The Pony Rider Boys in Montana Part 17

"I wonder why we didn't find this place the other night," he said aloud. "I guess we were in too big a hurry. That's the trouble with us boys. We blunder along without using our heads. But, I guess I had better not boast until after I have gotten back safely from Forsythe," he laughed. "I may need some good advice myself before that is accomplished."

The pony with ears laid back had settled to a long, loping gallop, covering mile after mile without seeming to feel the strain in the least.

Some distance beyond the Fork, Ned descried a horseman who had halted on beyond him, evidently awaiting his approach.

Ned was not greatly concerned about this. On the contrary, it was a relief to see a human being.

The man hailed him as he drew up. Ned noted the red beard and the general sinister appearance of the man.

"How," greeted the stranger, tossing his hand to the lad.

"How," answered Ned in kind.

"Where you headed!"

"Forsythe."

"Stranger in these parts, I reckon?"

"Yes, sir."

"On a herd?"

"Expect to be soon. Just finished a drive down in Texas."

"Cattle, of course?"

"Oh, yes."

"That's right. This sheep business has got to stop. I hear there's going to be something doing round these parts pretty lively,"

grinned the stranger.

"What do you mean?" asked the lad, peering sharply into the man's face.

"Oh, nothing much," answered the other. "Thought being as you were a cowman it might interest you some."

"It does," replied the boy almost sharply.

"Well, guess the rest, then," laughed the stranger. "Where'd you get that pony?"

"Is that not rather a personal question?" asked Ned, smiling coldly.

"Not in this country. Kinder reminded me of a nag that belonged to me. He strayed away from my ranch a few weeks ago," said the fellow significantly.

"It wasn't this pony," retorted Ned, flus.h.i.+ng. "I bought this animal.

Good day, sir, I must be getting along."

"In a hurry, ain't ye?"

"I am," answered Ned, touching the spurs to the pony's sides and galloping off.

"Hey, hold on a minute," called the stranger.

"Can't. In too much of a hurry," replied Ned.

"I don't like the looks of that fellow at all," muttered the boy as he rode on, instinctively urging his mount along at an increased speed to put as much distance as possible between himself and the curious stranger.

"Funny he should ask me that question about my pony. However, perhaps it is a peculiarity in this part of the country. Wonder what he meant by saying that there would be something doing here pretty quick."

After a time Ned turned in his saddle and looked back. The horseman was standing as Ned had left him. He was watching the boy. Ned swung his hand, and then turned, glad that he was well rid of the man.

Late in the afternoon, he saw the village of Forsythe just ahead of him. The boy could have shouted at the sight.

"Straight as you could shoot a bullet," he chuckled. "I guess I can follow the old Custer trail without getting lost."

He did not pause, but galloped on into the village and up the main street, not halting until he had reached the bank with which Mr. Simms was connected.

He was stiff and sore from the long, continuous ride, and as he dismounted he found that he could scarcely stand.

After tethering the pony to the iron rod that had been fastened to two posts, Ned walked into the bank. Red-faced and dusty he presented himself to the banker. At first the latter did not appear to recognize him.

"I am Ned Rector of the Pony Rider Boys," explained the lad.

Mr. Simms sprang up and grasped the boy cordially by the hand.

"This is a surprise. You back so soon? Why, is anything wrong!"

"Well, yes, there is," admitted Ned.

"Sit down and tell me about it."

Ned seated himself, but the effort hurt him and he winced a little.

"Stiffened up, eh? Where did you come from?"

The lad explained and Mr. Simms uttered a soft whistle.

"Well, you have had a ride. I didn't suppose you boys could ride like that. I suppose the guide found you?"

"We have seen nothing of him at all."

"Is it possible? I should not have troubled myself to come back to tell you had it not been for the fact that one of our boys is lost."

"Lost?"

"Yes. At least we think so. He has been away since early last evening. We should not have worried so much had not his pony returned without him early this morning. We dared not go far into the mountains to search for him for fear of getting lost ourselves."

"You don't mean it?"