CHAPTER III--IN WHICH THINGS HAPPEN
The cow puncher who had rescued them was a fine looking, bronzed fellow,with heavy sheepskin chaps on his legs, a shirt open at the throat, hissleeves rolled up displaying muscular arms, and twinkling eyes under theflapping brim of his great hat. While he "snubbed" the big steer to hisknees again as the bellowing creature tried to rise, he looked down witha broad smile upon the sparkling face of the Western girl.
"Why, bless yo' heart, honey," he said, in a soft, Southern droll, "ifyou want me to, I'll jest natwcher'ly cinch my saddle on OldTrouble-Maker an' ride him home for yo'. It certainly is a cure for soreeyes to see you again."
"And I'm glad to see you, Ike. And these are all my friends. I'llintroduce you and the boys to them proper at the ranch," cried theWestern girl.
"Git that bellowin' critter away from yere, Ike," commanded Mr. Hicks."I 'low the next bunch that goes to the railroad will include that blackand white abomination."
"Jest so, Boss," drawled his foreman. "I been figurin' Old Trouble-Makerbetter be in the can than on the hoof. He's made a plumb nuisance ofhimself. Yo' goin' on, Boss? Bud and Jimsey's got that bunch out o' theway of your smoke-waggin."
"We've got to shift tires, Mr. Hicks," said Tom Cameron, who, with hischum, Bob Steele, was already jacking up the rear axle. "That steerripped a long hole in this tire something awful."
Bashful Ike--who didn't seem at all bashful when it came to handling thebig black and white steer--suddenly let that bellowing beast get upon hisfour feet. Then he swooped down upon the steer, gathering up the coilsof his rope as he rode, twitched the noose off the wide horns, andleaning quickly from his saddle grabbed the "brush" of the steer's tailand gave that appendage a mighty twist.
Bellowing again, but for an entirely different reason, the steer startedoff after the bunch of cattle now disappearing in the dust-cloud, andthe foreman spurred his calico pony after Old Trouble-Maker, yelling atthe top of his voice at every jump of his pony:
"Ye-ow! ye-ow! ye-ow!"
"I declare I'm glad to see those cattle out of the way," said HelenCameron, with a sigh.
"I believe you," returned Ruth, who was still beside her on the frontseat. "I just didn't realize before that cattle on the range are a wholelot different from a herd of cows in an eastern pasture."
Tom and Bob got the new tire in place and pumped up, and then theautomobile started again for the ranch house. Jane Ann was quite excitedover her home-coming; anybody could see that with half an eye. She clungto her uncle's hand and looked at him now and again as though to assurethe old fellow that she really was glad to be home.
And Bill Hicks himself began to "fill into the picture" now that he wasback in Montana. The young folks had seen many men like him sinceleaving Denver.
"Why, he's just an old dear!" whispered Ruth to Helen, as the lattersteered the car over the rough trail. "And just as kind and considerateas he can be. It's natural chivalry these Western men show to women,isn't it?"
"He's nice," agreed Helen. "But he never ought to have named his niece'Jane Ann.' That was a mean trick to play on a defenseless baby."
"He's going to make it up to her now," chuckled Tom, who heard this,being on the front seat with the two chums. "I know the 'pinanner' hasgone on ahead, as he promised Nita. And carpets and curtains, too. Ireckon this ranch we're coming to is going to 'blossom like the rose.'"
When they came in sight of Silver Ranch, just before evening, the guestsfrom the East were bound to express their appreciation of the beauty ofits surroundings. It was a low, broad verandahed house, covering a gooddeal of ground, with cookhouses and other outbuildings in the rear, anda big corral for the stock, and bunkhouses for the men. It lay in abeautiful little valley--a "coulie," Jane Ann, or Nita, called it--withgreen, sloping sides to the saucer-like depression, and a pretty,winding stream breaking out of the hollow at one side.
"I should think it would be damp down there," said Madge Steele, to theranchman. "Why didn't you build your house on a knoll?"
"Them sidehills sort o' break the winds, Miss," explained Mr. Hicks. "Wesometimes git some wind out yere--yes, ma'am! You'd be surprised."
They rode down to the big house and found a wide-smiling Mexican womanwaiting for them on the porch. Jane Ann greeted her as "Maria" and Hickssent her back to the kitchen to hurry supper. But everybody about theplace, even Maria's husband, the "horse wrangler," a sleek lookingMexican with rings in his ears and a broken nose, found a chance towelcome the returned runaway.
