A CALL FOR HELP
"I told you so."
"You have told me so many things, Big-foot, that I can't remember them
all," laughed Tad. "What is it this time?"
"Trouble."
"Oh, you mean the stampede last night?"
"Yes."
"Tell me about it. You know I was not here when it started."
After a hard night's work, in which the Pony Rider Boys had toiled
heroically, the cattle once more had been rounded up and Big-foot and
Tad Butler were riding into camp for breakfast. It was the first
opportunity they had found to talk over the incident.
"Not much to tell. It happened so quick----"
"What time?" interrupted Tad.
"'Bout half-past nine, I reckon."
"Half-past nine," muttered the lad thoughtfully. "Yes; go on."
"We were sitting by the camp fire, and Curley Adams was telling about
the time he was mixed up with the rustlers on the Colorado."
"Yes."
"Well, them ponies came down on us a-whooping."
"The ponies? Did they get away, too?" asked the lad in surprise.
"Did they? You ought to have seen the varmints. Nearly run over us when
they smashed through the camp. One jumped clean over the fire."
"Yes, I understand; but did you have any idea why the cattle stampeded?"
"Sure. The ponies put them on the run."
"The ponies started it?"
"Yes. No telling how it happened. The cows come a-running after the
ponies had broke through them, and the whole outfit piled over the
camp."
"Do any damage?"
"I reckon. Knocked over the chuck wagon, and near killed the heathen
Chinee. The men on guard roped the runaway ponies, and, by the time you
got on the job, we had just about got straightened around ready to go
after the cows."
"I suppose you lay it to----"
"Adobe church," answered the cowman conclusively.
"I am going over there to-day, Big-foot. I am going to try to find out
if there is anything in all this. Candidly, I don't believe it. Even
Colonel McClure says it's all foolishness. That is, I do not believe it
is anything that cannot be explained."
The foreman was looking worried that morning. It had been a succession
of disasters ever since they had neared the locality. This time it had
been the ponies which were hobbled some little distance from the herd,
but which had become so frightened at what they saw that they bolted,
hobbles and all.
"I want those cows from the McClure ranch brought over to-day,"
Stallings directed. "At least, bring over half of them. Get them over
right after breakfast. If we are going to have any more disturbances
let's try to have them in the daytime."
"Do you need us?" asked Tad.
"No. Go on and enjoy yourselves. You all have earned a holiday."
The lads were in their saddles early. Professor Zepplin went with them,
intending to spend the day at the ranch as arranged on the previous
evening.
The young ladies of the household were waiting, dressed in short skirts
and wearing broad-brimmed straw hats. To the boys they were most
attractive. Their fresh young faces lighted with anticipation of the
day's pleasure as, assisted by the Pony Riders, they swung into their
saddles. It fell to Tad Butler to ride beside Miss Brayton.
"We had a stampede at the camp last night," he told her after they had
headed off to the east for the Springs, which was to be their first
objective point.
"Yes; so uncle told me. I'm sorry. Did you lose any stock?"
"I believe not, unless it was some of the new ponies. I did not think to
ask."
"At what time did the trouble occur?" she asked absently.
"I think it was shortly after you left us at dinner, last night,"
answered Tad, in a matter-of-fact tone. "It was, perhaps, half an hour
after that when your uncle told us."
Miss Brayton flushed painfully, and quickly changed the subject. Tad
noticed her confusion and marveled at it.
Arriving at the Springs, which proved to be a group of rocks rising out
of the plain, and from which several springs of pure sparkling water
bubbled, all dismounted and drank of the refreshing fluid. After a few
moments spent in chatting, they remounted their ponies and set off for
the adobe church, the real object of the day's journey.
Reaching the historic place, they tethered their ponies among the
mesquite bushes in the rear of it, after which all entered through a
crumbling doorway. The interior, they found, was in an excellent state
of preservation.
Many surprising little alcoves and odd, cell-like rooms were distributed
all through the church. It was dark and cool in there. Chunky shivered,
and said he didn't wonder people said there were spooks there.
"Is there any cellar beneath the church?" asked Tad.
"It has been said that there were once underground passages," answered
Miss Brayton. "No one in our time has ever discovered them."
