THE STRANGE ACTIONS OF JUPITER.
"Hello! what ails Billie and his mount now?" burst out Adrian, as the
fat chum went flying past, with Jupiter acting like a crazy thing,
stopping short every little while to "buck," and leap, and dance wildly,
after which he would go off again like the wind.
They started their own bronchos along at a lively pace in order to keep
Billie in sight, at least.
"Looks like Jupiter might have suddenly gone back to his old ways
again," remarked Donald; "and I don't know that I ever saw him carry on
just like that, even when he used to give every broncho-buster on the
range the time of his life trying to break him in."
"But Billie sticks like glue!" declared Adrian; "look at him, would you,
when the pony nearly stands on his silly head? If Billie never did
another thing he's shown us that he comes of a race of riders, that's
sure. Chances are that boy at the stable wondered how such a fat fellow
ever could keep in his saddle when on a lively broncho."
Donald made no reply. Perhaps these words had set him to thinking; or it
might be he was so taken up with watching the frantic evolutions of the
runaway pony just then that he could not spare the time for talking.
Meanwhile Billie was having what he would call a "warm session" with his
mount. He tried to soothe Jupiter with caressing words, but for a wonder
they seemed to have no effect; for if anything the beast only acted
uglier than before.
Discovering this Billie changed his tactics. Believing that it was only
a return of Jupiter's old vicious nature, he was now determined to give
him a treatment similar to those that had in the past proved so
salutory.
"Well, if you just feel like you _must_ go and run away with me," he
muttered between his set teeth, "I'll help things along the best I know
how. I'll try and give you something to run for, you crazy thing!"
With that he brought his quirt down upon the flank of the pony with
decided emphasis. As a rule he seldom had need to let Jupiter feel the
sting of the lash, as the animal was a "willing goer," and ready to
"break his heart" as Billie said, in carrying that heavy weight along as
rapidly as the others could gallop.
Of course when he felt the cut of the quirt, brought down with all the
vigor of Billie's stout arm, the pony no longer stopped to try and
unseat his rider. He seemed to know that that was no longer possible;
and accordingly he went dashing off at a mad pace that would necessitate
the other chums urging their mounts on to do their level best, unless
they wished to be distanced in the race.
So they went careering madly over the level prairie, with Billie
leading, far in the van. The others managed to keep close enough
together to exchange occasional remarks; and as they were constantly
growing more curious concerning this strange freak of the broncho, it
can be understood that they did more or less talking.
"You don't think Billie can be at fault in any way for this sudden
outbreak, do you, Donald?" Adrian queried.
"I don't see how he could," came the reply. "The horse was acting mighty
queer when our pard first laid hands on the saddle. I noticed him jump
just like he used to in the old days. Seems like he might have had a
sudden return of that crazy spirit. The boys used to say it'd come back
to him some day or other, and warned Billie never to fully trust
Jupiter."
"But the broncho has been acting more than halfway decent for a long
time now," Adrian went on to say, as he galloped swiftly along, keeping
a wary eye out for gopher holes, because he did not want to take chances
with a broken neck by being suddenly pitched over the head of his mount;
"and I really began to believe he'd never go back on Billie, for he
seemed to have grown to love his master."
"You can never tell what a broncho will do," replied Donald, with his
long experience as a guide; for he was a genuine prairie boy, much of
his life having been spent on a cattle ranch; in fact he was even
educated at home by his mother, who had once been a very clever teacher
in a Chicago high school before marrying Mr. Mackay.
"Yes, they come of a wild race, and sometimes seem to feel a touch of
the old free spirit that their ancestors enjoyed when they ran wild over
the plains!" Adrian called out; for they had to raise their voices while
speeding along at such a pace.
Billie kept lashing his mount furiously. It was the only method whereby
a stubborn spirit in a pony could be subdued. The animal is to be taught
that he has a master on his back, and that he must conform to the will
of the rider, whether it is to run like the wind, or pull up. The first
thing a broncho-buster does is to drive this idea well into the mind of
his mount by whipping him constantly until he is fain to draw up when
the lines begin to pull, from utter exhaustion. And after this seed has
begun to take root it is comparatively easy to make an indelible
impression by starting him off again with the quirt, and the spurs, to
pull him in from time to time until the lesson is well learned, never to
be forgotten.
And Billie was doing the only thing left to him by whipping his broncho,
though somehow it seemed to go against the grain to do it once more,
after all these long weeks of peace and docility on the part of Jupiter.
