CHAPTER XXI
The Chase
The meal was soon concluded, and Roy and Teddy told of their adventures on the river.
Inwardly Mr. Manley was much concerned over their mishaps, but he only nodded and smiled. He wanted to let his boys know that he expected nothing less from them.
At the same time his face flushed with a glow of pride when Roy told, modestly enough, of his fight with the eagle. He looked at the knife with which his son had slain the bird, and silently put the weapon in his pocket. By this the boy knew he was really affected by the story. The knife would remain a relic, a proof of his son’s bravery. With the exception of Roy, Pop was the only one who realized this. The others thought he had absent-mindedly put it in his own pocket instead of returning it to Roy.
For a while Roy hesitated to tell his father of the payroll robbery and Teddy knew he was holding off purposely, so he said nothing. But when they were walking toward the corral, Roy decided it would be best for his father to know the whole story, even if it did add to his worry, so he told him.
Mr. Manley took it silently, only shaking his head sorrowfully. The loss of the money affected him not so much as realizing that The Pup was a thief. He had never liked the man, but a horse-thief and payroll bandit—that was different from “plain orneriness.”
“Guess I made a mistake in Marino,” he declared. “Got in the house an’ stole my four hundred, did he! Well, maybe it was partly my fault for lettin’ it lay around like that, so open. But none of the boys I ever had would steal a cent. Gus, now—” he stopped, and bit his lip. Gus was a topic that bothered him. “You don’t think Gus—”
“No, Dad, Gus had nothing to do with it,” Teddy said positively. “I’m sure of that, Dad!”
“That’s good,” Mr. Manley sighed. “I didn’t think Gus was that kind. Pshaw, I knew he wasn’t! Wonder if we’ll see him again? Well—” and he shrugged his shoulders. “But this is no time for wonderin’. We got to be on our way. So The Pup stole—right from the house! Stole my payroll!” He shook his head again, slowly, and walked off muttering.
“Dad would rather have that money taken twice than to think Gus was mixed up in it,” Teddy said to Roy in a low voice. “He’s sorry The Pup did it, too. He may have disliked Marino, as I guess we all did, but dad hates to think any one is a thief.”
The horses, saddled and ready, were waiting for them. Those who had come with Mr. Manley had, of course, their own broncos, and Jake Trummer supplied Teddy, Roy, Pop Burns and Bug Eye with other mounts. They took with them food, and each saddle packed a rifle and a blanket. The chase, even if it was successful, might take several days to conclude. They had one big advantage—the rustlers did not know they were being trailed. Thus they would take their time, and Mr. Manley counted largely on this.
“Guess we’re all set,” the boss of the X Bar X stated, as he looked about him. The men were mounted, waiting for the word to start.
“Whenever you say, Bardwell,” Jake Trummer suggested.
“Then let’s go!”
The riders filed out of the yard and headed once more for the river. Mr. Trummer had left word with one of his men on the ranch that the canoe and its contents were to be taken care of, so there was no need to return to the place where they had left it. Instead, the riders cut diagonally across the range and headed away from the direction the boys had come.
“Dad, what about that landslide?” Roy remarked, spurring his mount up closer to his father. “Nick arrived all fagged out and told us a stranger gave you a wild tale about an avalanche.”
“It was a wild tale,” Mr. Manley declared. “Jake said no such thing occurred. Didn’t you, Jake? But it had me worried, all the same. By golly, if it’s not one thing it’s another!”
“I’ll tell a maverick,” Roy muttered, and then rode forward silently. He was thinking of The Pup and Gus. Where had The Pup fled to? They had seen him at the edge of the stream on the horse he had stolen. Did he follow the river? Or did he branch out? Was there a chance of catching him, as well as the cattle rustlers?
“Pipe dreams,” the boy muttered. “We’ve seen all we ever shall of Joe Marino.”
“Roy, quit that mumbling and speak up!” Teddy exclaimed. “What’s on your mind?”
“The Pup, for one thing,” Roy answered grimly. “He’s got a horse of ours, and four hundred dollars. I hate to let him get away with a raw thing like that without an effort to catch him.”
“We’ll make more than an effort, Roy, when we get this cattle business finished,” Mr. Manley called back. “We’ll have every sheriff in the state on his trail, and maybe we’ll take a hand in it ourselves. He was the man who put Gus on the bum. I can’t forget that.”
“There’s another little item that sticks in my mind,” Teddy remarked in a low voice. “It happened near the corral the night the horse and the money were stolen. Guess you know what I mean, Roy. Though I’d rather have it sticking in my mind than in my chest,” he added significantly.
