Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 62743-h.htm or 62743-h.zip:
(https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/62743/pg62743-images.html)
or
(https://www.gutenberg.org/files/62743/62743-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/graceharlowesove00flow_7
GRACE HARLOWE’S OVERLAND RIDERS AT CIRCLE O RANCH
[Illustration: “It’s Pap!”]
GRACE HARLOWE’S OVERLAND RIDERS AT CIRCLE O RANCH
by
JESSIE GRAHAM FLOWER
Author of The High School Girls Series, The College Girls Series, The
Grace Harlowe Overseas Series, Grace Harlowe’s Overland Riders
on the Old Apache Trail, Grace Harlowe’s Overland Riders on
the Great American Desert, Grace Harlowe’s Overland Riders
Among the Kentucky Mountaineers, Grace Harlowe’s Overland
Riders in the Great North Woods, Grace Harlowe’s
Overland Riders in the High Sierras, Grace Harlowe’s
Overland Riders in the Yellowstone National
Park, Grace Harlowe’s Overland Riders in the
Black Hills, etc., etc.
Illustrated
Philadelphia
Henry Altemus Company
Copyrighted, 1923, by
Howard E. Altemus
Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS
Chapter I—Peace in the Coso Valley
Stacy’s dream is interpreted. Jim-Sam proves to
be a problem. A guide that could howl like a coyote.
“Mules, like some fellers, is contrary critters.” Sam’s
whiskers are expressive. A peace that was rudely
broken.
Chapter II—On the Road to Trouble
The Overlanders prepare for defense. Stacy’s weapon
a tent stake. Emma Dean in the toils. The shot
that stopped the roper. “Let ’em have it!” yells the
guide. All because of the fat boy’s dream. The
alarm.
Chapter III—An Invitation to Move
“Sit tight!” orders Hippy. A caller who threatened
trouble. Sam Conifer passes the lie. “I reckon I’d
kill ye whar ye stand!” Hands flash to weapons.
The stranger is ordered out of camp. When brains
were mixed.
Chapter IV—At the “Circle O” Ranch
Camp made in the foothills of the Cosos. “The Old
Man wants ter know what ye are doin’ heah!” The
Overlanders are again ordered to get out. Emma
explains the “imponderable something.” The dance
in the bunk-house. A bullet parts Sam Conifer’s
whiskers.
Chapter V—Overlanders Suffer a Loss
“Shoot, Sam! Shoot, I tell you!” A mysterious
shot is fired. Jim finds a trail. A “lovely party”
spoiled. The Overland Riders find their ponies missing.
Distress at the Circle O. Jim-Sam blame each
other.
Chapter VI—Rustlers Are Hard Pressed
A question of mules. Emma Dean looks for dreams.
Sam exchanges shots with a prowler. Stacy Brown
believes in safety first. Ranchers engage the rustlers
in a lively battle. Lieutenant Wingate wages an
unequal fight and loses.
Chapter VII—A Fight to a Finish
“Give ’em the rifles!” yells Two-gun Pete. The
end of the battle. An Overlander is found seriously
wounded. Tom bears bad news to his companions.
Elfreda gives first aid. Cowpunchers look on in
open-mouthed wonder.
Chapter VIII—The “Dude” Makes Good
Hippy is complimented by Two-gun Pete. “What’s
a hoss when it comes to a scrap?” What Hippy
Wingate dreamed. Grace Harlowe’s pony is recovered.
Ranchers help the Overlanders to move.
Judy Hornby makes an exciting entrance.
Chapter IX—Judy Speaks Out
The mountain girl wants to know what love is. Judy
tries poulticing for a sick heart. “If I could talk
like that I’d be a real lady.” Overland girls give helpful
advice. A word that drove a mustang to desperation.
Chapter X—The Round-up
“Pap sure was a scream,” declares Judy. The Overland
Riders witness a thrilling round-up. Stacy Brown
gets into new difficulties. J. Elfreda is accused of
frightening a wild steer to death. Bad news from
up the valley.
