[Illustration: “OFF TO NUGGET CAMP!”
_The X Bar X Boys at Nugget Camp._ (_Page 62_)]
THE X BAR X BOYS
AT NUGGET CAMP
BY
JAMES CODY FERRIS
AUTHOR OF “THE X BAR X BOYS ON THE RANCH,”
“THE X BAR X BOYS AT THE ROUND-UP,” ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED BY_
WALTER S. ROGERS
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Made in the United States of America
WESTERN STORIES FOR BOYS
By JAMES CODY FERRIS
THE X BAR X BOYS BOOKS
THE X BAR X BOYS ON THE RANCH
THE X BAR X BOYS IN THUNDER CANYON
THE X BAR X BOYS ON WHIRLPOOL RIVER
THE X BAR X BOYS ON BIG BISON TRAIL
THE X BAR X BOYS AT THE ROUND-UP
THE X BAR X BOYS AT NUGGET CAMP
(OTHER VOLUMES IN PREPARATION.)
* * * * *
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
Copyright, 1928, by
GROSSET & DUNLAP, Inc.
The X Bar X Boys at Nugget Camp
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I A DANGEROUS CAST 1
II OUT OF THE DEPTHS 11
III MYSTERIOUS RIDERS 19
IV THE OLD MINER 28
V BELLE ADA’S NERVE 37
VI STOLEN NUGGETS 45
VII THE GOLD RUSH 54
VIII POP LAYS DOWN THE LAW 63
IX ROY MAKES A STATEMENT 71
X SILENT PACKS A GUN 80
XI THE FIGHT 89
XII A CRACK AT FORTUNE 97
XIII OFF TO NUGGET CAMP 104
XIV SOME SHOOTING 111
XV HORSEMEN IN THE STORM 118
XVI HIS NIGHT TO HOWL 127
XVII THE LUCKY SHOT 136
XVIII DISCOVERY 143
XIX THE STRANGER 154
XX BUNCOED 164
XXI ALLEN’S GUN 173
XXII ON THE TRAIL 181
XXIII GREYHOUND 190
XXIV READY TO QUIT 205
XXV ONE ELEVEN COMES THROUGH 211
THE X BAR X BOYS AT NUGGET CAMP
CHAPTER I
A DANGEROUS CAST
By the time Roy Manley shortened the stirrup that had loosened and
slipped down two holes, his brother Teddy was nearly out of sight behind
the hunch-backed rise of ground. Roy heard a faint yell as pony and boy
disappeared completely.
“Got lightning grease on his heels,” he grumbled, struggling with the
stirrup. “Belle, why don’t you take Nell in out of this sun? You and
Curly get one on each side of her, and cart her along.”
“Cart me along!” Nell Willis responded indignantly. “Think I’m a bag of
potatoes?”
Belle Ada, the girl Roy Manley had addressed, laughed merrily. She was
Roy’s sister, a dark-haired, dark-eyed daughter of the plains, thirteen
years old, with a gift for practical jokes that was often extremely
disconcerting.
Belle Ada, with her two brothers, had been visiting the 8 X 8 ranch,
belonging to Peter Ball, a close friend of the two brothers and of their
father. Some time before Nell Willis and Ethel, or “Curly,” Carew, had
come from the East to see their aunt, Mrs. Ball. Whether it was due to
their liking of Western scenery or to the fact that the X Bar X
ranch--where Teddy and Roy lived--was within riding distance, is a
question still to be determined; but at any rate, they stretched their
visit from one month into many months.
They were rapidly growing to look upon the great spaces of the West as
their real home. But an incident, such as had just occurred, served to
show that they had not quite earned the title of cowgirls.
Nell had been thrown. Her mount stopped suddenly, and the girl had taken
the shortest route to the ground, fortunately lauding free of the horse
and unhurt aside from a severe shaking up. The pony tossed his head,
rolled his eyes significantly, and streaked in the general direction of
Chicago, Teddy hot on his trail. Roy’s stirrup had taken that moment to
slip.
