The Rover Boys on the Plains: or, The Mystery of Red Rock Ranch

CHAPTER XIII
JIM JONES, THE COWBOY

To some of the boys it looked as if Sam and his steed must surely be seriously injured, if not killed. The steer was large and powerful looking, and his horns were sharp enough to inflict serious damage.

"Back up, Sam!" screamed Tom.

Poor Sam could not back very well, and now his horse was thoroughly unmanageable. Closer came the steer, until his wicked looking horns were but a foot away.

At that critical moment a shot rang out, so close at hand that it made all of the boys jump. Realizing the dire peril, Dick had drawn the pistol he carried and fired at the steer. His aim was fair, and the beast was struck in the ribs.

"Good for you, Dick!" burst out poor Sam. "Give him another," he added, as he tried to quiet his horse and keep the steed from pitching him to the ground.

Dick was quite willing to take another shot, but to get into range was not so easy. Songbird's horse was between himself and the steer, and the latter was plunging around in a manner that was dangerous for the entire party.

But at last the eldest Rover saw his opportunity, and once more the pistol rang out on the summer air. The shot took the steer in the left ear and he gave a loud snort of pain and staggered as if about to fall.

"He is about done for!" cried Tom. "I am glad of it."

The steer continued to plunge around for fully two minutes and all took good care to keep out of his reach. Then he took a final plunge and fell over on his side, breathing heavily and rolling his eyes the while.

"I reckon I had better give him a final shot," was Dick's comment, and, dismounting, he came forward and fired directly into the beast's eye. It was a finishing move, and, with a convulsive shudder, the steer lay still, and the unexpected encounter came to an end.

"Well, I am glad that is over," said Sam as he wiped the cold perspiration from his forehead. "I thought he was going to horn me, sure!"

"He would have done so, had it not been for Dick," returned Tom.

"I know it. Dick, I shan't forget this."

"What's to be done about the steer?" asked Songbird. "It seems a pity to leave him here."

"Vot is der madder mit cutting him ub for meats?" put in Hans. "Ve can haf some nice steak ven ve go into camp next dime, hey?"

"That's a scheme," said Fred.

At that moment, Wags, who had kept in the background so long as the steer was raging around, set up a sharp barking.

"What's wrong now?" asked Tom, turning to the dog.

"Somebody may be coming," suggested Dick.

"I'll show you fellers wot's wrong!" cried a rough voice, and through the brushwood close by there crashed a broncho, on top of which rode a rough-looking cowboy, wearing a red shirt and a big slouch hat. "Who went and shot that steer?"

"I did," answered Dick. "Was he yours?"

"He was, and you had no right to touch him," growled the cowboy.

"Didn't I, though?" said Dick. "Are you aware that he came close to hurting us? He charged full tilt at my brother's horse."

"Stuff and fairy tales, boy. That steer was all right. He broke away from the drove, but he wouldn't hurt a flea."

"We know better," put in Tom.

"If my brother hadn't killed him, he would probably have killed my horse, and maybe me," added Sam.

"Somebody has got to pay for the damage done," growled the cowboy.

"I am not going to stand for it, not me, so sure as my name is Jim Jones." And he shook his head determinedly.

"Well, Mr. Jones, I am sorry I had to kill your steer, but it had to be done, and that is all there is to it," said Dick calmly.

"That ain't payin' for the critter, is it?"

"No."

"An' do you reckon I'm goin' to let the boss take the price out o' my wages?" continued Jim Jones warmly.

"Isn't the steer worth something as meat?"

"Yes, but not near as much as he was wuth on the hoof."

"We might take up a collection for Mr. Jones, if he is a poor man," suggested Songbird, who did not want any trouble.

"But we haven't got to do it," broke in Tom. "It was his business not to let the steer run wild in the first place."

"So you're going to take a hand, eh?" stormed the cowboy; then, feeling he was in the minority, he went on more humbly: "Yes, I'm a poor man, and this may get me discharged."

"How much do you think we ought to pay?" asked Dick. "Name a reasonable price and I may settle, just to avoid trouble, and not because I think I ought to pay."

