AFTER THE RUNAWAY
"There he goes!" cried Will.
"So I see," remarked Jed, rather calmly. "You didn't need to tell me
that. But he'll not run far. It's too hot. Now hold on, Tabasco Sauce.
You needn't think you're going, too," for Jed's horse showed a
disposition to follow its mate.
"I'll have to catch him!" cried Will. "He'll trample a lot of corn down.
I might have known he'd be up to some trick. He acted queer all the
morning."
"Maybe it's a touch of sunstroke," suggested Jed. "Wait a minute and
I'll help you. I'll have to fasten this two-twenty trotter of mine, or
he may take a notion to start a race against time."
He fastened his horse to a tree, in a shady place near the creek, and
then the two brothers started off after the runaway. As they ran through
the rows of corn Will uttered an exclamation.
"There he goes!" he shouted, pointing to the road, which ran along one
side of the corn field. "He's going toward Fentonville like a blue
streak!"
"The rascal!" exclaimed Jed. "He must have headed for the bars. We
forgot to put them up when we came in, and he got out. I wonder what
ails him, anyhow? Never knew him to act this way before."
"Me either. But it was you who left the bars down. You came in last."
"So I did. That's too bad. But, come on. We'll cut across to the road,
and see if we can't catch him."
The two brothers changed their direction, and raced toward the fence
that separated the field from the dusty highway. Meanwhile the horse was
galloping along it, in the midst of a white cloud which his hoofs kicked
up. The animal seemed to be rejoicing in a long-sought freedom.
Just as the boys reached the fence their father came along.
"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Crosby, surprised to see his two sons
leaving their work.
"Old Pete ran away," explained Will. "There he goes," and he pointed to
the moving cloud of dust.
"Old Pete ran away?" repeated the farmer.
"Yep. I was giving him some water at the creek, when he kicked up his
heels and bolted."
"That's too bad," spoke Mr. Crosby, seriously. "He may run into
something, and get hurt, or he may get lost and it will be a week before
we can trace him. Or maybe some one may steal him. I heard there was a
band of gypsies over near Fentonville, and they're great hands to steal
horses. Better take after him, boys."
"We will, dad," said Jed. "Will you go over there and look after my nag?
He's tied, but he may take a notion to go off."
"Oh, I guess Ned is safe," remarked Mr. Crosby. "But I would hate to
have anything happen to Pete. We need both horses very much at this
season, when there's so much cultivating to do, and if he gets stolen,
or injured so he can't work, it will be quite a loss to me."
"We'll get him, dad," spoke Will.
"I'll go over and do some cultivating until you get back," went on the
boys' father. "Land sakes! But I wish it would rain!" and, with the
worried look still on his face, the farmer climbed the fence and walked
through the rows of corn.
Meanwhile the two brothers started on an easy run down the highway. They
knew they might have a long chase after the runaway, and they wanted to
save their energies.
"Suppose he runs into a carriage, or something, and gets all cut and
bruised and lame, so he can't work," spoke Will.
"What's the use of supposing any such thing as that?" asked Jed.
"Probably he'll run until he gets tired, and we'll find him along the
road, waiting for us."
"I'm afraid something will happen," went on Will, rather gloomily.
"Maybe, as dad said, the gypsies will steal him."
"Nonsense!" retorted Jed, taking a more hopeful view. "What's the use of
worrying until you have to?"
"But if we lose that horse it will be a serious blow to dad. He's only
got these two, and there's no money left to hire or buy another."
"How do you know?"
"I heard him and mother talking about it the other night. She asked him
why he didn't hire Joe Wright's horse, to help with the cultivating, and
he said he couldn't afford it."
"Well, of course it would be serious if we only had one horse left to do
the farm work with," admitted Jed. "But Pete isn't lost yet."
"It will be my fault if he is," said his brother. "I suppose I shouldn't
have unharnessed him from the cultivator. He couldn't have run very far,
dragging that."
"I guess not. But we'll find him, all right."
"I can't see any more of him."
"No, he's gone around the bend in the road. We'll make some inquiries
when we get there."
