CHAPTER IV.
WITH THE RANGERS.
From below, where Jack’s companions had witnessed his fall withhorrified eyes, it appeared almost impossible that he could escapewithout serious injury. But as his pony struck the ground at the footof the cliff, amidst a regular landslide of twigs, rocks and earth,Jack succeeded in extricating himself from under the animal, androlling a few yards he scrambled to his feet, unhurt except for a fewslight cuts and bruises.
Ralph and Walt Phelps left their ponies and came running up to whereJack stood brushing the dirt from his garments.
“Hurt, Jack?” cried Ralph.
“No; never touched me,” laughed the boy; “and look at that cayuse ofmine, I guess he isn’t injured, either.”
As Jack spoke he nodded his head in the direction of his pony, whichhad risen and was now galloping off to join its companions at thewatering place.
“How did it happen?” demanded Walt. “We saw you coming down the trailquietly enough one moment, and at the next look, behold, you wereriding like Tam o’ Shanter.”
Jack looked about him before replying. But he and his companions werealone, for the Rangers were too busy watering their mounts to botherwith 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,” heremarked, turning to Walt Phelps.
“How do you mean?”
“Just this: Shorty was behind me on that trail. Suddenly his pony beganto bolt. It was to avoid being forced from the narrow path that Ispurred 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 thewall 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 Shortymiscalculated, and where I left the trail was further on and not so farto fall.”
“Why don’t you tell Captain Atkinson?”
“Why, I have nothing to prove that Shorty’s pony really didn’t getbeyond his control.”
“Then you suspect that it was not really running away, but that he madeit appear that he was unable to manage it?”
“That’s it exactly. However, let’s join the men. If I get a chance Iwant 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 intoexecution,” was the reply.
The three boys, arm in arm, sauntered up to the group of Rangers. Someof them were now remounted, and two men had charge of the boys’ ponies,including Jack’s, which had joined its comrades. Shorty was stillwatering his animal, but when he saw the boys he came up to Jack withan outstretched hand, and every appearance of great affability.
“Say, Pard’ner,” he exclaimed, as if genuinely remorseful, “I hope youain’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, inthe same tone.
“And so that’s the reason you had to spur him till he bled,” flashedJack, in a low tone. The boy had seized his opportunity to look overShorty’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 isthis, 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. Shortygazed after them. His alarm had gone from his countenance now, and hebore an expression of malignant rage.
“Dern young tenderfoot cubs,” he growled to himself, relieving hisfeelings 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, andit’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 mountedand clattered back up the trail with the rest of the Rangers. Ontheir return to the camp, as soon as each little pony had been givenhis generous allowance of hay, they found that supper was ready, theChinaman 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 boysneed any pressing to make hearty meals. Bacon, salted beef, beans, hotbiscuits and strong coffee formed the bill of fare. After the meal hadbeen dispatched Captain Atkinson beckoned to Jack and his companions,and they followed him a little apart from the rest of the Rangers whowere singing songs and telling stories around a big camp fire, for thenight was quite chilly.
“Since you lads have joined us to learn all you can of the life of aTexas Ranger,” he said, “I think that you had better start in as soonas possible.”
“Right away if necessary,” responded Jack enthusiastically.
“That’s my idea,” struck in Walt Phelps.
“Can’t make it too soon for me, captain,” added Ralph, not a whit lesseager than the others.
“Very well, then,” smiled the captain of the Rangers, “you will go onsentry duty to–night, and to–morrow I shall see that you have someother work assigned to you.”
“Do we—do we have to do sentry duty all night?” asked Ralph, in arather dubious tone.
“No, indeed. That would never do. You must get your sleep. For thatreason we divide the hours of darkness into regular watches. There arefour of these. I shall assign you to go out with the first guard,” saidCaptain Atkinson to Jack, and then in turn he informed Walt Phelps andRalph Stetson that their assignments would come with the second andthird watches respectively.
Jack was all eagerness to begin, and when at eight o’clock he and sixof the Rangers rode out of the camp toward the river his heart throbbedwith anticipation of the duty before him. The men were in charge of oneof their number named “Baldy” Sears. This Baldy was quite a characterand had determined to give Jack a thorough testing out. As they rodeout, the boy questioned “Baldy” eagerly about his duties, but didn’tget much satisfaction.
As a matter of fact, Baldy entertained quite a contempt for“Tenderfeet,” as he called the boys, and was rather annoyed at havingto take Jack out and act as “school marm,” as he phrased it.
They reached the river by the same trail that they had descended towater their ponies earlier that evening. As it was still dusk theyrode down it without accident. In fact, the Rangers hardly appeared tonotice its dangers. Jack, however, wondered how it would be possibleto descend it in the dark without mishap. But, then, he recollectedthe sure–footedness and uncommon intelligence of the average westernpony, and realized that if given a loose rein, there probably was not acayuse in the outfit that could not negotiate it without difficulty.
“Now, then,” said Baldy, when they reached the bottom of the path,“line up and I’ll give you your orders. You, Red Saunders, ride eastwith Sam, and Ed. Ricky, you and Big Foot ride to the west and keeppatrolling. I’ll take the young maverick here with me. If any of yougets in trouble or wants assistance fire three shots. I reckon that’sall.”
The men rode off into the night, and then Baldy and Jack were leftalone.
“Got a shootin’ iron with you, young feller?” inquired Baldy.
“A what?” returned Jack.
“Waal, if you ain’t the tenderfootedest of tenderfeets,” scoffed Baldy;“a shootin’ iron—a gun!”
“Why, no, I didn’t think it necessary to bring one,” rejoined Jack. “Idon’t like carrying firearms unless they are needful. Do you think thatanything will happen in which firearms would be useful?”
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p; “Firearms is always useful along the Rio,” returned Baldy, “I dunno ifthe cap told you, but we’re here on special duty to–night.”
“Dangerous duty?” asked Jack.
“You can’t most gen’ally sometimes allers tell,” vouchsafed Baldy,examining the magazine of his rifle which he had taken from its saddleholster for the purpose.