Comrades of the Saddle by Frank V. Webster

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The cowboy was riding straight at Hans. When the pony was within
two leaps of the German, boy Larry cried to him to jump to one side.

But Hans was too terrified to move, and the pony was almost upon
him. In another moment he would be run down.

From the train rose shouts of warning and anger, changing in the
next moment to cheers.

Realizing that the German boy could not save himself, Larry threw
up his hands right in the face of the pony, causing the animal to
rear so suddenly that only its rider's expert horsemanship saved
him from being unseated.

At the same time Tom seized Hans and jerked him to one side just
before the broncho's forelegs struck the ground again, almost on
the very spot where the German boy had been standing.

Furious at the interference with his so-called fun, the cowboy
roared at Larry:

"I'll teach you to scare Gus Megget's pony, you calf tenderfoot!"

Black, indeed, did it look for the three lads. The companions of
the bullying cowboy who had announced himself as Gus Megget were
riding up, yelling to him to make the "tenderfoot dance."

His race very white, but every line of his body breathing defiance,
Larry faced his tormentor.

With a calmness that fairly took the breath away from the bully the
elder of the brothers exclaimed in a voice loud enough to be heard
by the other cowboys and the men about the train:

"I didn't pick this quarrel with you, but if you will get off your
horse so that you have no advantage over me; I'll give you all the
fight you want!"

An instant Megget glowered with rage at the mere stripling of a boy
who had announced his willingness to fight him, then with a savage
growl started to swing from his saddle.

"I'll fix you, you whelp!" he roared.

He aimed a savage blow at Larry, who ducked.

"Hi! leave my brother alone!" cried Tom, coming to the spot.

As Tom spoke Larry stooped and picked up a handful of dust. This
he hurled straight into the cowboy's face.

"Good!" shouted Tom and did likewise.

The dust caused the cowboy to sneeze, and some bystanders commenced
to laugh.

"He's got the best of you, Megget," observed another cowboy.

"I'll eat him!" yelled Megget and rushed at Larry with blood in his
eyes.

But before he reached the boy a voice rang out:

"Keep on your horse, Gus Megget!"

Though Larry did not dare take his eyes from the bully, Tom and the
cowboys looked to see who was taking a hand in the affair. They
beheld a quiet-looking little man pointing a finger at the leader
of the ruffians.

"I can't arrest you for driving off Jim Larson's cattle because
we're in Oklahoma," continued the determined stranger. "But if I
ever get my hand on you in Texas it'll go hard with you! Now
vamoose before you try my patience too far! Come on back, boys.
Gus Megget won't bother you any more."

"Prickly cactus! but it's 'Shorty,' the sheriff from Pawnee
County!" gasped one of the band or cow-punchers. "Come on, Gus; we
must dig out of here! Shorty may pass the word he's seen us."

Fear of the law caused the bully and his companions to wheel their
ponies.

At this move the three boys turned and ran back toward the train,
while the excited passengers hooted and yelled at the discomfited
cowboys.

The shouts of derision were more than Megget could stand. He shook
his fist at the crowd in general and then at Tom and Larry in
particular, Then he whirled around and disappeared from view in a
cloud of dust.

Quickly the passengers all trooped to the cars and five minutes
later the train was again in motion.

All the passengers wanted to shake hands with Tom and Larry, and
for several minutes the boys were at the mercy of their
well-meaning admirers. Again the sheriff came to their rescue.

"Go back to your own cars," he commanded. "The boys want to be
left alone."

But the people gave no sign of heeding his words.

"Well, if you won't go at the asking, I'll make you go," he
continued, and seizing the person nearest him, the sheriff turned
him round and gave him a shove along the aisle of the car.

After three or four of the passengers had been pushed none too
gently away, the others began to leave of their own accord, and the
two brothers were able to make their escape.

"If it keeps on the way it has started, we're likely to have a
lively summer," remarked Larry when he was again back in his seat.

"I hope they don't come so quick for me," exclaimed Hans. And his
tone was so plaintive that the others could not help but laugh.

"You'll either have to get some nerve or else stick mighty close to
your friends here," declared the sheriff, who had remained to talk
with the boys who had shown such pluck.

"Maybe I'll go back to Germany," sighed Hans.

"Oh, you'll get used to this part of the world after a while.
Where are you going?"

"Tolopah."

"Well, that ain't the most refined place in the world," chuckled
the man of the law, "but I don't believe you'll get as bad as what
you got."

