THE RIDE FOB HELP
"There's Pink-eye!" exclaimed Ned Rector.
"Is it possible?" answered the Professor. "Then something has
happened to Tad."
"Mebby--mebby the bear's got him," suggested Stacy Brown, his face
blanching.
All through the night the little party had sat up anxiously awaiting
the return of their companion, who had set out after the bear. The
tent had been ruined, but they found that the rifles had not been
harmed at all, having been stacked in front of the small tents.
Early in the morning the three boys and Professor Zepplin had
followed Tad's trail for some distance into the foothills, but
feared to penetrate too far for fear of getting lost. The Professor
reasoned that it would be much better to return to camp and give Tad
a chance to find his way in in case he himself should prove to have
been lost.
This the boys had done, but they were impatient to be doing
something more active. Ned Rector was fairly fuming, because their
guardian would not permit him to set out alone in search of the
missing boy.
"No," the Professor had said; "if I did that with all of you, we
should have the whole party scattered over the mountains and it is
doubtful if we should all get together again before snow flies."
Yet when Tad's pony came trotting back to camp, the matter took on a
more serious aspect. Something must be done and at once.
"Now, will you let me go, Professor?" begged Ned.
"Not in those mountains alone, if that is what you mean."
"Then what can we do?"
"If the guide were only here!" interjected Walter. "Do you suppose I
could find him?"
"It will be useless to try, my boy. About the only course we can
follow now, is that leading back to Forsythe, and I am not sure that
we shouldn't be lost doing that."
"Then we don't know it," retorted Ned. "I know the trail. I could go
back over it with my eyes shut. Why would that not be the idea,
Professor? Why not let me ride back to Forsythe? Mr. Simms would
give us some one who knew the foothills and mountains and I could
bring him back."
"Let me see, how far is it?" mused the Professor.
"Thirty miles, he said."
"Why, it would take you couple of days to make that and back."
"You try me and see. I can get a fresh pony to come back with, and
if I do not return with the guide, what difference does it make?
He's the one you want. But never fear, I'll be back with him between
now and morning if I have no bad luck," urged the lad earnestly.
"I am half inclined to agree to your plan. If I were sure that you
knew the way----"
"It is not possible to get lost. We have the compasses and we know
the direction in which Forsythe lies. All we have to do is to travel
in an opposite direction from that by which we came."
"Supposing we all go!" suggested Walter.
"Wouldn't do at all," answered the Professor, with an emphatic shake
of the head. "Some one must remain here in case Tad returns. That
boy will get back somehow. I feel sure of that. He is resourceful
and strong. And besides, he has my revolver. No; more than one on
the trip would be apt to delay rather than to help. Master Ned, you
may go." "Good!" shouted the lad. Bad-eye looked up almost
resentfully as the boy approached him on the run, threw on the
saddle and cinched the girths.
The hits were slipped into the animal's mouth, and, placing his left
foot in the stirrup, Ned threw himself into the saddle.
"I'm ready now," he said, his eyes sparkling with anticipation, as
he rode up to the little group.
"I'll show you that I'm not a tenderfoot even if I am from
Missouri," he laughed.
"Be careful," warned Professor Zepplin.
"Don't worry about me, and, Chunky, you look out for bears. If Tad
should come in within the next half hour or so, you can fire off
your rifles to let me know. Then I'll turn about and come
back. Good-bye, all."
"Good-bye and good luck," they shouted.
Giving a gentle pressure to the spurs, Ned Rector started off on his
long ride at a brisk gallop. Within a short time the lad had the
satisfaction of finding that he was emerging from the foothills. He
then pulled up the pony and consulted his compass. "Five points
north of east. The Professor said that should take me back. Besides
I remember that we came this way yesterday. I'm going to save some
time by fording that fork without going the roundabout way we took
before."
Ned galloped on again. Had it not been for his anxiety over Tad, he
would have enjoyed his ride to the fullest. The morning was
glorious; the sun had not yet risen high enough to make the heat
uncomfortable; birds were singing and in spots where the sun had not
yet penetrated a heavy dew was glistening on foliage and grass.
