CHAPTER VI.
A BOY SCOUT "BRONCHO BUSTER."
The next morning before breakfast Rob recounted to his chums theconversation he had overheard the night before. The story of the ghostof the ancient cliff dwellings was, it appeared, no new thing on theHarkness ranch, which accounted for its owner's apathy in regard to it.Successive batches of cow-punchers doing duty in the far pasture atnight professed to have seen the grisly object on its nightly rounds,but nobody had ever had the courage to investigate it.
After the morning meal had been dispatched, Mr. Harkness announced thathe expected to be busied about the ranch for the morning.
"But, Harry, you take the boys down to the corral," he said, "and haveone of the men catch up some horses for them. You boys know best thekind of stock you want, so I'll let you choose them."
The boys thanked him, and a few moments afterward he left the room. Ashort time later he galloped off to make a round of the differentsections of the range and to prosecute inquiries about the renegadeMoquis.
The corral was, as was usually the case, full of ponies of all colorsand grades of disposition, from mild beasts to fiery, half-brokenbronchos. As the boys neared the enclosure, a stout little cowboy in ahuge hairy pair of "chaps" approached them, airily swinging a lariat.His eyes opened and shut as rapidly as a loose shutter slat in a breeze.Cowboys have nick-names for everybody. His was of course "Blinky."
"Good mornin', Master Harry. Want some cattle this a. m.?" he inquired.
"Yes, Blinky. Have you got some good ones caught up?"
"Why, yes, you can have White Eye, and what kind of stock does yourfriends fancy?"
There was a twinkle in Blinky's fidgety optics as he asked this, forthe boys, although they had donned regular ranch clothes, still boreabout them that mysterious air which marks a "tenderfoot," as if theybore a brand.
"How about you, Rob?" asked Harry, also smiling slightly. "Want a bronc,or something more on the rocking-horse style?"
Now, although Rob could ride fairly well, and both Tubby and Merritt hadhad some practice on horseback, none of the boys were what might becalled rough riders. But something in Blinky's tone and Harry's covertsmile aroused all Rob's fighting blood.
"Oh, I want something with some life in it," he said boldly.
"Um-hum! The same will do for me, but not _too_ much life, if youplease," chimed in Tubby, somewhat dubiously.
"Anything I don't need to use spurs on," ordered Merritt, following upthe general spirit.
"All right, young fellers," said the cow-puncher, opening the corralgate. "Come on in while I catch 'em up for you."
The instant the rawhide began whirling about Blinky's head the poniesevidently realized that something was up, for they began a wild raceround and round the corral, heads up and heels lashing out right andleft. The three tenderfeet regarded this exhibition with someapprehension, but they were too game to say anything.
"I'll rope my own," said Harry, picking up a lariat which hung coiledover a snubbing post near the gate. The ranch boy stood by the post,leisurely whirling his rawhide and just keeping the loop open till asmall bay pony, with a big patch of white round each eye, came plungingby with the rest of the stampede. The lariat suddenly became imbued withlife. Faster it whirled and faster, the loop finally sailing through theair gracefully and landing in a rawhide necklace round White Eye's neck.
At almost the same instant that White Eye became a captive, Blinky lethis loop go, and roped a small, active buckskin pony which, as soon asit felt the loop on its neck, laid back its ears and began squealing andbucking viciously.
"I guess that's your pony, Rob," said Tubby generously, as thecow-puncher drew the struggling little animal up to the snubbing post,and tying him there, went into the barn for a saddle.
"If you are in any hurry, you can have him," volunteered Rob.
"No, I guess I can wait. How about you, Merritt?"
"Same here, I'm in no hurry."
"Well," thought Rob, "I'm in for it now, and if that bronc doesn't buckme into the middle of next week, I'm lucky."
After more struggles, the bridle and saddle were forced on the buckskin,and Blinky cast him loose, still maintaining a grip on the bridle,however.
"All aboard!" he said, with a grin in Rob's direction.
Feeling anything but as confident as he looked, Rob boldly put his footin the heavy wooden stirrup with its big leather tapadero covering, andswung into the saddle. Hardly had he touched it when a strange thinghappened. The boy felt as if an explosion must have occurred directlybeneath him, and he was being shot skyward by it. The next instant thesensation changed, and as the broncho struck the hard ground of thecorral, all four legs as stiff as drum sticks, Rob felt as if every bonein his body was in process of dislocation.
"Stick to her, boy! Yow-ee-ee!"
Blinky, roaring with laughter, shouted the advice. At this moment, too,just when Rob would much rather not have had any spectators about,several cow-punchers appeared as if by magic, and perching themselves onthe corral rails, settled down to enjoy the spectacle.
"Whoop!" they yelled. "That's a regular steamboat bucker."
"Go on, boy! Grip her!"
"Don't go to leather!"
