Ted Strongs Motor Car | Page 4

me as--"
"That settles it," said Ben, as he rose with a snort of disgust.
"What's ther matter with yer?" asked Bud calmly.
"Yer story is what I thought it would be--wild and woolly and full of
cockleburs."
"How is thet ag'in?"
"It's rotten. Don't you know, as long as you have been on earth, that
swine cannot swim without committing suicide?"
"Go ahead. Will you kindly tell us fer why, perfessor?"
"Certainly. The hoofs of pigs are so sharp, and their forelegs are set so
far under their bodies, that when they attempt to swim their hoofs strike
their fat throats, cutting them, and they die from loss of blood."
"Thet's c'rect, my son. Every schoolboy knows thet thar p'int in nat'ral
history."
"Then why are you insulting our intelligence by stating that a herd of
hogs followed you into the water and swam after you? Now don't
spring any such flower of your fancy on us as to say that the hogs all

killed themselves crossing and that you and Peep-o'-day had all the
fresh meat you wanted during the rest of your stay on the Pecos, for we
won't stand for it. I don't believe there is any such thing as a Pecos,
anyway."
Bud looked so crestfallen that the other boys felt sorry for him.
"You think you're smart, don't you?" said Kit, taking Bud's finish out of
his own mouth. "You big chump, it wasn't your story, anyhow."
"Don't worry, Kit," said Bud, smiling confidently. "Ben's so
intellectooal thet it hurts him ter pack his knowledge eround in thet
pinhead o' hisn. But he didn't finish ther story none. I knows ez well ez
him thet hawgs can't swim fer ther reasons he give. But these yere
hawgs I am tellin' erbout wuz different."
"How was that?"
"Yer see, thet thar ole boar wuz ez smart ez a copperation lawyer. He'd
fixed them hawgs ter swim. First they got thar hoofs all balled up with
gumbo, er sticky clay, then they worked ther dry grass inter ther clay
and mixed 'em good an' stiff, lettin' 'em dry in ther sun. This made a
hard ball on their toes thet jest slipped off their throats when they
struck."
Ben slipped into his chair with a grunt.
"O' course, I didn't know thet when I was swimmin'," continued Bud,
'an' I thinks I've run ercross a new web-footed breed o' hawgs. When
we come ter ther other side I waited fer them ter land, then I turns an'
swims back, ther hawgs follerin'. Back ercross I goes erg'in, an' ther
pork keeps right on my trail.
"Purty soon I see they ain't swimmin' so spry, an' I allow they're gittin'
some tired. Ther last time over ter our side o' ther river they come slow,
an' I picks out ther kind o' pork I likes best, an' ez they land I nails what
I want an' slits thar throats, an' I hev my pork. But when ther rest o'
them lands they's full o' fight ez ever, an' I takes ter ther water ag'in, but
they won't foller me. This seems strange, an' I looks ter see what ther
matter is.
"Ther ole boar wuz mighty smart, but he'd overlooked one p'int. He'd
fergot thet ther water would melt his balls o' clay, which it did, an' they
couldn't swim no more. I jest stood hip high in the water with my
Winchester an' popped erway at them until they got tired an' run off,
leavin' me enough fresh pork ter start a packin' house."

A hollow groan escaped from Ben.
"What's the use?" he moaned. "You can't beat him."



CHAPTER II
.
BUD'S BAD BRONCHOS.
It was time for the fall round-up, and Stella had written from her uncle's
ranch, in New Mexico, that she and her aunt, Mrs. Graham, were
coming North to do their winter shopping in Denver, and would visit
the Moon Valley Ranch to take part in the round-up and the festivities
which the boys always held at that time.
Her letter did not say when she would be there, but the boys knew her
well enough to expect her at any moment following the letter.
Therefore they were not surprised to hear a clear, high imitation of the
Moon Valley yell one morning while they were all sitting at the
breakfast table.
They did not need to be told that Stella Fosdick had come, and without
ado they sprang from the table, overturning chairs in their haste to get
out of the house to greet her and her aunt.
"Hello, boys!" she called from the carriage, in which she and Mrs.
Graham had driven over from Soldier Butte. "You're a gallant lot of
young fellows not to meet us at