"How about fifty dollars?" asked the cowboy with a shrewd look in his fishy, blue eyes.

"Cut it in half, and I may meet you," came from Dick. "He was no blue-ribbon animal."

The cowboy tried to argue, but the Rovers and their chums would not listen, and in the end Jim Jones said he would accept twenty-five dollars and let it go at that. He said he would have the steer carted away before night.

"Where do you come from?" asked Dick after paying over the money.

"From the Cassibel ranch, sixty miles north-west from here. I and my pard were driving some cattle to town, when this steer got scared at a rattlesnake and broke away."

"I don't blame him," said Fred. "I'd get scared at a rattlesnake, myself."

"Do you know the way to Mr. Carson Denton's plantation?" went on Dick.

"Sure."

"This is not the right trail, is it?"

"Not by a long shot. The right trail is four miles from here."

"Will you direct us to the right road?" asked Dick.

"Sure thing," answered Jim Jones. He paused for a moment. "Want to get there the easiest way possible, I reckon?"

"Of course."

"Well, then, keep to this trail for half a mile further. Then, when you come to the blasted hemlock, take the trail to the left. That will take you through the upper end of the next town and right on to Denton's."

"Thanks," said Dick. "Is it a good road?"

"Fine, after the fust few miles are passed. There are a few bad spots at first, but you mustn't mind them."

"We shan't mind," came from Sam. "We have struck some bad spots already."

A few additional words passed, and then all of the boys rode along the trail as the cowboy had pointed out. Jim Jones, standing beside the dead steer, watched them out of sight and chuckled loudly to himself.

"Reckon I squared accounts with 'em," he muttered. "Got twenty-five dollars in cash and the animile, and if they foller thet trail as I told 'em – well, there ain't no tellin' where they'll fotch up. But it won't be Denton's ranch, not by a long shot!" and he laughed heartily to himself.

All unconscious that they had been wrongly directed by Jim Jones, the Rover boys and their chums continued their journey. When they reached the hemlock that had been struck by lightning, they took to the other path as directed.

"I am sorry I didn't ask how far that town was," said Dick. "For all we know, we may be miles away from it."

"If it gets too late, we had better go into camp for the night," suggested Songbird, and so it was agreed.

The coming of night found them in something of a hollow between two ranges of hills. The trail was soft and spongy, and the horses frequently sank in over their hoofs.

"This is something I didn't bargain for," observed Songbird. "I trust we don't get stuck and have to go back."

"That cowboy said the trail would be poor for a while," came from Fred.

They continued to go forward, on the lookout for some suitable spot where they might camp for the night. The thought of reaching a town had faded away an hour before.

"Gosh! this is getting worse!" cried Tom. "Be careful, Hans!" he called to the German youth, who was ahead.

"Vot's dot?" sang out the other.

"I said, be careful. You don't want to sink through to China, do you?"

"Not much I ton't," was the answer. "Oh!"

Hans let out a loud cry of alarm, and with good reason. His horse had struck a sink-hole, as they are called on the plains, and gone down to his knees. He made such a plunge that poor Hans was thrown over his head, to land full length in an oozy, sticky bog.

"Stop!" cried Dick, as soon as he saw this accident. "Don't go any further, fellows, it's dangerous!"

"Hellup! safe me!" roared Hans, trying in vain to extricate himself from the oozy bog, while his horse did the same. "Hellup, oder I peen drowned in der mud alretty!"

CHAPTER XIV
OUT OF AN UNPLEASANT SITUATION

Not one of the party was just then in a position to give poor Hans any assistance. All were stuck in the ooze, and one horse after another was slowly but surely sinking.

"We must turn back," cried Songbird, "and do it in a hurry, too."

"Easier said than done," grunted Fred. "My, this is worse than glue!"

"I think the ground on our left is a bit firmer than here," said Sam.

"I am going to try it, anyway."

Not without considerable difficulty, he turned his steed, and after a struggle the spot he had indicated was gained. Dick followed, and so did Tom.