Chapter XI—Hippy Defends the Ranch
Lieutenant Wingate’s suspicions aroused. Two
ruffians are neatly trapped. The ranch-house under
rifle fire. A ruse that succeeded. “I’ve got to take
a chance.” Rifle bullets rip through the old house.
Disaster again overtakes the Overland Rider.
Chapter XII—At the Last Moment
An alarm scatters the mountain ruffians. “Hit the
trail! Hit it hard!” Cowpunchers find the ranch-house
on fire. A dramatic scene in Joe Bindloss’s
home. Captives give sullen replies. “The herd’s
stampeded an’ Pop’s been shot!” cries Idaho Jones.
Chapter XIII—An Overlander Is Missing
Hippy at last regains consciousness. Lieutenant
Wingate relates the story of the attack on the ranch-house.
Cowboys howl when they hear the news. Stacy Brown mysteriously
disappears. “The prisoners have got away!”
Chapter XIV—The Lost Trail
Malcolm Hornby refuses Joe Bindloss’s request.
“Pap’s got an awful grouch today.” Jim fails to
follow Chunky’s trail. The search is given up for
the night. Judy acts strangely. “Something has
happened to Jim!” Sam Conifer meets disaster.
Chapter XV—Clews That Were Loaded
The old guide finds the trail and a bullet finds him.
Stacy and Jim are among the missing. Two-gun
Pete makes a strange discovery. The mystery of
the carrier pigeons. Birds for a pie. “Wal, I’ll be
shot!” exclaims Joe Bindloss.
Chapter XVI—The Carrier Pigeons’ Flight
Chunky writes a letter for the Rustlers. “This
suspense is killing me!” cries Emma. High ransom
is demanded for the fat boy. How to follow the
trail of a bird. The “dove of peace” is liberated.
“I’ve got it!” shouts Sam Conifer.
Chapter XVII—Stacy Decides to Leave
How the Overland boy was captured. Mountain
ruffians make desperate plans. Money that came
down from the skies. “Put up yer hands, young
feller!” The fat boy in the toils. Stacy Brown finds
himself under arrest as a horse thief.
Chapter XVIII—Trouble at Red Gulch
Carrier pigeons point the way. The guide smells
smoke. Sam Conifer stalks the rustlers to their
lair. “Brown’ll be a dead dude by mornin’!” A
thunderbolt is hurled at the mountain ruffians.
Plotters get a rude surprise.
Chapter XIX—A Duel in the Dark
The magician’s wand. “Yer too yellow to draw!”
Sam reveals his identity to Mexican Charley. Six to
one. The outlaw takes a chance and loses. When the
light was shot out. “That’s what I calls a low-down
trick!”
Chapter XX—Stacy Wields a Club
The fat boy’s story is not believed. “All hoss thieves is
liars!” A barn his prison cell. “Heah’s yer chuck.
I hope it chokes ye!” Ordered to leave for prison.
Chunky turns the tables on his jailer and compliments
himself.
Chapter XXI—Judy Brings Tidings
A mysterious shot. Pete gets a bullet hole through
his hat. No trace of the missing Jim. Judy takes
her time in telling bad news. “Sam’s been killed
and Tom and Hippy wounded!” announces the
mountain girl.
Chapter XXII— Riders of the Night
Overland girls go in search of the missing ones.
Judy Hornby leads the way. The mountain cabin
found to be empty. Bindloss reads the trail. Startled
by the sound of shots. The worst is feared. “Fire!
They’ve set the grass on fire!”
Chapter XXIII—Racing with Death
Ponies become frantic with fear. Overland Riders feel
the thrill of the moment. “Faster!” cries the mountain
girl. Rifle shots sound nearer. A scene that
startled the Riders. The duel. A bandit meets his
reward.
Chapter XXIV—Farewell to the Cosos
Judy Hornby finds a new “Pap.” Stacy Brown
still stalked by trouble. “This feller is a hoss thief!”
When Judy’s dreams came true.
GRACE HARLOWE’S OVERLAND RIDERS AT CIRCLE O RANCH
CHAPTER I
PEACE IN THE COSO VALLEY
“Does anyone know where we are at?” wondered Stacy Brown, the last
person to leave his berth in the car that morning.
