Boy Ranchers Among the Indians by Willard F. Baker.pdf

CHAPTER<p> I

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

CHAPTER XVII

CHAPTER XVIII

CHAPTER XIX

CHAPTER XX

CHAPTER XXI

CHAPTER XXII

CHAPTER XXIII

CHAPTER XXIV

CHAPTER XXV

Boy Ranchers Among the Indians, by Willard F. Baker

Boy Ranchers Among the Indians, by Willard F.

Baker

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Title: The Boy Ranchers Among the Indians or, Trailing the Yaquis

Author: Willard F. Baker

Release Date: November 27, 2006 [EBook #19930]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

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Produced by Al Haines

THE BOY RANCHERS AMONG THE INDIANS

Trailing The Yaquis

WILLARD F. BAKER

Author of "The Boy Ranchers," "The Boy Ranchers In Camp," "The Boy Ranchers on The Trail," etc.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK

CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

THE BOY RANCHERS AMONG THE INDIANS

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

COMPANY COMING II THE TELEGRAM III "GET READY, BOYS!" IV ON THE TRAIL V

ROSEMARY AND FLOYD VI PRISONERS VII INTO THE MOUNTAINS VIII SHOOTING STARS IX A

LONE INDIAN X SHOTS FROM AMBUSH XI THE SURPRISE XII FORWARD AGAIN XIII WEARY

CAPTIVES XIV SURROUNDED XV WITH THE TROOPERS XVI INDIAN "SIGN" XVII AN ALARM

XVIII SEPARATED XIX THE FIGHT XX THE WHITE FLAG XXI THE TRICK DISCOVERED XXII

ANXIOUS HOURS XXIII THE LAST STAND XXIV THE RUSE OF ROSEMARY XXV "ALL'S WELL!"

THE BOY RANCHERS AMONG THE INDIANS

CHAPTER I

COMPANY COMING

High and clear the sweet, western wind brought over the rolling hills the sound of singing. At least it was

singing of a sort, for there was a certain swing and rhythm accompanying the words. As the melody floated

toward them, three young cowboys, seated at ease in their saddles, looked up and in the direction of the

singer.

Thus the song.

"Oh, bury me out on th' lonesome prairie! Put a stone under my haid! Cover me up with a rope an' a saddle!

'Cause why? My true-love is daid * * * * * *"

It is impossible in cold print to indicate the mournful and long-drawn-out accent on the word "dead," to rhyme

with head.

"Here comes Slim!" exclaimed one of the youthful cow punchers to his companions.

"As if we didn't know that, Dick!" laughed the slighter of two lads who, from their close resemblance, could

be nothing less than brothers.

"His voice doesn't improve with age; does it, Nort?" asked Bud Merkel, smiling at his cousins, Norton and

Richard Shannon.

"But he means well," declared Nort with a chuckle. "Oh, you Slim!" he shouted, as a tall lanky individual,

mounted on a pony of like proportions, ambled into view, topping a slight rise of the trail. "Oh, you Slim!"

The older cowboy--a man, to be exact--who had been about to break forth into the second, or forty-second

verse of his song (there being in all seventy-two stanzas, so it doesn't much matter which one is

designated)--the older cowboy, I say, paused with his mouth open, and a blank look on his face. Then he

grinned--that is the only word for it--and cried:

"Well, I'm a second cousin to a ham sandwich! Where'd you fellows come from?"

"We haven't come--we're just going!" laughed Bud. "We're going over to see Dad and the folks. How are they

all?"

"Oh, they're sittin' pretty! Sittin' pretty!" affirmed Slim Degnan, with a mingled smile and grin. "How'd you

fellows come out with your spring round-up?"

"Pretty fair," admitted Bud. "A few steers short of what we figured on, but that's nothing."

"I should say not!" chuckled Slim. "Your paw was a heap sight worse off'n that."

"Rustlers again?" asked Nort quickly, as he and his brother glanced at one another. They had not forgotten the

stirring times when they were on the trail of the ruthless men who had raided Diamond X ranch, and their own

cattle range.

"No, nothin' like that," answered Slim easily. "Just natural depravity, so to speak. Some of 'em ate loco weed

and others jest got too tired of livin' I reckon. But we come out pretty fair. Just got th' last bunch shipped, an'

I'm mighty glad of it."

CHAPTER I

"Same here!" spoke Dick. "That's why we came over here--on a sort of vacation."

"I reckon some other folks is headin' this way on th' same sort of ideas," remarked Slim Degnan, as he rolled a

cigarette with one hand, a trick for which the boys had no use, though they could but admire the skill of the

foreman.

"What do you mean?" asked Bud. "Is Dad going to take a vacation? If he does--"

"Don't worry, son! Don't worry!" laughed Slim, as he ignited a match by the simple process of scratching the

head with his thumb nail. "Cattle will have to fetch a heap sight more'n they do now when he takes a few days

off," declared the foreman. "What I meant was that some tenderfeet individuals are headin'--"

Slim did not finish the sentence for he was nearly thrown from his saddle (something most unusual with him)

as his pony gave a sudden leap to one side, following a peculiar noise in a bunch of grass on which the animal

almost stepped.

The noise was not unlike that made by a locust in a tree on a hot day, but there was in the vibrations a more

sinister sound. And well did Slim's horse know what it indicated.

"A rattler!" yelled Bud, and close on the heels of his words followed action.

He whipped out his .45, there was a sliver of flame, a sharp crack at which the three steeds of the trio of

youthful cowboys jumped slightly, and there writhed on the trail a venomous rattle-snake, its head now a

shapeless mass where the bullet from Bud's gun had almost obliterated it.

"Whew! A big one!" exclaimed Slim, who had quickly gotten his pony under control again, and turned it back

toward the scene of action. It spoke well for his ability that he had not lost his cigarette, and was puffing on it,

though the sudden leap of his steed, to avoid a bite that probably would have meant death, had jarred the

words from his mouth.

"First of the season," added Bud, slipping his gun back into the holster.

"Are they more poisonous then than at other times?" asked Nort.

"Guess there isn't much difference, son," affirmed Slim. "I don't want to be nipped by one at any time. Much

obliged, Bud," he said, easily enough, though there was a world of meaning in his voice. "I shore plum would

hate to have to shoot Pinto, and that's what I'd a done if that serpent had set its fangs in his leg."

"Why'd he shoot him?" asked Dick, for he and his brother, though far removed from the tenderfoot class, were

not wise to all western ways yet.

"There isn't much chance for a horse after it's been bit deep by a rattler," Bud explained. "Of course I don't say

every horse that's bitten will die, but it's harder to doctor them than it is a man. And Slim meant he wouldn't

want to see Pinto suffer."

"You're right there, Bud!" drawled Slim Degnan. "They do say this new-fangled treatment is better'n whisky

for snake bites, but I don't reckon I want to chance it."

"The permanganate of potash is almost a sure cure for the ordinary snake bite, if you use it in time," declared

Bud. "But I don't know that it would work after a fer de lance set his fangs into you. Anyhow I'm glad we

haven't anything worse than rattlers and copperheads around here."

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