Part 27 (1/2)

”I--I looked around, and there--there stood a lot of Indians----”

”On their heads!” asked Ned.

”No, sitting on their ponies. Then--then I--”

”Then you pitched into them and drove them away,” laughed Walter.

”No, I didn't. I yelled and run away. So would you.”

Every man and boy of the sheep outfit roared with laughter.

”My boy,” said Mr. Simms, ”you will have to get used to seeing Indians if you remain with us long. This state is full of them, some bad, some good. But you need not be afraid of them. They dare not interfere with us, so if you see any, just pa.s.s the time of day and go on along about your business.”

”When I got back here I fell in----” Professor Zepplin here broke into the conversation to explain what had happened to the fat boy, whereupon the outfit once more shouted with merriment.

The camp finally having been restored to its normal state, plans were made for moving on to the north.

”I wish you would ride over to Groveland Corners and get me fifty feet of quarter inch rope, Tad,” said Mr. Simms. ”You will have no trouble in finding the way. I'll show you exactly how to get there and find your way back afterwards. And by the way, you might take Philip with you, if you don't mind. I want him to get all the riding he can stand.”

”I'll answer yes to both, requests,” smiled Tad. ”How far is it to the--the----”

”Corners? Five miles as the crow flies. It will be a slightly longer distance, because you have to go around the Little b.u.t.te. The place is situated just behind it on the west side.”

”Then, I'm ready now, if Phil is.”

The young man was not only ready, but anxious to be off, so without delay, the two lads brought in their ponies and after receiving final instructions as to how to find the new camp, they set off at an easy gallop in the fresh morning air, their spirits rising as they rode over the green mesa that lay sparkling in the morning sunlight.

Groveland Corners was little more than its name implied, consisting of one store that supplied the wants of the half dozen families who inhabited the place, as well as furnis.h.i.+ng certain supplies to near-by ranchmen.

A group of cattle men had gathered at the store. They were sitting on the front porch talking earnestly when the two boys rode up. Tad dismounted, hitching his pony, while Phil, s.h.i.+fting to an easy position on his saddle, waited until the purchase of the rope had been made.

The conversation came to a sudden pause as the boys rode up, the cowmen eyeing the newcomers almost suspiciously, Tad thought. However, he paid no attention to them, further than to bid them a pleasant good morning, to which one or two of them gave a grunting reply.

He had noticed one raw-boned mountain boy among the lot who had answered his greeting with a sneering smile and a reply under his breath that Tad had not caught. The lad gave no heed to it, but went about his business. Besides the rope, he made several small purchases for himself. In reply to a question of the storekeeper, Tad informed him that he was with the Simms outfit. One of the cowmen who had entered the store, overhearing this, went outside and informed his companions.

”h.e.l.lo, kid,” greeted one, as the boy left the store. ”How's mutton to-day?”

Busily coiling the rope, Tad paid no attention to the taunt; he hung the rope on his saddle horn and then methodically unhitched Pinkeye.

”Going to hang yerself?” jeered another. ”That's all a mutton puncher's worth. I guess.”

Tad felt his face flush. He paused long enough to turn and look straight into the eyes of the speaker.

”My, but ain't our little boy s.p.u.n.ky!” called the fellow in derision.

”If he is, he knows, at least, enough to mind his own business,”

snapped Tad.