The Border Boys with the Texas Rangers. Goldfrap John Henry
ride some little distance, as the bluffs at that point were steep and no path offered. At last, however, a trail was found, and in single file down they went to the watering place.
The boys followed the rest along the steep path, Jack coming last of the trio. The trail lay along the edge of the bluff, and at some places was not much wider than a man’s hand. Jack had reached the worst part of it, where a drop of some hundred feet lay below him, when he was astonished to hear the sound of hoofs behind him.
He was astonished because, he had judged, almost everybody in the camp had preceded him while he had been busy inspecting the different arrangements. He faced round abruptly in his saddle and saw that the rider behind him was Shorty.
It must have been at almost the same moment that, for some unknown reason, Shorty’s horse began to plunge and kick. Then it dashed forward, bearing down directly on Jack.
“Look out!” shouted Jack, “there’s only room for one on the trail. You’ll knock me off!”
“I can’t pull him in! I can’t pull him in!” yelled Shorty, making what appeared to be frantic efforts to pull in his pony. At the same time he kept the cayuse to the inside of the trail.
Jack saw that unless he did something, and quickly, too, his pony was likely to become unmanageable and plunge off the narrow path. But there was small choice of remedies. Already Shorty’s horse, which was coming as if maddened by something, was dashing down on him. Jack resolved to take a desperate chance. The others had by this time almost reached the bottom of the trail. As fast as he dared he compelled his pony to gallop down the steep incline. It was a dangerous thing to do, for the trail was too narrow to afford any foothold at more than a slow and careful walk.
Behind him, yelling like one possessed, came Shorty. Jack urged his mount faster.
“Goodness! I hope we get to the bottom safely!” he gasped out.
The words had hardly left his lips when he felt his pony’s hoofs slip from under him.
The next instant, amid a horrified shout from the men below, Jack and the pony went rolling and plunging off the trail down toward the river.
The last sound Jack heard was Shorty’s loud:
“Yip! yip! Ye–o–o–ow!”
CHAPTER IV.
WITH THE RANGERS
From below, where Jack’s companions had witnessed his fall with horrified eyes, it appeared almost impossible that he could escape without serious injury. But as his pony struck the ground at the foot of the cliff, amidst a regular landslide of twigs, rocks and earth, Jack succeeded in extricating himself from under the animal, and rolling a few yards he scrambled to his feet, unhurt except for a few slight cuts and bruises.
Ralph and Walt Phelps left their ponies and came running up to where Jack stood brushing the dirt from his garments.
“Hurt, Jack?” cried Ralph.
“No; never touched me,” laughed the boy; “and look at that cayuse of mine, I guess he isn’t injured, either.”
As Jack spoke he nodded his head in the direction of his pony, which had risen and was now galloping off to join its companions at the watering place.
“How did it happen?” demanded Walt. “We saw you coming down the trail quietly enough one moment, and at the next look, behold, you were riding like Tam o’ Shanter.”
Jack looked about him before replying. But he and his companions were alone, for the Rangers were too busy watering their mounts to bother with the boys once it had been seen that Jack was not hurt.
“I guess you were right when you said that Shorty had it in for me,” he remarked, turning to Walt Phelps.
“How do you mean?”
“Just this: Shorty was behind me on that trail. Suddenly his pony began to bolt. It was to avoid being forced from the narrow path that I spurred up my cayuse so as to keep ahead of him.”
“What do you think he meant to do?”
The question came from Ralph.
“It’s my opinion that he deliberately tried to get between me and the wall of the cliff and force me off the trail.”
“Gracious! You might have been killed.”
“Not much doubt that I’d have been badly injured, anyway. But Shorty miscalculated, and where I left the trail was further on and not so far to fall.”
“Why don’t you tell Captain Atkinson?”
“Why, I have nothing to prove that Shorty’s pony really didn’t get beyond his control.”
“Then you suspect that it was not really running away, but that he made it appear that he was unable to manage it?”
“That’s it exactly. However, let’s join the men. If I get a chance I want to examine Shorty’s horse.”
“What’s the idea in that?” asked Walt.
“You’ll see what my plan is if I get an opportunity to put it into execution,” was the reply.
The three boys, arm in arm, sauntered up to the group of Rangers. Some of them were now remounted, and two men had charge of the boys’ ponies, including Jack’s, which had joined its comrades. Shorty was still watering his animal, but when he saw the boys he came up to Jack with an outstretched hand, and every appearance of great affability.
“Say, Pard’ner,” he exclaimed, as if genuinely remorseful, “I hope you ain’t mad with me on ’count of that accident.”
“No; I never harbor a grudge,” responded Jack, with emphasis.
“That critter of mine jes’ nat’ly ran away from me,” pursued Shorty, in the same tone.
“And so that’s the reason you had to spur him till he bled,” flashed Jack, in a low tone. The boy had seized his opportunity to look over Shorty’s pony and saw at once that it had been cruelly rowelled.
Shorty went pale under his tan. His mouth twitched nervously.
“Why – why, you ain’t goin’ for to say I done it a–purpose?” he demanded.
“I’m not saying anything about it,” responded Jack; “all that I know is this, that I shall take care how I ride in front of you again.”
So saying the boy turned on his heel and walked toward his pony, followed by Walt and Ralph, who had witnessed the whole scene. Shorty gazed after them. His alarm had gone from his countenance now, and he bore an expression of malignant rage.
“Dern young tenderfoot cubs,” he growled to himself, relieving his feelings by giving his pony a kick in the stomach, “blamed interferin’ Mammy boys! I’ll l’arn ‘em a lesson yet. I’ll jes’ bet I will, and it’ll be a hot one, too. One they won’t forget in a hurry.”
But of Shorty’s fury the boys were ignorant, for they quickly mounted and clattered back up the trail with the rest of the Rangers. On their return to the camp, as soon as each little pony had been given his generous allowance of hay, they found that supper was ready, the Chinaman announcing the fact by beating on a tin dishpan and shouting:
“Come getee! Come getee!”
None of the Rangers needed any second invitation; nor did the boys need any pressing to make hearty meals. Bacon, salted beef, beans, hot biscuits and strong coffee formed the bill of fare. After the meal had been dispatched Captain Atkinson beckoned to Jack and his companions, and they followed him a little apart from the rest of the Rangers who were singing songs and telling stories around a big camp fire, for the night was quite chilly.
“Since you lads have joined us to learn all you can of the life of a Texas Ranger,” he said, “I think that you had better start in as soon as possible.”
“Right away if necessary,” responded Jack enthusiastically.
“That’s my idea,” struck in Walt Phelps.
“Can’t