OFF FOR THE RANCH
The next morning was clear and bright and Bob was awakened by the
sunlight streaming into the room. He looked about and saw that his
companions were still sound asleep.
"Here, get up, you sleepy heads," he cried, giving each a vigorous
shake.
But as this brought nothing from them but muffled grunts, he took
harsher measures. He pulled off all the bedclothes.
This might have worked in Winter, but on this warm Summer morning it
was no hardship and the drowsy boys refused to budge.
"No help for it," muttered Bob to himself, and filling a glass with
water, he divided it impartially, throwing half on the face and neck of
each sleeper.
There was a howl and a jump as Frank and Sammy started from their beds
in chase of their tormentor, but Bob had his clothes ready at hand and
darted off into the adjoining room, where he turned the key in the lock
just as Frank and Sammy, hot in pursuit, banged up against the door.
"What's the matter, fellows?" called Bob from the other side. "You seem
to be excited about something."
"It'll be a pitcher full for you instead of a glassful, the next time
we wake up first," threatened Sammy.
"It certainly will," confirmed Frank, rattling vainly at the door knob.
"Then I'm safe enough," mocked Bob, "for you lazybones will never wake
up first in a thousand years."
They did not answer and retired to their room, muttering dire threats
against mischief-making Bob, while that youth, with a happy grin on
his face, finished his dressing. He then looked carefully through the
keyhole to see that the coast was clear and made a dash for the stairs.
He did not get off scot free, however, for Frank had a slipper near
at hand and sent it down the stairs after him. It struck Bob plump on
the shoulder and brought a grunt from him that pleased Sammy and Frank
immensely.
"Now I feel better," grinned Frank.
"Yes," laughed Sammy. "Bob's pretty slick but he can't always get away
with it."
A truce was declared while they gathered around the breakfast table.
Mrs. Bouncer had prepared an especially good meal in honor of the boys'
last day in Lighthouse Cove.
They were to leave on the early afternoon train, and as there was a
good deal to do before that time, Mrs. Bouncer sent the boys out of
doors right after breakfast so that she might have a free hand.
The boys wandered around taking a last look at the places where they
had had such a happy time that Summer. To be sure they had had times,
too, that were full of danger and anxiety. But these, at any rate, had
kept their experience from being tame, and now that they were safely
over they were not unpleasant to look back upon.
"We certainly have had a bully time here," remarked Sammy.
"Yes," said Frank. "I half hate to leave the old place."
"We'll have lots to tell the boys when we get back to Fairview,"
observed Bob.
"Won't their eyes stick out when we tell them about our drifting out to
sea and picking up the _Mary Ellen_?" said Sammy.
"I'll be almost afraid to tell them everything for fear they'll think
we're making some of it up," put in Frank.
"Well, if they do, we can show 'em the newspaper stories, and I guess
that will hold 'em for a while," crowed Bob, triumphantly.
Before long they ran across the old fisherman, Hamp Salina, sitting on
an overturned boat on the beach and mending his nets.
"Howdy, boys," he greeted them, taking his pipe from his mouth as they
came up. "What's this I've heerd about your folks goin' away? I kind o'
thought you was goin' to stay here all Summer."
"We did mean to when we came down," replied Bob, "but we boys have
had an invitation to go out West on a ranch for the last part of the
Summer, and we've made up our mind to go."
"Dew tell!" exclaimed Hamp. "Well, that beats all! I shall be sorry
to hev you boys go. You've brought a bit of life into this sleepy old
place, and I like to hev you around."
This was an unusually long speech from Hamp, and the boys appreciated
the old sailor's friendly feeling.
"We're sorry to go too for lots of reasons, Hamp," said Sammy.
"We've just been talking of the fine times we've had here this Summer,"
put in Frank.
"Even if ye haven't diskivered any pirate gold?" said Hamp with a
chuckle and a sly glance at Sammy.
"We haven't found any yet," Sammy replied, sticking to his guns. "But,
just the same, we might have run across some if we'd been able to stay
here all Summer. We don't know what there may be in that old wreck over
yonder. We started to swim over there yesterday but Bob got a cramp and
we had to give it up."
"That's too bad," said Hamp, gravely. "But that wreck hez been there a
good many years and it's likely t' be there fer some time yet. Maybe if
ye come down next Summer ye'll hev another chance to take a hack at the
gold."
There was a twinkle in his eye that showed he was not banking very much
on the boys' chances, and Sammy thought it might be just as well to
change the subject.
