The Boy from the Ranch | Page 4

had come within talking
distance.
"Yes, I'm here," replied the boy. "What's the matter? Is it my father--?"
"Now don't go gettin' skeered," advised Porter, as he pulled up his
horse sharply. "I sure did ride fast to locate you, but your daddy wanted
me to be sure to tell you, first-off, not to git skeered."
"What's the matter?" asked Roy, his heart fluttering.
"Well, your daddy's a little under the weather, and he wants for you to
come back to the ranch right away. That's the message I was to give to
you. Don't wait to come in with the steers, but start right off. I'll stay
here and take your place."
"Is he--was he very bad?" asked Roy, who had left his father,
seemingly, in perfect health.
"No, not so very I guess. The doctor was there, and he didn't seem
much put out. I reckon Mr. Bradner had a sort of a bad turn, that's all."
"I'll start right away," decided Roy. "If I ride all night I can get there by
morning."
"Don't you want one of us to go with you?" asked Billy.
"No. I'm not afraid. I've done it before. Smoke, will you pack me a little
grub?"

"Surest thing you know!" exclaimed the cook, as he began to do up
some bacon and bread.
CHAPTER II
MR. BRADNER IS SUSPICIOUS
Crowding around Roy in ready sympathy, the cowboys questioned
Porter as to the state of affairs at the ranch. The messenger knew very
little about it. He had been to a distant pasture land, when he had been
summoned to the ranch house by another cowboy, who was sent after
him. When he got back he found Mr. Bradner quite ill.
"He said he wanted me to go for Roy," went on Porter, "'cause he knew
I could ride fast. But he particular didn't want Roy to git worried. He
said it was as much a business matter as anything."
"Maybe he's goin' to die an' wants to make his will," suggested one of
the cowboys.
"Here! What's the matter with you! Don't you know no better than
that?" demanded Billy in a hoarse whisper. "Want to give Roy a scare?
I'll peg you out if you do that again!"
"I--I didn't think!"
"No, I guess you didn't. Lucky he didn't hear you. Now you think twice
before you speak once, after this."
"Here's your grub," announced the cook, holding out a big package to
Roy. It contained enough food for three men, but Roy was a favorite
with "Smoke," as indeed he was with all the men on the ranch, and this
was the only way the genius of the camp-fire could show his affection.
"Say, what do you think he goin' to do? Be three days on the home
trail?" asked Billy. "He don't want no snack like that. He can't carry it."
"I thought maybe he'd be hungry in the night."

"I expect I will be, but not enough to get away with all that," remarked
Roy with a smile, as he saw the big package. "I just want a little bread,
and some cold bacon."
The cook, with a sigh at the thought of the boy not being able to eat all
the food, made a smaller package. Meanwhile Roy was in the saddle,
ready to travel, wondering what could be the matter with his father, and
why his parent had sent for him in such a hurry.
"Got your gun?" asked Porter.
"Yes," answered Roy, tapping the pistol in its holster at his belt.
"Maybe you'd better take my pony," suggested Billy. "He can travel
faster than yours."
"No; Jack Rabbit's good enough for me," replied the boy, patting his
own pony on the neck. "Yours may be a bit faster, but Jack Rabbit will
stick longer. Well, I'm off!"
"Good luck!" called Billy.
"Don't worry!" advised Porter.
"We'll see you in a couple of days," shouted the other cowboys. "Take
care of yourself."
"I will," said Roy, as he called to his pony, who started off on a steady
"lope" that rapidly carried him over the ground.
Now that he was away from the confusion of the camp, and had
nothing to distract his mind, Roy gave himself up to thoughts of his
father.
"He must be quite sick," he reasoned, "or he never would have sent for
me in such a rush. I wonder if Porter was afraid to tell me the truth?"
For an instant the fear that his father might be dead, and that the
cowboy had not dared to tell him of it, unnerved Roy. Then his natural

braveness came back to him.
"Oh, pshaw! What's the use of thinking such gloomy thoughts," he said
to himself. "Maybe dad only had a little fit of indigestion,