“We are in the Coso Valley,” replied Grace Harlowe Gray.
“I never heard of it,” returned Stacy. “We are still in Southern
California, I presume.”
“Of course. What a silly question!” interjected J. Elfreda Briggs
laughingly.
“Young man, we are nearing our destination. If you don’t make haste
you will be left,” reminded Grace’s husband, Tom Gray.
“Left! What a tragedy!” murmured Emma Dean. “By the way, Chunky, did
you dream last night?” she added, placing a hand on the fat boy’s
arm.
“Of course I did. What’s the fun in sleeping if you don’t dream? I
dreamed that I was the King of England, and you should have seen—”
“Stacy!” cried Emma in mock horror. “How unfortunate! To counteract
the effect of that unhappy dream, try tonight to dream that you are
a peasant. If you do not, some terrible misfortune is sure to
overtake you.”
“Piffle! Where do you get that stuff, Emma? All right, Thomas. I’ll
be ready by the time the train stops,” added Stacy, addressing Tom
Gray, and moving on to the wash room, where he remained until the
train began to slow down for Carrago, their destination. Carrago was
a sleepy little far-western town whose only excuse for existence was
that it was the only trading center for the ranchers within a radius
of many miles in the broad valley that lay between the Argus and
Coso ranges, a remote section of the country selected by Grace
Harlowe’s Overland Riders for their regular summer’s outing in the
saddle.
The scenery that morning had held the attention of the entire party
with the exception of Stacy, who had been too busy sleeping to give
heed to mere scenery, and the passengers were already detraining at
Carrago when he finally came rushing through the car.
“Shall I brush you off?” asked the porter, facing him, broom in
hand.
“Brush me off?” frowned Stacy, who thus far had avoided the porter.
“Well, no. I reckon that I’ll just get off in the ordinary way,” he
added, hurrying out to the vestibule of the Pullman and down to the
station platform.
“That was rude of you, Stacy,” rebuked Miss Briggs, who had heard
the boy’s retort.
“Rude? Huh! Do you think I want to be brushed off the train?”
“Oh, Stacy! You are as hopeless as ever, aren’t you?” laughed Grace.
“Oh, this wonderful air!” she cried enthusiastically, turning to her
companions. “Tom, aren’t you going to look for the guide who was to
meet us here?”
Tom Gray said that Hippy Wingate was attending to that, and just
then the Overlanders saw him halt before two bewhiskered natives
standing on the station platform side by side and assuming almost
identically the same pose. Both were old men. Their faces were
seamed and tanned, their shoulders stooped, and as they stood with
heads tilted back until their long beards protruded at almost the
same angle, they presented a picture that made the Overlanders
smile.
“I am looking for Jim-Sam, who is to guide us,” announced Hippy,
addressing the men.
“We’re Jim-Sam,” answered the men in chorus. “Be ye the dudes?”
“Well, not exactly,” interjected Stacy Brown.
“This is the party that engaged Jim-Sam,” repeated Hippy patiently.
“Which of you is Jim-Sam?”
“Both of us,” added the taller of the two men. “I’m Sam, an’ this
heah galoot standin’ side me is Jim, an’—”
“I’ll have ye understand that I ain’t no galoot,” objected Jim
heatedly, shaking a finger under Sam’s nose.
“Hold on, you two! Let me get this clear,” interposed Tom Gray,
stepping up to them. “Do you mean that we have engaged, not one
guide, but two?”
Sam explained that he and Jim were “pards,” and that they had always
worked together, and “fit an’ died together” these many years,
adding further, that Jim, being a spavined, ring-boned old cayuse
wasn’t much good to anyone, himself included, but that he could hold
the horses and howl like a coyote at the pack-horses to keep them
going.
“Haw, haw!” exploded Stacy.
“I don’t know about this,” muttered Hippy, removing his hat and
mopping his forehead.
“Are you two gentlemen heavy eaters?” questioned Emma. “The reason I
ask is, that we already have two powerful eaters in this outfit, and
I doubt if we could stand to feed more like them.”
“We kin rustle our own grub,” promised Jim.
