“What’s that you say, Uncle Jethro?” exclaimed Andy, his face
wreathed in an expression of sheer astonishment; for it gave him a
tremendous shock to hear that nightmare of a name, Percy, mentioned
away out here in Arizona.
“I’m sure,” the rancher went on, “you said something to me about a
scamp who was forever trying to do you both an ill turn up around
home; and unless I’m mistaken, you also told me he was the only son
of a wealthy but foolish widow, who supplied him with all the money
he asked for. The first name was Percy, that I’d swear; and the last
one began with the letters C-a-r, now didn’t it, boys?”
“Carberry, that’s it, uncle,” burst out Andy.
“But what makes you ask that, sir?” demanded Frank, looking
curiously at what seemed to be a scrap of paper in the fingers of
the gentleman.
“This is what made me mention it; it is apparently a small part of a
letter that some one at this place must have received not a great
while back, and which he thought best to destroy; but one of the
fragments lodged in a bush; and when my foreman chanced to notice
it, and idly picked it up, he was interested in the few words he
could make out, so he brought it to me. Here, take a look for
yourselves, boys, and tell me what you think.”
On the piece of paper with the ragged edges there could only be made
out some dozen or two words; a portion of these being incomplete,
though easily guessed.
These ran irregularly, and might be set down in something like the
following order: “Fifty dolla—good job of it—anyway you like—burn it
to cinde—hear how it—ld friend, Percy Car——”
Andy nearly had a fit when he read this; Frank, on his part, felt
the blood boil within him, though better able to conceal the state
of his feelings, or rather control his temper, than his impulsive
cousin.
“Why, just think of that, would you?” exclaimed Andy, “not satisfied
with doing everything in his power to injure the Bird Boys while
they were up there, this contemptible ingrate actually has the nerve
to write to some fellow who, he happened to know, was working on or
near this ranch, and sent him fifty dollars, which was to pay him
for doing something to make all our journey down here useless—he
even put it in his head to burn our aeroplane, and all that! Oh! he
is certainly the meanest fellow that ever came down the pike. I
almost wish we’d left him up there on the summit of Old Thunder-Top,
Frank, to get what he deserved.”
“Oh! I wouldn’t say that, Andy,” remarked his cousin, “it’s a rough
deal, I know, but when we could save those fellows it was our duty
to do it, no matter whether they were of any use in the world or
not. You never can tell how things are going to turn out.”
“You nearly always can when Percy Carberry has got to do with it,”
grumbled Andy.
“Now, suppose you enlighten me as to what all this talk is about,”
demanded the rancher. “Am I to understand that you once saved the
very life of this boy, who is right now doing his level best to play
you a mean trick?”
And so between them the boys had to relate the story, which has been
given in an earlier volume of this series, how they started in a
desperate race with Andy for the crown of the rocky height not many
miles away from Bloomsbury, away up in New York State; and a storm
of wind coming up, the aeroplane of Andy was wrecked, so that he
might have even lost his life, only that the Bird Boys managed to
hold on to him; and afterwards get the two boys, one at a time,
safely to the ground.
“Of all the cases of base ingratitude, that beats everything,”
declared the indignant rancher; and he forthwith set out to call
every puncher and employee on the place around him; after which he
told the story and while they listened in breathless wonder he went
on to say, angrily:
“If there chances to be any one within the sound of my voice who
received that letter, which I can hardly believe, I want to give him
fair warning right now, that if the slightest harm comes to either
of these brave boys while they are visiting at Double X Ranch, or if
any further attempt is made to injure their airship, the punchers of
this outfit have my hearty consent to carry out their own sweet
will; yes, and by thunder! under certain conditions, I’d be willing
to help pull on the rope!”
A salvo of cheers interrupted his words. Apparently they had found
an echo in every heart. But then Frank knew very well that if the
guilty one were present, it would be only good policy on his part to
shout just as loud as the rest, for fear lest suspicion be directed
in his quarter. A short time later he saw Buckskin beckoning to him.
Several of the other boys seemed to be clustered around him, as
though they had been comparing notes.
“You see, Frank,” began Buckskin, when the other joined the group,
“none of us boys feel quite right on ’count of the way Mr.
Witherspoon said that same. It kinder made us feel oneasy like. We
kept a-lookin’ at each other, just like we was a wonderin’ whether
it could be this one, or that other night wrangler. Why, all of us
feel meaner nor a mule skinner about the same. And we’ve got
together in a bunch to talk it over, so’s to larn who it was got a
letter from the East lately; and we struck pay dirt right away.”
“I’m glad of that,” said Frank, “though I hope it isn’t going to
make trouble for any fellow on the pay roll of Double X Ranch.”
Buckskin grinned.
“That’s where he played it fine,” he said. “Member the slim chap you
met yesterday when you landed, and who went by the name of Parsons?