They chatted a little while longer and then parted with mutual good
wishes. Hamp, with a sigh of regret, went back to his net mending,
while the boys went back to the Bouncer cottage to make final
preparations for their journey.
They had been so used to going round in their bathing suits and loose,
comfortable clothes, that it was quite an ordeal to be dressed up
stiffly in their best, but they took it as a necessary evil and made
the best of it.
They caught the train in plenty of time, and Mrs. Bouncer gave a sigh
of relief after the noisy, tumultuous group had found seats and settled
into place.
Sammy had received his promised letter by the morning mail, but had
been too busy so far to open it. The main thing with him was that his
folks were going to let him go, and he could wait to find out the
details. But now that he was comfortably settled in his car seat he
opened the letter and read it over.
It told him of the surprise that his father and mother had felt when
they had received the news that upset all their plans for Sammy for
the Summer. There had been a good deal of hesitation and doubt before
they had finally decided, but the knowledge that the other boys were
going and the thought of how Sammy would feel if he were left behind
had turned the scale. So they had hurried to send the telegram, and now
were anxiously awaiting his return home.
"It's all right, is it, Sammy?" asked Mrs. Bouncer, who had been
studying his face while he read.
"It's more than that," grinned Sammy, handing over the letter for her
to read.
Bob took advantage of his mother's absorption in the letter to snatch
Sammy's cap and throw it into one of the racks on the other side of the
car. But Sammy got back at him by snatching his cap in turn and holding
it out of the open window.
"You get that cap of mine back mighty quick, Bob, unless you want me to
drop yours alongside the railroad track," threatened Sammy.
Bob's face lengthened.
"Aw, you wouldn't do that, Sammy," he pleaded.
"Wouldn't I?" retorted Sammy. "Just watch me."
Bob hesitated a moment.
"My fingers are getting kind o' cramped," said Sammy, calmly. "The cap
may slip out of them any minute."
Bob still hesitated. He hated to eat humble pie.
"You'd better hurry up," warned Sammy. "If I don't get my cap back
before we pass the next twenty telegraph poles alongside the track, I
feel it in my bones that something's going to happen."
Bob held out till he counted fifteen poles. Then as Sammy said nothing
further but kept his lips moving as he counted each pole, Bob thought
it was best to take no chances. He reluctantly went over, reached up
and got Sammy's cap and threw it in his lap.
"There's your old cap," he remarked. "Now give me back mine."
"Sure thing," said Sammy, with a grin of satisfaction at having carried
his point. "Here's your cap, Bob; and you'd better put it on. I'd hate
to have you catch cold on my account."
"Honest to goodness, Sammy," inquired Frank, who had been a grinning
spectator of the little byplay between his chums, "would you have
dropped the cap anyway?"
"Of course not," laughed Sammy. "That was just a little bluff and Bob
fell for it."
The rest of the journey passed without special incident, and all the
party were delighted when just before dark they found themselves
once more in Fairview. After all, this was home, where most of their
happiest hours had been spent, and though they liked to get away from
it at times for a change of scene they were always glad to get back
again to the old home town.
Sammy and Frank got a loving welcome from their folks and each home
became at once a beehive where every one was kept busy preparing for
the trip. There was a lot to do and not much time to do it in.
Frank, and even Sammy, had still cherished a sneaking hope that their
parents might look on the gun question a little more favorably than
Bob's parents had, but they soon found out that they were mistaken.
Both families cried out in horror at the idea, and it began to look
as though the Indians and outlaws were safe as far as the boys were
concerned.
"There's no use," said Sammy, shaking his head mournfully when he met
his chums the next morning. "Our only chance will be to pick up some
guns after we get out there."
"Well, perhaps after all there'll be more fun getting them that way
than if our folks bought them for us," put in Bob, who usually saw the
bright side of things.
"Yes," agreed the practical Frank. "Only if our folks bought them we'd
be _sure_ of having them, while the other way is only a chance and not
much of a chance at that."
But whatever disappointment the boys had on this score was more than
made up for by the sensation they created among the other boys of
Fairview the moment it became known they were going out on a real ranch
among real cowboys. The news spread like wildfire and whenever they
appeared on the street they found themselves the center of interest and
the recipients of a lot of eager questions.
"I suppose you'll be riding those bucking bronchos we see in the
movies," said Hank Blair in an envious voice.
"I suppose so," said Bob with a rather bored air, as though bucking
bronchos were an old story with him.
"Maybe you'll have some scalps to bring home," suggested Jim Eaton.
"Maybe so, if the red fiends don't get ours first," said Sammy, darkly.
"Maybe road agents will hold up the coach you ride over to the ranch
in," put in little Johnny Jones.
