AN EXCITING CHASE
The Fairview boys slept hard and long on that first night they spent at
the ranch, and when they awoke the next morning the sun was high in the
heavens.
"Jiminy!" exclaimed George, looking at his watch. "It's after ten
o'clock. I don't know what they'll think of us keeping breakfast
waiting so long."
The rest were speedily on their feet, and after a hurried wash and
combing they dressed and hastened down to the main floor.
Mrs. Claxton met them with a smiling face.
"Don't say a word," she protested, as they tried to apologize for being
so late. "I know how tired you poor boys must be and I made up my mind
not to call you if you slept all day. But now that you are down I'll
have breakfast on the table for you before you can turn around."
It was not long before she summoned them to the dining-room.
"Mr. Claxton and I had our breakfast some hours ago," said their
hostess. "He's down at the bunk-house now and he left word that you
were to come down and find him as soon as you were through your meal.
But there's plenty of time, so don't hurry."
They ate till they could eat no more, and then took their hats and went
out into the glorious Summer morning. They turned their steps toward
the bunk-house, which Mrs. Claxton pointed out to them from the porch.
It was a long, low structure with a long table in the middle at which
the men ate their meals. Around the sides were twenty or more bunks
that furnished sleeping quarters. Everything about the place was simple
and plain but scrupulously clean.
Most of the men had scattered long ago to their work about the ranch.
The only ones in sight were Hank Thompson, their driver of the day
before, who smiled in a friendly way at them as they passed, and a
powerful, wiry man to whom Mr. Claxton was talking just outside the
door of the bunk-house.
The ranch owner greeted them cordially and turned to the man with whom
he had been talking.
"These are the young lads from the East I was telling you we expected,
Bill," he said. "Boys, this is my foreman, Mr. Bixby."
The boys acknowledged the introduction, and Bill took the hand of each
and squeezed it cordially in his great paw.
"I shore am glad to meet you youngsters," he grinned. "Mr. Claxton has
told me to see thet you hev a good time while you're out here an' I'm
goin' to do my best to give it to you."
The boys thanked him heartily.
"To begin with," said Mr. Claxton, "how would you boys like to have
horses of your own to ride while you're here?" The boys gasped with
delight, and Mr. Claxton smiled.
"Tell Hank to go down to the corral and bring the horses up here," he
directed his foreman. "Have you boys ever had any experience in riding
before?" he asked, when the foreman had gone to execute his mission.
They had to confess that outside of an occasional ride on one of the
sedate old horses of Fairview that could hardly get up enough spirit
to break into a trot, they had had no experience.
"I thought as much," said Mr. Claxton, "and for that reason I've had
Bill pick out horses that were gentle and thoroughly broken. I feel
that I'm responsible to your parents to see that you take no risks. You
can practise on these, and after you've learned to ride well, I may let
you have some that are younger and friskier."
In a few minutes Hank came up, leading four horses by ropes. They were
good looking and strong limbed and they had been groomed until their
coats shone like satin. They were not of the bucking-broncho type, but
steady and reliable.
From the bunk-house Hank brought four saddles and the bridles and
fitted them into place. Then he gave a lift to each of the boys and
they settled on the horses' backs.
"Now, Hank," directed Mr. Claxton, "you've got nothing else to do this
morning but teach these lads how to ride. Go slow at first and show
them all there is to know about managing a horse. Nobody knows more
about that than you do."
Hank grinned at the compliment.
"Jest leave it to me, boss," he said. "I'll make regular hoss wranglers
outen these kids if they stay here long enough."
There was a perfectly level space of several hundred yards in front of
the ranch buildings, and here Hank instructed his pupils for the next
two hours. He taught them how to sway with the motion of their mounts,
how to guide them by the pressure of their knees as well as with the
bit, how to hold the reins loosely yet firmly, and how to pat and talk
to the horses until they won their confidence and affection.
The boys were apt pupils and paid the closest attention to his
teachings, so that when the dinner gong sounded Hank was able to
report to his employer that they had made very satisfactory progress.
They practised a little that afternoon also, though Mr. Claxton
would not let them keep at it too long on the first day. They were
frightfully lame and sore that night from the saddle and found it
difficult to sleep. But this wore away after the first day, and in two
or three days more they were able to ride about at a good degree of
speed and Hank announced that they would "do."
That first week at the ranch was one of unalloyed delight for the
Fairview boys. They hobnobbed with the cowboys, who they found were a
rough but friendly lot, accompanied them on their rounds, watched them
as they roped and branded, gasped with delight as they saw the way
they tamed and rode the bucking bronchos in the corral, and soon were
familiar with all the mysteries of ranch life that up to now had been a
sealed book to them.
One cloudy morning, George proposed that they should go fishing in a
stream that ran about five miles distant from the ranch house.
"You won't mind if we do, will you, Mrs. Claxton?" asked George.
"We'll bring you home a great big mess of fish for supper," said Bob,
coaxingly.
"I know there are lots of bullheads and catfish there," remarked Sammy,
"and I shouldn't wonder, too, if there were perch and pickerel."
"You boys have got such a wheedling way with you that I can't refuse
you anything," laughed Mrs. Claxton. "I guess it will be all right for
you to go, but you must be sure to get home before dark. I'll have Tom
put up a nice lunch for you."
They thanked her and gaily made their preparations. They had not
brought reels or rods with them from home, but it was easy enough to
rig up a sufficient number of lines and hooks. They dug up a big can of
bait and after a hearty breakfast mounted their horses and rode off.
