The Broncho Rider Boys with the Texas Rangers Part 1

The Broncho Rider Boys with the Texas Rangers.

by Frank Fowler.

CHAPTER I.

A MULE HUNT IN THE CHAPARRAL.

"Crack!" went Broncho Billie's revolver and the silver dollar which had been tossed into the air as a target went spinning into the yellow waters of the Rio Grande as a result of Billie's unerring aim.

"Not a bad shot, Ad," remarked Billie with a laugh as he ejected the sh.e.l.l from the cylinder and shoved a fresh cartridge into the empty chamber of the revolver. "I don't miss 'em very often now, and this time the river is a dollar in."

"Yes," replied Adrian, a bit crestfallen, "and I'm a dollar out."

"Didn't think I'd hit it, eh?" and Billie's round face broadened till it looked like a full moon.

"Well, I didn't know but you might, but I hadn't stopped to think what would happen to the dollar if you did. The river didn't look so near."

Billie chuckled to himself good-naturedly as he returned his six-shooter to its holster, while Adrian continued:

"I'll make a better guess at distances before I try it again. I can't afford to be losing dollars like that."

"Oh, that's all right, Ad!" and Billie shoved his hand down into his pocket. "Here's one to take its place."

Adrian shook his head and made no move to take the proffered coin.

"Go on, take it!" insisted Billie. "I don't want to make you lose your last dollar."

"That's all right about my last dollar," replied Adrian. "I guess I know where to get another, and the lesson is worth a peso."

"Well, if you go broke because of it, don't be afraid to tell me," was Billie's joking reply; "but what can be keeping Donald, I wonder. It's high time we were getting back over the river," and Billie cast his eye toward the mountains some miles in the distance to see how close to their tops the sun was getting.

"He'll surely be here in a few minutes," said Adrian. "He knows how long it will take us to get to town as well as we do."

And while the boys are awaiting the arrival of their companion, it might be well to explain to any reader who has not had the pleasure of reading the preceding volumes of the Broncho Rider Boys series something about the trio of young Americans whose names have been mentioned.

Adrian Sherwood, who had so recklessly risked his silver dollar as a target for his companion to shoot at, was the owner of a ranch in Wyoming, which he had but recently inherited and come into possession of through a series of most exciting adventures as told in a preceding volume of this series, ent.i.tled "The Broncho Rider Boys on the Wyoming Trail." He was a youth of much wisdom and judgment for one of his years and a close chum of Billie, who had been christened William Stonewall Jackson Winkle.

Because of the exciting adventures through which Adrian, Billie and Donald had pa.s.sed and because they had practically lived in the saddle for the past year and a half, they had become known to the cowboys and rough riders of three states as "The Broncho Rider Boys." Born in the south, but having spent most of his boyhood in New York State, Billie had come west nearly two years previous to find health and to rid himself of the superfluous weight which some good-natured doctor had said was the cause of his trouble. Months in the saddle had made very little difference in his weight and if there were a more healthy chap in the country than he, such a one would be hard to find.

When Billie first came west, he was a veritable tenderfoot. He was always creating fun for those with whom he was thrown and was invariably in some sort of trouble. The number of times he had been thrown from the back of his broncho could hardly be enumerated, and more in fun than because he was a daring rider, he had been rechristened Broncho Billie by his cowboy friends.

But Billie had developed rapidly. Of the three there was not one who could ride or shoot better than he. His only weak spot was in throwing the lariat. He never seemed to get just the proper hang and his attempts to use the rope almost invariably resulted in disaster to himself or his friends. As is usually the case with fat people, Billie fairly bubbled over with good humor, being a fine example of Tony Lumpkin's famous advice to "laugh and grow fat."

Donald Mackay, Billie's cousin, whom he had come west to visit, was the son of the owner of a big ranch, known as Keystone Ranch. He was one of those steady, reliable boys whom we have all met and who can always be depended upon in any emergency to do the right thing, although at times he may be slower than some others in the manner in which he works. Taken all in all they were a well-balanced trio, as their actions under many trying conditions and in many hazardous adventures had justly proved.