The Rovers were safe, but not so their chums. Hans was the worst off, but Fred and Songbird were likewise in positions of serious peril. Wags was flying around, barking dismally, as though he understood that all was not right.

"Turn this way!" called out Sam. "It's your one hope!"

"Let me have that rope you are carrying, Tom," said Dick, and having received the article, he threw one end to Hans, who was still floundering around. "Catch hold, Hans, and I'll haul you over!"

As the rope fell across the German youth's body, he caught it tightly in both hands, and, as Dick, Tom and Sam pulled with might and main, he fairly slid on his breast to where they were standing.

"Mine gracious, dot vos somedings awful!" he exclaimed. "It vos so sticky like molasses alretty!"

"Now, we must help the others," said Dick.

"Songbird is out," exclaimed Sam.

The rope was thrown to Fred, and with a great tug he was finally brought out of the ooze.

"Nearly took my hand off," he declared. "But I don't care – anything is better than to be stuck in such a spot as that."

The horses were still floundering desperately, and it was little that they could do for the beasts. One went in one direction and the others in another, but at last all appeared to be safe, although covered with the sticky mud and slime.

"That's an adventure I didn't bargain for," was Tom's comment. "Do you know what I think? I think that cowboy sent us into this on purpose."

"Maybe he did," came from Dick. "Did it, I suppose, to get square because we didn't pay him all he thought the steer was worth."

To round up the horses was no easy task, and by the time this was accomplished it was long past dark. They searched around for a suitable spot and then went into camp.

"This trip is lasting longer than I expected," remarked Dick when they were around the camp-fire preparing an evening meal. "I trust the others don't get worried about us."

"Oh, I guess they know that we can take care of ourselves," answered Tom.

"I wish I had that cowboy here," muttered Sam. "I'd give him a piece of my mind."

"I think we'd all do that," added Fred.

"I vos gif him a biece of mine mind from der end of mine fist," said Hans, and this made them all laugh.

The camping spot was not a particularly good one, yet all slept soundly. They left Wags on guard, but nothing came to disturb them.

It was misty in the morning and so raw that they shivered as they prepared to start off. How to proceed was a question, and it took them a good quarter of an hour to decide it.

"It would be folly to go deeper into this bog, or swamp," said Dick.

"I vote we keep to the high ground."

"That's the talk," said Sam. "Maybe, when we get up far enough, we will have a chance to look around us."

As well as they were able, they had cleaned off the horses and themselves, and now they took good care to keep from all ground that looked in the least bit treacherous.

"Here is a new trail," cried Tom after about two miles had been covered. "And it seems to lead up a hill, too."

"Then that is the trail for us," put in Songbird, and they took to the new trail without further words.

"Songbird, I don't hear any poetry," observed Dick as they rode along.

"What's the matter?"

"Can't make up poetry in such a dismal place as this," was the answer in a disgusted voice. "I wish we were out of this woods, and out of the mist, too. I declare, it's enough to give a fellow malaria."

The sun was trying to break through the mist, which was an encouraging sign. Here and there a bird set up a piping note, but otherwise all was as quiet as a tomb.

"I see something of a clearing ahead," announced Sam presently.

"And a trail!" cried Fred. "Thank fortune for that!"

The clearing reached, they found a well-defined trail running to the southwestward.

"That must run to Caville," announced Dick. "See, there is a regular wagon track."

"I hope it is the right road," returned Fred.

They were soon out on the plains again, and then into another patch of timber. They had to ford a small stream, and on the other side came to a fork in the trail.

"Which way now?" questioned Sam, as all came to a halt in perplexity.

"This seems to be the main road, although it is hard to tell one from the other," said Dick after an examination.

The others agreed with the eldest Rover, and once more they went forward. But, in less than a mile, they saw that the road was not in as good a condition as that left behind.

"This looks as if we had made a mistake," observed Fred. "Oh, what luck we are having!"

"I'd like to know – " began Tom, when he stopped abruptly, for out of the brushwood an old man had stepped, gun in hand.

"You-uns, hold on!" cried the old man.

"Hullo, what do you want?" asked Dick.

"I want for you-uns to turn around an' go tudder way."