“I suggest that we go into executive session and talk this over,”
urged Miss Briggs.
The suggestion was approved and the Overlanders withdrew for
discussion, Jim and Sam holding their positions, apparently the most
disinterested persons on the station platform. Inquiry developed
that the salary named in the letter of Jim-Sam covered the services
of both, so, after talking the matter over, the Overland Riders
decided to take on this strange pair to guide them. The fact that
the guides owned their own ponies and pack-mules was an added
inducement. Otherwise it would be necessary to hire or buy
pack-animals.
Hippy Wingate told the guides that they had been accepted, then he
introduced each member of the party to them. Nora Wingate laughingly
warned the pair that they were embarking on a perilous undertaking
when they set out with the Overland Riders, whereat Jim-Sam’s
whiskers stiffened, but the owners made no reply.
Emma Dean, speaking confidentially to Hippy, objected to guides
wearing such long whiskers, though she thought the men themselves
might do very well. Emma was of the opinion that such whiskers were
not sanitary, and averred that if San Antone, who had guided them
through the Black Hills, were present he would correct the fault by
shooting off the whiskers without making the slightest fuss about
it.
Tom interrupted Emma’s conversation by urging that the Overland
ponies be unloaded at once, the car containing them having, by this
time, been shunted to a switch.
“When do ye reckon on gittin’ out o’ heah?” asked Sam.
“We shall be ready by the time you get your mules and packs ready,”
answered Hippy. “This outfit moves without fuss, but it occasionally
makes quite a racket in doing so. Get busy, boys!”
Jim-Sam turned away, still side by side, each carrying himself with
a dignity that made the Overlanders laugh. While the provisions and
other equipment were being purchased by the women of the party, Tom
and Hippy unloaded the ponies, and Stacy, uttering many grunts and
groans, piled their equipment on the ground near the stock car. The
ponies were then secured to the tie-rail in front of the general
store, where they were looked over and felt of by every man in the
village, including several cowboys from neighboring ranches.
During the unloading, Hippy and Tom had noticed a cowboy sitting on
a mustang some little distance from them, observing the Overland
operations with keen interest.
“Who is that fellow?” asked Hippy of a bystander.
The native shook his head, and the horseman, seeing that he had
attracted attention to himself, jerked his pony about and trotted
away.
“I don’t like the looks of that chap,” declared Tom.
“I reckon he’s all right. Most cowpunchers look tougher than they
really are, though it is quite possible that we may meet up with
some real rough-necks. I have heard that they are not difficult to
find in the Coso range,” replied Hippy.
“Oh, there come our heavenly twins,” cried Emma, who had returned
from the store with an armful of packages.
Jim and Sam had just appeared dragging a pair of unwilling mules,
behind which, saddled and bridled, trailed two long-haired mustangs.
The two men were alternately arguing and berating each other and
threatening the mules.
“What kind of an outfit is this?” wondered Emma, her merry eyes
regarding the scene.
“You may search me,” was Hippy’s laughing reply. “Here come the
other girls. Good gracious! Where do they expect to stow all that
stuff? Jim-Sam, pull up here and sling your packs. Is that as fast
as those mules can travel? If so you had better leave them at home.”
The guides were too busy arguing to give heed to Hippy’s words, but
when they reached the station platform they took hold of the work
with surprising alacrity and began rolling packs with skillful
hands.
“What are they?” asked Emma, pointing to the lazy mules.
“Jest mules,” answered Jim without looking up, and Sam echoed his
statement. “Don’t have to have no names. When my long-haired cayuse
does somethin’ he oughtn’t, Sam gives him er kick, an’ when Sam’s
critter cuts up capers I give his’n the boot.”
“No names?” wondered Emma. “Yes, but what do you call them when you
want them to come to you?”
“Missie, what we calls ’em sometimes ain’t sootable fer a young
woman to hear,” grinned Jim.
“Then kindly see that you do not call them,” retorted Emma, turning
away.
