The Pony Rider Boys in Texas | Page 8

escape without being noticed by the riders.
"Now, I guess you will be all right," smiled the foreman. "Make no sudden moves to frighten the cattle."
"Do they ever run?" asked Tad.
"Run? Well, rather! And I tell you, it takes a long-legged Mexican steer to set the pace. Those fellows can run faster than a horse--at least some of them can. A stampede is a thing most dreaded by the cowmen."
"Our ponies stampeded in the Rockies. I know something about that," spoke up Tad.
"Well, compare the stampeding of your four or five ponies with two thousand head of wild steers and you'll get something like the idea of what it means. In that case, unless you know your business you had better get out of the way as fast as hoss-flesh will carry you. Now, Master Tad, I'll bid you good night and leave you to your first night on the plains."
"How shall I know when to come in?"
"When the second guard comes out. You will hear them. If you should not they will let you know as they pass you."
With that the foreman walked his pony away from the herd. After some little time Tad heard him galloping toward camp.
At first Tad took the keenest enjoyment in his surroundings; then the loneliness of the plains came over him. He began to feel a longing for human companionship.
A dense mantle of darkness settled down over the scene.
Remembering the advice of the foreman, the lad gave his pony the rein. The hardy little animal, with nose almost touching the ground, began its monotonous crawling pace about the herd. It seemed more asleep than awake.
In a short time a sheet of bright light appeared on the eastern horizon. Tad looked at it inquiringly, then smiled.
"It's the moon," he decided.
The boy felt a great sense of relief in his lonely vigil. Just ahead of him he saw a pony and rider leisurely approaching.
It proved to be Red Davis, one of the first guard.
Red waved his hand to the boy in passing, but no word was spoken on either side.
After having circled the herd twice, Tad suddenly discovered a small bunch of cattle that had just scrambled to their feet and had begun grazing a little way outside the circle. The rest of the herd were contentedly chewing their cuds in the moonlight, grunting and blowing over contented stomachs.
The lad was not sure just what he ought to do. His first inclination was to call to some of the other guards. Then, remembering the injunction placed upon him by the foreman, he resisted the impulse.
"I am sure those cattle have no business off there," he decided after watching them for a few moments in silent uncertainty. "I believe I will try to get them back."
Tightening the grip on his reins and clucking to the pony, Tad headed for the steers, that were slowly moving off, taking a step with every mouthful or so.
He steered his pony well outside and headed in toward them.
The pony, with keen intelligence, forced its way up to the leading steer and sought to nose it around. The animal resisted and swung its sharp horns perilously near to the side of the horse, which quickly leaped to one side, almost upsetting its rider.
"Guess I'd better let the pony do it himself. He knows how and I don't," muttered Tad, slackening on the reins.
The straying animal was quickly turned and headed toward the herd, after which the pony whirled and went after one of the others, turning this one, as it did the others. In a short time the truants were all back in the herd.
"That's the way to do it, young fellow. I told the gang back there that the Pinto had the stuff in him."
Tad turned sharply to meet the smiling face of Big-foot Sanders, who, sitting on his pony, had been watching the boy's efforts and nodding an emphatic approval.
"You'll make a cowman all right," said Big-foot.
CHAPTER IV
THE FIRST NIGHT IN CAMP
The camp-fire was burning brightly when the first guard, having completed its tour of duty, came galloping in.
In a few moments the sound of singing was borne to the ears of the campers.
"What's the noise?" demanded Stacy Brown, sitting up with a half scared look on his face.
"It's the 'Cowboy's Lament,'" laughed Bob Stallings. "Listen."
Off on the plain they heard a rich tenor voice raised in the song of the cowman.
"Little black bull came down the hillside, Down the hillside, down the hillside, Little black bull came down the hillside, Long time ago."
"I don't call that much of a song," sniffed Chunky contemptuously after a moment of silence on the part of the group. "Even if I can't sing, I can beat that."
"Better not try it out on the range," smiled the foreman.
"Not on the range? Why not?" demanded