The Pony Rider Boys in New Mexico Part 13

"Stop quarreling, you two!" commanded Tad. "We've had all the fighting we want for one night. Get busy and help strike this camp. Guess none of this outfit could truthfully be called a tenderfoot. We've all had our share of hard knocks, and we'll have enough to look back to and think about when we get home and have time to go over our experiences together this winter."

The thought, that at any minute the half-crazed savages might sweep down on them hastened the preparations for departure. The Pony Rider Boys never struck camp more quickly than they did in the soft southern moonlight that night.

All at once Juan set up a wail.

"What is it--what's the trouble now?" demanded Tad.

"My burro. I go for him."

"You'll do nothing of the sort. You'll walk, or ride a pack animal,"

answered Stacy. "You don't deserve to have a burro."

"Here's his old burro now," called Walter, as a shambling object, much the worse for wear, came stumbling sleepily into camp.

The boys set up a shout that was quickly checked by Tad.

"If the burro can find the way what do you think an Indian could do, fellows?"

"That's right," agreed Professor Zepplin. "We had better keep quiet--"

"And hit the trail as fast as possible," added Tad. "Daylight must find us a long ways from here."

"And ride all night--is that what you mean?" complained Stacy.

"Yes; it'll give you an appet.i.te for breakfast."

"I've got one already."

"That goes without saying," agreed Ned.

"Come, come, Juan!" urged Tad, observing that the guide was doing nothing more in the way of work than rubbing the nose of his prodigal burro. "Aren't you going to help us?"

"Yes; what do you think we're paying you good American dollars for?"

demanded Ned.

"I think some of the Professor's hot drops would be good for what ails him," observed Stacy Brown. "I'll get the Professor to give him a dose right now."

"No, no, no! Juan no want fire drops."

"All right; get busy, then."

He did. Not since the last dose of the Professor's medicine had he shown such activity. Very soon after that the camp had been struck and the party was ready to take up its journey.

Tad took a last look about, to make sure that nothing had been left.

"I think I'll put out the fire," he said, tossing the bridle reins to Stacy, while he ran over to the dying camp-fire, whose embers he kicked apart, stamping them out one by one. "No use leaving a trail like that for any prowling redskin."

They were quickly under way after that, Juan leading the way without the least hesitancy. He and the burro worked together like a piece of automatic machinery.

"He might better walk and lead the burro," said Stacy, who had been observing their peculiar method of locomotion. "Should think it would be easier."

The moon was dropping slowly westward, and the party was using it for a guide, keeping the silver ball sharply to their right. Juan on the other hand had hitched his lazy chariot to a star.

By this star he was laying his course to the southward. The Pony Rider Boys enjoyed their moonlight trip immensely; and a gentle breeze from the desert drifting over them relieved the scorching heat of the late afternoon and early evening.

"Guess the Indians are not going to bother us," said Walter, riding up to Tad just before daylight.

"Probably not. They will be in too much trouble with the Government, after last night's performances, to give much thought to chasing us.

And besides, I don't see why they should wish to do so. Had they been very anxious to be revenged on us, most likely they would not have allowed us to get away as they did."

"Was it very terrible, Tad?" asked Walter Perkins.

"What, the dance, or what happened afterwards?" laughed the lad.

"Both?"

"Well, I'm free to confess that neither was exactly pleasant. When they caught Chunky I thought it was all up with us. h.e.l.lo. There's Mr.

Daylight."

Glancing to the left the boys saw the sky turning to gray. A buzzard screamed overhead, laying its course for the mountains where it was journeying in search of food.

"What's that?" demanded Stacy, awakening from a doze in his saddle.

"Friend of yours with an appet.i.te," grinned Ned.

"I thought it sounded like breakfast call," muttered Stacy, relapsing into sleep again, his head drooping forward until, a few minutes later, he was lying over the saddle pommel with arms thrown loosely about the pony's neck.

Ned, observing the lad's position, suddenly conceived a mischievous plan. Unnoticed by the others, he permitted his own pony to fall back until he was a short distance behind Stacy. The others were a little way ahead.

Ned rode slowly alongside his companion, as he pa.s.sed, bringing the rowel of his spur sharply against the withers of Chunky's mount.

The effect was instantaneous.

The fat boy's mount, itself half asleep, suddenly humped its back, and with bunching feet leaped clear of the ground.

"h.e.l.lo, what's the matter back there?" called Ned, who by this time was a full rod in advance of his companion.

Stacy did not answer. He was at that moment turning an undignified somersault in the air, his pony standing meekly, awaiting the next act in the little drama.

The fat boy landed on the plain in a heap.

"Are you hurt, Chunky?" cried Tad anxiously, slipping from his saddle and running to his companion.

"I--I dunno, I--I fell off, didn't I?"

"You're off, at least," grinned Ned. "What was the matter?"

"I--I dunno; do you?"