The Rambler Club on the Texas border

It was too much for the lad to stand philosophically. The nerve-racking events through which he had recently passed; the unexpected dash for the American side; the bitter feelings of resentment and of anger stirred up by the course the others had taken made his passions for the instant beyond control.

He flung aside the officer’s hand, and with blazing eyes faced Tom Clifton.

“You did this!” he shouted. “And you had no right to——” Words alone could not satisfy him; he sprang toward the Rambler with clenched fists and shoulders squared.

Tom, aghast, stepped hastily back. The circle of surprised humanity which instantly formed, hedging the two closely about, saw a curious spectacle. The lads, both of extreme height, were in violent action. Jimmy’s move had been so quickly made, so unlooked for, that before any one could lay a restraining hand upon him the struggle had begun.

On Tom Clifton’s part it was merely an effort to keep away. Not a spark of anger shone in his eyes. Quick, agile, he easily evaded Jimmy’s rushes and presently the Texas Rangers dragged the excited young pianist aside.

A surging, noisy crowd now hemmed them all in. Their curiosity was insatiable, not only in regard to the event which had just taken place, but to the other and greater battle fought on the opposite side of the Rio.

“For goodness’ sake, let’s get away from here fast!” exclaimed Dick. He turned to the Rangers and speaking in a low tone, told them that they were bound for the company headquarters of the force.

“We’ve seen you over there,” said one, with a huge grin. “An’ Carl Alvin’s never done talkin’ about ye. I’m sorry, son.” He slapped Jimmy on the shoulder. “We’re only followin’ out our orders, you know.”

The pianist had already begun to regret his outburst. Like a flash he recalled the pleasant time he had spent with the others; how they had helped to cheer him, and make his self-imposed exile easier to bear. And there was Tom, regarding him in the most friendly manner. Yet only a moment before he had flung himself upon him with all his force.

In those seconds while the staring, gaping crowd waited, hoping for new developments, he began to get a truer insight into his own character. Dimly it dawned into his mind that his way was not the right way.

“Tom,” he said, simply, “here’s my hand!”

The Rambler accepted it. The crowd grinned and made some comments; the horsemen smiling cheerfully mounted again.

Followed by the two Rangers they soon reached headquarters, and after hitching their horses to the row of posts outside bounded up the steps, Cranny in the lead.

“We’ve got him, cap’n!” he shouted to the astonished official, the moment the big door had opened to let them pass. “Bring on the ball an’ chains—where’s the darkest dungeon?”

“Got whom?” queried Captain Braddock, hastily rising to his feet.

“Jimmy Raymond!”

The grizzled old commander of the Texas Rangers, a great friend of Colonel Sylvester, was highly delighted at the news.

“Jimmy Raymond actually found at last,” he cried. “That’s splendid. I must ’phone to the colonel at once. Who came across him and where? Jimmy, my lad, step this way. I want to hear all about it! I’m delighted!”

Tom Clifton’s impatience to learn all about Dick’s experiences in the Mexican town made him urge every one to speak rapidly and to the point. His commands were obeyed so successfully that within half an hour he and the others were seated comfortably on a bench, ready to listen, as were several interested Rangers, to the Rambler’s tale.

A great change had come over Jimmy Raymond’s face. The gracious, kindly treatment he had received at the hands of Captain Braddock, and the assurances received from him that he had been resting under a serious misapprehension, chased away entirely the curiously discontented expression, which had so often marred his looks.

“What an awful duffer I’ve been,” he reflected, “and would be still but for these chaps. It certainly doesn’t pay to nurse a grievance!” But Dick was speaking now. He began to listen with rapt attention.

“You see, it was this way!” said Dick. “When that awful explosion happened,” he made an expressive gesture, “our ponies got just as wild as any wild horses of the plains.” Then the lad rapidly sketched the course of events. He told about the mad dash the horses had made; how he had narrowly escaped being jerked from the saddle by Cranny Beaumont’s horse; the wild race that followed, during which “Starlight” succeeded in breaking away and was seen no more.

“An’ if I don’t ever get hold o’ him again, I’ll certainly be on my uppers with a vengeance!” murmured Cranny.

Fortunately the party had managed to keep together, but in their efforts to capture “Starlight” a great deal of time elapsed before they rode back into the plaza again.

Passing the hotel every one was surprised and delighted to see Jimmy Raymond standing on the veranda. While the party had gone in search of him the lad was making his way to the hotel in order to find his new-found friends.

“Oh! If you had only known!” murmured Tom, regretfully.

“However, when we saw Jimmy it all looked as though the finish of the story had been written,” declared Dick.

“And how did the ‘to be continued’ part come in?” questioned Cranny eagerly.

