THE FIRST NEWS OF THE BAR-S RANCH.
"A mean trick!" echoed the indignant Adrian, "I'd like to help whip the
fellow who would think it funny to inflict that torture on a poor dumb
beast, not to mention having the rider run a chance of breaking his
neck. Whoever d'ye think could have been guilty--oh! yes, that grinning
hostler at the village tavern. It must have been him!"
"Just who it was!" said Donald, grimly, and his face told how gladly he
would have taken pleasure in being one of several to treat the
ugly-faced half-grown cub to a good hiding, to pay him for his
detestable trick.
"He kept on looking at me all the time, and grinning like a monkey,"
grumbled Billie, who was still caressing his broncho; and somehow
Jupiter seemed to understand it was all a mistake that he received that
whipping, for he whinnied, and rubbed his nose against his master's
cheek.
"Yes," continued Donald, "somehow the silly thought it'd be a fine sight
to see how a fellow built like Billie here is, would carry on when a
horse got skittish; and like as not he couldn't think up any other way
than this. I once knew a mean greaser to fasten some of these sand spurs
under a horse's tail, and the game worked so that the rider was thrown;
with a broken arm to show for it."
"What happened to the Mexican?" demanded Billie, eagerly.
"I never just knew," replied Donald, seriously; "but the boys took after
him, and from that day to this I've never set eyes on his yellow face
again. I sometimes think they must have lynched the scoundrel, though
nobody would ever let on."
"Well, he sure deserved it," muttered Billie; "but say, I hope now we
ain't going any further this same day. I'd like Jupiter to have some
rest; and besides, I want to rub his poor blistered back here with some
witch hazel, and put some salve on. When I ride tomorrow I'll see
there's a good pad under my saddle, you hear me."
That was just like generous, good-hearted Billie. He would never harm
any sort of domestic animal, which accounted for his anger toward the
thoughtless hostler who in order to have a little fun, and see the fat
boy throw his arms around the neck of his mount, as he imagined would
come to pass, had taken advantage of his opportunity to play such a
wicked trick.
"Oh! we'd already decided that!" declared Adrian.
"And we stop somewhere close by, do we?" asked Billie, anxiously;
"because, like as not this terrible work will give me something of an
appetite, and I'll be wanting to start supper a little earlier than
usual tonight--now, don't laugh, boys; I know it's hard on the rest of
you that nature made me so big I have to eat for two; but I just can't
help it. And that work used up all my dinner, you see."
They had long ago stopped arguing with Billie with regard to his
abnormal appetite. Sometimes one or the other would joke him about it,
but they never tried to cut him short on his rations.
Looking around Adrian quickly decided that they had come upon as good a
place to spend this the last night on the Wyoming trail as any that
could be found.
"What better could heart wish?" he put it up to them; "with this fine
little watercourse running zigzag along, and right here a motte of
timber where we can make our camp? And there are several riders heading
toward us, that perhaps we might try and pump, so as to get some
information about the Bar-S Ranch. That landlord at the tavern didn't
seem to know anything."
"Look like cowboys too," declared Billie, after an anxious glance toward
those who were galloping in their direction; for Billie knew that on the
plains it is hardly wise to trust any one you happen to meet until they
have proved their title to be looked on as friends.
"Oh! come, don't keep feeling for your gun that is strapped so safely to
your back, Billie," said Adrian, laughing. "There are only three in the
bunch, and they're sure enough punchers. Let's give them the cowboy
salute, and show that we happen to be of the same stripe; though I
reckon our outfit tells that already."
"Yes," added Donald, "and don't forget, Billie, that we said we'd keep
mum about Adrian here being the owner of the Bar-S Ranch. Just say we
belong down Arizona-way, and have come up here to look around. People
mind their own business generally speaking, here on the plains, and they
won't pry into our affairs when they see we don't care to open up."
"All the same, I'd like to ask a few questions myself," Adrian went on
to say. "It might be right useful to us if we could get a line on what's
going on up around the Bar-S, before we arrived."
"A good idea," commented Billie, quickly. "They say forewarned is
forearmed, you know; and if we learn something is crooked, why, you'll
be able to figure on what you ought to do, eh, Ad?"
"Just what I will, Billie," replied the other, grimly; "though it's hard
for me to even suspect my uncle of stealing. If you knew what a spirited
little man he used to be, and what a high sense of honor he had, you'd
understand that. But keep quiet about these things now, Billie, for here
they come galloping up, waving their hats, and whooping like mad."
The three cow-punchers quickly pulled in when apparently about to ride
the others down, and hearty salutations followed on both sides.
