The Pony Rider Boys in Texas Part 19

From that on the boy never allowed his eyelids to drop, though at times they felt as if weighted down with lead.

After what seemed an eternity, the gray dawn appeared on the eastern horizon. Immediately Tad began routing out the cows that they might have an opportunity to graze before the rising of the sun. It was his intention to point them toward where he believed the camp to be the moment they had grazed to their satisfaction. Until then it would not be wise to start the animals on their course.

About six o'clock, deciding that they had eaten enough, Tad began galloping up and down, shouting and applying his quirt here and there to the backs of the cows. It was slow work for one lone horseman to start five hundred cattle on the trail. Yet, after half an hour of effort, he had the satisfaction of seeing them begin to move.

"Whoop!" shouted the boy. "I'm a real cowboy this time!"

Yet his task was more difficult than he had imagined it could be. While he was urging on one part of the herd, the others would lag by the wayside and begin to graze.

Constant effort and continual moving about at high speed on his part, were necessary to keep up any sort of movement among the cattle.

The lad headed as nearly as possible for the southeast, believing that he had come from that direction.

At the same time a party had set out from the camp in search of young Butler. They had laid their course more toward the southwest. Holding these directions the two parties would not come within some miles of each other.

Tad's eyes were continually sweeping the plains in hope of discovering a horseman or some signs of the main herd, which he was sure must have been rounded up long before. Not a trace of them could he discover.

Once the boy straightened up in his saddle believing he had heard the report of a gun. After listening for some time he came to the conclusion that he had been in error.

"I guess it's my stomach imagining things," grinned Tad Butler.

He had now been out for two nights, and was now well along on the second day. During all that time he had not had a mouthful to eat. His lips were dry and parched; his throat burned fearfully. Still, he kept resolutely on. About two o'clock in the afternoon the herd came upon a clump of trees. Tad at sight of it, spurred his pony on, attracted by the greenness of the gra.s.s about the place, hoping that he might find a spring.

But he was doomed to disappointment. There was no sign of water to be found. With almost a sob in his throat the boy swung himself into his saddle again.

"Barney, you and I ought to be camels. Then we could carry all the water we need," he told the pony. "If we don't find some pretty soon I reckon we'll dry up and blow away. Gid-ap, Barney!"

Once more the lad began his monotonous pounding back and forth along the side of the herd which was now spread out over a full half mile of territory, urging with all his strength in order to get the animals to quicken their pace.

In the camp, Stallings and the others had begun to show their worriment.

Not a trace had been found of boy or herd. The main hope of the foreman was that Tad might come upon a ranch or a town somewhere, in his course, and in that way get help to direct him back to camp. As for the cattle, he feared that they had become so split up that it would be well-nigh impossible to get them together again.

During the whole afternoon, Bob Stallings had been riding about his own herd, sweeping the plain with a pair of field gla.s.ses.

A speck of dust far to the northwest suddenly attracted his attention.

Stallings halted his pony, and, sitting in his saddle almost motionless, gazed intently at the tiny point that had come within range of his vision.

"I wonder what that is," mused the foreman. "It can't be any of our party, for they would not be likely to be away off there--that is, unless they have rounded up the bunch."

Stallings, after a while, wheeled his pony and dashed back to camp.

"If any of the men come in, tell them to head northwest and come on as fast as they can."

"Do you see anything?" asked the Professor anxiously.

"I don't know. I hope I do," answered the foreman, leaping into his saddle and putting spurs to his mount. "It may be some other herd crossing the state," he muttered, keeping his eyes fixed on the speck that was slowly developing into a miniature cloud.

The foreman urged his pony to its best pace, and, in the course of half an hour he was able to make out a herd of cattle. That was all he could tell about it. However, it was not long before he discovered a lone horseman working up and down the herd.

Stallings was in too great a hurry to use his gla.s.ses now. He was driving his pony straight at the yellow mark off there on the plain, without swerving or appearing to exert any pressure at all on the bridle rein.

"It's the Pinto, as I'm alive!" he breathed.

The horseman with the herd saw him now, and rising in his saddle, waved a hand at the foreman.

In a few moments Stallings came rus.h.i.+ng up with a shout of joy.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Good for You, Kid!]

"Good for you, kid! How are you?"

"Baked to a turn," answered Tad hoa.r.s.ely, but with face lighting up joyously. "I never was so thirsty in my life."

"What? Haven't you had anything to drink?"

"Not a drop in two days."

"Great heavens, boy! You head that pony for camp mighty quick. Ride for it! You will have no difficulty in following my trail back. Don't drink much at a time. Take it in little sips," commanded the foreman in short, jerky sentences.

"Yes, but what about the herd?" asked Tad Butler.

"Never you mind the herd. I'll see to them. You move!"

Stallings noticed that the boy sat in his saddle very straight, and he knew well enough the effort it cost him to do so.

"I think I'll stay," answered the lad after a moment of indecision.

"You'll go!"

Tad shook his head.

"I've pulled them through, even if I have had quite a time of it. Now I'm going to stay with them. I guess I can stand it as well as any of your men could under similar circ.u.mstances. They wouldn't desert the herd, would they?"

Stallings glanced at him sharply.

"All right," he said. "If you insist upon it. By good rights I ought to order you in. But I understand just how you feel, kid. Here, take a drink of this brandy. It will brace you up," said the foreman, producing a flask from his pocket. "I keep it for emergencies, as the men are not allowed to use it while on duty."

"Thank you," answered the boy, with an emphatic shake of the head. "I don't drink."

"I understand. But this is medicine," urged the foreman. "It will set you right up."

"I haven't the least doubt of it," grinned the boy. "But I don't want to be set up that way. You'll excuse me, Mr. Stallings. Don't urge me, please."

The foreman replaced the flask in his pocket, a queer smile flickering about the corners of his mouth.

"You are the right stuff, kid," he muttered. "If you stayed in this business you'd be a foreman before you knew it. You are a heap sight better than a lot of them now. Fall in. I'll ride around on the other side of the herd, and urge them along from the rear. You ride up to the right of the line and keep them pointed. Follow our trail. You will make out the main herd very soon."

With renewed strength, Tad went at his work, though it was with an effort that he kept his saddle. He was afraid he must collapse before reaching the camp, and his straining eyes kept searching for the herd and the white-topped wagon that he knew held what he needed most of all at that moment--drink and food!