“Two whopping big policemen, seeing the bunch, sauntered up. I guess they imagined the Constitutionalists’ attack would be easily repulsed. Both of ’em began to fire a lot of questions at us. Then one suddenly discovered a pocket camera in Edmunds’ coat. That settled it—we might be spies for all they knew—several Americans had been caught doing just that sort of work for the Constitutionalists—we couldn’t bluff them!”

“Well, wasn’t that about the limit!” exclaimed Tom, indignantly.

“Ralph Edmunds, of course, talked right up to the men. It didn’t do a bit of good, however; the bunch was ordered to proceed at once to the police station.”

“I wouldn’t have gone!” cried Tom.

“Oh, yes you would, Tom! A chap doesn’t feel like arguing when a revolver is flashing under his nose. The chief of police wasn’t a bad sort of chap. He looked over Edmunds’ newspaper credentials, asked Professor Kent and Parry a whole lot of questions, flung two or three at us; then told the big cops they had made fools of themselves!”

“To cut it short the affair took up so much time that when he reached Jimmy’s hotel again the bird had flown.”

“Cranny’s a bird all right,” grinned Jimmy.

“What was the next thing on the program?” queried Bob.

This question had the effect of making an uncomfortable, embarrassed look come over the Texas lad’s face. He shifted uneasily on his seat for a moment, then blurted out:

“Those three men had come to Mexico on business. Parry was wild to get some moving pictures of a real bona-fide scrap, and Edmunds wanted to absorb impressions, so he said, for a special article which he intended to write with Cranny’s help later on. And,” he grinned, “their chief anxiety was for me. Helpless little thing, eh?”

“You have as much grit as a provisional president o’ Mexico!” chirped Cranny.

“Dick assured ’em that you were certainly able to look out for yourself, Cranny; then I put in a word, and after a long confab all three were finally persuaded to attend to the work which had brought them to Mexico. They thought,” a rather sheepish grin this time overspread his face, “that Dick and I would hike right across the International bridge.”

Dick laughed merrily.

“I certainly met a big surprise, eh, Jimmy?” he said.

“The more said about that the worse!” declared the pianist, soberly. “Now, boys, you’ve got the whole story. Have we seen the other bunch since they left us? No, but you can just bet they are all right.”

“You’re correct there, old chap, I’m sure!” assented Bob.

A general discussion, in which the highly interested Rangers joined, was interrupted by Captain Braddock.

“Come here, Jimmy, I have your uncle on the ’phone at last,” he cried. “And by the way, Tom, I wish to speak to you a minute.”

While the Texas lad held a long distance conversation with Colonel Brookes Sylvester at the “Eagle Pass” Ranch, Tom conferred with the Ranger chief.

A few minutes later he rejoined the group, regarding them with quite a stern and dignified air.

“The captain wants me to skip right off so that I can pilot Sergeant Howell and a detail of Rangers over to the exact place where I came across that fallen steer!” he explained. “Maybe there’s some more fun ahead of us, eh, Cranny! We’ll chip in and hire a horse for you, old chap!”

“Thanks, Tom,” said Cranny. “But even if I had ‘Starlight’ right here,” he smiled, the old joyous smile the crowd knew so well, “I wouldn’t go along!”

Tom looked at him in absolute amazement.

“Wouldn’t go along!” he gasped. “Say—where’s the joke, Cranny?”

“As the politician says, ‘I haven’t anythin’ to say at this time!’”

“But you surely don’t—can’t mean it!”

“I surely do, Tom, old boy!”

This time there could be no longer any room for doubt. Cranny’s tone, the aggressive tilt of his jaw, the shrug of his shoulders, symptoms which every one of the crowd knew denoted an iron determination to stick to his resolution, were all in evidence.

Tom Clifton’s surprise was almost ludicrous in its intensity. This was the first time in all the Ramblers’ experiences with Cranny Beaumont that he hadn’t eagerly grasped at an opportunity of being a participant in anything which promised adventure.

The Rambler looked at him narrowly. A dreadful suspicion flitted into his mind. Had Cranny’s nerve been shaken by the stirring events in Mexico? Could it be possible? Tom didn’t want to think so. Or perhaps the scorching heat and hard ride had affected him. Yet, as he sat there among the crowd, Cranny looked to be about as healthy a specimen of a boy as could be found in the whole of the United States. No! it evidently wasn’t that! Oh, yes; how stupid of him not to have thought of it before! The Tacoma lad’s financial situation, the dread of returning to his home and being forced to confess to his father that he hadn’t made good, must be the cause! Well, it certainly did seem pretty tough! And no doubt the loss of “Starlight” had struck the finishing blow to Cranny’s dream of surprising the folks at home!

