CHAPTER XV--"THE NIGHT TRICK"
The party at the schoolhouse was declared a success by all Jane AnnHick's Eastern friends--saving, of course, The Fox. She had only dancedwith Tom and Bob and had disproved haughtily of the entire proceedings.She had pronounced Ruth's little plot for getting Ike and Sallytogether, "a silly trick," although the other girls had foundconsiderable innocent enjoyment in it, and the big foreman of SilverRanch rode home with them after midnight in a plain condition ofecstacy.
"Ike suah has made the hit of his life," Jimsey declared, to the othercowboys.
"He was the 'belle of the ball' all right," chimed in another.
"If I warn't a person of puffectly tame an' gentle nature, I'd suah be awhole lot jealous of his popularity," proceeded he of the purplenecktie. "But I see a-many of you 'ombres jest standin' around anda-gnashin' of your teeth at the way Ike carried off the gals."
"Huh!" grunted Bud. "We weren't gnashin' no teeth at old Ike. What putour grinders on edge was that yere purple necktie an' pink-striped shirtyou're wearin'. Ev'ry gal that danced with you, Jimsey, was in danger ofgettin' cross-eyed lookin' at that ne-fa-ri-ous combination."
Sunday was a quiet day at the ranch. Although there was no church nearerthan Bullhide, Bill Hicks made a practice of doing as little work aspossible on the first day of the week, and his gangs were instructed tosimply keep the herds in bounds.
At the ranch house Ruth and her girl friends arranged a song-service forthe evening to which all the men about the home corral, and those whocould be spared to ride in from the range, were invited. This broke upseveral card games in the bunk house--games innocent in themselves,perhaps, but an amusement better engaged in on week days.
The boys gathered in the dusk on the wide porch and listened to thereally beautiful music that the girls had learned at Briarwood Hall.Ruth was in splendid voice, and her singing was applauded warmly by thecowboys.
"My soul, Bud!" gasped Jimsey. "Couldn't that leetle gal jest sing aherd of millin' cattle to by-low on the night trick, with that yerevoice of hers?"
"Uh-huh!" agreed Bud. "She could stop a stampede, she could."
"Oh, I'd love to see a real stampede!" exclaimed Helen, who overheardthis conversation.
"You would eh?" responded Jane Ann. "Well, here's hoping you never getyour wish--eh, boys?"
"Not with the Bar-Cross-Naught outfit, Miss Jinny," agreed Bud,fervently.
"But it must be a wonderful sight to see so many steers rushing over theplain at once--all running as tight as they can run," urged the innocentHelen.
"Ya-as," drawled Jimsey. "But I want it to be some other man's cattle."
"But do you really ever have much trouble with the cattle?" asked Helen."They all look so tame."
"Except Old Trouble-Maker," laughed her twin, who stood beside her.
"Looks jest like a picnic, herdin' them mooley-cows, don't it?" scoffedJimsey.
"They'd ought to be on the night trick, once," said Jane Ann. "It's allright punching cows by daylight."
"What's the night trick?" asked Heavy.
"Night herding. That's when things happen to a bunch of cows," explainedthe ranchman's niece.
"I believe that must be fun," cried Ruth, who had come out upon theporch. "Can't we go out to one of the camps and see the work by night aswell as by day?"
"Good for you, Ruth!" cried Tom Cameron. "That's the game."
"Oh, I wouldn't want to do that," objected Mary Cox. "We'd have to campout."
"Well, them that don't want to go can stay here," Jane Ann said,quickly. If anything was needed to enlist her in the cause it was theopposition of The Fox. "I'll see what Uncle Bill says."
"But, will it be dangerous?" demanded the more careful Madge.
"I've ridden at night," said Jane Ann, proudly. "Haven't I, Jimsey?"
"Just so," admitted the cowboy, gravely. "But a whole bunch o' galsmight make the critters nervous."
"Too many cows would sure make the girls nervous!" laughed Bob, grinningat his sister.
But the idea once having taken possession of the minds of Ruth and hergirl friends, the conclusion was foregone. Uncle Bill at first (to quoteJane Ann) "went up in the air." When he came down to earth, however, hisniece was right there, ready to argue the point with him and--as usual--hegave in to her.
"Tarnashun, Jane Ann!" exclaimed the old ranchman. "I'll bet these yeregals don't get back home without some bad accident happening. You-allare so reckless."
"Now Uncle Bill! don't you go to croaking," she returned, lightly."Ain't no danger of trouble at all. We'll only be out one night. We'llgo down to Camp Number Three--that's nearest."
"No, sir-ree! Them boys air too triflin' a crew," declared the ranchman."Jib is bossing the Rolling River outfit just now. You can go overthere. I can trust Jib."