"We'll have our money hidden in our shoes," declared Frank. "We know
how to get the best of those fellows."
"Trust us to keep our eyes wide open," observed Bob, impressively.
"I wish I were going along with you fellows," said Jed Burr.
Jed had formerly been something of a bully and the boys had not liked
him at all. But there had been a great change in him lately, and he
seemed to be trying to do the right thing. Ever since he had risked
his life in trying to save one of the smaller boys when it was thought
that the school was on fire, Frank and his chums had felt very friendly
toward him.
"I wish you were, Jed," responded Sammy, warmly.
"So do I," came from Frank and Bob.
"We'll tell you boys all about it when we get back anyway," continued
Sammy. "That is if we get back at all."
He folded his arms in a gloomy manner that spoke volumes of the
possible danger of the trip, and the other boys felt rather shivery. In
imagination they could see the bones of the young adventurers bleaching
on the western plains.
"If we do get back," went on Sammy, when he had let this sink in far
enough, "we'll bring you fellows something that we've picked up out
there. Maybe it'll be the rattles of a snake----"
"Or the teeth of a grizzly bear," put in Bob, hopefully.
"I'd rather have a scalp," put in Hank Blair.
"The claws of a panther would be good enough for me," said Jim Eaton.
The boys began to feel that with all these commissions they were
getting into deep water. Still they kept a stiff upper lip and promised
vaguely that they would do their best, and with this their admiring
audience was forced to be content.
In various ways during the next day or two Sammy and his chums tried to
live up to their rather misty ideas of cowboys and ranch life.
Frank had heard that the legs of most cowboys were slightly bowed
because they were so much in the saddle, and he began to turn his toes
in until his family remonstrated.
"What's the matter with you, Frank?" asked his brother George. "You're
waddling like a duck."
His mother's comment was less brusque but went right to the point.
"Now look here, Frank," she said. "I've taught you to walk straight and
turn out your toes. But I declare to goodness, this last day or two
you're actually walking bandy-legged. Now stop that or I'll get you a
pair of braces."
And Frank, with an inward sigh at the extremely practical and
unromantic views of his family, was forced to yield.
Sammy's folks, too, were not without troubles of their own. Somebody
had told Sammy that trappers and hunters had wrinkles under their eyes
from constantly straining their sight and looking off into distant
spaces, and Sammy right away began to develop quite a squint.
"Stop drawing your eyes together that way, Sammy," commanded his
observant mother, "or I'll have Dr. Wilson up here to take a look at
you. It looks to me for all the world as though you were getting a case
of St. Vitus' dance."
As for Bob he had gone no further than to get hold of the kitchen
carving knife as often as he could without detection, and practise
hurling it at the back yard fence. About one time out of ten he was
able to make it stick, and he was in high feather over his progress
until the knife went over the fence, nearly slicing the ear off the
neighbor's cat.
[Illustration: BOB PRACTISED HURLING THE KNIFE AT THE BACK FENCE.]
This brought a quick remonstrance from the unsympathetic neighbor, and
Bob's activities were suddenly cut short.
"Never mind," said Sammy, when the boys were discussing the obstacles
their families put in their way. "Let's get to work practising
calls and signals. We ought to get the call of the cuckoo and the
whip-poor-will down fine. Then if any one of us should be captured by
outlaws the others could creep up at night and tell him by the calls
that help was near."
This seemed reasonable and had the further advantage that here at least
their families were not likely to interfere. They practised until
they were hoarse, and if their relatives surmised the meaning of the
unearthly noises they smiled wisely and said nothing.
While the boys were thus getting ready for their trip their parents had
been as busy as beavers in a more practical way. The trunks were packed
and tickets bought and by Wednesday night in the week following their
return from Lighthouse Cove everything was ready for the start. On the
following morning they were to take the local train which would connect
at the Junction with the flyer for Chicago, and their long journey
two-thirds of the way across the continent would have begun.
George Haven, as the oldest, was to be in general charge of the party,
and many were the injunctions showered upon him by the anxious parents.
Each one of the young travelers came in too for a lot of advice from
his parents. The fathers clapped them on the shoulders and told them to
behave themselves and be careful. The mothers hugged and kissed them
and gave last words of advice.
The boys felt a little tightening at their throats when they came to
say good-bye to father and mother and clamber on the train. They thrust
their heads out of the window and waved their hands and handkerchiefs
to the loving faces that looked after them as long as the train was in
sight. Then they sank back in their seats and looked at each other.
At last the Fairview boys were off for the ranch!