“Poor chap, I’m awful sorry we didn’t try to help him a bit more,” soliloquized Tom. “The crowd must try to make up for it, and——” Why, what was the matter? Hadn’t he struck it right this time, either? There was Cranny slapping one of the Texas Rangers on the shoulder in the exuberance of his mirth over some remark which had just been made.

“Well, I’ve got to give it up!” he pronounced to himself, helplessly. “It’s the strangest thing I ever heard of!”

“What’s the matter, old chap?” asked Dick, suddenly. “See anything particularly beautiful in that knot-hole in the floor you’ve been gazing at for the last few moments?”

Tom recovered himself with a start.

“I—I was thinking about something,” he stammered.

“Take my advice, Tom, and don’t think too hard on any one subject!” exclaimed Jimmy, who was just returning to the group. “Boys, my uncle wants me to meet him at detachment headquarters of the Rangers this afternoon—are you going to lead me to it?”

“Well, rather,” responded Bob.

“That’s bully!”

“Say, fellows,” broke in Cranny, “Edmunds told me an awful odd thing—I wonder if you’ve ever noticed it?”

“We’re listening,” chortled Dick.

“He says I never pronounce the final g’s and d’s in words ending that way.”

“I remarked it—that is, at times,” answered Dick cautiously.

“Say—has anybody else? Confess now!”

“If you insist upon it, we will,” laughed Bob. “’Tis true.”

“An’ I try so hard to be perfect,” gurgled Cranny. “Fellows, I’m goin’ to reform. Honest I am. Every time I don’t sound those final letters just give me a punch!”

“No, that wouldn’t do at all!” protested Dick. “No tragedy in our crowd if you please. Besides, you enjoy life too much!”

“Then s’pose instead that whenever I catch myself makin’ a slip I give one of you chaps a punch as a reminder of——”

“Oh, dear me, no!” broke in Bob. “Tom, you know, doesn’t carry a whole dispensary with him.”

“All right, fellows.” The Tacoma lad’s mirth increased. “I’ll do all the reforming by my own strength of will! And——”

“Listen—listen! Did you hear it—the final g’s and d’s at last!” cried Dick. “Hooray! Boys, what a day this has been!”

About two hours later Cranny, whose singular resolve to remain in town held firm in spite of Tom’s pleadings, stood on the steps of the Ranger headquarters and watched the boys preparing for departure. His face just then wore a rather clouded expression.

“When will you chaps be back?” he asked.

“Before very many days,” answered Tom. He sighed. “Too bad, fellows, our stay in Texas is almost over. Now, Cranny Beaumont, what are you going to do while we’re away?”

“For one thing, try to square myself with that horse-dealer. And I’m nearly busted as it is.”

“Too bad! What else, Cranny?”

“I’ll tell you later on, Tom. Honest, I’m not going to say another word about it—but—oh, hang it all, how I’d like to go along with you!”

“Just do it!” pleaded Tom.

For a moment the Tacoma lad’s resolution seemed to waver, then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he laughed, exclaiming:

“No, Tom. Nothing doing!”

“Cranny’s right on the job,” chuckled Dick. “The final g’s are in their place—bravo, old chap!”

“If he won’t let the bunch help him out, I’ll be downright mad,” murmured Tom.

This time Jimmy Raymond clambered up behind Bob Somers.

“Remember, boys!” he exclaimed jocularly. “No more racing to-day!”

Good-byes were shouted. The mustangs, well fed and freshly groomed, trotted briskly off at the word of command. Frequently the riders turned to look back, and, as long as the building remained in view, they could see Cranny Beaumont vigorously waving his hand.

During the long route over the prairie, Bob Somers and Jimmy Raymond became a great deal better acquainted with one another. Bob, the recipient of many confidences, was enabled to give his companion words of helpful advice.

The young pianist, after listening to his enthusiastic comments regarding the law as a profession, began to see the matter in another light.

“It’s a mistake to consider it dry,” declared Bob. “The law is full of the most interesting and complex problems. Vital problems, too, for in many cases they affect the well-being of the human race.”

“My experiences have done me a pile of good, Bob,” confessed Jimmy. “Honestly, I never stopped to consider the hardships and dangers of cowboy life. Looking back on it now, I can’t really understand what ever possessed me to chuck away such good advice as my uncle gave. I reckon some chaps can acquire wisdom only by having plenty of hard knocks come their way.”

“What are your plans now, Jimmy?” asked Bob.

“I’m going right back to Brownsville and get hard to work at my studies again. Yes, sir, you’ve set me straight on a whole lot of things, Bob. If every chap could have put to him as clearly as you have put to me the reason why he should make every effort to learn, I reckon there wouldn’t be so many boys loafing about the streets.”

“Thanks,” laughed Bob. “One thing is certain; it makes the road through life much easier, and the possibilities of eventually arriving at some goal worth while far greater.”