Rodney, in his rough, hearty manner. "I know it's rude
of me, but it's hard to learn an old dog new tricks."
Then he leaned over to Diamond, who sat near him, and whispered loud
enough for every one present to hear him:
"Don't you think I've a mighty fine gal? She's cost me a heap of money,
but I don't care. I'd spend all I've got on her. Look at her! Have you
got any handsomer gals than that in the East?"
"If so I have not had the pleasure of seeing them," said Jack,
gallantly.
Quite naturally, this confused the girl still more, and Frank hastened
to crack a joke and tell a bit of a story to turn attention from her.
Merry saw that she was really ladylike and refined, for all of her
honest father's good-natured coarseness, and her position had distressed
her not a little.
Hans tried to be very attentive to Miss Abigail, but she repulsed him,
so that he was very crestfallen after that, not a little to the
amusement of the others.
The breakfast progressed merrily.
While it was going on a horseman came dashing up to the house, walked up
to the dining-room window, leaned on the sill, and looked in.
"Howdy, Rodney," he said, in a familiar manner.
Then he lifted the broad-brimmed hat from his dark curls and bowed to
Sadie. After that he held the hat under his arm while he stood by the
window.
He was a handsome fellow in his way, having a drooping black mustache
and an imperial, while his dark eyes were keen and piercing. There was
about his face a devil-may-care look, as if he feared nothing that
walked on the face of the earth.
He was puffing carelessly at a Spanish cigarette, held by his full red
lips, which showed beneath the mustache.
"Morning Charlie," said the rancher. "Glad to see you on hand so early.
Are the boys from the Lone Star comin' up?"
"The whole of Concho Valley will be here to-day," returned the man at
the window. "It is bound to be a big time, Rodney."
"That's whatever. Bill Rodney don't do anything by halves. When did ye
start?"
"Midnight."
"Wal, it's a right smart ride. Give yer horse to Kemble and come in to
breakfast. You can have my chance here."
"Thank you; but I'll wait till you are through."
Then he strolled away, his handsome horse following him like a
well-trained dog.
"Who is he?" asked Frank.
"That's Indian Charlie, foreman of the Lone Star Ranch," answered
Rodney. "He's the best shot and roper in Texas, and the most reckless
rider I ever saw. He was born in the East, and went to college, but
skipped after shootin' another chap in a duel over a girl. Lucky for
Charlie, t'other chap didn't die; but Charlie never went back, and now
he has the most remarkable aversion for all tenderfeet of any man I ever
saw. You all want to be right careful not to git him r'iled, for he is
worse than a wild steer on the rampage when he's mad. He has a way of
shootin' first and talkin' it over afterward."
"Such a fellow as that needs to be taught a lesson," said Frank. "Some
one should take the trouble to teach him, too."
"No one who knows him dares take the trouble to try."
"That's strange. I had an idea cowboys were not afraid of anything."
"It is plain you do not understand what a dangerous man Indian Charlie
is, Mr. Merriwell," said the rancher's daughter. "You must be sure to
keep away from him, as you cannot be sure he will not take offense at
some trivial thing and force you to apologize."
"Indeed!" smiled Merriwell, lifting his eyebrows. "This man grows more
and more interesting to me."
"Yaw, he peen very inderestin mit me," broke in Hans. "I vos goin' to
kept meinself a goot vays near off from him."
"Miss Rodney," said Harry, "you have said just enough to arouse Frank
Merriwell's curiosity, and now he will not be able to keep away from
this Indian Charlie. He is certain to do something to stir Charlie up at
the first opportunity."
The girl turned pale.
"Don't do it, Mr. Merriwell, I beg of you!" she cried. "You will simply
humiliate yourself, for you will be forced to apologize to save yourself
from being shot."
Frank laughed.
"Don't let that worry you, Miss Rodney," he said. "I assure you there is
no cause of alarm. I am not going to chase him with a chip on my
shoulder."
But those who knew Frank best were certain he would not seek to avoid
trouble with the foreman of the Lone Star, and they felt a foreboding of
coming trouble.