As the rest of the party was so enthusiastic, and all determined tospend a night at Number Two Camp on the Rolling River Range, Mary Coxelected to go likewise. She declared she did not wish to remain at theranch-house in the sole care of a "fat and greasy Mexican squaw," as shecalled the cook.
"Ouch! I bet that stings Maria when she knows how you feel about her,"chuckled Heavy. "Why let carking care disturb your serenity, Mary? Comeon and enjoy yourself like the rest of us."
"I don't expect to enjoy myself in any party that's just run by onegirl," snapped Mary.
"Who's that?" asked the stout girl, in wonder.
"Ruth Fielding. She bosses everything. She thinks this is all her owncopyrighted show--like the Sweetbriars. Everything we do she suggests----"
"That shows how good a 'suggester' she is," interposed Heavy, calmly.
"It shows how she's got you all hypnotized into believing she's awonder," snarled The Fox.
"Aw, don't Mary! Don't be so mean. I should think Ruth would be the lastperson _you'd_ ever have a grouch on. She's done enough for you----"
"She hasn't, either!" cried Mary Fox, her face flaming.
"I'd like to know what you'd call it?" Heavy demanded, with a good dealof warmth for her. "If she wasn't the sweetest-tempered, most forgivinggirl that ever went to Briarwood, _you'd_ have lost your last friendlong ago! I declare, I'm ashamed of you!"
"She's not my friend," said Mary, sullenly.
"Who is, then? She has helped to save your life on more than oneoccasion. She has never said a word about the time she fell off therocks when we were at Lighthouse Point. You and she were together, and_you_ know how it happened. Oh, I can imagine how it happened. Besides,Nita saw you, and so did Tom Cameron," cried the stout girl, more hotly."Don't think all your tricks can be hidden."
"What do you suppose I care?" snarled Mary Cox.
"I guess you care what Tom Cameron thinks of you," pursued Heavy,wagging her head. "But after the way you started those ponies when wedrove to Rolling River Canyon, you can be sure that you don't stand highwith him--or with any of the rest of the boys."
"Pooh! those cowboys! Great, uneducated gawks!"
"But mighty fine fellows, just the same. I'd a whole lot rather havetheir good opinion than their bad."
Now all this was, for Jennie Stone, pretty strong language. She wasusually so mild of speech and easy-going, that its effect was all thegreater. The Fox eyed her in some surprise and--for once--was quelled to adegree.
All these discussions occurred on Monday. The Rolling River Camp wastwenty miles away in the direction of the mountain range. Tuesday wasthe day set for the trip. The party would travel with the supply wagonand a bunch of ponies for the herders, bossed by Maria's husband. OnWednesday the young folk would return under the guidance of littleRicarde, who was to go along to act as camp-boy.
"But if we like it out there, Uncle Bill, maybe we'll stay tillThursday," Jane Ann declared, from her pony's back, just before thecavalcade left the ranch-house, very early on Tuesday.
"You better not. I'm going to be mighty busy around yere, and I don'twant to be worried none," declared the ranchman. "And I sha'n't knowwhat peace is till I see
you-all back again."
"Now, don't worry," drawled his niece. "We ain't none of us sugar norsalt."
"I wish I could let Ike go with ye--that's what I wish," grumbled heruncle.
Ruth Fielding secretly wished the same. The direction of the RollingRiver Camp lay toward Tintacker. She had asked the foreman about it.
"You'll be all of thirty mile from the Tintacker claims, Miss Ruth,"Bashful Ike said. "But it's a straight-away trail from the ford a mile,or so, this side of the camp. Any of the boys can show you. And Jibmight spare one of 'em to beau you over to the mine, if so be you aredetermined to try and find that 'bug'."
"I _do_ want to see and speak with him," Ruth said, earnestly.
"It's pretty sure he's looney," said Ike. "You won't make nothing out o'him. I wouldn't bother."
"Why, he saved my life!" cried Ruth. "I want to thank him. I want tohelp him. And--and--indeed, I need very much to see and speak with him,Ike."
"Ya-as. That does make a difference," admitted the foreman. "He sure didkill that bear."
The ponies rattled away behind the heavy wagon, drawn by six mules. Inthe lead cantered Ricarde and his father, herding the dozen or morehalf-wild cow-ponies. The Mexican horse-wrangler was a lazy looking,half-asleep fellow; but he sat a pony as though he had grown in thesaddle.
Ruth, on her beloved little Freckles, rode almost as well now as didJane Ann. The other girls were content to follow the mule team at a morequiet pace; but Ruth and the ranchman's niece dashed off the trail morethan once for a sharp race across the plain.
"You're a darling, Ruthie!" declared Jane Ann, enthusiastically. "I wishyou were going to live out here at Silver Ranch all the time--I do! Iwouldn't mind being 'buried in the wilderness' if you were along----"
"Oh, but you won't be buried in the wilderness all the time," laughedthe girl from the Red Mill. "I am sure of that."