Ned drew a long breath, drinking in the delicious air.
"This is real," he said. "Nothing artificial about this. I wish I
might stay here always."
The lad did not think of the deep snows and biting cold of the
northern winters there, winters so severe that hundreds of head of
sheep and cattle frequently perished from the killing weather. He
saw nature only in her most peaceful mood.
He had ridden on for something more than two hours, when he came to
the East Fork, where they had had such an exciting experience two
nights before. After a few moments' riding along the bank he
discovered the spot where they had made their camp on the opposite
side.
"I'm going to take a chance and ford right here," he decided. "No, I
guess my mission is too important to take the risk. If I should get
caught in there I should at least be delayed. There's somebody else
who must be considered. That's Tad."
Half a mile above, the lad found a place that he felt safe in
trying. Luckily he got across without mishap. He had found a rocky
bar without being aware of it, and the water while swift was shallow
enough so that by slipping his feet from the stirrups and holding
them up, he was able to ford the stream without even getting them
damp.
"I wonder why we didn't find this place the other night," he said
aloud. "I guess we were in too big a hurry. That's the trouble with
us boys. We blunder along without using our heads. But, I guess I
had better not boast until after I have gotten back safely from
Forsythe," he laughed. "I may need some good advice myself before
that is accomplished."
The pony with ears laid back had settled to a long, loping gallop,
covering mile after mile without seeming to feel the strain in the
least.
Some distance beyond the Fork, Ned descried a horseman who had
halted on beyond him, evidently awaiting his approach.
Ned was not greatly concerned about this. On the contrary, it was a
relief to see a human being.
The man hailed him as he drew up. Ned noted the red beard and the
general sinister appearance of the man.
"How," greeted the stranger, tossing his hand to the lad.
"How," answered Ned in kind.
"Where you headed!"
"Forsythe."
"Stranger in these parts, I reckon?"
"Yes, sir."
"On a herd?"
"Expect to be soon. Just finished a drive down in Texas."
"Cattle, of course?"
"Oh, yes."
"That's right. This sheep business has got to stop. I hear there's
going to be something doing round these parts pretty lively,"
grinned the stranger.
"What do you mean?" asked the lad, peering sharply into the man's
face.
"Oh, nothing much," answered the other. "Thought being as you were a
cowman it might interest you some."
"It does," replied the boy almost sharply.
"Well, guess the rest, then," laughed the stranger. "Where'd you get
that pony?"
"Is that not rather a personal question?" asked Ned, smiling coldly.
"Not in this country. Kinder reminded me of a nag that belonged to
me. He strayed away from my ranch a few weeks ago," said the fellow
significantly.
"It wasn't this pony," retorted Ned, flushing. "I bought this animal.
Good day, sir, I must be getting along."
"In a hurry, ain't ye?"
"I am," answered Ned, touching the spurs to the pony's sides and
galloping off.
"Hey, hold on a minute," called the stranger.
"Can't. In too much of a hurry," replied Ned.
"I don't like the looks of that fellow at all," muttered the boy as
he rode on, instinctively urging his mount along at an increased
speed to put as much distance as possible between himself and the
curious stranger.
"Funny he should ask me that question about my pony. However,
perhaps it is a peculiarity in this part of the country. Wonder what
he meant by saying that there would be something doing here pretty
quick."
After a time Ned turned in his saddle and looked back. The horseman
was standing as Ned had left him. He was watching the boy. Ned swung
his hand, and then turned, glad that he was well rid of the man.
Late in the afternoon, he saw the village of Forsythe just ahead of
him. The boy could have shouted at the sight.
"Straight as you could shoot a bullet," he chuckled. "I guess I can
follow the old Custer trail without getting lost."
He did not pause, but galloped on into the village and up the main
street, not halting until he had reached the bank with which
Mr. Simms was connected.
He was stiff and sore from the long, continuous ride, and as he
dismounted he found that he could scarcely stand.