“Be good now, Nell,” Roy admonished. “You put an awful dent in mother
earth, you know. Yay--there she is!” He gave the strap a final tug and
then vaulted into the saddle. “If Teddy catches that bronc while his
big brother is playing nursemaid to a horse, I’ll never hear the last of
it. Got to get me a new pair of stirrups. Get in out of the sun, Nell!
We’ll have you--”
“Never mind about the sun!” Nell called. “You rope yourself tight to
Star and keep your feet out of the stirrups!”
It is doubtful if Roy heard the remark, however well directed it was,
for he had given his pony a quick jab with his heels and was dashing
toward the hills behind which his brother had disappeared. Seventeen is
not an age which will gracefully admit the superiority of another, even
though that other be a brother. Roy wanted very much to catch Nell’s
runaway pony before Teddy did.
He bent low over Star’s neck and watched the little spurts of dust fly
up as the pony pounded over the dry earth. To his ears came the low
murmur of Rocky Run River, a stream which skirted both the X Bar X and
the 8 X 8 ranches. The spring sun was melting the mountain snows, and
the river was at its highest point.
“If Teddy heads him in the right direction, he can corner him,” Roy
muttered. “And that means I’ll arrive just in time to be late. Blame
that stirrup! If it had been Curly’s horse it wouldn’t be so bad. But I
ought to catch Nell’s bronc--instead of Teddy catching him.”
He did not explain this enigmatical statement, even to himself. It just
occurred to him, and re-occurred with added force as the moments passed.
He, and not Teddy, should capture the runaway.
“But what chance have I?” he murmured. “I can’t--Sweet daddy, there he
is! There he is! He must have doubled back!”
In the distance Roy caught a glimpse of a riderless pony, tail straight
out in the wind.
“Here we go, Star!” Roy shouted. “Take him down! Atta baby!”
Star, quick to sense what was wanted of him, swung toward the runaway.
He seemed to feel something of his rider’s anxiety, and his breath came
more swiftly as he settled down to the task.
Now the other pony saw them, and hesitated, head held high, forefeet
straight as poles. Then he bobbed toward the ground as though he were
making a bow and was off like a shot.
It never entered Roy’s head to think what had become of Teddy. He was
too intent on one thing--catching Nell’s pony and bringing it to her.
“All right, Star,” Roy muttered. “A little of the old fight now.”
He sat in the saddle as though he were part of the horse, a centaur come
to life on the plains of the West. As his steed’s feet tapped the
ground, to draw apart and then tap again, the boy’s body moved back and
forth with a rhythm that was beautiful. Not once was the motion
interrupted.
“There he goes--straight for the river!”
It was impossible to tell at that distance whether or not Roy was
gaining on the runaway. At times he seemed closer, then a clump of trees
would block the boy’s view, and when he again caught sight of the horse
it would appear as though he had lost ground.
“Somethin’s got to happen pretty quick,” the boy said aloud. “He can’t
go far to the left when he reaches the river on account of the rocks.
He’ll have to take the right trail. That means a good long chase unless
he gets winded soon--and I don’t think he will. Star, old boy, we’ve got
to work!”
The horse nodded his head to shake a bit of foam from his lips, and Roy
chuckled. It looked as if Star had understood and agreed.
“So you do know what it’s all about? Well, I won’t talk any more--might
disturb you. Anyway, you don’t have to answer me. Just you go along, and
we’ll have a speech making contest when this thing’s over--you and me.”
It was characteristic of Roy to think of the unusual even at a moment
like this. The idea of him and his horse standing opposite each other
and discussing the pros and cons of a question struck him as extremely
humorous, and he snickered loudly. Star raised his head inquiringly, and
as he did so the pony in front changed its direction and headed for the
left.
Roy was jolted out of his mood. The left! That meant the rocks!
“Is he crazy enough to try to get out that way?” Roy ejaculated. “He’ll
burst his fool head open, if he does! Reckon I have to reach him before
he takes a dive! Be a fine thing for me to tell Nell her pony is waiting
to be made into sausages. Step on it, Star!”
To one who did not know the pony, it would seem that Star had already
done all the “stepping on it” he was able. But now he drew his ears just
a little closer to his head, bunched his muscles a little tighter, and
flashed ahead.