"Isn't this the trail to Caville?"

"No, it ain't, an' you-uns can't come this way, nohow."

"Is it a private road?"

"Yes."

"Where does it lead to?"

"That ain't none o' you-uns' business," said the old man curtly.

"You-uns is on the wrong road, an' have got to turn back."

"Supposing we don't turn back?" questioned Tom, who did not fancy the style in which they were being addressed.

At this, the old man tapped his gun.

"Orders is to turn 'em back, or shoot," he answered simply. "This are a private road. Don't ye see the wire fence?"

They looked into the brushwood and saw a single strand of wire stretched from tree to tree on each side of the trail.

"Not much of a fence," was Songbird's comment.

"It's enough, an' you-uns can't come no further."

"Maybe you live beyond," said Sam curiously.

"Maybe I do, an' maybe I don't. It ain't none of you-uns' business."

"You are very civil, I must say."

"Don't you git fly, boy, or this ole gun o' mine might go off. This ain't no trail fer you-uns, an' you-uns have got to turn back."

"Will you tell us if that other trail runs to Caville?" asked Dick.

"It don't run nowheres." The old man grinned for a moment. "It stays where it are. But if you-uns travel along it for about five miles, ye'll reach the town."

"And you won't tell us whose road this is?" came from Tom.

"It ain't none of you-uns' business, thet ain't. Better turn back an' have done with it."

The old man showed plainly that he did not wish to converse further.

He stood in the center of the trail, with his gun ready for instant use.

"We made a mistake before and got into a sink-hole," said Dick. "We don't want to make another mistake."

"Take tudder trail an' you-uns will be all right," answered the old man, and thereupon they turned around and rode off.

"What a crusty old fellow!" said Sam.

"Yes, but he meant business," came from Fred. "He would have shot at us sure, had we insisted upon moving forward."

"There is some mystery about this," said Dick.

"Perhaps he lives a hermit life down that trail," suggested Songbird.

"It looked more to me as if he was on guard," put in Sam. "He certainly meant business."

"If we had time, I'd sneak around to one side and see what was beyond."

"Yes, and get shot," said Fred. "We had better take his advice and go on to Caville."

It did not take them long to reach the fork in the road, and here they turned into the other trail. They had proceeded less than fifty yards, when Dick put up his hand.

"Somebody is coming behind us," he announced.

They halted at a turn in the road and looked back. Two persons soon appeared, both on horse-back. They were riding at a good gait and turned into the trail which was guarded by the old man.

"Well, I never!" cried Tom in amazement.

"I recognized the first man," said Sam. "It was that bushy-haired fellow. I think somebody said his name was Sack Todd."

"That's the chap," replied Dick. "But didn't you recognize the other?"

"No."

"It was Dan Baxter."

CHAPTER XV
SOMETHING OF A MYSTERY

"Dan Baxter!"

The cry came simultaneously from several of the crowd.

"I think Dick is right," said Songbird. "I thought it must be Dan, but I wasn't sure, for I didn't expect to see him here."

"He and that Sack Todd must have become friends," put in Tom. "I would like to know what Dan is doing out here."

"He is certainly up to no good," answered Dick. "I must say this adds to the mystery, doesn't it, boys?"

"That's what it does," chimed in Sam. "I wish we could catch Baxter and bring him to justice."

"Or reform him," came from Dick.

"Reform him, Dick!" cried Tom. "That would be mighty uphill work."

"It isn't in him," added Fred. "He is tee-totally bad."

"I used to think that of Dan's father, but Arnold Baxter has reformed – and he wants his son to do likewise."

"Well, that isn't here or there," said Tom after a pause. "What are we to do just now?"

"Let us push on to town first," answered Songbird. "After that, we can rearrange our plans if we wish."

This was considered good advice, and once again they urged their steeds along. Coming to a high point in the trail, they made out Caville a mile distant, and rode into the town about noon.

It was not much of a place, and the single hotel afforded only the slimmest of accommodations. But they had to be satisfied, and so made the best of it.

The meal over, Dick strolled into the office of the tavern, where he found the proprietor sitting in a big wooden chair leaning against the counter.