The two lads went on at a dog-trot. In spite of the calm way in which
he took it, Jed was not a little worried over the running away of the
horse. A number of things might happen to the animal, and even the loss
of its services meant a serious handicap at the farm in those hard
times. Both boys felt that they simply must recover the animal, before
it had run too far.
As they reached the turn of the road, around which the horse had
disappeared, they looked ahead, hoping to get a sight of the runaway.
But the road twisted and turned so that it was impossible to see very
far.
"Hello, Mr. Johnson!" called Jed to a man who was hoeing some cabbages
in a field near the highway. "Did you see our brown horse pass here a
while ago?"
"Was that your hoss?" asked the man, straightening up, and wiping his
head with a big, red handkerchief.
"Yep."
"Waal, I couldn't tell whether it was a hoss or a cow, it were goin' so
fast, and th' dust was so thick. I never see it so dry, not since
seventy-three. I guess----"
"Then the horse went on toward Fentonville?" asked Jed, interrupting the
farmer, who was one of the greatest talkers in that locality.
"Yep, he did that. But, as I was sayin', I ain't seen it so dry since
seventy-three. That was th' year I----"
"Come on, Will," spoke Jed, in a low voice. "I've heard that story a
dozen times. Much obliged," he called to Mr. Johnson. "We want to catch
him before the gypsies nab him," and with that the two boys ran on.
"Humph!" exclaimed Mr. Johnson, as he looked after the disappearing
lads. "They're in a turrible hurry. I ain't never seen it so dry since
seventy-three, and that year I----" Then he seemed to realize that he
had no audience, and he began to hoe the cabbages again.
Meanwhile Jed and Will ran on. When they came to a straight stretch of
road, they looked eagerly down it, but they were not rewarded by a sight
of the horse.
"I didn't think he would run so long," remarked Will.
"Especially on a hot day like this," added Jed. "I'm going to slow down
a bit. You're so thin, Will, the heat doesn't have a good chance to get
at you." Jed was inclined to fleshiness.
"We'd ought to have taken the other horse to chase after Pete on," said
Will.
"Ned couldn't carry both of us."
"I didn't mean we were both to ride him."
"Oh, I suppose I could walk, and you'd ride."
"I'm not particular. But it's too late to think of that now. I wonder
why we can't see him? He must have turned off somewhere."
"Very likely. Here comes a man. We'll ask him."
Down the road the boys saw approaching a rather elderly man. He walked
slowly, leaning heavily on a cane, and over his shoulder was a bundle.
"Looks like a pedler," commented Jed.
"Maybe he's one of the gypsy gang," suggested Will.
"Guess not. They very seldom travel alone. No, he's a white man, but
he's tanned enough to be a gypsy," went on Jed, as the stranger
approached closer.
"Morning, boys," said the man, pleasantly. "Hot, ain't it? My, you look
all played out! Is the sheriff after you?"
"The sheriff?" repeated Jed, for the words were somewhat puzzling to
him.
"Yes. Out West, where I hail from, a man doesn't run the way you have
unless the sheriff gets after him. And then usually he does his running
on a horse."
"Well, we happen to be doing our running after a horse," replied Jed,
with a smile. "You didn't happen to see a brown horse with only a bridle
on, as you came along, did you?"
"Did he have a white spot on the breast?"
"Yes," said Will, eagerly.
"Then I guess I saw him. I was walking along, a way back, going slow
because my corn hurts me, and I see a cloud of dust coming toward me,
lickity-split. I thought it was a drove of steers on a stampede at
first, and I got out of the way. Then I see it was only one horse. Queer
how much dust he did kick up, but then it's terrible dry in these parts.
Worse than the Nevada desert in midsummer."
"Where did the horse go?" asked Jed, a little impatiently, for he did
not care for all those details.
"I'm coming to that, my lad. Just after he passed me the horse seemed to
think he'd run enough, and he jumped over a fence, into a pasture, and
began to eat. Pretty good jump it was, too, after the way he'd been
running."
"Come on, Will!" cried Jed. "We'll catch him."
"Hold on, and I'll help you," exclaimed the man, as he followed the two
boys down the road.