This time it was apparent the pursuers were gaining. The white spot on
the runaway’s flank was plainly visible.
“Now we have it! Now we have it! Now we have it!” Roy grunted, the words
keeping time with the beat of the pony’s feet. “Into the rocks he goes,
and in we go after him. ‘Into the valley of death rode the six hundred!’
‘Mighty is he who wields the sword, but mightier still--’ I forget the
rest of that. Good start, though.” He was talking aloud, not conscious
of what he was saying, finding the effort necessary to pronounce the
words a relief to his pent-up emotions.
Ahead were the rocks, black and forbidding, out of keeping with the
placidness of the rest of the scene--a strange contrast to the gentle
sloping prairie. At some time in the formation of the earth this portion
was fated to retain the characteristics of the early terrain while the
surrounding landscape was calmed by some giant hand. Silhouetted bluntly
against the sky, the rocks were the bane of cattlemen who had to skirt
them in a wide path instead of following the river directly.
Their edges bordered on the water and in storms the river roared
sullenly over their shiny backs. Frequently cows were found dead at
their base, who, coming to drink, had slipped and been drawn into the
turmoil.
“Pretty looking sight,” Roy muttered, glancing toward the black mass.
“Just the place a crazy horse would head for. Yep--there he goes!”
The runaway had reached the first of the rocks, and, without stopping a
moment, sprang for the lower ledge. Roy fancied he heard the hoofs
scrape as the steed pulled himself up.
“We’ve got to do that pretty soon,” the boy said. No thought of
abandoning the chase came to him. “Get out the old ground-grippers,
Star.”
He came to the ledge, and pulled upward on the reins. With a little
whinny Star tensed his muscles and sprang. The ledge was on a level with
his chest, but it is one thing to clear a barrier, another to mount it.
For a moment it seemed as if the horse and rider must slip back, but,
with a supreme effort, the pony forced himself up and stood trembling on
the rocky shelf.
“That’s the first of them,” the boy breathed. “Watch it, Star! Take it
easy. We can’t rush this.”
As a mountain climber tests the ice before trusting his weight to it,
Star touched each bit of rock before placing his hoof on it. Sharp
corners and jagged points of rock surrounded them. A misstep would mean
a painful, if not fatal, injury.
“And we’re not at the worst part yet,” the boy murmured. “Wait till we
reach the edge. Where in thunder is that horse? If he--”
A sound came to his ears, a sound of breaking rock. He waited, and heard
a splash.
“Missed that one. He’s not far off, at any rate. All right, Star--up we
go!”
He hoped the runaway was standing still, perhaps frightened by the stone
his feet had dislodged and sent into the river. He should come into
sight soon.
The river roared louder with each step Star took, and the boy knew they
were approaching the edge, with a sheer drop to the water below. Higher
and higher Star mounted, and at last stood with his forefeet braced
against a stone, his widened eyes staring into the depths. They had
reached the edge.
Not fifty feet from them was the runaway bronco, his head moving from
side to side in bewildered fright, his whole body trembling violently.
Roy whistled softly.
“That way, Star,” he whispered. “Easy, now! Just a little more--”
His hand was on his rope that hung from the saddlehorn. If he could ring
the bronc, the rest would be easy, for the pony was much too frightened
to resist. He could lead the animal down safely.
Pulling the reins ever so slightly, Roy brought Star to a halt. He was
near enough to throw. Carefully he poised the lariat. His knees gripped
Star’s side.
The rope whistled overhead, straightened out like a snake. True was the
throw, and truly the noose landed, full over the pony’s neck.
Then, from below, came a yell of exultation.
“Atta baby, Roy! Great stuff! I knew you’d make it! I waited until--”
The pony, with the rope about his neck, jerked as though he had been
stung with fire. A shrill cry, almost human, burst from him. He leaped
forward.
“Roy! Roy! Cut loose! Don’t let him--Oh-h-h!”
It was too late. Star, trying vainly to keep his balance, toppled
outward, and Roy, in full view of Teddy, hurtled toward the river that
hissed over the waiting rocks below!