Pondering over this none too reassuring remark, Hans lapsed into
silence, while Tom and Larry plied the sheriff with questions about
life on the ranches and the antics of the cowboys.

As evening came on the boys grew restive. Their train was due at
Tolopah at nine the next morning, and despite the fact that it was
rushing along at the rate of forty miles an hour, it seemed to them
to be scarcely moving. They had already passed two nights and two
days on the train and the thought of putting another night in the
berth, especially as it was very hot, seemed impossible, making
them fretful and cross.

"Who is he?" asked Larry of the conductor, after the sheriff had
left the train.

"What, you never heard of Sam Jenks, sheriff of Pawnee County?"

"We come from Ohio," said Tom, as though apologizing for their
ignorance.

"That accounts for it. If you lived between the Mississippi and El
Paso you wouldn't ask such a question.

"Sam Jenks, known to every cowboy as 'Shorty,' is the nerviest man
I know. There isn't a cattle thief or a bad man in this part of
the country that won't run when he sees him--if he has the chance.

"You saw how Gus Megget and his gang got scared. It was just the
sight of Shorty that scared him. He's got a record of sending more
cattle thieves and crooked gamblers to jail than any three other
sheriffs in the country. There never was anything he's afraid of,
and he's just as tender-hearted as a kitten. Why, I know one time,
after he'd sent a train robber to prison, he took the money out of
his own pocket to support the rascal's wife and baby till he could
get her folks to take her home. You sure made a friend that's
worth having."

On Hans' account, Larry and Tom kept up a lively chatter during the
evening, and it was not until the brothers were in their berths
that they broached the subject of what to do should the sheriff's
suspicions prove true.

Hans' unfitness for holding his own among the rough men of the
plains made them sorry for him, and they discussed various plans,
without arriving at any conclusion, till well into the night.

"What's the use of worrying?" said Tom finally. "Chris will
probably show up all right. Let's wait and see." And with this
understanding the boys dropped the matter.

Despite the fact that the day was to see the end of their journey,
the boys slept late.

"You ge'mmen better hurry if you all wants yo' breakfas' befoh yo'
gits to Tolopah," interrupted the porter. "We'll be thar in half
an hour."

It was not a hearty meal the brothers and Hans ate, and soon they
were back in their seats, looking to see that they had forgotten
nothing before they closed their suit-cases.

Bringing two big valises of the extending kind the German sat with
Larry and Tom. But their high spirits found no response in him,
and as they neared their destination he could with difficulty keep
back the tears, so worried was he.

"Here we are!" exclaimed Larry as he caught sight of some houses
and barns.

And his words were verified by the porter, who came through the car
calling:

"All out for Tolopah!"

Picking up their luggage, the boys hastened to the car steps.

"Hello, Bill! Hello, Horace!" cried the brothers eagerly as they
caught sight of their friends on the station platform.

At the greetings the Wilder boys hurried toward the car.

In the pleasure of the meeting Tom and Larry forgot Hans.

"Come on," commanded Horace, seizing Tom's suit-case. "We won't
dally here in Tolopah. We must get to the ranch before it gets too
hot." And he led the way to where four bronchos stood tied to a
railing.

Quickly the Wilders made fast the suit-cases to their saddles and
untied the ponies.

"This is Blackhawk, Tom, and this is Lightning, Larry," said Horace
as he handed the reins to the two boys. "They're a couple of the
best ponies in New Mexico, and while you're here they'll be yours.
You can get acquainted with them on the ride to the ranch."

Both animals were splendid creatures, well built and powerful.
Blackhawk, as the name suggests, was jet black, his coat glistening
in the sun, and Lightning was a roan.

Already Bill and Horace were on their ponies, and the two brothers
were just swinging into their saddles when a voice cried:

"Tom! Larry!"

Turning their heads, the boys beheld Hans, the tears streaming down
his cheeks, rushing toward them as fast as his valises would let
him.

No need was there to ask if he had found a trace of his brother.
The tears told all too plainly that he had not.

"Who in the world is that?" asked Horace in astonishment.

"A German boy who traveled with us," explained Tom. "Do you know
any one in Tolopah by the name of Chris Ober?"

"Struck out for old Mexico, prospecting for gold, three months
ago," replied Bill. "Why?"

"That's his brother Hans, who has come from Berlin to visit him,"
returned Tom. And hurriedly he gave an outline of the German lad's
story.