Already was the animal lathered with sweat, partly because of his
tremendous exertions, but more on account of his excitement and nervous
state; for those coming along in the rear were in no such condition.
An hour and more passed, with the wild ride still continuing. But
Donald's keen eye detected signs that told him Jupiter was growing very
tired.
"He'll get him before much longer," he asserted confidently.
"Looks to me as if the broncho might be weakening," returned his
companion, critically; "you see, the long journey is apt to tell on
Jupiter. For days steady we've covered a heap of miles, and the grind of
carrying all that weight is sure to pull down the stoutest horse going."
"Yes," Donald continued, "there, Billie nearly pulled him in then,
though when the beast commenced jumping like mad he slashed him with his
quirt, and just made him run again, though it was easy to see Jupiter
didn't have much heart for it."
"The end isn't far off," observed Adrian; "and since we've covered an
afternoon's gallop in this hour and a half, I reckon we might as well
think of halting near where he finally stops his mount."
"Sure the poor beast will need a good rest!" declared Donald; "I can't
quite make up my mind what ails him. Seems like he had gone clean crazy
some way or other. I've seen horses act like that when they'd been
locoed; but we know our animals haven't been near any poison weed like
that."
"Well, we'll soon know a little more'n we do now," argued Adrian.
"Looks like it, because Billie is going to get the upper hand pretty
quick, I reckon, from the way things look," added his chum.
Both of them had been making rapid time of it since leaving that prairie
village where they had eaten the last meal. Of course Jupiter had flown
along at even a faster clip; but then he lost time by stopping
occasionally to try some of his ancient games of bucking, so that the
pursuers were able to come closer again before he took a notion, under
the lashing of the busy quirt, to once more start off.
Billie had not even taken notice enough of his chums to wave a hand in
their direction at any time during his furious ride. But then they could
understand that easily enough, for he had to keep his attention
constantly fastened upon Jupiter, lest the curveting animal spring a
sudden trick calculated to dismount his rider.
Luckily the fat boy had been very particular to always have the best of
girths and other gear in connection with his riding outfit. A whole lot
depends on such little things as this when trying to master the ugly
spirit in one of those lively bronchos; as many a cow-puncher has
learned to his sorrow when something gave way, perhaps even in the
moment of his victory, and not only hurled him to the ground but spoiled
all that had been thus far accomplished in regard to taming the pony.
It was plain to be seen that pure exhaustion and nothing else was
causing Jupiter to give in now. He acted just as strangely as ever, but
lacked the strength to hold out. And it was this fact that caused Donald
to shake his head and say something to himself that undoubtedly had a
bearing on the solution of the mystery, only he did not feel positive
enough to communicate the same to Adrian.
But Billie had finally brought his trembling mount to a standstill. When
this was accomplished the fat boy carefully threw himself to the ground,
keeping a tight grip on the bridle. If Jupiter attempted to rear, or
break away, he would find all that weight was as good as any anchor that
could have been attached to him. He might as well have tried to move a
mountain as Broncho Billie, when once he stood firmly on his two legs.
"Whatever is he doing, do you think?" demanded Adrian, as he and Donald
rode forward toward the spot where their chum and his foamy mount were
to be seen.
"I declare if he hasn't thrown the saddle off!" cried Donald, and there
was a ring of exultation in his voice, that seemed to announce that
certain dim suspicions which he had been entertaining were duly
strengthened by this queer fact.
"But he can't mount again if Jupiter takes a sudden notion to bolt!"
said Adrian.
"No danger of that happening, take my word for it," replied Donald.
"See here, you've guessed what all the racket is about, I just know you
have," the other cried, as his suspicions were aroused by Donald's
manner.
"Well, I've been thinking something for a little while now, even if I
didn't say a word about the same," admitted Donald, laughing.
"And you won't tell me?" urged his comrade.
"What's the use at this late stage of the game?" replied Donald. "Give
Billie a chance to let the cat out of the bag; because there he is,
waving to us right now, and wanting us to hurry along."
When the two who were in the rear came galloping up a couple of minutes
later it was a very red-faced and indignant chum they found there,
patting the trembling Jupiter tenderly, and even caressing his velvety
muzzle, as though begging his pardon for all that slapping of the cruel
quirt.
"But how was I to know that all the while the poor thing was in agony,
with me in the saddle pressing these poisoned stickers deeper and deeper
into his back? Oh! it was a cruel trick, putting this bunch of sand
spurs under the saddle; and no wonder the broncho acted like he was
crazy as I jumped up and down, driving the points in deeper. Poor old
Jupiter, how was I to know you weren't to blame?"