The Overlanders observed that their guides now wore heavy revolvers
and that the saddle-boot of each held a rifle, which aroused
apprehension in the minds of at least two of the girls. Jim-Sam,
however, assured them that the Coso Valley and the mountain ranges
on either side of it were as peaceful as “Sunday meetin’,” and,
further, that “nothin’” ever happened there. Something did threaten
to happen, though, when it came to lashing the packs to the mules,
and Jim-Sam instantly became involved in a violent argument as to
how the packs should be “thrown,” the two men in their anger shaking
belligerent fists under each other’s nose until they nearly came to
blows.
“If I had a disposition like your’n I’d go shoot myself,” raged Jim.
“If I was a cantankerous cuss like you I’d go live with the coyotes
where I could snarl all day an’ bark all night. Git outer my way
afore I soak ye in the jaw!” threatened Sam.
“That’s right, Sam. Hit him!” urged Stacy Brown. “He isn’t any
good.”
“Yes, he is, too! Don’t ye say nothin’ agin my pardner. I ain’t
standin’ fer nothin’ like that.”
“Here, here!” interrupted Tom Gray. “Stacy, let these men alone and
pack your pony. Jim-Sam, you will stop your quarreling and do your
work or we may change our minds about taking you along.”
“You understand, we wish to head for the Bindloss ranch—the Circle
O Ranch, I believe they call it. We do not know Bindloss, but we
propose to get acquainted with him.” Hippy grinned as he said it.
“This really promises to be a peaceful journey,” observed Miss
Briggs solemnly, whereat the Overland girls gave way to the
merriment that for some moments they had been restraining, then
preparations for the start were resumed with renewed speed and
vigor.
Departure for the Circle O was made within an hour. The Circle O was
a ranch where a friend of Lieutenant Hippy Wingate had put up while
on a hunting trip in the mountains some time before, and it was
because of what his friend had told him of Old Joe Bindloss and his
ranch that Hippy decided to take in the Circle O on their summer’s
ride.
The start was accomplished to the accompaniment of shouts and yells
from Jim-Sam to get the mules started and headed in the right
direction as well as to keep them going. It was a task that proved
too much for the old guides, who, finally, after getting well out in
the valley, rode on ahead with the Overlanders. The pack-mules,
finding themselves being left behind, increased their pace and soon
caught up with the outfit.
“That’s the way with mules. Contrary critters jest like some fellers
I know of,” volunteered Jim, giving Sam a withering glance. “If ye
wants ’em to go back’ards jest try to drive ’em for’ards.”
“An’ then agin, some fellers is so gosh darn stubborn they won’t go
either way when ye tells ’em to go t’other,” retorted Sam. “Folks,
git yer appetites workin’ fer we’ll soon be eatin’.”
Luncheon that first day was taken sitting on the sand by a water
hole, and was a brief affair, for Jim-Sam had a camping place in
mind, to reach which meant a long, hard ride. It was some time after
nightfall when they arrived there, and still later when the lazy
mules dragged themselves in, uttering long-drawn brays of
satisfaction or dissatisfaction or whatever it might be. The animals
were quickly relieved of their packs and turned loose to roll and
feed on the desert sage through the night. All day long Jim-Sam had
argued and quarreled, and by the time they made camp they had
reached a point where they no longer spoke to each other.
“What are we going to do with them?” wondered Tom Gray frowningly.
“Keep them, of course,” answered Grace. “Tom, they are a real treat,
but if Stacy and Emma do not stop stirring them up we may have to
send for the sheriff of the county. Just look at them now,” she
added laughingly.
Jim and Sam were sitting back to back unrolling packs, each man
muttering to himself his opinion of the other. Later in the evening
the Overlanders got them talking and drew the guides out. It
developed that the pair had been prospectors nearly all their lives;
that they had loved and fought each other for so many years that
they had lost count of them, and when their halting story had
finally been finished, the Overland Riders looked upon Jim-Sam with
new appreciation. Emma Dean characterized them as a pair of “beloved
vagabonds.”
This having been their first day in the saddle since the previous
season, the Overlanders were saddle-weary, and some of them
were sore and lame. Miss Briggs hobbled about painfully and
complainingly, and Nora Wingate lay by the little campfire rolled in
her blanket, the picture of woe. Emma and Grace, however, appeared
not to be suffering the slightest degree of discomfort.
