The Pony Rider Boys in New Mexico Part 2

Juan shrugged his shoulders and showed his pearly teeth.

At the Professor's command, however, Juan stepped off the burro without in the least disturbing that animal's dreams and lazily began collecting the baggage as directed by the Professor. After the equipment had been sorted into piles, the boys did it up into neat packs which they skillfully strapped to the backs of the burros of their pack train. Juan, lost in contemplation of their labors, forgot his own duties until reminded of them by Stacy, who gave the guide a violent poke in the ribs with his thumb.

Juan started; then, with a sheepish grin, became busy again.

It was no small task to get their belongings in packs preparatory to the journey; but late in the afternoon the boys had completed their task. They had had nothing to eat since early morning. But they were too anxious to be on their way to wait for dinner in town.

After making some necessary purchases in the village, the procession finally started away across the plain.

"You'll never get anywhere with that sleepy burro, Juan," decided the Professor, with a shake of the head.

"Him go fast," grinned the Mexican.

"So can a crab on dry land," jeered Ned.

Just then the guide utter a series of shrill "yi-yi's," whereupon the lads were treated to an exhibition such as they never had seen before.

The sleepy burro projected his head straight out before him, while his tail, raised to a level with his back, stuck straight out behind him.

The burro, seemingly imbued with sudden life, was off at a pace faster than a man could run.

It was most astonis.h.i.+ng. The boys gazed in amazement; then burst out in a chorus of approving yells.

But it was the rider, even more than the burro, that excited their mirth. His long legs were working like those of a jumping jack, and though astride of the burro, Juan was walking at a lively pace. It reminded one of the way men propelled the old-fas.h.i.+oned velocipedes years before.

A cloud of dust rose behind the odd outfit as the party drew out on the plains. Their ponies were started at a gallop, which was necessary to enable them to keep up with the pace that Juan had set.

"Here! Here!" shouted the Professor.

Juan never looked back.

"We're leaving the pack train. Slow down!"

Laughingly the lads pulled their ponies down to a walk; then halted entirely to enable the burros to catch up with them. By this time the pack animals had become so familiar with their work that little attention was necessary on the part of the boys. Now and then one more sleepy than the rest would go to sleep and pause to doze a few minutes on the trail. This always necessitated all hands stopping to wait until the sleeper could be rounded up and driven up to the bunch.

Juan had disappeared. They were discussing the advisability of sending one of the boys out after him when he was seen returning. But at what a different gait! His burro was dragging itself along with nose to the ground, while Juan himself was slouching on its back half asleep.

"You must have a motor inside that beast," grinned Tad.

"Him go some, senor?"

"Him do," answered Stacy, his solemn eyes taking in the sleepy burro wonderingly.

"Better not waste your energy performing," advised the Professor. "We shall need what little you have. We will make camp here, as I see there is a spring near by. Help the boys unpack the burros."

"Si, senor," answered the guide, standing erect and permitting his burro to walk from under him.

With shouts and songs the lads, in great good humor, went to work at once, pitching their camp for the first time on the plains of New Mexico. There was much to be done, and twilight was upon them before they had advanced far enough to begin cooking their evening meal.

CHAPTER II

IN THE ZUNI FOOTHILLS

A sudden wail from the guide attracted the attention of the party to him at once. "Now what's the matter?" demanded Tad, hurrying to him.

The guide had thrown himself p.r.o.ne upon the ground and was groaning as if in great agony, offering no reply to the question.

"Are you sick?"

"Si, si, senor," moaned Juan.

"Where?"

"Estomago--mucho malo."

"Your stomach?"

"He's got a pain under his ap.r.o.n," diagnosed Stacy solemnly.

"Been working too hard," suggested Ned.

In the meantime the guide was rolling and twisting on the ground, glancing appealingly from one to the other of them.

"Professor, hadn't you better fetch your medicine case and dose him up?" asked Tad.

"Yes, I'll attend to him."

"Give him a good dose while you are about it," urged Ned. "Something that will cure his laziness at the same time."

The Professor brought his case; then, remembering something else in his kit that he wanted, he laid the case down and hurried back to his tent. However, Stacy opened the case, selecting a bottle, apparently at random, drew the cork and held the bottle under Juan's nose.

"Smell of this, my son. It'll cure your estomago on the run."

"Be careful, Chunky, what are you doing there?" warned Tad. "You shouldn't fool with the medicines. You--"

His further remarks were cut short by a sudden yell of terror and pain from Juan.

The guide leaped to his feet choking, gasping, while the tears ran down his cheeks as he danced about as if suddenly bereft of his senses.

"Now you've gone and done it," growled Ned. "He never moved so fast in his life, I'll wager."

Juan was running in a circle now, shrieking and moaning. Professor Zepplin approached them in a series of leaps. He could not imagine what new disaster had overtaken the lazy Mexican.

"Here, here, here, what's the trouble now?" He demanded sternly. "Stop that howling!"

"Chunky's been prescribing for your patient in your absence," Ned informed him.