THE FAT BOY DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF
"You laughing at me?" shouted the stranger angrily.
"No, that was a horse laugh," answered Chunky.
"What d'ye mean?"
"I mean I was laughing at the horse. The joke is on the horse, you
see. That's why I called it a horse laugh. Ever hear of a horse
laugh? That was one of those things. You see, you can learn even
from a kid."
The horseman, glowering, was gazing so fixedly at the fat boy that
for the moment he had forgotten to watch Tad, who was now circling
slowly about the two in ever-widening circles. Tad found that the
broad trail made by the man who had stolen his doe ended where they
were.
The lad came around again to the point where he had discovered horse
tracks leading north from that point. He took up this trail again.
Behind a fallen cypress, partially hidden in the foliage, the Pony
Rider Boy discovered a dead deer. At first he did not go near to the
carcass, pretending not to have seen it, but continued moving around
the place, his object being to see where the deer had been hit. He
found the wound very soon, for it was just back of the left shoulder.
Even then Butler gave no sign that he understood. He strolled back
to Stacy, giving the fat boy a knowing wink, which Stacy, for a
wonder, interpreted correctly. That is, he understood that his
companion had made a discovery, but just what that discovery was,
Chunky could not say.
"Well?" questioned the stranger sharply.
"Well?" answered Butler, a faint grin appearing on his face.
"Are you satisfied?"
"Of what?"
"That your doe isn't here?"
"I am satisfied," replied Tad evasively, not saying of what he was
satisfied.
"If you want to catch the man with the buck, you'd better be heading
on. He'll get so far away that you'll never catch him if you don't
move."
"I am in no hurry now," replied Butler.
"What do you-all reckon on doing?"
"Remain right here until the rest of my party comes up."
The stranger started.
"Chunky, will you be good enough to wind the horn?"
Stacy grinned broadly.
"I reckon I'll wind the old thing up until she caves in or breaks her
mainspring," chuckled the fat boy. Stacy placed the horn to his lips
and gave a long, winding blast that drowned the songs of the birds
and set the barred owls to cackling uneasily.
"Here, what are you doing?" cried the horseman.
"If you aren't deaf, you would know without asking such a question,"
retorted Stacy, taking the horn from his lips for a moment.
Tad in the meantime had seated himself on a log. His rifle was still
in the saddle boot, but Tad had his rope and his revolver. The former
he did not have much if any use for in the present circumstances, but
he half expected to have use for the rope. He had tried to avoid a
clash, and he hoped the man would take alarm and go away. The man did
nothing of the sort. Instead, he forced the situation to a head.
"How long you going to stay here?" he asked, controlling his voice
with evident effort.
"Until you go away, or until my party comes up," answered Butler.
"I reckon you'll stay here a long time, then. I am camping here.
Your party has gone the other way and they won't get out to this brake
before tomorrow some time."
"You seem to know all about it."
"I reckon I do."
"And you know all about that deer over yonder behind the down
cypress?"
"If I do, that's my business. The doe is mine."
"You are wrong," answered Tad. "The doe is mine. You know it is."
"Well, for the sake of the argument, what are you going to do about
it?"
"Take the deer back with me," answered Butler evenly.
"And what do you think I'll be doing while you-all are taking my doe
away?"
"I don't care what you do. I propose to do what I please with my own
property."
"Look here, kid. I've just been leadin' you along by the nose. Now,
I'm going to talk straight."
"That's what I want you to do. But I doubt if you can talk
straight--I doubt if you can tell the truth. A fellow who will steal
a deer will not hesitate to lie," answered Butler, gazing defiantly
at the horseman. The man flushed under his tan, flushed clear up
under his hat.
"Layin' all that talk aside, how you going to prove that that doe is
your property?"
"How are you going to prove that it isn't?" retorted the Pony Rider
Boy.
"Because I shot him."
Tad chuckled.
"You will have a mighty hard time proving that. Listen! I tracked
you here. I followed the trail right to this spot where it ends.
Your story about seeing a man with a buck was not true. There is no
trail beyond this place. You hoped we would go on, when you would
have taken the doe from its hiding place and gone away with it. If
you want a deer so badly, why don't you go shoot one? If you don't
know how to shoot, come to our camp and I will divide this deer with
you. But take it back with me I am going to, and I'd like to see you
or anyone else stop me."
"That's the talk," cried Chunky. "That's what I call turkey talk.
Why, you moccasin-chaser, I could eat you. I would if I weren't
afraid of getting a pain in my stomach."
"Never mind, Stacy," rebuked Tad. "I will talk with this fellow.
You, Mister Man, may think you are dealing with a couple of boys. We
may be boys, but we know how to take care of ourselves. I am not
making brags; I am simply warning you that we shall take the carcass
back to camp with us, and if you interfere we shall have to defend
ourselves."
"You touch that carcass and something will happen right smart, I
reckon," warned the stranger, jerking his horse about and facing the
fallen cypress.
"Chunky, you cover my retreat," ordered Tad in a low tone.
"You bet I will," answered the fat boy, chuckling happily. Stacy was
the original trouble man. Trouble was meat and drink to him.
"Here, where you going?" shouted the now thoroughly enraged hunter as
Tad turned his back on the man and walked briskly towards the cypress.
"I am going for my doe," flung back Butler.
There had been no answer to Stacy's signal on the horn, nor had Tad
looked for any. He would have been surprised had there been, knowing,
as did the stranger, that Billy Lilly and his party were miles away
from that particular spot.
"Come back here!" ordered the man.
"I will when I get the deer," answered Butler.
The stranger, hot with anger, flung up his revolver and pulled the
trigger. There followed a sharp report and Tad's hat dropped on the
ground in front of him.
It was then that Tad Butler showed his cool nerve. Without looking
back he stooped, and, picking up his sombrero, placed it on his head
and started on. For the moment the shooter was too amazed to do more
than stare. His face was working nervously. Whether he had intended
to shoot the boy or not, Tad did not know, but he was inclined to
think not.
Once more the fellow raised his weapon.
"Oh, by--the--way!" drawled Chunky.
The man turned sharply toward Stacy. He found himself looking into
the muzzle of the fat boy's rifle.