After tethering the pony to the iron rod that had been fastened to
two posts, Ned walked into the bank. Red-faced and dusty he
presented himself to the banker. At first the latter did not appear
to recognize him.
"I am Ned Rector of the Pony Rider Boys," explained the lad.
Mr. Simms sprang up and grasped the boy cordially by the hand.
"This is a surprise. You back so soon? Why, is anything wrong!"
"Well, yes, there is," admitted Ned.
"Sit down and tell me about it."
Ned seated himself, but the effort hurt him and he winced a little.
"Stiffened up, eh? Where did you come from?"
The lad explained and Mr. Simms uttered a soft whistle.
"Well, you have had a ride. I didn't suppose you boys could ride
like that. I suppose the guide found you?"
"We have seen nothing of him at all."
"Is it possible? I should not have troubled myself to come back to
tell you had it not been for the fact that one of our boys is lost."
"Lost?"
"Yes. At least we think so. He has been away since early last
evening. We should not have worried so much had not his pony
returned without him early this morning. We dared not go far into
the mountains to search for him for fear of getting lost ourselves."
"You don't mean it?"
"Yes. I came back to see if you could give me a man from here, or
get me one rather. One who knows the mountains and who will ride
back with me at once."
"Of course I will. You did perfectly right in coming to me
quickly. My foreman is in town to-day. He will be in shortly and I
think he will know of some one who will answer your purpose. I wish
you had ridden to my ranch, however. It would have been much
nearer."
"I didn't know where it was."
"Of course not."
"While waiting for the foreman, tell me about how it all happened?"
urged Mr. Simms.
Ned went over the events of the previous evening, in detail, to all
of which the banker gave an attentive ear.
Mr. Simms regarded him with serious face.
"You young men are having plenty of excitement, I must say. Yes, you
are right. Something must have happened to Master Tad. He looks to
me like a boy who could be relied upon to look out for himself
pretty well, however," added the banker.
"He is. We were afraid that perhaps he might have gotten into
trouble with the bear."
"Quite likely. Do you plan on going back with the guide that we get
for you?"
"Certainly."
"Then you will need a fresh, pony. I will have one brought around
for you when you are ready to start. I should think, however, that
it would be best for you to remain over until tomorrow. You'll be
lamed up for sure."
"No, I must go back. I'll be lame all right, but it won't be the
first time. I'm lame and sore now. I've polished that saddle so you
could skate on it already," laughed Ned.
Mr. Simms laughed.
"I can understand that quite easily. I've been in the saddle a good
share of my life, too. There comes the foreman now."
The foreman of the Simms ranch, who bore the euphonious name of Luke
Larue, was a product of the West. Six feet tall, straight, muscular,
with piercing gray eyes that looked out at one from beneath heavy
eyelashes, Ned instinctively recognized him as a man calculated to
inspire confidence.
He shook hands with the young man cordially, sweeping him with a
quick, comprehensive glance.
Mr. Simms briefly related all that Ned Rector had told him, and the
foreman glanced at the young man with renewed interest after
learning of the ride he had taken that morning.
"Pretty good for a tenderfoot, eh?"
Ned's bronzed face took on a darker hue as he blushed violently.
"I don't exactly call myself that now, sir," he replied.
"Right. You say your friend chased a bear out!"
The lad nodded.
Luke shook his head.
"Bad. Can he shoot?"
"Oh, yes. But he had only a revolver--a heavy thirty-eight calibre
that belongs to Professor Zepplin."
"Nice toy to hunt bears with," laughed the foreman. "Bear's probably
cleaned him up. I'll get a man I know and I'll go back with you
myself. We can run down the trail easily enough, but it will need
two trailers, one to follow the pony and the other the bear after
their trails separate," the foreman informed them wisely.
"Do--do--you think he has been killed?" stammered Ned.
"I ain't saying. It looks bad, that's all."
Ned forced a composure that he did not feel. He started to ask a
further question, when there came a sudden interruption that brought
all three to their feet.