"Huh!" ejaculated the Western girl, startled. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that we've been talking to Uncle Bill," laughed Ruth.
"Oh! you ain't got it fixed for me?" gasped the ranchman's neice. "Willhe send me to school?"
"Surest thing you know, Nita!"
"Not to that boarding school you girls all go to?"
"Unless he backs down--and you know Mr. Bill Hicks isn't one of thebacking-down kind."
"Oh, bully for you!" gasped Jane Ann. "I know it's your doing. I can seeit all. Uncle Bill thinks the sun just about rises and sets with you."
"Helen and Heavy did their share. So did Madge--and even Heavy's aunt,Miss Kate, before we started West. You will go to Briarwood with us nexthalf, Nita. You'll have a private teacher for a while so that you cancatch up with our classes. It's going to be up to you to make good,young lady--that's all."
Jane Ann Hicks was too pleased at that moment to say a word--and she hadto wink mighty hard to keep the tears back. Weeping was as much againsther character as it would have been against a boy's. And she was silentthereafter for most of the way to the camp.
They rode over a rolling bit of ground and came in sight suddenly of thegreat herd in care of Number Two outfit. Such a crowd of slowly movingcattle was enough to amaze the eastern visitors. For miles upon milesthe great herd overspread the valley, along the far side of which thehurrying river flowed. The tossing horns, the lowing of the cows callingtheir young, the strange, bustling movement of the whole mass, rose upto the excited spectators in a great wave of sound and color. It was awonderful sight!
Jib rode up the hill to meet them. The men on duty were either squattinghere and there over the range, in little groups, playing cards andsmoking, or riding slowly around the outskirts of the herd. There was achuck-tent and two sleeping tents parked by the river side, and thesmoke from the cook's sheet-iron stove rose in a thin spiral of bluevapor toward that vaster blue that arched the complete scene.
"What a picture!" Ruth said to her chum. "The mountains are grand. Thatcanyon we visited was wonderful. The great, rolling plains dwarf anythingin the line of landscape that we ever saw back East. But _this_ caps allthe sights we have seen yet."
"I'm almost afraid of the cattle, Ruthie," declared Helen. "So manytossing horns! So many great, nervous, moving bodies! Suppose theyshould start this way--run us down and stamp us into the earth? Oh! theycould do it easily."
"I don't feel that fear of them," returned the girl from the Red Mill."I mean to ride all around the herd to-night with Nita. She says she isgoing to help ride herd, and I am going with her."
This declaration, however, came near not being fulfilled. Jib Pottowayobjected. The tent brought for the girls was erected a little way fromthe men's camp, and the Indian stated it as his irrevocable opinion thatthe place for the lady visitors at night was inside the white walls ofthat tent.
"Ain't no place for girls on the night trick, Miss Jinny--and you knowit," complained Jib. "Old Bill will hold me responsible if anythinghappens to you."
"'Twon't be the first time I've ridden around a bunch of beeves aftersundown," retorted Jane Ann, sharply. "And I've promised Ruth. It's areal nice night. I don't even hear a coyote singing."
"There's rain in the air. We may have a blow out of the hills beforemorning," said Jib, shaking his head.
"Aw shucks!" returned the ranchman's niece. "If it rains we can borrowslickers, can't we? I never saw such a fellow as you are, Jib. Alwayslooking for trouble."
"You managed to get into trouble the other day when you went over to thecanyon," grunted the Indian.
"'Twarn't Ruthie and me that made you trouble. And that Cox girlwouldn't dare ride within forty rods of these cows," laughed theranchman's niece.
So Jib was forced to give way. Tom and Bob had craved permission to rideherd, too. The cowboys seemed to accept these offers in serious mood,and that made Jane Ann suspicious.
"They'll hatch up some joke to play on you-all," she whispered toRuthie. "But we'll find out what they mean to do, if we can, and justcross-cut 'em."
The camp by the river was the scene of much hilarity at supper time. Theguests had brought some especially nice rations from the ranch-house,and the herders welcomed the addition to their plain fare with gusto.Tom and Bob ate with the men and, when the night shift went on duty,they set forth likewise to ride around the great herd which, althoughseemingly so peacefully inclined, must be watched and guarded morecarefully by night than by day.
Soon after Jane Ann and Ruth rode forth, taking the place together ofone of the regular herders. These additions to the night gang left moreof the cow punchers than usual at the camp, and there was much hilarityamong the boys as Jane Ann and her friend cantered away toward the notfar-distant herd.
"Those fellows are up to something," the ranchman's niece repeated. "Wemust be on the watch for them--and don't you be scared none, Ruthie, atanything that may happen."