"Quite a town," began the eldest Rover cheerfully.

"Wall, it ain't so bad but what it might be wuss, stranger. Did the grub suit ye?"

"It did."

"Glad to hear it, stranger. Sometimes the folks from the big cities find fault. Expect me to run a reg'lar Aster-Delmonicum, or sumthin' like that."

"It is very hard to suit everybody," said Dick. "By the way," he went on, "do you know a man around these parts named Sack Todd?"

"Do I know him? To be sure I do, stranger. Friend o' yourn?"

"Not exactly, but I have met him a few times. Where does he live?"

"Lives over to Red Rock ranch, quite a few miles from here."

"Alone?"

"Not exactly. He has a cousin there, I believe, and some others. But I wouldn't advise you to go over to the ranch, nohow."

"Why?"

"Sack Todd don't take to visitors. The story goes that a visitor once stopped there an' shot his wife and robbed her, an' since that time he ain't had no use fer anybody, only them as he knows very well."

"Does he run the ranch for a living?"

"Don't know but what he does, but he don't work very hard a-doin' it."

"Is there an old man working for him – a fellow with thin shoulders and reddish hair?"

"Yes; an' he's a sour pill, too."

"He must be an odd stick, to keep himself so close."

"Yes; but Sack's a good spender, when he's in the humor of it. Sometimes he comes to town with a wad o' money an' treats everybody right an' left. Then ag'in he comes in an' won't notice nobody."

Here the talk came to an end, for the hotel man had to attend to some new arrivals. Dick joined the others and all took a walk, so that their conversation might not be overheard.

"This only adds to the mystery," said Tom after Dick had repeated what the tavern keeper had said. "I am more anxious now than ever to visit Red Rock ranch, as they call it."

"So am I," added Sam. "And remember, we want to catch Dan Baxter if we can."

"Well, we can't go ahead and back too, boys," came from Dick. "If we really mean to investigate, we ought to send Mr. Denton and the ladies and the girls word. If we don't, and we are delayed any great length of time, they will be sure to worry about us."

"Maybe we can telephone," suggested Songbird. "Don't you see the wires? Some of the plantations must have the service."

"That's the talk!" cried Fred. "Let us try it, anyway."

They walked to the nearest station and looked over the book. But the Denton plantation was not mentioned.

"We can send a letter," said Dick. "That will get there before they have a chance to worry."

They returned to the tavern, and there the communication was written, and later on dropped in the post-office. Then they held another consultation.

"Those fellows around that ranch are all armed beyond a doubt," said Tom. "I think we ought to get something in the shape of firearms."

"We've got a gun and a pistol now," answered Dick.

"Say, I ton't vos go pack of der been schootin' goin' on!" cried Hans. "I tole you dot Sack Todd been a pad man."

"You can remain behind, Hans," returned Sam.

"He can go on to Mr. Denton's," said Songbird.

"Not much – I stick py der crowd," said the German youth. He thought it worse to leave them than to confront any possible perils.

Their horses had been fed and cared for, and by the middle of the afternoon each was provided with a pistol, the extra weapons being secured at the local hardware establishment.

"Afraid of outlaws?" questioned the man who sold the pistols.

"There is nothing like being armed," answered Dick. "On some of these trails, there is no telling what sort of persons you will meet."

"I've got an idea," said Tom when they were on the street again. "Why not take our time and move on Red Rock ranch after dark?"

"And lose our way," came from Sam.

"Well, we can't use that trail in the daylight. That old man will be sure to halt us."

"We can get around the old man somehow," said Songbird. "As soon as we spot him, we can make a detour."

By four o'clock, they were on the way. Not to excite suspicions on the part of any of Sack Todd's friends who might happen to be around, they left Caville by a side trail and then took to the back road after the last of the houses of the town had been passed.

"I'd just like a long ride over the prairie," cried Sam. "I know I'd enjoy every minute of it."

They had proceeded less than a mile when Hans went to the front.

"I dink dis horse vants to let himself out a leetle," said he.

"I'll race you," said Sam, and away they started at a breakneck speed.