“The knife with J. K. on it,” Roy returned. “Sure, I know, Teddy. But the sooner we forget The Pup the better. He’s gone. If we catch him, fine! If not—well, charge it up to profit and loss.”
“That’s the right idea, Roy,” Mr. Manley agreed. “We’ve got enough on our hands now. If we get our cattle back I’ll be satisfied.”
“I suppose I ought to be—and maybe I’ll have to be; but it sure sticks in my craw to let a thing like that get by me!” muttered Teddy.
The gloom of evening was at hand, and the men rode in close formation, talking in subdued tones. Pop and Bug Eye were ahead, leading. Roy and Teddy brought up the rear, their father riding just ahead of them. They had planned to cover as much distance as possible before dark, so that when morning came they would be near enough to the rustlers to seize them before they had a chance to escape.
They soon came to the lowlands just beyond the range of Whirlpool River Ranch. The air here was damp and chill, due to the moisture from the river which had settled in the depressions. To add to this, the night promised to be cloudy, with no moon showing. Already the dull, gray canopy was curtaining the evening sky, cutting off, in the fullness of its glory, the western sunset.
“This is the first real touch of fall we’ve had,” Roy remarked, buttoning his shirt collar higher. Then, raising his voice: “Where are you figuring to stop, Dad? Going to ride part of the night?”
Mr. Manley, the better to reply, wheeled his pony and circled back toward his son.
“Nope,” he answered. “Soon as we top this rise ahead we’ll call a halt. We sure don’t want to camp in this place. Golly, it’s damp!” and he shivered slightly.
The leaders of the column quickened their pace, so that they might leave the lowlands as quickly as possible. Pop, like most old ranchmen, had his pet superstitions, and one of them was that it was unlucky to stay long in such a place.
“Things happen,” he declared vaguely. “The mountains are all right—don’t care how high they are. Open range is all right. But every time I ride through land that sets low, I get a feelin’ that somethin’ is goin’ to turn up. Don’t know why, but I do.”
“Ever hear that dampness was bad for rheumatism?” Teddy chuckled. “That might have something to do with it, Pop.”
“No sir,” and Pop shook his head obstinately. “It’s got nothin’ to do with rheumatism. Even Nat Raymond’s pony knows what I mean. Look at the way he’s actin’.”
In truth, the bronco Nat rode, which had come from the home ranch with him, was acting queerly. The pony would come to a dead stop, lift its head, whinny, and proceed. This performance was repeated several times.
Mr. Manley observed the horse with interest.
“What makes him do that, Nat?” he asked. “You pullin’ him up?”
“Not any, boss.” Nat answered sincerely. “He’s doin’ it himself. Like Pop said, I guess, he don’t like lowlands.”
“Seems to me as though he sensed a stranger around,” Teddy said to Roy in a low tone. “I’ve seen Nat’s bronco do that before, when a new man came into the yard of the X Bar X. It’s got nothing to do with the place we’re in now.”
“Well, there’s enough men with us he never saw before,” Roy countered. He motioned toward Jake Trummer and his followers. “Think they’re the reason, Teddy?”
“No, I don’t and I’ll tell you why. Because I noticed that it’s only a man that comes alone who effects the bronc like that. Nat,” he called, “did you ever see your horse act like that before?”
“Well, he does get kind of nervous when a stranger comes around,” Nat admitted. “But usually it’s only if the stranger rides alone. I can’t figure why the bronc should do it here unless Pop’s right about him bein’ leary of lowlands.”
Teddy shook his head, but said nothing in reply.
Darkness was nearly upon them, and Mr. Manley held up his hand for a halt.
“Stick close now, men,” he ordered. “Jake, you want to show us the way out of here? Guess you know it better than I do. We want to camp as soon as possible.”
“Right, Bardwell!” Jake agreed. “All set, men? Follow me. Don’t get too far apart. We don’t want no stragglers.”
He rode forward again, and the others strung along behind him. Just as he reached a knoll, which marked the end of the lowland, those following heard him give an exclamation of surprise. Mr. Manley spurred his horse forward.
“What is it, Jake?” he asked.
“Look!” Jake answered shortly. “There’s a horse without a rider. Maybe that’s why Nat’s bronc was actin’ up. He’s got a saddle on, too.”
Ahead of them, half concealed by the settling dusk, stood a pinto. On his back was a saddle, but no rider. When the animal saw the group in front of him, it ran toward them.
“Jimminy!” Teddy breathed. “His right foreleg is hurt. Notice how he’s limping? What does he remind you of, Roy?”
“He doesn’t remind me of anything; he is!” Roy answered forcibly. The horse came closer. “Teddy, that’s the pony The Pup stole, or I’m a ring-tailed doodle bird!”