AN INQUISITIVE VISITOR
Breakfast the plans for the day were discussed. The professor was for
remaining in camp, hoping that the Rangers might return later in the
day. Tad did not believe this would be the case. He reasoned that
the men had been summoned some time during the night to go on a hike,
and that they might not return at all; therefore the Pony Rider Boys
would be losing time, whereas they might be exploring the Guadalupe
range, which stretched away for a hundred miles.
"Still, I can't understand this mysterious departure of our friends,
the Rangers," persisted Professor Zepplin.
"Perhaps it was the bugs," suggested Stacy wisely.
"The bugs?" questioned the professor.
Chunky nodded. Tad eyed the fat boy suspiciously.
"Look here, what have you got up your sleeve, Stacy?" he demanded.
"Nothing, I hope. But some of the fellows did."
"Did what?" cut in Rector.
"Did have."
"Did have what?" urged Walter. "A fellow has to have a map to follow
you."
"Did have something up their sleeves."
"What was it you think they had up their sleeves?" asked Tad, eyeing
the fat boy with growing suspicion.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it was insects."
"Stacy!" rebuked the professor sternly. Tad recalled that he had
discovered thousands of insects crawling over the burlap sack when
he came out in the morning. The lad's mind began to unravel the
mystery. He thought he understood Chunky's references now, but Tad
only smiled. He made no effort to explain, but instead, changed the
subject.
"Do we start, or do we remain here, Professor?" he asked.
"It shall be as you boys wish. All in favor of going on will say 'aye.'"
"Aye!" howled the Pony Rider Boys, a shout that caused the browsing
ponies to look up in mild surprise.
"Then we move. I will say, however, that I don't exactly approve of
the situation."
"What situation, Professor?" questioned Butler.
"There are too many rough men in these parts. I had no idea we were
going to meet with any such condition of affairs in this enlightened
state."
"That's nothing. We have had some experience. Experience is what we
are looking for."
"But the Rangers were not," asserted Stacy thickly, his mouth full of
biscuit. "They got it, though."
"I feel sorry for you," said Tad leaning over to Stacy.
"Sorry for what?"
"For what you'll catch when they get hold of you again."
"They'd better not. I've got something up my sleeve, or I will have,
I mean. They'd better keep away from me."
"Come, fellows, are you going to strike camp while I clear away the
breakfast things?" called Tad.
"Let Chunky do it. He hasn't done a thing this morning," cried Ned.
"Yes, I have, too."
"What have you done?"
"I've done two things this morning."
"That's news," grinned Walter.
"Yes, name them. We don't want to do you an injustice, you know," urged
Rector sarcastically.
"I made a discovery---I discovered that we had been basely deserted."
"Well, that's only one thing. You said you had done two things,"
persisted Ned.
"Then I ate my breakfast. That's two things."
The boys groaned.
"He ate his breakfast. Most remarkable," scoffed Rector, imitating the
professor's voice and manner, whereat the professor himself grinned
broadly.
Tad, giving up expecting the others to do anything, was rapidly
gathering their equipment together. The tent came down. He divided
it into sections, placing the sections in piles preparatory to forming
them into bundles to be packed on the ponies.
"Have you the map, Professor?" he called.
"In my saddle bag."
"I want to study it a minute before we start. We don't know anything
about the trails here and we have no guide to direct us. We've got to
make our way the best we can."
"We can't get lost," chimed in Chunky.
"Why can't we get lost?" snapped Ned turning on the fat boy.
"Because we don't know where we are anyway."
"Horse sense," laughed Tad.
"Fat-boy drivel," jeered Ned.
"Come, come, young men. You are not making much headway."
Stacy dragged his pack by the rope, over to his pony, instead of
carrying the bundle as he should have done, Professor Zepplin observing
the boy with disapproving gaze.
"Is that the way you have been taught to pack your pony, sir?"
"No. I've never been taught. What I know I've had to pick up. Nobody
ever tries to teach me anything."
Scolding, joking, having all manner of sport with one another, the Pony
Rider Boys finally completed their tasks. The ponies were loaded, the
pack pony was piled high so that its head and legs were about the only
parts of its anatomy visible, and the boys climbed into their saddles,
Tad first having given the trail map a brief scrutiny.
They started off up the canyon. For a little way the trail appeared
to be no trail at all. The ponies threshed through the bushes, the
sharp limbs smiting the riders in the faces, making disagreeable
traveling. But the young men were used to this sort of thing. They
did not appear to mind it at all.
Reaching a higher altitude they found the trail to be fairly good.
From there they got a good view of the yellow plains below, that
stretch away many miles to the northward. To the southwest, peaks
that they judged must be all of four or five thousand feet high,
towered blue and hazy in the yellow light. Birds were singing, the
air was soft and balmy and a gentle breeze stirred the foliage about
them lazily.