"Hold on!" cried Dick. "Don't tire yourselves out in that fashion.

We've got a good many miles to go yet."

But neither of the racers paid any attention, and soon they were a good distance to the front. Hans was doing his best to keep ahead of the youngest Rover, and, as his steed was a little the better of the two, he had small difficulty in accomplishing his object.

But, alas, for the poor German boy! The race made him careless of where he was going, and soon he found himself on the very edge of a swamp, similar to that encountered before.

"Whoa!" he yelled to his horse. "Whoa!" And then he added: "Sam, go pack kvick!"

"What's wrong, Hans?"

"It ist all vet aroundt here, und I – Du meine Zeit!"

As the German youth finished, his horse stepped into a fair-sized hole on the edge of the swamp. On the instant, a cloud arose from the hole.

"Hornets!" screamed Sam, and backed away with all speed.

"Hellup! hellup!" yelled Hans. "Ouch! Oh, my!" And then he tried to back away. But the hornets were angry at being disturbed in their nest and went at him and his horse with vigor.

"Something is wrong with Hans," observed Dick, looking ahead. "See, his nag is dancing around as if it was crazy."

"Oh, me; oh, my!" roared Hans, slapping to the right and to the left. "I vos stung in more as a hundred blaces. Hellup me, somepotty! Dis vos der vorse yet alretty! Git avay, you hornets! I gif you fife dollars to git avay!"

"Ride off, Hans," called out Fred. "Don't stay near the hornets' nest. It will only make it so much the worse for you."

Thus advised, Hans backed and started off. But, instead of going off by himself, he rode directly into the crowd.

"Hi, you, keep away!" sang out Tom, and then, as a hornet alighted on his nose, he went on: "Whow! Haven't you any sense?"

"Anypotty vot vonts dem hornets can haf dem, free of charge, mit drading stamps drown in," answered Hans. "Git avay!" and he rode on.

"The cheek of him!" put in Fred, who was also bitten. "We ought to drive him back into the hole."

"Not on mine life!" said Hans. "I vos so stung now I can't see mine eyes out of, ain't it!"

All lost no time in getting away from the vicinity of the hornets' nest, and presently the pests left them and went back to the hole, to see what damage had been done.

"This is an experience I didn't bargain for," said Songbird, who had been stung in the cheek.

"Maybe you'd like to make up some poetry about it," grumbled Tom.

"Oh, how my chin hurts!"

"And my ear!"

"And my nose!"

"Humph! Look at my eye!"

So the talk ran on, and the crowd looked at each other in their misery. But the sights were too comical and, despite the pain, each had to laugh at the others.

"Didn't know you had so much cheek, Songbird."

"My, what an awful smeller Fred's got!"

"Dick's left hand is a regular boxing glove."

"I'm going to put some soft mud on the hand," returned Dick. "There is nothing better to draw out the pain of a hornet's sting."

"Den gif me some of dot mut, too," said Hans. "I ton't vos care how he looks, so long as it makes me feel easier."

Mud was easy to procure, and all used it liberally, and before long the pain and swelling began to go down. But their sufferings did not cease entirely until many hours afterwards, while poor Hans could not use one eye for two days.

"After this, we had better keep our eyes open for hornets' nests," observed Dick.

"I certainly don't want to be stung again," said Sam.

"I believe a fellow could be stung to death by such pests," ventured Fred.

"Yes, and a horrible death it would be," answered Dick.

The encounter with the hornets had delayed them greatly, and it was getting toward nightfall before they went on their way again.

"We may as well take our time," said Tom. "We can't reach Red Rock ranch until to-morrow."

After crossing a level stretch of prairie, they came to the edge of a woods. Not far off was a shack similar to those to be seen all over this section of our country.

"Hullo, here is a house," cried Dick. "I wonder if anybody lives here?"

He dismounted and, walking forward, looked into the shack. On a bed of boughs a heavy-set man was sleeping.

"Hullo, there!" called out the eldest of the Rovers.

The man sat up in alarm and made a movement as if to draw a pistol.

"What do you want of me?" he asked roughly.