The Broncho Rider Boys on the Wyoming Trail Part 17

Following out this policy Billie engaged the other in conversation. If he expected that the said Mr. Thomas would let fall any sort of hint that would tell him why he had really changed his mind so suddenly, Billie must have been disappointed, for the other made no mention of his own affairs, seeming to be more interested in the possibility of trouble, should the dreaded Walkers come down upon Bar-S Ranch, meaning to take by open force what they had failed to secure through the stampede.

"If they do tackle your crowd there's apt to be a fight on, I take it,"

he remarked, "and more'n likely now somebody might get hurt. Guess it was the worst thing I ever set out to do when that notion of getting a job at the Bar-S popped into my silly head. Jumpin' right out of the frying-pan into the fire, so to speak. But how'd I ever dream I'd run acrost-but I was going to say that when it comes time to feed p'raps you'll remember I'm out here in the bunk house, and fetch me just a few bites. I'm half sick, and my leg hurts like anything, which is why I hadn't ought to go in, to eat with the rest. But I just know I'll feed worse if I ain't had a few bites. You won't forget, will you, Mister Billie?"

Of course the fat boy promised to remember; but he thought it more than suspicious that Thomas made such a silly excuse for keeping away from the rest. He hugged the idea to his heart that the man had another reason, and a good one too, for avoiding Uncle Fred; because, you see Billie did not know that they had already met, and been "introduced" by Adrian, with no unpleasant discovery and explosion as a result.

Being very frank himself it was just like Billie to say something along these lines to the other, which he did in this way:

"Strikes me, Mr. Thomas, that you don't hanker much about striking up an acquaintance with Adrian's Uncle Fred. I only hope now that you haven't done anything to injure him in the past."

At that the man looked carefully about him, and then coming up to Billie laid a hand confidentially on his arm, as he went on to say softly:

"I understand what you're thinking about, sir, and I hasten to a.s.sure you that your suspicions are all unfounded. I never injured Mr.

Comstock, and I sure didn't rob him of anything in all my life. Fact is, the boot is on the other leg, if you come right down to hard facts. But I'm not complaining, not one whit. He's as welcome as the daylight.

Let's talk of other things, my young friend. And please turn that repeating gun the other way. It makes me nervous to see it pointing right at me. There, that's better; but I think I'd better go in and lie down, I'm feeling that bad."

CHAPTER XX.

ALMOST CAUGHT.

"Now, I wonder what does ail that queer gent?" mused Billie, after the other had left him, to enter the bunk house, with the avowed intention of lying down. "He limps like all get-out, sure as anything, and I reckon he does look like he's sick, or scared half to death about something or other. Whatever could it be that's upset him so since he arrived here? Must be the chance of a sc.r.a.p coming off; because even if he does boast so hard I'm believing Mr. Thomas is pretty much of a chicken-hearted fellow. My! how he does roll them white eyes of his around whenever he hears the least sound."

He poked his head in through the open doorway, and saw that the pilgrim of the trail had indeed rolled into one of the bunks that did not seem to belong to any of the punchers; for there were twice as many sleeping places as hands on the place in these days of hard luck for Bar-S Ranch.

"Well, mebbe he _is_ sick after all," continued the tender-hearted Billie; "and if I get half a chance to sneak any grub, I'll remember to fetch it to him; because it's _aw_ful to have to go hungry. Guess I know. And right now I wish I could manage to pick up a few bites, just to keep away that gnawing feeling inside. But me go in that ranch house, and face that lady-well, not if Broncho Billie knows what's good for him, and he generally does. There's some things even worse than being hungry; and getting her hands in my hair'd be one of the same. No siree bob, excuse me. Let her practice on her lawful husband as much as she likes; I ain't in that pulling game."

He walked up and down outside as if he were a sentry on guard. And indeed, Billie rather felt as though such were his duties just then, for he could not get entirely over his suspicions with regard to that mysterious Mr. Thomas, and his way of dodging, as though he feared being seen by some one who would recognize him.

"Goodness knows what he may have done!" Billie went on to tell himself after a little more time had elapsed, and his thoughts persisted in returning to the subject of the man in the bunk house. "I wonder, now, if there's anything inside that he could get away with? But then, cow-punchers never leave their savings around loose; fact is, few of 'em ever have a dollar three days after getting paid. Oh! well, I'll let him alone for a while, and take a look around the corrals and the barns."

After that he walked about "sizing up things" as he called it. As the sun was bright, though the afternoon had half gone, Billie suddenly remembered that he had a kodak in his pack; so opening this he secured the little snapshot camera, meaning to take his first view of the ranch buildings.

After securing one picture Billie became aware of the fact that Mr.

Comstock was beckoning wildly to catch his attention.

"Now, what does he want, I wonder?" the fat boy asked himself; "there he goes at his wireless again, and seems like he was making motions for me to come over back of the house to where he is. Looks like he was ahiding behind that woodpile, too. What ails all the people here, to want to dodge around like they do? But then, there might be some excuse for Uncle Fred to keep mum; because if ever _she_ gets them hands on him after this, there's going to be some warm times, believe me. Shall I go over and join him, or make out I don't understand, because I want to take another view of the house?"

