SCOUTING
They found the policeman in charge making out a report to the
adjutant-general at Austin.
He was a very tall Texan, a man over six feet in height,
correspondingly broad, and possessing a pair of stern-looking gray eyes
which matched well the stern, determined lines of his face.
The name of Fred Cole, the Texas Ranger, was known and respected all
over that section where his activities took him. Absolutely devoid of
fear, it was generally conceded that he had been the means of driving
more desperate characters from that part of Texas than any other single
member of the Ranger force.
Cole, however, was not in a very happy frame of mind these days.
After a long interval of comparative peace, the ranchmen were again
suffering at the hands of an outlaw band, the most troublesome which
that section west of the Nueches River had known for years. It was
apparently a well perfected organization, for stock had recently
disappeared in wholesale numbers.
It was naturally inferred that such work could not go on without
the assistance of some unscrupulous stockmen, and men were becoming
suspicious of one another.
Altogether it was a very bad state of affairs. There was talk of
organizing posses; there was even criticism of the Rangers, men who
every day of their lives were exposed to grave perils and hardships;
and many of whom could show scars, the result of encounters with just
the same sort of men that were now giving them so much concern.
Under the circumstances Fred Cole was not in a very good humor, but he
neither gave evidence of this, nor surprise when so many boys descended
upon his camp. He received them all in a pleasant offhand fashion, as
though such visits were a common every-day occurrence; then excusing
himself began to talk earnestly with Carl Alvin.
Four other Rangers, however, did not hesitate to express their
astonishment, and, as the hut was far too small to accommodate such a
large crowd, the lads and Professor Kent and his assistant accompanied
the men toward a long shed at the rear, in which a number of horses
were stabled. Just outside they paused.
Tom, to whom the rôle of spokesman now always seemed to fall, obliged
once more, giving some details of the history and adventures of the
“Rambler Club,” which the wondering Rangers listened to with great
attention.
“I sure never did hear the beat o’ it!” declared Bart Eagan, some time
later. “But say, pards, ain’t ye hungry after all that ride?”
“Famished!” murmured Dave.
The Rangers looked at his stout form and laughed.
“The fattest is always the hungriest,” remarked Joe Kane sagely.
“Boys,” he made a gesture over his shoulder, “a water-hole’s back
there, so ye kin wash up a bit.”
“Oh, joy!” sighed Don.
“We’ve had our grub a’ready but I reckon there’s a bite or two left for
each of ye.”
Ten minutes later the travelers, refreshed by a liberal use of the
clear, cool water, and with travel-stains removed, sat down before a
rough board table placed at one end of the shed. Every one of them,
too, partook of the food set before him with that keen appetite which
only those who have lived much out in the open seem to possess.
A little while after, Cole, in the company of Alvin, coming outside
“the office,” entered into the conversation. As a rule he was rather a
taciturn man, but the presence of so many bright, youthful faces caused
him to depart for the time being from his reserve.
“I’ve no doubt that the life of a Texas Ranger to you boys seems to
be a very romantic and enjoyable one,” he remarked with a grim smile.
“Though in reality it’s just plain hard work.”
“You’re right there, Fred,” grunted Raulings.
“And there is no doubt that the state of Texas owes you a great
deal,” said Dave. “I’ve read how the Rangers made it possible for
homesteaders and farmers to settle in parts of the state which before
were overrun with desperate characters. And the resources of the earth
being put into use, of course, means advancement and prosperity for any
section.”
“Quite true,” said Cole. “And we mean to make it a safer and better
place all the time.” He turned to Alvin. “Though to police efficiently
such a vast territory would require a very much larger force.” Then
seating himself on a bench near by, he, in answer to a question from
Dick, told him that another company of Rangers had their headquarters
at a town nearly three hundred miles to the north.
“Whew! What a jump between police stations,” chuckled Cranny.
“Why--that’s away above the big bend of the Rio!”
“It certainly is,” said Jim Roland.
“That there river ain’t much good for navigation,” volunteered
Raulings. “Ye see, for five hundred miles along its crooked course only
small steamers can use it.”
“All the same I reckon the stream’s been a mighty handy thing for
rustlers,” said Stovall. “I’ll bet many a drove o’ steers has been
shipped on to boats, taken down-stream an’ loaded on ships.”
“Sure thing,” agreed Jim.
“I’m a-goin’ to stick up for the Old Rio,” grinned Joe Kane; “it’s sure
all right for irrigation purposes anyway.”
“Yes, an’ the United States an’ the Greaser Government are always
a-scrappin’ over it,” growled Raulings. “But none o’ ye ain’t hit the
nail on the head yet.”
“Smash it,” pleaded Cranny.
“Without no fear of contradiction I can say that for helpin’ the
Chinese to git on our side of the border that there stream is a bird!
Yes, sir! There’s gangs what smuggle ’em over at so much a head. An’
the slant-eyed chinks is only too willin’ to pay.”