"That sounds interesting. I think I should like to find the way into
them."
"So should I," added Stacy Brown.
"Look out that you don't fall in," cautioned Ned. "Remember that's your
failing."
"Not much chance of that," laughed Margaret. "These stone floors are too
thick for anyone to fall through."
"Does anyone ever come here?" asked Tad.
"Not that I know of," answered Miss Brayton.
"But I saw a path when I came in. Somebody has been hitching a pony out
there in the bushes, too," said the boy.
"Perhaps some of the cowmen may come in here out of the heat, now and
then," replied the young woman carelessly.
"Why Ruth, you could not induce one of papa's men to enter the door of
the old place. You know they are half scared to death of it," said
Margaret.
Chunky's eyes were growing large.
"Wow!" he said. "Let's go out doors and eat."
"The lunch has not yet arrived. It will be here soon," Miss Brayton
informed him. "We will spread it in the main room here, if you have no
objections. It will be cool and pleasant; and, besides, there are no
flies in here."
"For goodness' sake, forget your appetite," growled Ned in Stacy's ear.
"Can't a fellow talk about his appetite without being found fault with?"
Chunky sulkily retorted.
"Not the kind of an appetite you have. It's a positive disgrace to the
outfit."
"Huh!" grunted Chunky, walking away.
The lad wandered off by himself, and the rest forgot all about him in
their investigation of the old church. Miss Brayton told them as much of
its history as she knew.
"Some of the former priests are said to have been buried somewhere in
the edifice," she said.
"I don't see any signs of it," said Tad.
"No. No one ever has in our time. And it has even been hinted that
treasure has been buried here, too, or secreted in some of the
mysterious recesses of the church."
"Where are they" asked Walter. "I am beginning to get curious."
"I am sure I do not know," laughed the young woman. "There is a sort of
garret, if you can get to it, above the gallery there. Maybe you might
find something there. I have an idea that it is inhabited by bats."
"I guess we will leave them undisturbed," decided Tad. "I don't like
bats."
"There come the servants," announced Miss Brayton. "Now your friend will
be able to satisfy his appetite."
At her direction the servants brought in the baskets of food. A cloth
was spread over a stone table that they found at the far end of the
church in the balcony. What its use had been, in those other days, they
did not know, but it served their purpose very well now.
"I am afraid we shall have to eat standing," said Miss Sadie. "We have
no chairs."
"That will suit Chunky," replied Ned Rector. "He always likes to eat
standing."
"Why?" asked Margaret, glancing up at him inquiringly.
"For some reasons of his own," answered Ned mischievously.
As the good things were spread before them the eyes of the lads lighted
appreciatively, and all helped themselves gratefully.
It was a jolly party, untouched by the air of mystery that was supposed
to surround the place.
"Why, where is Master Stacy?" asked Ruth Brayton in surprise, after they
had been eating a few moments.
"Chunky? That's so, where is he?" demanded Walter, glancing over the
railing into the auditorium below.
No one seemed to know.
"He's prowling around the place somewhere," said Ned. "But what
surprises me is that he doesn't scent the food and come running. It's
not like him to hang back when there is anything good to eat."
"Call him," suggested Margaret.
"I will. O-h-h Chunky!"
There was no reply.
"I will go after him," said Walter, running lightly to the other end of
the balcony and down the stone steps.
The lad returned in a few moments, a perplexed frown on his face.
"Find him?" asked Ned.
"No."
"Maybe he's gone back to camp. He's a queer chap."
"I think not. I saw his pony there with the others."
"Oh, well, never mind. He'll get so hungry that he will have to come
out, wherever he is," decided Tad. "I imagine he is hiding somewhere to
make us think he has gone away. Hark! What was that?"
A far away call for help echoed faintly through the church.
They looked at each other with growing uneasiness on their faces.
"It's Chunky," breathed Walter.
"Wh--where is he?" stammered Margaret.
"I don't know. Excuse me; I must go," exclaimed Tad. "The boy is in
trouble again. I knew it--I knew he couldn't keep out of it," he added,
hurrying away from them.
Ned sprang down the steps after Tad and together they disappeared
through a rear door in the auditorium.