Then Billie remembered his promise to Adrian.

"I did say I'd watch out for Uncle Fred, sure enough; and he acts like he needed a nurse, or something like that, right now. Guess I'll wander around that way; I can make out to be looking for another view of the place, if anybody is ataking the trouble to watch me."

This he did, and presently joined the late manager of the ranch. Mr.

Comstock was still crouching behind that pile of wood. Every now and then he thrust out his head and seemed disposed to start toward the house; but something always caused him to weaken, for he would draw back, shaking his head as if to say: "I can't seem to do it, and that's flat!"

"What's the matter, sir?" asked Billie, when he had come up.

"Would you mind doing me a little favor, Billie?" asked the other, with a smile that was intended to be very winning.

"Of course I would, if it wasn't beyond me," replied the fat boy; "Adrian told me to help you if you needed anything done."

"Why, you see, here's the way things stand," the late manager commenced to say. "When I heard all the racket, and somebody shouted that the stolen herd was coming back, I was that excited I ran out of the house without taking the trouble to pick up my belt, that carries my gun. It lies in there where you see that open window close to the ground. All you need do is to crawl through, reach it out to me, and then skip again. Get that straight, do you, Billie?"

"Y-yes, sir," Billie said, slowly enough, for somehow he did not particularly fancy the adventure, since there was a pretty good chance that he would run across the good woman of the house while entering like a burglar; and he s.h.i.+vered when he had a mental picture of how she would pounce upon him.

"I'd go myself, you see, Billie, only that I'm afraid of that female dragon that the law calls Mrs. Comstock. What she'd do to me if she caught me in there would be a caution. And I want that gun the worst kind, because, if there's going to be any sort of rumpus I'll need it.

Will you go, Billie?"

"I s'pose I'll have to, sir; but I only hope that she don't grab me; because I just know from her looks, not to mention her reputation as a sc.r.a.pper, that I'll be the worst clawed fellow in seven counties before she lets go. You must promise to stay by the window, and give me fair warning if she comes."

This did not seem to make the other very happy; but evidently he realized that he could not very well expect Billy to take all the risk.

"Agreed, Billie," he said, quickly. "Lead off, now; it's that window closest to the corner, you understand. I'll look in after you climb over, and take the belt from you. If I give tongue, you jump for all you're worth out of the said window, because that'll mean I've sighted her acoming."

"All right; who's afraid?" said Billie valiantly; he even thought of handing over his rifle to the other, with directions to cover his venturesome trip through that window; but on second thoughts decided, that it would not be the right thing to use such a weapon on one of the other s.e.x, no matter what an Amazon she might be.

Mr. Comstock followed close behind as the boy advanced toward the open window; but it could be easily seen that he was ready to beat a rapid retreat should the enemy suddenly put in an appearance anywhere around.

"She ain't there!" whispered Billie, after he had taken a cautious look inside the room which the former manager of the ranch had been wont to call his "office," and which, as he had said, could only be entered ordinarily through another apartment.

But if Billie cherished any faint hope that the other, on learning that the coast was clear, would immediately offer to undertake the affair for himself, he found himself wofully mistaken.

"Do you need any help to climb over the window sill?" whispered Mr.

Comstock, who did not forget that the boy was unusually heavy, and consequently far from being as agile as either of his two chums.

Billie shook his head, but he confessed to a grievous disappointment all the same. He was evidently in for it, no matter what might follow. On looking down at his feet he discovered a stone that he could mount, and after he had done this it was likely to be a much easier job clambering in through the low window than at first appearance he had expected.

"Who's afraid?" he again muttered softly to himself; for that was one of his pet ways for bolstering up his courage when he began to feel his knees wobble under him, and knew that his heart was beating twice as fast as normal.

Accordingly he gave a heave, and in this way managed to get his right knee elevated upon the window ledge. After that it was easy enough; and presently Billie lowered himself into the room.

He felt very queer while doing this, just for all the world as though he might be a real burglar intending to steal valuables, and in momentary terror lest the angry man of the house dash in upon him.

All seemed quiet enough, though he could hear some one moving around in the adjoining room, and took for granted that this must be Mrs.

Comstock. Billie sincerely hoped that whatever she was doing, whether packing up her clothes in expectation of an early flitting, or anything else, she would keep right along at it, and not bother taking a look through that open doorway.

He glanced cautiously around him, trying to get his bearings, and discover just where the coveted article lay.

"To your right-on the desk!" whispered the man outside.

Billie turned around to move in that direction. As he did so he managed to dislodge a small picture that had been pinned to the wall. It fell with a slight noise, and Billie's heart seemed to stand still with sudden fear.

When nothing happened Billie took his courage in both hands, and started to move over to where the big rolltop desk stood, intending to pick up the belt and hasten to hand it to Mr. Comstock, after which he would get outside where he could breathe again naturally, and without such a dread specter hanging over his head.

Yes, there was the belt, just as the former manager had said, lying snugly on the desk; and the revolver seemed to be as usual in the leather holster which was heavily studded with b.u.t.tons or round-headed colored nails, cowboy fas.h.i.+on.