Frank Gee Patchin

“ With a snarl that sent a shiver up and down the backs of the Pony Riders, Ginger threw himself at the head of the beast. The hound's powerful jaws closed upon it with a snap.
Over and over rolled the combatants, the dogs without a sound—the cougar uttering muffled screams, its great paws beating the air. One stroke reached Mustard, hurling him fully a rod away, where he fell and lay quivering, a dull red rent appearing in his glossy coat.
The cougar, in an effort to throw Ginger off, was shaking his head, as a terrier would in killing a rat.
"Ah! He can't make it," cried Lige. ”

“ The boy was too far over in the chamber to be able to make his escape without getting between Lige and the bear, and escape seemed well-nigh impossible.
However, Tad did not lose his presence of mind. With a leap as unexpected as it was surprising, he sprang straight for the savage beast. It seemed as if he was throwing himself right into the wide open jaws to be crushed to death.
"Don't shoot!" he warned, leaping forward. As he did so, he lowered the torch to the level of his own eyes, and drove it straight into the gaping mouth of the maddened bear. ”

“ At first they could scarcely believe it to be true.
"Are—are they for us—for us to use?" stammered Tad.
"That's what they're for, young gentlemen," smiled the guide. "You surely didn't expect to go hunting without guns, did you? At the Professor's suggestion I have been keeping them as a sort of surprise for you."
"Three cheers for Lige Thomas and Professor Zepplin," cried Ned Rector, in which the boys joined with a will, their shouts echoing back to them from the rocky peaks on the other side of the gulch.
"Rifles and ponies! We surely ought to be happy!" laughed Tad, with flashing eyes. ”

“ This caused the Pony Riders to shout with laughter, and Ned confided to Tad, by whose side he was riding, that he never knew the Professor was such a real sport.
From then on the afternoon passed quickly. Although the sun was shining brightly, the air was cool and invigorating, and a gentle breeze fanned their cheeks when the riders reached the higher places.
At such times the boys would break into exclamations of wonder at the gorgeous panorama which unfolded itself before them.
"Makes a fellow feel as if he were walking on air, doesn't it?" bubbled Stacy Brown. ”

“ That is one of the dogs up there. Probably Mustard," said the guide.
"What's that? Dogs climb trees?" demanded Chunky, laughing uproariously.
"Keep still! Do you want to spoil our fun?" growled Ned.
"The idea! Dogs climb trees!" And Chunky Brown went off into a paroxysm of silent mirth, his rotund body convulsed with merriment.
"Mustard can climb a tree as well as you can, if not better," answered
Lige sharply. "Use your eyes, and you will see for yourself. That is
one of the dogs that you see in the tree there—not a cougar. Ah!
There goes the other one!" he cried, pointing with his rifle. ”

“ Tad lowered the muzzle of his smoking weapon, gazing in keen satisfaction at the victim of his successful shot.
"Good shot!" glowed Lige. "It's a cat." Yet, before he could dismount, the hounds had wrenched themselves free and pounced upon the body of the dead bob-cat. With savage growls they tore the sleek hide into ribbons, on one side, and were devouring the flesh of the animal ravenously.
The hide was ruined.
"Let them alone!" ordered Lige. "That's the only fun they get out of the game. ”

“ I should like to leave someone here—but——"
"I'll stay, if you wish," offered Tad promptly.
"No, I couldn't think of it. It's too risky, There is no need of our getting into more trouble. If you knew the mountains better it might be different. If I left you here you might get into more difficulties, even, than your friend has. No; we'll go back together. It is doubtful if we could do anything for poor Master Walter now. No human being could go over that cliff and still be alive. A bob-cat might do it, but not a man or a boy," announced the guide, with a note of finality in his tone. ”

“ As Tad sprang forward, his hunting knife flashed from its sheath, and with a movement so quick that the eyes of the spectators failed to catch it, the boy drove the keen blade into the cougar's body, just back of the right shoulder.
At that instant the beast succeeded in freeing itself from the weakened hounds, and, straightening up with a frightful roar, leaped into the air, one huge paw catching Tad Butler and hurling him to the ground. ”

“ This is Sunday, young gentlemen, and even in the mountains we must preserve some sort of decorum on that day."
"Oh, very well," answered Walter politely, covering his disappointment with a smile.
"All days look alike to me up here," grunted Ned. "If it wasn't that one had a calendar he wouldn't even know when Sunday did come. Now, would he——"
"I've got him! I've got him!" came the sudden and startling yell from the bushes, accompanied by a series of resounding whacks and a great threshing about in the thick undergrowth. ”