These and a hundred other excited exclamations were borne dimly to Rob'sears as the buckskin threshed about, trying in vain to rid itself of thetroublesome boy. How he did it Rob never knew, but he stuck like acockle-burr, and that without "going to leather," or, in other words,gripping any part of the saddle. He must have been a born rider to standthe antics of the maddened cayuse as he did. One second the littlebrute, tiring of bucking, would rear backward as if it must overbalance,and the next it would be fairly standing on its head. Once it lay downand tried to roll over, but the high horn of the saddle prevented this.As it collapsed to the ground, Rob skillfully slipped off, and when itstruggled upon its feet again, the boy was standing over it and was asfirmly in his seat as ever by the time the animal was ready for a newperformance.
All at once the buckskin made a mad rush for the corral fence. It wasfive feet in height, and Rob turned sick as he faced what seemedinevitable disaster.
The yells of the cowboys, however, made him determined to stick it out.
"I've stood it all this time. I'll stay with it if it kills me," thoughtthe boy.
The next instant the little broncho rose at the fence. The bars rose infront like an impassable wall.
"He'll never make it," was the thought that flashed through Rob's head.
But even as the fear of a direful crash flashed through his mind, theactive little animal he bestrode had cleared the barrier, its hind hoofsjust splintering the upper edge of the top rail. The buckskin alightedon the other side, trembling and sweating, with expanded nostrils andheaving flanks, but its ears were no longer back, nor did its eyes showwhite. The broncho seemed to have realized that it had played its trumpcard and lost.
"Get up!" cried Rob, kicking the shivering pony in the sides.
Meekly the little buckskin obeyed the rein, and Rob rode it back towardthe corral gate--a conquered animal. From that time on the buckskinowned Rob as its master, and a better animal never bore saddle. As thecow-punchers burst into a loud chorus of admiring yells, wrung from themby the plucky exhibition, Rob took off his hat and waved it three timesround his head. For the life of him, he could not have abstained fromthis little bit of braggadocio.
"Yip-ee!" he yelled.
"Good for you!" shouted Harry. "It was a mean trick of Blinky, and I wasgoing to get him in a lot of trouble for it, but--all's well that endswell."
"Say, you were fooling all of us. You must have been out with a WildWest show," exclaimed Blinky admiringly, as Rob patted the wet shoulderof the conquered buckskin.
"I'm glad I could stick on," declared Rob modestly.
"Stick on!" echoed another cow-puncher. "Why, you're a broncho buster,boy!"
"Well, I've had enough of it to last me for a long time," laughed Rob.
Two
other ponies were soon caught and saddled, and much to the delightof Tubby and Merritt, they found that the cow-puncher's love of fun hadbeen worked off when Rob was given the buckskin, and that they were eachprovided with mounts that tried no such tricks as standing on theirheads.
"Now, then, come on," said Harry, when all were mounted. "We've got abig round to make. The first ranch we'll head for will be Tom Simmons's.He and his two brothers will join, I'm sure. After that we'll finish upthe others and issue a call for a meeting."
The remainder of the day was spent in the saddle, with a brief stop fora noonday dinner at the Simmons ranch. By the end of the day the BoyScouts' list contained ten names, which were as follows: Tom, Jack andBill Simmons, Eph and Sam Ingalls, Henry Randolph, Charley and FrankPrice, Silas Lamb and Jeb Cotton.
All the would-be scouts had been ordered to report, three days from theday of their signing on, at the Harkness ranch. In the meantime the boyswrote to Eastern headquarters for organization papers, which, as Rob andhis companions were already so well known, they anticipated nodifficulty in receiving without delay, which, indeed, proved to be thecase. Rob had, meanwhile, received a letter from Hampton which reportedthe successful formation of another patrol in that village where thefamous Eagles first saw the light.
The interval between the call for the meeting and the meeting itself theboys put in in practicing riding and shooting. As they all three werefamiliar with the rifle and revolver, even that brief practice made themfairly expert with firearms and their riding improved every day.
Mr. Harkness and Mr. Simmons had consented to act as Scout Masters, andwere present at the first meeting of the organization. Rob, on accountof his experience as leader of the Eagle Patrol, was voted in as leader,with Merritt and Harry as corporals. Tubby was appointed a sort of drillmaster and instructor to the new scouts. This done, they all dispersed,subject to immediate call.
As the ranches of Mr. Harkness and his neighbors, though separatedwidely by actual distance, were each joined by telephone, it was decidedthat it would be an easy matter to assemble the scouts at a givenrendezvous. The opportunity to test this came sooner than any of theboys expected. One afternoon, about a week after the formation meeting,during which interval Tubby had held two drill nights, a cow-puncher ona sweat-covered horse galloped into the corral. Slipping off hisexhausted animal, he dashed at top speed toward the house.
"The cattle in the far pasture have stampeded," he panted, bursting intothe rancher's office, "and are headed for the Graveyard Cliffs!"
"Boys, boys!" shouted Mr. Harkness, hastily springing up from hisaccount books and jamming a sombrero on his head. "Here's a chance toshow your boy scouts some action. Here, you, Blinky, saddle my horse andthe boys' animals! Sharp work now! There's not a moment to lose! We musthead them off!"