"Phew! Chicken-hearted, is he?" commented Horace. "It won't do to
leave him in Tolopah. Luckily one of our men is in town with our
grub wagon. He can ride out to the ranch with him."

When Tom imparted this information to Hans, the poor fellow was
delighted and asked where he could find the outfit.

"I'll show him. You all ride on," said Horace. But the others
refused, declaring they would all go together.

As the cavalcade started with Hans and his valises trying to keep
up with them, many were the jests and laughs cast after them.

But the boys paid them no heed, and in a few minutes the German
youth was safe in the provision wagon.

Putting their horses into a brisk canter, the four lads set out for
the ranch.

Many were the questions the Wilders asked about their friends back
in Ohio, and so busy were Tom and Larry in answering, and in
relating all the events of consequence that had transpired since
the family had left Bramley two years before, that the twenty miles
which lay between Tolopah and the ranch seemed scarcely one.

CHAPTER V

THE HALF-MOON RANCH

As the boys drew rein in front of the broad, vine-covered piazza of
the ranch house they were greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Wilder,

"Well, it does seem good to see some one from home," exclaimed the
latter as she shook the hands of Tom and Larry.

"It sure does," asserted her husband. "Wish you'd brought your
father and mother with you. What in the world started them off to
Scotland?"

Quickly the brothers explained.

"Well, well! So Uncle Darwent really had some money," commented
Mrs. Wilder. "I'm real glad, though of course it isn't as though
your father needed any more. I should have thought you boys would
have wanted to go with them."

"Not when we could spend the summer on your ranch," returned Larry.
"But we began to be afraid we would be obliged to go, and we should
have if the telegram had been any later. No time ever seemed so
long as when we were waiting for your answer."

"It was just luck we got your message," declared Horace.
"Sometimes we don't go to town for a week. But something seemed to
urge me to ride in the other morning, and when I arrived Con Brown
hollered to me he had a telegram. When I read it, I didn't lose
any time answering, and I made Con promise to rush it."

"Con's our telegraph operator," explained Bill. "Come on in and
change your duds and then we'll look the ranch over."

Nothing loath to remove their clothes, which still smelled of
engine smoke, despite their ride over the plains, as the brothers
seized their suitcases and followed their young hosts, Larry
exclaimed laughingly:

"You see we took your advice not to bring a trunk."

"Glad of it," asserted Horace joyously. "There's no need to dress
out here. It's just great! You don't have to put on a collar from
one week's end to another. But if you had brought a lot of
clothes, mother would have made us dress too. That's why I
mentioned the matter in my telegram."

This explanation was given in a low tone that Mrs. Wilder might not
know her son had taken such effective measures to prevent his being
obliged to "dress up," and the boys laughed heartily at the
harmless joke.

The home of the Wilders was only one story high, but the rooms were
big and comfortable. Around three sides ran the piazza, from which
French windows, extending from the floor to the ceiling, opened,
admitting any breeze that might be stirring.

The room assigned to the boys was on the west side of the house,
and through the vines they could look across the plains to some
mountains that towered in the distance.

"Our room is the next one to yours," said Bill. "We'll wait there
till you are dressed. If you want anything, sing out."

Hastily Tom and Larry took off the clothes in which they had
traveled, and bathed, glad of the opportunity to remove the cinders
which had caused them no little discomfort.

"Bill and Horace seem just the same as when they lived in Bramley,"
observed Tom when they were alone. "Horace hasn't grown a bit."

"They are tanned up till they look like Indians, that's the only
change I can see," returned his brother. "Horace always will be
short, but Bill's tall enough for two."

"You can't wear those caps," declared Bill as Tom and Larry
appeared with the light baseball caps they had brought with them.

"But that's all we have," protested Larry, "except, of course, our
straw hats. You don't expect us to knock round in those, do you?"

"Sure not. But if you wore those caps you'd get sunstruck out on
the plains. We've got some sombreros you can take."

As the boys trooped out onto the piazza Tom espied a five-bar fence
about a hundred yards from the house.

"That's the horse corral," explained Horace, noting the direction
of his friend's gaze. "We don't keep our ponies in barns out here.
The horses are all out on the range now, except eight we keep at
home for ourselves."

Passing from the cool veranda, the boys walked toward a long
building some thirty yards away.

"This is the bunk-house, where the cowboys stay when they're home,"
announced Bill. "There are ten of them, the best boys in this part
of the country, but they are a lively lot. It's a good thing they
are with the cattle. You'll have a chance to get used to ranching
before they come in or they might amuse themselves at your expense.
Politeness isn't a cowboy's long suit."