Well, he gave notice as he’d been called back home, and had to quit
here last night; so off he goes late in the afternoon, bag and
baggage. None of us seemed to cotton to him much, though, as a
puncher he knew his business all right, and was fair spoken enough.
But there always seemed to be something slick about him that stood
us off. Now, several of us, on comparing notes, chances to remember
that the Parson he had a letter from East somewhere only a few days
back. Looky here, Frank, did you ever know anybody up in your town
by the name of Edmondson; because that was his real name, Collins
Edmondson it was, though we always called him Parson because he was
so solemn like.”
Frank looked at his cousin, who was also of the group.
“That is certainty the name of his uncle; over in Rahway,” declared
Andy, “yes, and I remember hearing that name Collins before. I guess
you’ve struck pay dirt this time, Buckskin. And I’m glad, for one,
that now we know no man on this ranch would be guilty of such a mean
game as setting our machine on fire.”
Buckskin was immensely pleased with the remarkable results of his
figuring, and detective work. He hastened over to tell Mr.
Witherspoon all about it; and soon afterward the rancher was seen to
wring his hand until he undoubtedly made the tears come in to the
stunted cow-puncher’s eyes.
Great was the indignation among the rest of the boys when they
learned what appeared to be the probable truth. Some of them were
making hurriedly for their horses, muttering under their breath; and
Mr. Witherspoon had to do some quick hustling in order to cut the
threatening mutiny off.
“Let the snake go, boys,” he said. “He didn’t carry out his
contemptible scheme, after all, thanks to your promptness and
bravery. I give you permission that if ever he shows his head around
these diggings again, which isn’t likely, you can treat him to a
nice warm coat, even if you have to borrow my tar kettle, and steal
one of my best down pillows. That goes, boys; so just turn back
now.”
Which the impulsive ones did, knowing that the rancher was a man of
his word, and evidently did not want the affair carried any further.
But doubtless they would manage to get word to the Parson, if so be
he had found employment anywhere in the country, that unless he felt
cold, and wanted a splendid down coat applied, regardless of cost,
he would be wise to keep away from Double X Ranch.
Andy begged that scrap of paper from his uncle. He declared he meant
to keep it carefully and compare the writing with some of Percy
Carberry’s later on; and if this convicted him, he would throw the
matter up to him right on the school campus in the presence of a
score of the higher scholars, and spread his proofs before them, so
that they could let the cur know what they thought of his mean
actions.
Andy could be a good hater when he had occasion for it; he always
declared that he had a strain of good old Scotch blood in him that
rose to the surface every now and then.
“Seems to me that lets Rustler Carlos out of it,” remarked Buckskin,
turning to some of the others with a wide grin, a little later, when
he came back feeling tenderly of his digits, that had a pinched
look, where they had lain in the tremendous grip of the rancher.
“Well,” said another puncher, an old fellow called “Shorty,” though
he was six feet in height, “he’d be guilty of anything just as bad,
if so be he happened around; and for one I’m a-goin’ to keep my eyes
skinned for signs of him. Some say he crossed the line again below
here fifty miles, and made a swoop through the Underwood section;
but that report has been denied, and none of us know what to
believe. So it stands to reason we ought to keep on guard, and
remember that Carlos, he don’t hold our crowd in high esteem.”
The boys felt in splendid spirits as night came on again.
Apparently, now, all clouds had rolled by, and they ought to have
clear sailing after this. There were dozens of other thrills they
were holding back in store for future exhibitions; for the Bird Boys
had already learned that secret of exhibitors to always keep the
best in reserve.
On special invitation from the boys they went over to the bunk house
that night and spent the time with them, listening to stories of
thrilling interest connected with the wild life of the desert
trails, and the valleys among the mountains in that strip of
Arizona, most singular of all the States in the Union in its many
sharp contrasts with regard to the rock strata and mineral
formations.
In return, Frank and Andy told in a modest way something of the many
exploits in which they had been concerned as air voyagers. Most of
all, the punchers wanted to hear about how they had gone down to
South America, and found Frank’s missing father a prisoner in a
cliff-enclosed valley, into which he had fallen at the time his
runaway balloon drifted far to the south from the Panama Peninsula,
when he was conducting a series of experiments, and explorations in
the interest of the great Northern college with which his name had
long been connected as a scientist.
Andy was not so backward as his cousin about telling of what
wonderful things they had seen, and how close to death they had been
on numerous occasions; he even took advantage of the opportunity to
describe how often Frank’s splendid nerve had been the only thing
that had kept them from instant destruction; and although the other
tried to make light of the facts, those hardy cow-punchers realized
that in this slender stripling, who was so modest, and yet so
self-possessed, they saw as true a hero as ever had his name
recorded in the annals of history.