Jim cooked the supper, and it was a good one, for he made biscuits
and served them hot, soaked in bacon gravy, a luxury to which the
Riders had not been accustomed. They made the most of their
opportunity, and Stacy Brown’s appetite, as usual, was not fully
satisfied until some time after his companions had finished supper.
Then all hands gathered about the fire for a chat.
“Samuel, do you ever dream?” questioned Emma after thoughtfully
regarding the old guide for some moments.
“Sure I do, Missie. I dreamed last night that that critter—that
ornery mule o’ Jim’s—kicked the everlasting daylight out o’ me,”
growled Sam.
“Oh, you don’t mean it? That was fine,” glowed Emma.
“Eh?” Sam’s whiskers stood out belligerently. The old guide’s
whiskers could express varying shades of emotion.
“Your dream means that you are going to have good luck—the best
ever. Perhaps you are about to discover a gold mine or a hole in the
ground where one has been, or something like that,” bubbled Emma.
“Wrong up here again,” muttered Stacy Brown, significantly tapping
his head with a finger.
“I should say that Emma has read one of those five-cent dream
books,” suggested Miss Briggs.
“It is my opinion that she has been fitting herself for a lunatic
seminary—cemeter—sanitarium,” corrected Stacy.
“Tell us about it,” urged Grace, smiling over at Miss Dean.
“I will if you folks won’t laugh at me. I am a student of Professor
Freud’s new science of dreams,” announced Emma with dignity. “The
professor has demonstrated beyond question that there is an
imponderable quality within us—”
“You mean hot biscuit and gravy,” interjected Hippy Wingate. “Since
I overate this evening I surely have an imponderable quality in my
midst,” he added amid much laughter.
Emma elevated a disdainful chin.
“I see nothing funny in a scientific discussion,” she retorted. “As
I was about to say when so rudely interrupted, Professor Freud has
conclusively proved that every dream has its meaning—that the
imponderable quality in the subconscious mind never ceases to work;
that it even works when we sleep, and—”
“Old Subconscious ought to join a union,” suggested Stacy.
“And that, if we will but learn a few simple rules, we shall be able
to interpret those dreams and be better able to avoid many perils as
well as to take advantage of real opportunities. Always let the
imponderable quality have its way,” urged Emma.
Jim-Sam’s whiskers drooped, and the Overlanders repressed their
laughter.
“Perhaps you yourself might dream out the solution of a mystery for
us,” suggested Grace. “I mean as to the identity and purpose of the
horseman who has been riding a parallel course with us all day,
evidently keeping us under observation.”
The guides gave her a quick, keen look.
“Miss, I reckon as ye ain’t no tenderfoot,” observed Sam dryly.
“A man following us?” cried Nora. “It has come already! I knew it
would. I knew that trouble would follow this outfit, just as it has
done from the moment we set out over the Old Apache Trail right on
down until we ended our vacation in the Black Hills last summer.”
Others of the party had observed the solitary horseman, but had
attached no particular significance to his traveling in the same
direction that they were following.
“Watching us, do you think?” wondered Emma.
“What about him, Jim-Sam?” demanded Tom Gray.
“Wal, I reckons mebby he is the feller that was hangin’ ’round when
ye folks was unloadin’ at Carrago. He was a-snoopin’, an’ I don’t
reckon as he was doin’ it fer no good. I didn’t like the look of him
nohow,” growled Jim.
“Ye ain’t dreamed nothin’ ’bout that, has ye, Miss Dean?” asked Sam.
“No. Not yet. However, in case it means trouble for us either I or
one of the others will get a reaction in advance and—”
“Ha, ha!” laughed Hippy. “A reaction in advance! That surely is a
new one. Were Freud to hear that he himself surely would have a bad
attack of nightmare.”
“I mean that one of us will feel that imponderable quality stirring
within us,” explained Emma, her color rising. “We shall know. No
harm can come to us without our being warned in advance. I—”
A volley of revolver shots punctuated the silence of the desert
night—shots close at hand, accompanied by yells, hoots and howls,
and the thudding of many unshod hoofs.