They raced their horses, laughed and shouted, and acted altogether like
a party of young maniacs. The five miles were covered almost before
they knew it, and they found themselves on the border of the little
river they sought.
It was a small stream not more than thirty feet wide at any place and
narrowing sometimes to ten. It ranged in depth from two feet to five.
The almost impossibility of being drowned in it was one of the reasons
that had led Mrs. Claxton to let them go so readily.
"I wonder what the name of this river is," said Frank, as they leaped
from their horses' backs and led them to near-by trees to tie them.
"Bill said it didn't have any regular name," replied Bob.
"In that case we'll name it ourselves," grinned George.
"I'll tell you what we'll do," suggested Sammy. "The one that catches
the first fish will have the right to name the river."
"That's a go," agreed Bob, "and I'm going to be the one."
"Don't crow too soon," warned Frank. "I don't see any medals on you as
a fisherman."
"If you fellows don't stop your chinning, you'll scare the fish away
and none of us will be able to catch anything," warned George.
"And then the poor old river will have to go without a name a little
longer," mocked the irrepressible Sammy.
George tried to squelch him with a look but with no success.
"Here goes for the first fish," murmured Bob in a half whisper, as he
baited his line and threw it into the stream.
The others had soon followed his example and a hush fell on the group
as they settled down for business.
For a few minutes there was not even a nibble. Then Frank's line was
almost jerked out of his hand.
He pulled in excitedly and had almost brought his catch to shore when
the line suddenly broke and Frank fell over on his back.
He gave a howl of vexation as his line without the hook came out the
water.
"And that was a whopper, too," he complained. "I'll bet he was the
daddy of them all."
"It's always the biggest fish that gets away," consoled George. "Never
mind, Frank, better luck next time."
A new hook was fastened to the line and baited, and Frank grumblingly
threw it in. Just as he did so, Bob gave a shout and pulled a big
catfish out on the bank.
He rushed to take it from the hook but started back with a cry of pain.
"It stung me," he yelled, holding up his finger from which blood was
flowing.
"Of course he did," replied Sammy. "They always get one of their horns
into you if you're not careful. I'll bet that fellow's tickled to death
at the way he put one over on you."
"Wash your finger well in the water," counseled George, "and then come
over here and I'll put some peroxide on it that Mrs. Claxton gave me to
bring along."
Bob did as directed, and then with exceeding care took the catfish from
the hook.
"It's a beauty anyway," he said as he surveyed it, "and it's the first
one caught. Didn't I tell you that I'd be the one to name the river?
I'll name it right now the Fairview River."
Sammy was about to reply when all his energies were called into play
to land a perch that had grabbed his line. At almost the same time
George pulled in a bullhead, and from that time on the fun was fast and
furious. The stream was not often fished in, and so the fish were not
as wary of human foes as usual. In less than half an hour the boys had
as many as thirty fish lying on the bank, and then George called a halt.
"We've got the mess we promised Mrs. Claxton all right," he said
exultingly, "and we don't want to catch a lot that we'll simply have to
leave here on the grass. I'll tell you what let's do. We'll clean a few
of these and broil them over a fire of oak twigs and have a fish feast
right here. There's butter and pepper and salt in the lunch box, and I
bet we'll have the dandiest fish fry you ever tasted in your life."
The other boys agreed to this and all set to work at once.
They feasted long and well, and when they were through had hardly
enough energy left to move.
"I feel now like some of those Australian natives I've read about,"
said George. "They say that when a whale drifts ashore they eat
steadily for about thirty-six hours. Then they sleep for a week."
"An anaconda hasn't anything on them," agreed Frank. "I feel myself as
though I wouldn't half mind going to sleep."
"It wouldn't be any trouble for me at all," said Sammy, drowsily.
"Same here," assented Bob.
They lay stretched out on their backs, lazy and content. The only sound
was the murmur of the river and the wind blowing through the trees. The
sun stole through the leaves and flecked the green sward with bits of
gold. It was a scene of perfect dreamy peace.
Suddenly, Sammy raised himself on his elbow.
"What are you doing?" asked George, sleepily.
"What are you getting up for?" growled Frank.
"Listen!" said Sammy. "Don't you hear anything?"
"I don't hear anything except you," fretted Bob.
"You're dippy, I guess," complained George.
"I tell you I hear something," persisted Sammy.
His earnestness impressed his mates and they sat up.
"It's coming nearer," went on Sammy. "It sounds like a rush of horses
or cattle. Put your ear close to the ground."
They did so and now all could distinctly hear what sounded like the
pounding of hoofs.
They looked at each other with growing surprise and a bit of alarm in
their eyes.
"What can it be?" asked Bob.
"Maybe it's a stampede," suggested Frank.
"Whatever it is, we'd better get back out of sight," counseled Sammy.
"We can get down close to the bank of the river and look through the
bushes."
They followed this advice, and, crouching low, looked in the direction
of the sounds.
These grew louder and louder until suddenly a horseman came in sight,
riding at full speed. He held the reins of the powerful black horse he
was riding with one hand, while with the other he held in front of him
a girl. She seemed to have fainted and would apparently have fallen
from the saddle without the rider's sustaining arm.
The horse drew nearer, plunged into the little river, struggled up the
further bank and tore on with tremendous speed. It was evident that the
rider was in deadly fear of pursuit.
And when the boys looked back in the direction from which the rider had
come, they did not wonder at his fear.