“Did you ever?” murmured Don.
“It’s true, boys,” came from Stovall. “We ain’t got enough customs
officers or other authorities to keep an eye on things; but let me tell
ye--it may be kind o’ easy for ’em a-gettin’ in; but when it comes to
stayin’ that ain’t the same.”
“How?” asked Dick.
“Well, ye see, the custom officials know every chink in the border
towns, an’ just as soon as a new face is spotted they get busy. If
the feller can’t give a straight account of himself an’ show proper
certificates, it’s good-bye to the States for that particular chap.”
“An’ maybe they ain’t a wily lot,” grunted Raulings. “Most of ’em know
enough to beat it for the interior to onct. They’ve ketched ’em many a
time in trains an’ on the brake beams o’ freight cars.”
“Yes, for a fact they have,” asserted another Ranger named Roy Cooper,
“an’, say--didn’t I even hear tell of a case where they nabbed a lot
who had smuggled themselves into barrels. The officers found ’em aboard
a freight wagon bound for the interior.”
“There’s always somethin’ doin’ in this old world,” said Cranny.
For another half hour the boys talked with the Rangers, then after that
began a tour of exploration around the immediate vicinity. To roam
about on foot proved to be such an interesting experience that it was
almost supper time before they returned hungry and tired to camp.
“I say,” remarked Cranny, as after a good meal he lolled indolently by
the side of the cheerful blaze, “too much of this life isn’t enough,
eh?”
“No,” admitted Don, “though I’d like it better if some of the
mosquitoes would nose into the next state.”
They turned in rather early, probably because the Rangers did, and were
up with the sun.
Immediately after breakfast George Parry set up his camera and took
several motion-pictures of the Rangers performing various duties.
He also filmed a detail of mounted men, and the Ramblers and Cranny
exhibiting some fancy tricks on horseback, “stunts” which had been
taught to them by the Wyoming cowboys, Cranny explained.
When the last picture had been taken and the detail in charge of Carl
Alvin was starting off, Parry called after them:
“I’ll label one of these, ‘Departure of the Texas Rangers and the
Rambler Club in search of cattle rustlers.’”
“I only hope we run across ’em,” yelled Cranny in reply. “If we do,
then some of us will see a moving picture in real life.”
That day the scouting party made a journey which embraced many miles
of territory. They met several cowboys and saw herds of cattle. That,
however, was the extent of their experiences. So far as could be
learned the bandits were keeping quiet; though none of the men, with
whom they talked, thought it would be for long.
On the succeeding days the boys again accompanied the scouts, and these
long, fatiguing rides over all sorts of country, with the sun’s hot
rays beating down upon them, gave every one a good insight into the
hardships and discomforts which the policemen of the plains were often
obliged to face.
This sort of life was making a remarkable change in the appearance of
Don Stratton. His face had now become fully as bronzed as that of any
Rambler, and a new strength and vigor seemed to have been imparted to
his frame.
On two occasions when night came upon them the party camped under
the star-studded heavens; and both times lay awake for over an hour,
listening to Dave Brandon as he talked entertainingly about the wonders
of the stars and constellations so many millions of miles away.
Returning to camp early one evening they found two things to interest
them. One was the arrival of Sergeant Robson Howell to take command of
the detachment; the other an announcement by Professor Kent that he and
George Parry intended to leave on the following morning for Mexico.
Hearing this Cranny Beaumont became strangely silent. For some time he
paid little attention to what was going on around him. Then suddenly he
looked up to blurt out:
“Fellows, I’m goin’ to Mexico, too!”
Tom stared hard at him.
“What!” he exclaimed.
“Yes, sir; it may be my only chance. Who wants to go along?”
There was silence--a dense silence for an instant. Then Tom spoke up.
“I,” was the sound that Cranny heard him utter.
“And I.”
“And I.”
These last two replies coming from Bob Somers and Dick Travers
increased the smile of joy which had begun to overspread the Tacoma
lad’s face.
“Hooray!” he shouted enthusiastically. “Won’t we just have a----”
“Oh--look here!” interposed Don hastily.
Those words started a discussion. It was a lively, earnest one, in
which Dave, Sam and Don spoke in the negative, while the others
upholding Cranny’s side of the case and incidentally their own, met
logic with logic, facts with facts, and so successfully, too, that Sam
at last threw up his hands as a token of surrender.
“Of course, I knew from the start it wasn’t any use to argue,” he
laughed, “but say, Bob, won’t you promise to come back in a day or two?”
“Sure thing,” said Bob.
A smaller sized argument thereupon ensued. Bob and Tom readily agreed,
the former even naming the day, but Cranny hedged.
“Honest to goodness, fellows,” he protested, “it’s most certain I’ll
come back, too, but----”
“Boys!” remarked Dave, solemnly, “we might as well get at some more
useful occupation.”
And this is how it happened that on the following morning the
detachment quarters of the Texas Rangers lost, for the time being, six
of its party of interesting visitors.