The Pony Rider Boys in Texas Part 7

By the time the cowmen and Pony Riders had refreshed themselves at the spring near which the outfit had camped, a steaming hot breakfast had been spread on the ground, with a slicker for a table cloth.

Three cowboys fell to with a will, gulping down their breakfast in a hurry that they might ride out and relieve the fourth guard on the herd.

"You boys don't have to swallow your food whole," smiled the foreman, observing that the Pony Riders seemed to think they were expected to hurry through their meal as well. "Those fellows have to go out. Take your time. The fourth guard has to eat yet, so there is plenty of time.

How did you all sleep?"

"Fine," chorused the boys.

"And you, Mr. Professor?"

"Surprisingly well. It is astonis.h.i.+ng with how little a man can get along when he has to."

"Who is the wrangler this morning?" asked the foreman, glancing about at his men.

"I am," spoke up Shorty Savage promptly.

"Wrangler? What's a wrangler?" demanded Stacy, delaying the progress of a large slice of bacon, which hung suspended from the fork half-way between plate and mouth.

"A wrangler's a wrangler," answered Big-foot stolidly.

"He's a fellow who's all the time making trouble, isn't he?" asked Stacy innocently.

"Oh, no, this kind of a wrangler isn't," laughed the foreman. "The trouble is usually made _for_ him, and it's served up hot off the spider. The horse wrangler is the fellow who goes out and rounds up the ponies. Sometimes he does it in the middle of the night when the thunder and lightning are smas.h.i.+ng about him like all possessed, and the cattle are on the rampage. He's a trouble-curer, not a troublemaker, except for himself."

"I guess there are some words that aren't in the dictionary," laughed Tad.

"I think you will find them all there, Master Tad, if you will consult the big book," said the Professor.

The meal was soon finished, Pong having stood rubbing his palms, a happy smile on his face, during the time they were eating.

"A very fine breakfast, sir," announced the Professor, looking up at the Chinaman.

"He knows what would happen to him if he didn't serve good meals,"

smiled Stallings.

"What do you mean?" asked Ned Rector.

"Pong, tell the young gentlemen what would become of you if you were to serve bad meals to this outfit of cowpunchers."

The Chinaman showed two rows of white teeth in his expansive grin.

"Allee same likee this," he explained.

"How?" asked Tad.

Pong, going through the motions of drawing a gun from his belt, and puffing out his cheeks, uttered an explosive "pouf!"

"Oh, you mean they would shoot you?" asked Walter. "I hardly think they would do that, Pong."

"Allee same," grinned the Chinaman.

"I guess we are pretty sure of having real food to eat, then," laughed Tad, as the boys rose from the table ready for the active work of the day.

"We will now get to work on the herd," announced the foreman. "We had better start the drive this morning. When we make camp at noon we will cut out the strays. I trust none of you will be imprudent and get into trouble, for we shall have other things to look after to-day."

However, the Pony Riders were destined not to pa.s.s the day without one or more exciting adventures.

CHAPTER V

CUTTING OUT THE HERD

"Getting ready for rain," announced the foreman, glancing up at the gathering clouds. "That will mean water for the stock, anyway."

Already the great herd was up and grazing when the cowboys reached them.

But there was no time now for the animals to satisfy their appet.i.tes.

They were supposed to have eaten amply since daylight.

The trail was to be taken up again and by the time the steers were bedded down at night, they should be all of fifteen miles nearer the Diamond D. Ranch for which they were headed.

The start was a matter of keen interest to the Pony Riders. To set the herd in motion, cowboys galloped along the sides of the line giving vent to their shrill, wolf-keyed yell, while others pressed forward directly in the rear.

As soon as the cattle had gotten under way six men were detailed on each side, and in a short time the herd was strung out over more than a mile of the trail.

Two riders known as "point men" rode well back from the leaders, and by riding forward and closing in occasionally, were able to direct the course of the drive.

Others, known as "swing men," rode well out from the herd, their duty being to see that none of the cattle dropped out or strayed away. Once started, the animals required no driving.

This was a matter of considerable interest to the Pony Riders.

"Don't they ever stop to eat?" asked Tad of the foreman.

"Occasionally. When they do, we have to start them along without their knowing we are doing so. It's a good rule to go by that you never should let your herd know they are under restraint. Yet always keep them going in the proper direction."

The trail wagon, carrying the cooking outfit and supplies, was not forgotten. Drawn by a team of four mules, the party seldom allowed it to get far away from them, and never, under ordinary circ.u.mstances, out of their sight. The driver walked beside the mules, while the grinning face of Pong was always to be seen in the front end of the wagon.

He was the only member of the outfit who never seemed to mind the broiling mid-day heat. He was riding there on this hot forenoon, never leaving his seat until the foreman, by a gesture, indicated that the herd was soon to be halted for its noonday meal. While the cattle were grazing, the cowboys would fall to and satisfy their own appet.i.tes.

After the cattle had finally been halted, three men were left on guard while the others rode back to the rear of the line. In the meantime Pong had been preparing the dinner, which was ready almost as soon as the men had cast aside their hats.

"When it comes to cooking for an outfit like this, a Chinaman beats anything in the world," laughed Stallings. "At least, this Chinaman does."

Pong was too busy to do more than grin at the compliment, even if he fully grasped the meaning of it.

The meal was nearly half-finished when the cowpunchers were startled by a volley of revolver shots accompanied by a chorus of shrill yells.