The Pony Rider Boys in Texas Part 12

"Huh! Steer kicked him," grunted Stallings. "It was a glancing blow, luckily for the kid."

They worked over the lad for fully half an hour before he began to show signs of returning consciousness. At last his trembling eyelids struggled apart and he smiled up at them weakly.

"Ah! He's all right now, I guess," laughed the foreman, with a world of relief in his tone. "Boys, get busy now and cut out the rest of those cows. If the young man is not able to ride we'll put him in the chuck wagon when it comes up. Feel bad anywhere, now?" he asked.

"My--my head weighs a ton."

"I should think it would. Did the white steer kick you?"

"I--I don't know. h.e.l.lo, Professor. I roped him all right, didn't I, Mr.

Stallings?"

"You did. But you got roped yourself, too, I reckon. Think you'll be able to ride in the trail wagon? If not we'll have to send you back to town."

"That'll be the best place for the tenderfoot," growled Lumpy Bates.

Stallings turned a stern eye upon him.

"Lumpy, when I want your opinion I'll let you know. What are you doing here, anyway? Get into that cut out and be mighty quick about it!"

Lumpy rode away growling.

"I'll ride in no trail wagon," announced Tad Butler, with emphasis.

"I guess you will have to, my boy."

"I'll ride my pony if I have to be tied on," he declared resolutely.

The foreman laughed heartily.

"Well, we'll see about that. You boys all have good stuff in you. I see that Master Walter and the gopher are still out there looking after that bunch of cattle."

"I told them to do so," spoke up Tad.

"And they are obeying orders. That's the first thing to learn in this business."

"May I sit up now?"

"You may try."

Tad's head spun round when he raised himself up. The lad fought his dizziness pluckily, and mastered it. After a little while they helped him to his feet. Finally feeling himself able to walk he started unsteadily away from them.

"Where are you going?" demanded the Professor.

"Pony," answered Tad.

"I protest, Tad. You will come back here at once."

Tad turned obediently.

"Please, Professor. I'm all right."

"Let the boy go. He will be all right in a few moments after he has gotten into the saddle," urged the foreman. "Besides, he's too much of a man to be treated like a weakling. He'll get more b.u.mps than that before he leaves this outfit, if I'm any judge."

The Professor motioned to Tad to go on, which the lad did, petting his pony as he reached him, and then pulling himself into the saddle with considerable effort.

"I'm ready for business now," he smiled, waving a hand to the foreman.

"Better look on and let the rest do the work," advised Stallings, mounting his own tough pony and riding into the thick of the cutting out process.

But Tad Butler could no more sit idly by while the exciting work was going on than could the foreman himself. The first steer that was cut out from the main herd, after Stallings went back, found Tad Butler alongside of it, crowding it toward his own herd farther out. And this work he kept up until all the strangers had been separated from the Diamond D stock.

"There, I'm glad that job is done," exclaimed Stallings, whipping off his hat and drawing a sleeve across his perspiring brow.

"Too bad I had to go and upset things so," said Tad.

"Never mind. It's all in a day's work. On a cattle drive if it isn't one thing it's sure to be another. We have been lucky enough not to have a stampede thus far. That isn't saying we won't, however. If you feel like working you can ride up and join the point men. We'll make five or six miles before it is time to bed down the herd."

To Tad's companions was left the task of driving the strange cattle a couple of miles to the west and leaving them there.

The boys could not well lose the main herd; for, no sooner had they started on the trail than a great cloud of dust slowly floated up into the air. Tad, in his position near the head of the line, and well out to one side of it, was free from this annoyance. The longer the lad was in the saddle, the stronger he seemed to feel, and the only trace that was now left of his recent experience among the hoofs of the Mexican steers was a b.u.mp on one side of his head almost as large as a hen's egg.

It was near sundown when the foreman, who had ridden on ahead some time before, came back with the information that a broad stream that was not down on his map lay just ahead of them.

"There's not more than thirty feet of swimming water there, and I believe I'll make a crossing before we go into camp," he announced briefly.

"How deep is the water?" asked Big-foot Sanders.

"In the middle, deep enough to drown, but on the edges it's fordable.

The cows will be glad of a drink and a swim after the heat of to-day."

With this in mind the cowmen were instructed to urge the cattle along at a little stronger pace, that they might all get well over before the night came on.

The animals seemed to feel the presence of water ahead of them, for they ceased their grazing by the wayside and swung into a rapid pace, such a pace as always gladdens the heart of the cowboy. The steers held it until the rays of the setting sun were reflected on the surface of the broad sluggish stream.

The Pony Riders dashed forward intent upon reaching the stream first.

Tad followed them upon receiving permission from the foreman to do so.

The banks on each side were high and steep, making it far from an ideal fording place. Stallings, however, thought it better to cross there than to take the time to work the herd further down. Joining the boys, he cast his glance up and down the stream to decide whether his judgment had been correct.

"I thought we were going to cross the river," said Stacy Brown.

"That's exactly what we are going to do," replied the foreman.

"But where's the bridge? I don't see any?" objected the lad.

"Right there in front of you."

"Where?"