"So I gathered," said Larry as he thought of his experience at the
crossing in Oklahoma. But his mind was quickly diverted by his
brother.

"What's that half-moon over the door mean?" asked the younger of
the Alden boys as he caught sight of a gilded crescent that
sparkled in the sunlight.

"Oh, tenderfoot! oh, tenderfoot! It is indeed fortunate the boys
are away," exclaimed Bill in mock solemnity.

"That is the brand of this ranch. Every horse, every steer, cow
and calf we own bears a half-moon because this is the Half-Moon
Ranch. When any of our ponies or cattle go astray or mix with
others, the only way we can tell which belong to us is by the
brand."

"How do you put it on?" asked Tom.

"Burn it into the flesh with hot irons. If you can stay till fall,
when we have a round-up, you can see how it's done," said Horace.

Feeling that they were indeed ignorant of ranch life, the two
brothers decided to use their eyes and ask no more questions than
were necessary.

Entering the bunk-house, they saw a long table covered with white
oilcloth and a line of bunks built in two tiers against the wall
opposite the door. A big stove stood at one end, and there were
pegs for saddles, bridles and lassoes all about.

From the bunk-house the boys went to the wagon sheds, which
contained three or four farm wagons and also a buckboard.

"That's for mother," explained Bill. "She doesn't like to ride,
but she can though if it's necessary.

"Here's where your saddles are," he continued, pointing to a beam
into which pegs had been driven. "You want to remember them,
especially when the boys are home. They don't like to have any one
else take their saddles."

"We'll remember," declared Tom and Larry meaningly.

"I suppose we'll find our ponies in the corral?" hazarded Tom.

"Sure thing. And here's something else to keep in mind. Father
always insists that each man put his pony in the corral himself.
Of course this morning he did it for us, but he won't again."

"How do you get the horses when you want them? Call 'em?" asked
Tom.

"Sometimes that will work--after a pony has come to know its
master--but the quickest way is to take some oats in a pan,"
declared Horace. "We keep the oats here," and he opened a bin at
one side of the wagon shed.

"You can use oats on Blackhawk and Lightning and our own ponies,
but when we want a strange horse we rope him. That makes me think,
I've saved a couple of dandy lariats for you. Cross-eyed Pete, one
of our boys, made them for me out of rawhide. They are in my room.
Come on, we'll get them and then show you how to use them."

"Is it hard to learn?" inquired Larry.

"Yes, to throw one every time," replied Bill. "Horace and I have
been practicing ever since we came out. We can do pretty well.
But you ought to see Cross-eyed Pete! He's the best of all the
boys. He's so good, he can drop a noose over a rattlesnake, and
that's going some."

Before the lads could get the lassoes, however, Mrs. Wilder called
them to get ready for dinner.

As the two visitors took their seats at the table a Chinaman, clad
in white, glided noiselessly into the room and took his place
behind Mr. Wilder's chair, ready to serve.

"Hop Joy, this is Mr. Larry and this is Mr. Tom," said Mrs. Wilder.
"Whatever they ask you to do, you must do it."

The celestial, who was cook, washman and general factotum on the
Half-Moon Ranch, bowed gravely to each of the boys.

"That sounds very fine," laughed Mr. Wilder, "but you must be
careful what you ask Hop Joy to do. If you disturb him when he's
cooking he's apt to throw a pail of water at you."

"Hop's all right, father," declared Horace loyally. "He only
throws water when the boys try to steal his doughnuts. Um--m, but
Hop can make doughnuts! You two just wait till you're riding all
day and then see if they don't taste good."

"So that explains the reason you keep on the right side of Hop Joy,
eh?" answered Mr. Wilder, smiling. "I've often wondered why you
were so willing to help him when the boys are home."

After the laughter this sally evoked had subsided Mrs. Wilder asked
the boys about their journey.

In amazement the Wilders listened as the experiences were related,
and when Larry finished the account of his mix-up with the
cow-punchers Bill exclaimed:

"And here Horace and I have been making fun of you for tenderfeet.
The joke seems to be on us."

"That's what it is," asserted their father. "There are not many
men, let alone lads, who can say they have faced Gus Megget and got
the best of him."

It was the chums' turn to be surprised as they heard this statement.

"Then you know him?" queried Tom.