"My! it's great to be a female prodigal, isn't it?" demanded Heavy,poking Jane Ann with her forefinger. "Aren't you glad you ran awayEast?"
The Western girl took it good-naturedly. "I'm glad I came back, anyway,"she acknowledged. "And I'm awfully glad Ruth and Helen and you-all couldcome with me."
"Well, we're here, and I'm delighted," cried Helen Cameron. "But Ididn't really expect either Ruth or Mary Cox would come. Mary's got suchtrouble at home; and Ruth's uncle is just as cross as he can be."
Ruth heard that and shook her head, for all the girls were sitting onthe wide veranda of the ranch-house after removing the traces of traveland getting into the comfortable "hack-about" frocks that Jane Ann hadadvised them to bring with them.
"Uncle Jabez is in great trouble, sure," Ruth said. "Losing money--and awhole lot of money, too, as he has--is a serious matter. Uncle Jabezcould lose lots of things better than he can money, for he loves moneyso!"
"My gracious, Ruth," exclaimed Helen, with a sniff, "you'd find anexcuse for a dog's running mad, I do believe! You are bound to see thebest side of anybody."
"What you say isn't very clear," laughed her chum, good-humoredly; "butI guess I know what you mean, and thank you for the compliment. I onlyhope that uncle's investment in the Tintacker Mine will come out allright in the end."
Mary Cox, "The Fox," sat next to Ruth, and at this she turned to listento the chums. Her sharp eyes sparkled and her face suddenly grew pale,as Ruth went on:
"I expect Uncle Jabez allowed me to come out here partly because thatmine he invested in is supposed to be somewhere in this district."
"Oh!" said Helen. "A real mine?"
"That is what is puzzling Uncle Jabez, as I understand it," said Ruthsoberly. "He isn't sure whether it is a _real_ mine, or not. You see, heis very close mouthed, as well as close in money matters. He never saidmuch to me about it. But old Aunt Alvirah told me all she knew.
"You see, that young man came to the mill as an agent for a vacuumcleaner, and he talked Uncle Jabez into buying one for Aunt Alvirah.Now, you must know he was pretty smart to talk money right out ofUncle's pocket for any such thing as that," and Ruth laughed; but shebecame grave in a moment, and continued:
"Not that he isn't as kind as he knows how to be to Aunt Alvirah; butthe fact that the young man made his sale so quickly gave Uncle Jabez avery good opinion of his ability. So they got to talking, and the youngman told uncle about the Tintacker Mine."
"Gold or silver?" asked Helen.
"Silver. The young fellow was very enthusiastic. He knew something aboutmines, and he had been out here to see this one. It had been the onlylegacy, so he said, that his father had left his family. He was theoldest, and the only boy, and his mother and the girls depended uponhim. Their circumstances were cramped, and if he could not work thisTintacker Mine he did not know how he should support the family. Therewas money needed to develop the mine and--I am not sure--but I believethere was some other man had a share in it and must be bought out. Atleast, uncle furnished a large sum of money."
"And then?" demanded Helen Cameron.
"Why, then the young man came out this way. Aunt Alvirah said that UncleJabez got one letter from Denver and another from a place called Butte,Montana. Then nothing more came. Uncle's letters have been unanswered.That's ever since some time last winter. You see, uncle hates to spendmore money, I suppose. He maybe doesn't know how to have the minesearched for. But he told me that the young man said something aboutgoing
to Bullhide, and I am going to try to find out if anybody knowsanything about the Tintacker Mine the first time we drive over to town."
All this time Mary Cox had been deeply interested in what Ruth said. Itwas not often that The Fox paid much attention to Ruth Fielding, for sheheld a grudge against the girl of the Red Mill, and had, on severaloccasions, been very mean to Ruth. On the other hand, Ruth had twiceaided in saving The Fox from drowning, and had the latter not been avery mean-spirited girl she would have been grateful to Ruth.
About the time that Ruth had completed her story of the Tintacker Mineand the utter disappearance of the young man who had interested herUncle Jabez in that mysterious silver horde, Jane Ann called them all tosupper. A long, low-ceiled, cool apartment was the dining-room at SilverRanch. Through a long gallery the Mexican woman shuffled in with the hotviands from the kitchen. Two little dark-skinned boys helped her; theywere Maria's children.