They were just such rough riders as may be found scattered all over the
country where cattle are raised for the market, requiring a host of
dashing fellows to herd them, brand the mavericks and youngsters, and
keep the drove from being stolen by rustlers or preyed upon by wild
animals.
Just as they had planned to do, the three boys told that they were from
a ranch away down in the Southwest, coming up in the Northern country
just to look around, and see how things were done here. Adrian had
quickly made sure that he did not know any one of the men, and this
seemed to promise that they could not have the least suspicion regarding
his own identity.
It was Donald who led the conversation to the subject of the ranches
within a radius of fifty miles; and when one of the others happened to
mention the Bar-S among several, the Arizona boy remarked:
"Seems to me I've heard considerable about that same Bar-S Ranch. And
whoever it was told me must have said it was a bang-up outfit, as smart
as any in Wyoming. Let's see, it's owned by a man named Comstock, ain't
it, pards?"
He saw the three cowboys turn toward each other, and thought a flicker
of a smile passed over their weather-beaten faces, while one winked his
eye at the same time.
"Oh! Fred Comstock he's on'y manager of that Bar-S Ranch," replied one.
"He _used_ to be," chuckled a second, "and as husky a little manager as
you'd be apt to run up against in a month out here."
"Why, who's the manager now, then?" asked Adrian, rather startled; for
he had not had any intimation of a change; and certainly nothing of the
kind had ever been instituted with his consent.
At that the three cow-punchers chuckled some more.
"Why, you see, everybody reckons as how _Mrs._ Fred Comstock she holds
the whip hand over pore old Fred; and runs things as she feels like at
the Bar-S," came the puzzling reply.
Then Adrian remembered that a year and more ago he had heard that Uncle
Fred, being an old bachelor, had married; though the woman whom he had
taken to his heart was utterly unknown to the boy. He had sent them his
best wishes, and a generous present at the time, and then forgotten all
about it, because a boy of Adrian's age could hardly be expected to care
in the slightest degree about such things.
"Oh! is that it?" remarked Donald, elevating his eyebrows. "Seems to me
I heard that this same Fred Comstock was a little terror, and his
punchers minded him from the word go. Has he changed any since he got in
double harness, boys?"
"Changed any?" echoed one of the rough riders, with a grin; "well, you'd
never know it was the same old Fred Comstock these fine days. He ain't
got a bit of spunk any more, seems like. She just orders him around like
he was a waterboy. Reckon that woman must be a terror when she gets mad,
and everybody says as how Fred he had both his eyes black for a month
before he give in. She runs the ranch as she sees fit. But that ain't
the wust of it, neither."
"Why, what more could there be, with poor old Fred Comstock sat down on
in such a way?" demanded Donald, noticing that the three men looked
toward each other, and acted in a mysterious fashion, as though afraid
about saying too much.
"Well, we don't want our names mentioned in the matter," said one,
finally; "but you see, this Mrs. Fred was one of the Walkers before she
got spliced."
"And who are the Walkers?" continued Donald, bent on learning all he
could, for the benefit of his chum, who was listening eagerly, his face
filled with surprise, because all this was indeed news to him.
"The Walkers--well, they happen to be a pretty numerous family in Wyoming
at the present time," replied his informant, cautiously.
"They got three ranches down south from here, and people says as how--"
began a second cow-puncher, when one of his mates held up a finger
warningly--"well, all I'm agoin' to say is that lots of people believe
they ain't runnin' them three ranches jest for the cattle they raise.
Some say the Walkers are bootleggers in the dry counties, acarryin'
licker when it's against the law. Others have gone further and call 'em
a bunch of cattle rustlers; but as for _me_, kids, remember that I ain't
asayin' anything agin that bunch, I don't know a thing; I'm just tellin'
what I heard other folks say."
"It may be true, and agin it might be a pack o' lies," a second
remarked, as he prepared to start off again, after shaking hands with
Adrian and his chums.
"But where there's smoke there's nearly always fire," observed Donald,
sagaciously, as he in turn took the hand of each of the three genial
punchers in his.
"You never spoke truer words, my friend," said the last man, leaning
down to speak in a low tone, as though he feared that the trees might
carry what he said to hostile ears; "and while you're around these
diggin's best remember not to get _too much_ interested in what the
Walkers are adoin'. They seem to have a wide chain o' friends, and
nobody ain't ever had the grit to round that bunch up, so far. We used
to work on the Bar-S before _she_ came there, but it soon got too warm
for us, and we quit. So-long, boys; hope you get safe back again down in
old Arizona, where some of us may drop in later on; and if we do, we'll
sure hunt up the Keystone Ranch, and ask for Donald Mackay."
With that he too whirled his cow pony around, and waving his hand to the
boys, went off at a reckless pace in a cloud of dust.