"I know of him," corrected the ranchman, and the boys noted that
the kindly expression of his face disappeared as he spoke. "Gus
Megget is a very bad man. He hasn't done an honest day's work for
five years. People say he is a train robber, and I've always
believed he was a cattle thief, too. From what you tell me, that's
Shorty Jenks' opinion. If the truth were known, I think Megget
would prove to be the head of a gang of cattle thieves."

And how true were Mr. Wilder's suspicions, they were all destined
to learn.

The recital of their adventuresome journey recalled to the boys
that they had entirely forgotten to tell about Hans' coming.

Each of the four apparently thought of the timid German boy at the
same time and looked at one another uneasily.

And their anxiety was not lessened when Mrs. Wilder asked:

"What became of Hans? Did you call him? Did his brother meet him?"

"No, he didn't," said Larry. Then, determined to get the matter
settled at once, he continued: "Mr. Wilder, I'm afraid I have
imposed on your kindness, but I asked Bill and Horace to let the
German boy come to your ranch until we could decide what he should
do. He's so--so scared, I did not like to leave him alone in
Tolopah."

"I asked to have him come, too," declared Tom, as though unwilling
his brother should bear all the blame, if blame there was to be.

"That was right, quite right," said Mr. Wilder, after a quick
glance at his wife. "Tolopah wouldn't agree with him very well.
We've plenty of room and perhaps he will get over his fear. I can
use another hand very well, if he wants work."

It was a great relief to all the boys to have the matter settled so
pleasantly, and they resumed their laughter and chatter.

When dinner was finished they all went out onto the piazza, where
Tom and Larry were initiated into the mysteries of throwing a
lasso. Then the visitors were taken around and shown many sights
new to them.

CHAPTER VI

IN THE SADDLE

"How far away are those mountains?" asked Tom, gazing in their
direction as they walked to the corral the next day.

"About forty miles," replied Bill. "They are called the 'Lost
Lode' hills, because there is said to be a rich silver mine in them
somewhere that the Spaniards worked hundreds of years ago. Just
where it is, though, no one has ever been able to discover."

"Wouldn't it be great if we could find it?" exclaimed Larry
eagerly. "Do you suppose your father would let us go and try?
Have you ever been over to the hills?"

"Lots of times on hunting trips. But we never explored them very
much. The trouble is no one knows whether the mine is on this side
or the other."

"But haven't they searched for it?" queried Tom, to whose mind a
silver mine suggested unlimited wealth.

"Lots of men have tried, but no one who has gone to find it has
ever been seen again," returned Bill. "They say the mine is
haunted by the ghosts of the old Spaniards who discovered it and
that they kill any one who goes near it."

At the suggestion of phantom Spaniards guarding the mine and
despatching those who found it the brothers laughed.

"You surely don't believe in ghosts?" inquired Tom, a tone of scorn
in his voice. "Who started the story about the ghosts, anyhow?"

"I don't know," responded the elder of the Wilder boys, rather
disappointed that the legend did not make more of an impression on
his friends. "We heard it when we came here. The cowboys all
believe it, and nothing would make them pass a night in those hills
if they could help it."

But ghosts were something in which the two brothers had been taught
not to believe, and Tom exclaimed:

"Huh! I'll bet some one has found the mine and started these
stories to keep other people from going there. Maybe there are
three or four mines," he added as his lively imagination began to
work.

"It's all right for you to laugh; you haven't been in the hills,"
snapped Horace. "If you'd heard Cross-eyed Pete tell about the
night he was camping there and was scared away by hearing men
shooting you might think differently."

"Just the same, I'd be willing to go and hunt for it," persisted
Tom.

"And so would I," chimed in his brother. "I say," he continued,
"why can't we go on a hunting trip? We needn't say anything about
trying to find the mine. Then, if we didn't, no one could laugh at
us and say we got scared."

The refusal of the boys from Ohio to believe in the haunted mine
had at first nettled Bill and Horace, but they had always been keen
to hear or see phantoms, and at Larry's proposal of the hunting
trip they became enthusiastic.

"It will be great sport, if father will let us," assented Horace.
"Come on, we'll ask him."

And abandoning their intention of roping ponies, they turned back
to the house in search of Mr. Wilder.

Finding him on the piazza, they lost no time in laying their plan
for a hunting trip before him.

As he beheld the eager faces and noted the lithe, supple bodies of
the boys, in whose eyes shone the light of fearlessness, the
ranchman replied:

"I have no objection, if you don't go beyond the foothills. Bill,
you remember the trails I showed you last spring, don't you?"

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