They had thwarted an unscrupulous syndicate from robbing Donald's father of valuable property. They had protected an inoffensive tribe of Indians against the designs of a band of sharpers, and they had straightened out affairs at Adrian's ranch in a manner which would have been a credit to much older heads.

After their adventures in Wyoming, as told in a preceding volume, they had started to return to Arizona by a two months' ride through Colorado and New Mexico; but, when they reached Albuquerque, they had received a letter from Billie's father, saying that he was going on a vacation trip to El Paso, Texas, and asking if it were possible for Billie to meet him there.

"Of course I can," exclaimed Billie aloud, as he read the letter.

"Of course you can what?" queried Donald.

"Meet father in El Paso," was the reply.

"What, and leave us to go home all alone?" said Adrian.

"There's two of you, isn't there?" retorted Billie, forgetting his grammar entirely.

"Of course there are two of us; but that's hardly a company, while, as everybody knows, three make a crowd," and Adrian laughed almost sadly.

"Who'd take care of Jupiter?"

Now Jupiter was the broncho which Billie's uncle had given him when he first came West, and a terrible time Billie had had in breaking him. He hadn't thought about him.

"You could lead him, couldn't you?" asked Billie.

"We're driving two pack mules now. How would you expect us to take care of Jupiter?"

Billie shook his head slowly. "I don't know," he said.

"I'll tell you what," suddenly exclaimed Donald, "we'll all go to El Paso. We'll ride there. It isn't so many days out of our way, and we'll see something of the country. We might even get a look at President Madero, of Mexico."

Donald's suggestion met with immediate approval by the others, and so, instead of going southwest from Albuquerque, they headed south. Because of the lay of the land, they had traveled farther south than was really necessary, but had figured it out that it would be better riding in the valley of the Rio Grande than to climb over the range of mountains that forms the watershed of the Pecos River. Striking the Rio Grande near Langtry, they had slowly ridden up stream toward El Paso, first on one side of the river and then on the other, until this afternoon found them approaching the mouth of the Concho river, which empties into the Rio Grande from the Mexican side.

Two hours previous they had halted in the chaparral for a bite to eat and a short _siesta_. While they were lounging about, Donald had announced his intention of going to a little hamlet, the adobe houses of which could be seen a couple of miles away, to see if he could not buy a _riata_, as a rope for leading horses is called.

"Why not wait until we reach Presidio?" queried Adrian. "We should reach there by dark."

"We may not, and we need it to tether the pack mules. The one on Bray is worn out, and first thing we know he'll wander away and we'll waste a whole day looking for him."

"Well, hurry up, then," said Billie. "We don't want to be waiting around here all the afternoon."

Without more words Donald had mounted Wireless, for so his mount was named, and ridden away in the direction of the houses, while Billie and Adrian had strolled up the bank of the river, killing time. It was during this stroll that Billie had offered to show his skill with a six-shooter by hitting a silver dollar thrown into the air.

They had hardly been out of sight of the halting place during their stroll, but, upon their return, instead of finding Donald, they found old Bray, one of the pack mules, missing, just as Donald had predicted.

"He cannot have gone far," declared Adrian. "He hasn't had time."

"That's certain," was Billie's rea.s.suring comment, and, feeling sure that a few minutes' search of the chaparral would reveal the missing animal, they started out hastily, on foot, not deeming it necessary even to mount their steeds.

For the next ten minutes they tramped through the chaparral, calling to each other as they went, but no sign of the mule could be found. Then they returned to the camp and mounted their horses, but, although this enabled them to see over the tops of the mesquite bushes that spread out for miles up and down the river, they could see nothing of the missing animal.

"There comes Don," Billie at last sung out, as he caught sight of the returning horseman. "Maybe he can give us some advice."

But Donald had no advice to give, except to scatter and search.

"I hate to say 'I told you so,'" laughed Donald, "because it was really my fault that I didn't get a new _riata_ before. I reckon now we might as well decide to stop here all right, for I can see we have our afternoon's work cut out."