“ She greeted him with a hearty embrace and a kiss, which the boy returned with no less fervor.
"I have a nice, warm supper ready for you, Tad," she informed him. "You must have a man's appetite by this time, for you have had hardly anything to eat since your breakfast."
"It does put an appetite into a fellow, riding behind a horse, even if it is an old lame one," laughed Tad. ”

“ What do you say, Tad?"
"Chunky's uncle is going to get him a pony?" asked Tad a bit unsteadily.
"We hope so," nodded Walter. "And that's not all. We are going to get Ned Rector to join the club. He already has a pony. Wish you might come in with us, Tad."
"Wish I might," answered Tad wistfully.
"Of course, we know you can't really, but you belong to us just the same. You can be a sort of—of honorary member. We will let you ride our ponies sometimes when we are in town, though, of course, when we go out for long trips we can't take you along very well. You understand that, don't you, Tad?" ”

“ At first the boys glanced at the bundle curiously, then with more interest as it began to assume shape and form to their eyes.
"What—-what——" stammered Tad.
Stacy, whose eyes were wide open, was the first to recognize the articles, and as he did so, Lige dumped them on the ground.
"Bows and arrows," cried the boys, performing a grotesque war dance about the weapons.
"We'll be real Indians now, won't we?" chortled Chunky.
"They are only playthings," sniffed Ned. "What good are they when we have real rifles?"
"You'll find these bows and arrows real enough," answered the guide. ”

“ Deliberately drawing back his bowstring, the boy drove one of the heavy missiles that Walter had cut for him full into the evil face of Ab Durkin. They could hear the impact as the heavy stick landed.
Ab toppled over backwards with a yell of rage.
"That's our last shot." Tad threw down his bow, standing with folded arms calmly facing the enemy. "Hands up!" rang the stern command. At first, Tad thought the order was directed at himself. Then a puzzling expression settled over his face as he saw the mountaineers suddenly wheel, then throw their hands above their heads. ”

“ One would nip at a flank while the other played for the head of the cougar, in hopes of getting an opening.
Snarling, pawing, grinning, its ugly yellow teeth showing in two glistening rows, the beast fought savagely for its life.
Despite the guide's warning, Tad Butler and Ned Rector had drawn closer that they might get a better view of the sanguinary conflict.
"I'm afraid they'll never make it," groaned Lige. "It's fearful odds. Everybody stand ready to let him have it when he breaks away. But keep cool. And be careful that you don't hit the dogs. Might better let the cat get away. ”

“ The hound had approached too close to the animal in the tree, and a mighty paw had smitten it fairly on the nose, hurling it violently to the ground.
Mustard, nothing daunted, scrambled to his feet with an angry roar, the blood trickling from his injured nose, and pluckily began digging his claws into the bark of the pinyon tree, up which he slowly pulled himself again.
"Well, if that doesn't beat all!" marveled Chunky. "He is climbing that tree!"
"He surely is," agreed Walter, his eyes fairly bulging with surprise at the unusual spectacle. "And there's the other one away up in the top there. ”

“ Wish I had a pony like him."
"So do I," echoed Chunky.
"Why, you don't have to touch the reins at all. I could ride him without just as well as with them. All you have to do is to press your knee against his side and he will turn, just as if you were pulling on the rein. He's a trained pony, Walter. Did you know that?"
"That's what the man said when father bought him. Jo-Jo can walk on his hind legs, too. But father said I mustn't try to make him do any tricks, for fear I might get hurt."
"Hurt nothing! He wouldn't hurt a baby," objected Tad in the little animal's defence. ”

“ All at once he dropped to the saddle and slipped the left foot from the stirrup. Grasping the pommel with the left hand, he appeared to dive head first toward the ground.
They saw his long hair almost brush the grass; one of his hands swept down and up, and once more Tad Butler rose standing, in his stirrups, uttering a cowboy yell as he waved the sombrero on high.
The boys howled with delight—that is, all did save Stacy Brown.
"Huh! That's nothing. I can do that myself," he grunted. "I've seen them do that in the wild west shows too many times not to know how myself." ”

“ Walter glanced up at his companion, a queer smile playing about his lips.
"Well, what did you tell him!"
"That Tad wanted a pony."
The boys gazed into each other's eyes.
"Good for you," breathed Ned. "You are the right sort, even if you are weak. I always said you were. But did your father say he would get Tad a pony?"
"Well, not exactly. He wanted to know how I thought Tad could take care of a pony when he got it—said the boy would have no place to keep it, nothing to feed it on——"
"Yes, that's so."
"But, I told him Tad might stable his pony with Jo-Jo in our barn." ”