"This is what I call fine," cried Tad.
"Good place for a nap," agreed Chunky.
"Are you in need of sleep?" asked the professor.
"I'm in a trance, sir."
"You always are," laughed Tad Butler. "I think we had better take a
rest here. The animals are tired after the climb. Suppose we lie
off for an hour?"
The boys were all agreed on this, so the pack pony was unloaded. It
now being near midday it was decided to wait for dinner before pressing
on. A meal was a "dab" down there and the boys had fallen naturally
into the vernacular of the men of the plains.
It was Ned's turn to cook the "dab," a task that never appealed to him.
Chunky at such times was always on hand while Ned was getting the meal,
that he might offer suggestions and make uncomplimentary observations.
Rector's method of making coffee came in for considerable criticism.
He never could be induced to make coffee after the more approved
methods. Ned's way was to put a pint of coffee beans in a two-quart
coffee pot and boil for half an hour. He made it the same way on this
occasion.
"That stuff would eat a hole through a piece of sheet iron if given half
a chance," declared Stacy.
"Don't worry. It won't hurt you," retorted Ned. "Your stomach is tough
enough to withstand anything."
"I guess it is or I'd have been dead long ago eating your dab," flung
back Stacy.
They had to wait quite a time for the coffee, but at last the call to
dinner was sounded in the usual way, the long-drawn cry of, "Come and
get it!"
They had just sat down when they were startled by a voice calling from
somewhere off in the bushes to the northward of them.
"Hoo-ee!"
The boys started up, thinking that perhaps some of the Rangers had
returned. Instead of the Rangers a stranger rode in on a wiry little
pony. He doffed his sombrero gracefully and sat regarding them
smilingly.
"Howdy, pardners," greeted the newcomer. "Got a smack for a hungry man?"
"Certainly, certainly. Come right over, my friend," answered the
professor cordially.
Ned stepped forward politely to take the stranger's horse.
"Never mind, lad. I'll look after the cayuse. He isn't over-fond of
strangers. You're all strangers down here, eh?"
"Yes, yes. We are," admitted the professor. "You are just in time.
We are ready for dinner and there's plenty to go round."
"I'll promise not to eat you out of house and home," laughed the
stranger. Without taking off his broad-brimmed Mexican sombrero he
threw himself down by the piece of canvas on which the dinner had
been laid, helping himself to a slice of bacon which he ate from his
fingers in a most democratic fashion. "My name's Conway. Bill
Conway. What's yours?"
Professor Zepplin introduced himself and the boys, which Conway
acknowledged by polite bows. The man was easy in manner, and his
smiling face led the boys to warm to him at once---all save Tad
Butler, who, without appearing to do so, was observing the visitor
keenly.
The man was slight, almost boyish in figure. His hair was dark, as
were his eyes, the latter having a trick of growing suddenly darker
than their natural color, seeming to sink further back in his head
under some sudden stress of emotion. The brown fingers were slender
and nervous in their movements.
"I'll bet he would be quick on the trigger," was Tad's mental conclusion.
"Are you from these parts?" asked the professor by way of starting the
conversation.
"El Paso, when I'm at home. And you?"
"From the north."
"Down here for your health?"
"Partly. Mostly for an outing."
"Just so. I reckon I've heard something about you."
"Maybe it was I whom you heard about," suggested Chunky.
"Can't say as I have," answered Conway, directing a quick glance at
the fat boy.
"You don't know what you've missed," answered Stacy solemnly, helping
himself to five slices of bacon.
"You didn't happen to meet with any of the Rangers this morning, did
you?" questioned Professor Zepplin.
It was the professor's turn to get a sharp look now.
"Rangers? No. Why do you ask?"
"Because we were looking for some of them."
"What for?"
"We wanted to see them about a little matter," hastily interposed Tad
Butler.
"What matter?"
There was no stopping the professor.
"Why, we camped with a body of them last night. With Lieutenant
Withem, a most affable gentleman. They ran away and left us early
this morning. However, I suppose they had good reasons."
"Joe Withem, eh?"
"Yes, that was the man."
"How many Rangers did behave with him?"
"Twelve, wasn't it, boys?"
"Something like that," replied Tad, observing their visitor narrowly.
"However, Professor, I hardly think we should speak of them. You see
they were on some secret mission and---"
"It's all right, young man. You are safe in confiding in me. In fact,
I am going to confide a little secret to you to show you that you have
made no mistake."
"We shall preserve your secret, sir," answered the professor with great
dignity.
"I thought you would. Lean closer and I'll tell you," almost whispered
the visitor.