AT THE RANCH
"Followed!" exclaimed Archie Lynch, after the pause that greeted
Billy's announcement. "What do you mean? Who would want to follow us?"
"I don't know," replied Billy frankly. "Certainly it can't be
Shackmiller, for he's in the hospital. But that's the same wagon we
saw a while ago, and we thought it had turned back. Those fellows are
certainly following us."
There was no doubt about it, as all four of them could see a little
later, for, as the vehicle in the rear topped a rise, it could be noted
advancing slowly along the private road that led to the ranch.
"They don't seem to want to catch up to us," observed Andy.
"Maybe they're afraid we'll ask them some questions they don't want to
answer," suggested Frank.
"I don't like the looks of it," murmured Billy. "But I'm glad Uncle
Richfield has that paper."
"And he can look out for himself," observed the old cattleman, with a
grin. "I guess there's nothing for us to do, Billy. We can't very well
order the men off the road, for, though it's a private one, your uncle
doesn't object to folks using it."
"No, I guess we can't do anything," agreed the Western lad. "But we'll
tell Uncle Richfield about it, and he can make some inquiries."
"Look!" suddenly exclaimed Frank, and the eyes of all were once more
turned on the wagon, which had been lost sight of for a moment in a
cloud of dust. "They're turning off the road."
"So they are," agreed Andy. "I didn't notice any other road there."
"There isn't a regular road," said Archie Lynch. "But there's a sort of
trail that leads to the river and the big dam that's almost completed.
They've taken that road."
"What for?" asked Billy suspiciously.
"Say, I believe I have it!" exclaimed the old cattleman. "Your uncle
was telling me the other day that he'd sent for a water-works expert,
to report on the dam, and to see that everything was in good shape for
the completion of it. He didn't quite trust the contractors, for they'd
never tackled a job exactly like this before. That's who that party
must be--the expert and his assistants. They're going to the dam."
"Oh, then that puts a different face on it," said Billy, much relieved.
"But I should think Uncle Richfield would like to be with 'em when they
make the inspection."
"He may come later," suggested Archie. "I guess it's all right.
Giddap!" and his horses started off. The boys watched the other wagon.
It was swinging away from them now, and a little later was lost to
sight below some foothills, that marked the beginning of a rise of
land, in which rose the river, that the ranch owner proposed curbing to
make water his crops.
"Well, we'll be there in five minutes more," said Billy, as he
stretched out his arms, and playfully poked Andy in the ribs.
"Ouch! Quit that!" yelled the younger Racer lad. "But I don't see any
ranch."
"You will as soon as we get up on the next rise," was the answer. "The
hills hide the houses. There's some of our stock, though," and he waved
toward a herd of cattle that was roaming over the prairie.
"Golly! What a lot of 'em!" exclaimed Frank.
"Oh, that's only a small bunch," replied Billy. "Wait until you see 'em
all--but you can't--not at once, for they cover a big stretch."
The Racer boys were beginning to realize the extent of the Thornton
ranch, and to get some idea of the immensity of the prairies which
stretched out for miles and miles in every direction.
A little later, as the buckboard swung over the rise, there came into
view a cluster of low buildings, and the cattle corrals that made up
the Double X ranch.
"Here we are!" yelled Billy, and the next minute he had leaped from the
seat and was racing toward the stables, calling: "Matt! I say, Matt!
Where are you? Where's Buffalo?"
A short, squat figure of a man came out, a bridle dangling from his
arm. At the sight of Billy he threw up his hands.
"Glory be!" he ejaculated. "It's Billy himself! Well, but I'm glad t'
see you! It's been a long time you were away among them tenderfeet. An'
so you're back. Buffalo is it? Sure an' he's as lonesome for you as I
am myself. I'll trot him out," and, having shaken hands with the lad,
the man turned back into the stable, to come out presently leading a
black horse that whinnied with delight when Billy approached.
"That's Matt Boyle, the ranch foreman," explained Archie; "and that's
Billy's horse--Buffalo, he calls him--and a finer piece of horse-flesh
never was."
"Jove, look at Billy ride!" cried Frank, for the Western lad had, with
a bound, leaped to the back of his animal, and was speeding around the
corral at a swift pace.
"I never knew he could do that," spoke Andy.
"Oh, shucks!" exclaimed Archie. "That's nothing. You wait until you see
Billy do some _real_ ridin'. Then you can open your eyes."
"I wonder if we'll ever be able to ride like that?" mused Andy.
"Of course you will, if you stay here long enough," said the cattleman.
"It only takes practice."
"That's right, the same as it does for anything else--like being good,"
added Frank, with a nudge at his brother's ribs, bringing forth a grunt
of protest.
Billy swept up to the buckboard, on the seat of which his chums still
were, and pulling up his mount, suddenly cried out:
"Say, I didn't mean to be so impolite, but I couldn't wait any longer
to get on Buffalo's back. Come on down and I'll take you into the house
and introduce you to Aunt Kittie."
"That's all right--no apologies needed," said Frank. "We were just
wishing we could ride like you."
"I'll have some mounts for you in a jiffy," replied the Western lad.
"Come on now."
He slipped from the saddle, and, clapping his horse on the flank, said:
"Stable, old boy. I can't ride you any more now. I'll see you later."
But the beautiful animal turned and began nosing in Billy's pocket.
"He thinks I've got some lumps of sugar," the lad explained with a
laugh. "No, not now, Buffalo. I'll bring some out to you. Better come
and get him, Matt," he called to the foreman, and, as the latter
approached, Billy introduced the genial Irishman to his chums.
"Well, Aunt Kittie, here we are!" cried Billy, a little later, as he
led his chums to the residence of the ranch owner. The house was a low
one, and all about it were various buildings, where horses were kept,
the tools and implements for the ranch work stored, and quarters for
the men provided.
"Oh, land sakes!" cried a voice, and a little woman, in an apron that
seemed larger than she herself, hurried out on the porch, her face all
smiles. "Land sakes, I'd have known you were here, even if you hadn't
told me!" she cried, as she kissed Billy. "Oh, I'm _so_ glad you're
back," she went on. "It's been so lonesome without you. And these are
the Racer boys, I expect," she went on, as she shook hands with them.
"Guessed it the first time, Auntie!" exclaimed Billy. "And now what
have you got to eat? We're starved."
"I never saw you when you weren't!" she laughed. "But I guess the meal
is ready. I told----"
She was interrupted by the thrusting forth of a head from a window of
a small house a little distance from the main building, and a voice
exclaimed:
"No hab got, Mlissie Tholnton. No hab got!"
"Hello, Sing-Song!" yelled Billy, as he saw the Chinese cook. "Got
plenty of grub?"
"Me no Sing-Song--me Song Lee, Mlister Billy!" objected the Oriental.
"Me Sing Lee!"
"Well, Sing-Sing or Sing-Song or Lee Song, never mind about that,"
laughed the Western lad. "Rustle up the grub and we'll call you
anything you like."
"Billy, Billy!" expostulated his aunt, "wait a moment. Sing Lee wants
to tell me something. What is it, Sing?" she asked.
"No hab got, Mlissie Tholnton," went on the Chinaman, making all his
"r" sounds like an "l." Then, working his fingers into a complication
of knots and twists, he continued: "No hab got pig glease for make
twisty cakes."
"Pig grease," murmured Billy wonderingly. "That's a new one on me. And
twisty cakes? What in the world does he mean, Aunt Kittie?"
"I expect he wants to tell me that he hasn't any lard to fry the
crullers in, Billy," she answered, with a laugh.
"That's light," assented the cook. "No hab got--what can do?"