“ The pony rubbed its nose against him as if in confirmation of the lad's words.
"And the further we go, the more we shall be lost. Jimmie, the best thing for you and me to do will be to go to bed. Lie down, Jimmie, that's a good boy."
As Tad tapped the pony gently on the knees the little animal slowly lowered himself to the ground, finally rolling over on his side with a snort. ”

“ What are we going to do, Professor?"
"Ask the guide. He knows everything. He's the original wizard," laughed the German. "What do you think about it, Lige?"
"I might as well tell you all now—the pack train undoubtedly is lost in the mountains. We probably shall see nothing of Jose nor the pack train until some time to-morrow."
"Yes; but what are we going to do?" demanded Walter. "Here we are, without a thing to eat, or a place to sleep."
"We have the pine beds," answered Tad. "That's a place to sleep, anyway."
"But we can't eat the beds," jeered Chunky. ”

“ Tad's first care was to tether the pony to a sapling, after which he searched about until he found a mountain stream, in which he washed, feeling greatly refreshed afterward. He then treated the pony as he had himself, washing the animal down, and allowing it to quench it's thirst in the stream.
"Not much of a breakfast, is it, Jimmie? But you can help yourself to leaves. That's where you have the best of me. Not being a horse, I can't eat leaves. ”

“ You go right home, Chunky, and tell your uncle you must have a pony. Tell him I said so. If he refuses, I'll have my father go ask him. He won't refuse my father anything he asks. My father is a banker and everybody does everything he wants them to, because he lends them money," advised Walter wisely.
"My—my uncle doesn't have to borrow money. He's got money of his own," bristled Chunky.
"Yes, that's so. But you go ask him. Tell him about my pony and that we are all going off for a ride every day. Say that Professor Zepplin will be along to take care of us. ”

“ In other words, the club's two ponies, with Walter Perkins and Ned Rector upon them, were to be taken out for exercise about the village and in nearby roads.
The next day being Saturday, Tad Butler found himself too busy to devote much time to brooding over his troubles. As a matter of fact, the boy was little given to this sort of thing; he was too much a man. His was a wholesome, confident nature, and the same indomitable courage and determination that had enabled him to stand next to the head of his class in the high school filled him with a resolution to possess a pony of his own. ”

“ They found rough traveling. Instead of following the ridges, they were now moving at right angles to them, which carried the boys over mountains, down through gulches and ravines, over narrow, dangerous passes and rocky slopes that they would not have believed it was possible for either man or horse to scale.
"Regular goats, these ponies," said Tad proudly. "Regular trick ponies, all of them."
"They have to be or break their necks," replied Walter.
"Or ours," added Ned Rector.
"I don't see any wild beasts, but I feel hungry," declared Stacy. ”

“ Why, a soldier doesn't carry any more bullets than that. And what's more, Mr. Chunky Brown, if you intend to shoot off a belt full of those shells, it's me for a rocky cave where the bullets can't reach. Eh, Tad?"
Tad nodded and grinned.
"I'm with you in that."
"We all have precious lives to save," added Ned.
"We are all ready," announced the guide. "Jose, you bear to the right after you leave camp and follow the blazed trail. We shall take the lower trail. Push right along so as to have a meal ready for us when we get in. We'll be hungry by that time." ”

“ Now, the boys began to feel real concern.
"Tether the ponies and we will go out and see if we can find them," commanded Tad Butler.
"Shall we take our guns?" asked Stacy.
"Better not. Take your bows and arrows if you wish. We are going on the trail of two-footed game now, and we do not want to have guns. We might use them and be sorry for it afterwards."
Realizing the wisdom of his words, the boys laid aside their rifles, grabbed up their bows and quivers, and following Tad, who immediately struck off in the direction of the cave. Tad's own experience there was still fresh in memory. ”

“ Jose bring me a box of those thirty-eights, will you?"
Wistful glances were cast at the pasteboard box, as the boys fondled the guns, worked the cartridge ejectors, examined the magazines and looked over the sights at imaginary game.
"Better fall to, now, and strike camp, so the pack train can go on ahead," advised the guide. "When we finish shooting you can strap your guns to the saddles, or carry them over your backs, as you prefer. You see they have a leather on them for the purpose."
There were no doubts in the minds of the Pony Riders as to how they would carry the weapons. ”