The Pony Rider Boys in New Mexico Part 32

"He's dead," crooned Stacy solemnly.

"Get water, quick! He's been struck by lightning!" commanded the guide, making systematic efforts to bring the old man back to consciousness.

Stacy ran for the water-bags.

"I am afraid it is useless, Mr. Kringle," warned, the Professor, failing to find a pulse. The boys were standing about fanning the victim, having one by one dumped the contents of their canteens in his face.

Stacy returned with a water-bag after a little.

"I--I--I've got an idea," he exploded, as with eyes wide open he attempted to tell them something.

"Keep still. We've got something else to do besides listening to your foolishness," chided Ned.

"Chunky, we're trying to save this man's life. Give me that bag,"

commanded Tad.

The two older men were working desperately on the patient. Stacy stood around, fidgeting a little, but making no further attempt to enlighten them as to what his new idea was.

After a time the rancher began to show signs of recovering. He gasped a few times then opened his eyes.

"What kicked me?" he asked, with a half-grin.

They could all afford to laugh now, and they did. The rancher refused their offer of clothes, saying he had another suit in his shack.

"That's twice the stuff has knocked me out. Next time it'll git me for keeps," he said.

"Does it strike here very often?" questioned the Professor.

"Allus."

"Then, there must be some mineral substance in the soil."

"No, ain't nothing like that. Jest contrariness that's all. Hit my shack once, and 'cause 'twas raining, bored holes in the roof so the place got all wet inside."

"But it isn't raining now. Doesn't it usually rain when you have a thunder storm here?" asked the Professor.

"No. Ain't had no rain in nigh onto two year," the hermit reiterated.

"You'd better go and put on some clothes," suggested Kris Kringle.

"Guess that's right."

The old man seemed to have forgotten his condition. The others had wrapped a blanket around him, which seemed to satisfy his demand for clothes. Gathering up the blanket he strolled leisurely toward his cabin, undisturbed by his recent experience.

"Nothing like getting used to it," chuckled Stacy.

"h.e.l.lo, now we'll hear what your new idea is, Chunky?" jeered Ned.

"Yes, what is it?" urged Tad.

"Nothing much."

"Never is," cut in Walter Perkins, a little maliciously.

"I--I got an idea the ponies tried to kick holes in the lightning."

Everybody laughed loudly. They could well afford to laugh, now that the danger had pa.s.sed.

"What makes you think that?" asked the guide, eyeing him sharply.

"'Cause they're dead!"

"What!" shouted the boys.

All hands dashed from the tent, Stacy regarding them with soulful eyes, after which he surrept.i.tiously slipped a biscuit into his pocket and strolled out after them.

CHAPTER XVI

CHUNKY'S NEW IDEA

Three of the ponies, they found, had been knocked down and so severely shocked that they were only just beginning to regain consciousness.

"Why didn't you tell us?" demanded Ned, turning on Stacy savagely.

"You wouldn't let me. Maybe next time I've got an idea, you'll stop and listen."

Kris Kringle's face wore a broad grin.

"Master Stacy is right. He tried hard enough to tell us," he said.

Chunky was humming blithely as the party set out next morning. He was pretty well satisfied with himself, for had he not been through a prairie fire, knocked a savage Apache off his horse, saved himself and his companions, besides having just escaped from being struck by lightning? Stacy swelled out his chest and held his chin a little bit higher than usual.

"Chunky's got a swelled head," said Ned, nodding in the direction of the fat boy.

"Swelled chest, you mean," laughed Walter. "n.o.body has a better right.

Chunky isn't half as big a fool as he'd have everybody believe. When we think we are having lots of fun with him he's really having sport with us. And those Indians--say, Ned, do you think they will bother us any more?"

"Ask Chunky," retorted Ned. "He's the oracle of the party."

"I will," answered Walter, motioning for Stacy to join them, which the latter did leisurely. "We want to know if you think we've seen the last of the Apaches? Will they bother us any more?"

The fat boy consulted the sky thoughtfully.

"I think there's some of them around now," he replied.