At supper Mr. Hicks took the head of the long table and Jane Ann did thehonors at the other end. There were the Cameron twins, and Madge andBob, and Jennie Stone and Mary Cox, beside Ruth Fielding herself. It wasa merry party and they sat long over the meal; before they arose fromthe table, indeed, much shuffling and low voices and laughter, togetherwith tobacco smoke, announced the presence of some of the cowboysoutside.
"The boys is up yere to hear that pinanner," said Mr. Hicks. "Jib's gotit ready to slip out o' the box and we'll lift it into the otherroom--there's enough of us huskies to do it--and then you young folks canstart something."
Jane Ann was delighted with the handsome upright instrument. She hadpicked it out herself in New York, and it had been shipped clear acrossthe continent ahead of the private car that had brought the party toBullhide. The jarring it had undergone had not improved its tone; butHelen sat down to it and played a pretty little medley that pleased theboys at the windows.
"Now, let Ruth sing," urged Jane Ann. "The boys like singing; give 'emsomething they can join in on the chorus like--that'll tickle 'em intofits!"
So Ruth sang such familiar songs as she could remember. And then Helengot her violin and Madge took her place at the piano, and they playedfor Ruth some of the more difficult pieces that the latter had learnedat Briarwood--for Ruth Fielding possessed a very sweet and strong voiceand had "made the Glee Club" during the first half of her attendance atBriarwood Hall.
The boys applauded from the veranda. There was at least a dozen of theranchman's employes at the home corral just then. Altogether Mr. Hickspaid wages to about sixty punchers and horse wranglers. They were comingand going between the home ranch and the ranges all the time.
The girls from the East gave the Silver Ranch cowboys a nice littleconcert, and then Jane Ann urged Jib Pottoway to come to the piano. Thehalf-breed was on the veranda in the dusk, with the other fellows, buthe needed urging.
"Here, you Jibbeway!" exclaimed Mr. Hicks. "You hike yourself in yereand tickle these ivories a whole lot. These young ladies ain't snakes;an' they won't bite ye."
The backward puncher was urged on by his mates, too, and finally he camein, stepping through the long window and sliding onto the piano benchthat had been deserted by Madge. He was a tall, straight, big-bonedyoung man, with dark, keen face, and the moment Tom Cameron saw him heseized Bob by the shoulder and whispered eagerly:
"I know that fellow! He played fullback with Carlisle when they metCornell three years ago. Why, he's an educated man--he must be! Andpunching cattle out on this ranch!"
"Guess you forget that Theodore Roosevelt punched cattle for a while,"chuckled Bob. "Listen to that fellow play, will you?"
And the Indian could--as Mr. Hicks remarked--"tickle the ivories." Heplayed by ear, but he played well. Most of the tunes he knew werepopular ditties and by and by he warmed the punchers up so that theybegan to hum their favorite melodies as Jib played them.
"Come on, there, Ike!" said the Indian, suddenly. "Give us that 'Prayer'you're so fond of. Come on, now, Ike!"
Bashful Ike evidently balked a little, but Jib played the accompanimentand the melody through, and finally the foreman of Silver Ranch broke inwith a baritone roar and gave them "The Cowboy's Prayer." Ike possesseda mellow voice and the boys hummed in chorus in the dusk, and it allsounded fine until suddenly Jib Pottoway broke off with a suddendiscordant crash on the piano keys.
"Hel-lo!" exclaimed Bill Hicks, who had lain back in his wicker loungingchair, with his big feet in wool socks on another chair, enjoying allthe music. "What's happened the pinanner, Jib? You busted it? By jings!that cost me six hundred dollars at the Bullhide station."
But then his voice fell and there was silence both in the room and onthe veranda. The sound of galloping hoofs had shut the ranchman up. Apony was approaching on a dead run, and the next moment a long, loud"Ye-ow! ye-ow!" announced the rider's excitement as somethingextraordinary.
"Who's that, Ike?" cried Hicks, leaping from his chair.
"Scrub Weston," said the foreman as he clumped down the veranda steps.
Jib slipped through the window. Hicks followed him on the jump, and JaneAnn led the exodus of the visitors. There was plainly something of anexciting nature at hand. A pony flashed out of the darkness and slid toa perilous halt right at the steps.
"Hi, Boss!" yelled the cowboy who bestrode the pony. "Fire's sweeping upfrom Tintacker way! I bet it's that Bughouse Johnny the boys have chasedtwo or three times. He's plumb loco, that feller is--oughtn't to be leftat large. The whole chapparel down that a-way is blazin' and, if thewind rises, more'n ha'f of your grazin'll be swept away."