Boy from the Ranch; Or, Roy Bradner's City Experiences Read online

  THE BOY FROM THE RANCH

  Or

  Roy Bradner's City Experiences

  by

  FRANK V. WEBSTER

  Author of "Only a Farm Boy," "The NewsboyPartners," "Bob the Castaway," "TheYoung Treasure Hunter," Etc.

  Illustrated

  [Frontispiece: "Some fired their revolvers"]

  New YorkCupples & Leon CompanyPublishersCopyright, 1909, byCupples & Leon CompanyTHE BOY FROM THE RANCH

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER

  I. ROY RECEIVES A MESSAGE II. MR. BRADNER IS SUSPICIOUS III. A FAREWELL RIDE IV. ROY IS PUZZLED V. A QUEER BED VI. A SUDDEN AWAKENING VII. A GAME ON THE TRAIN VIII. A STOP FOR REPAIRS IX. THE DUDE IS SWINDLED X. ROY GAINS A FRIEND XI. ROY STOPS A RUNAWAY XII. AT THE HOTEL XIII. A VISIT TO MR. ANNISTER XIV. ROY'S TRICK XV. CALEB ANNISTER IS SURPRISED XVI. SOME NEW EXPERIENCES XVII. CALEB ANNISTER MAKES PLANS XVIII. ROY IN DANGER XIX. ROY IS MISSING XX. IN THE TENEMENT XXI. A DANGEROUS DESCENT XXII. GETTING A CLUE XXIII. A LAWYER'S ADVICE XXIV. ANOTHER RASCALLY ATTEMPT XXV. THE ROUND-UP--CONCLUSION

  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  "Some fired their revolvers" . . . . . . _Frontispiece_

  "Look out," cried Roy, "they are swindlers!"

  "Get out of my office!"

  "I think you'll stay there for a while," said Wakely.

  THE BOY FROM THE RANCH

  CHAPTER I

  ROY RECEIVES A MESSAGE

  "Hi there, Low Bull, ruste [Transcriber's note: rustle?] around theother way and round up them steers! Hustle now! What's the matterwith you? Want to go to sleep on the trail?"

  Billy Carew, foreman of the Triple O ranch, addressed these remarks toa rather ugly-looking Indian, who was riding a pony that seemed muchtoo small for him. The Indian, who was employed as a cowboy, wasletting his steed amble slowly along, paying little attention to thework of rounding up the cattle.

  "Come now, Low Bull, get a move on," advised the foreman. "Makebelieve you're hunting palefaces," he added, and then, speaking in alower tone he said: "this is the last time I'll ever hire a lazy Indianto help round-up."

  "What's the matter, Billy?" asked a tall, well-built lad, riding up tothe foreman.

  "Matter? Everything's the matter. Here I foolishly go and give LowBull charge of the left wing of rounding up these steers, and he's solazy and good-for-nothing that he'll let half of 'em get away 'fore weget back to the ranch. Get a move on you now!" he called to theIndian, and, seeing that the foreman was very much in earnest, Low Bullurged his pony to a gallop, and began to get the straggling steers intosome kind of shape.

  "Can't I help you, Billy?" asked the boy.

  Since he is to figure largely in this story I shall give you a briefdescription of him. Roy Bradner was the only son of James Bradner, whoowned a large ranch, near the town of Painted Stone, in Colorado. Theboy's mother was dead, and he had lived with his father on the ranchever since he was a baby.

  Spending much of his time in the open air, Roy had become almost asstrong and sturdy as a man, and in some respects he could do the workof one.

  He was quite expert in managing horses, even steeds that had neverknown a saddle, and at throwing the lariat, or lasso, few on the ranchcould beat him. He was a good shot with the revolver and rifle, and,in short, was a typical western boy.

  "Can't I help you, Billy?" the lad asked again, as he saw the foremanhad not appeared to hear his question.

  "Yes, I wish you would, Roy. Ride up there alongside of Low Bull, andsort of keep him up to the mark. It sure looks as if he was going tosleep in the saddle."

  "I'll do it, Billy. Where are we going to camp to-night?"

  "Well, I guess if we make a few miles more I'll call it a day's workand quit. We've done pretty well, and if Low Bull would have done hisshare, we'd be nearer the ranch than we are now. I don't want anybetter round-up men than Nesting Henderson and the rest, but we needanother man, and that's why I had to take Low Bull along. But I'llknow better next time."

  "Never mind, Billy. I'll see if I can't keep him on the go," said Roy,and, with a ringing shout, to hurry up some lagging steers, he touchedhis horse lightly with the spurs, and dashed toward where the Indianwas making a half-hearted effort to keep his division of the drive fromstraggling.

  "I've come to help you, Low Bull," announced Roy, as he reached theside of the Indian.

  "Hu! Boy heap smart!" grunted the redman. "Steers like boy--go fastnow."

  In fact it seemed as if the cattle knew some one was now behind themwho would keep them on the move, for they quickened their pace.

  "I don't know whether they like me or not," remarked Roy, with a laughthat showed his white teeth in contrast to his bronzed skin, "for Ireckon if I happened to fall off my horse they'd trample over me mightyquick; they sure would."

  "Hu! Mebby so. Steers no like men not on hoss," spoke Low Bull,stating a fact well known among cattlemen, for the steers of the plainsare so used to seeing a man on a horse, that once a cowboy isdismounted the cattle become frightened, and are liable to stampede,and trample the unfortunate man to death.

  "Billy says we must hurry the steers along," went on Roy. "We're goingto camp pretty soon, and he wants to get to the ranch as soon aspossible, though I guess it will take us two days more."

  "No need so much rush," said Low Bull. "Go slow be better. Boy drivesteers now, Low Bull take smoke and think. Low Bull much tired."

  "I guess he was born that way," thought Roy, as he saw the redman startto make a cigarette, a habit he had learned from the white cowboys.Low Bull was soon smoking in peace and comfort, while he let his ponyamble along at its own sweet will. The Indian gave no further thoughtto the cattle, leaving the management of the stragglers to Roy, and thelad had to dash here and there on his nimble pony, shouting and wavinghis lariat, to keep the lagging steers up with the rest of the herd.However, Roy was so full of life, and took so much interest in hiswork, that he did not mind doing Low Bull's share, as well as his own.

  "That's just like that lazy Indian," remarked Billy Carew, as heobserved, from a distance, what Roy was doing. "He'll let the boy doall the work. I'll discharge him after this round-up, that's what I'lldo. Might have known better than to hire one of them copper-skins!"

  Roy, whose father owned the Triple O ranch, had come out on thisround-up about a week previously. On all big ranches it is the custom,at stated intervals to send out a party of men to round-up, or gathertogether, in herds, the cattle or horses that may have strayed todistant pastures.

  Sometimes a week or more is spent on this work, the men sleeping out ofdoors, and making camp wherever darkness overtakes them. During thenight they take turns riding around the cattle, to keep them fromstraying away.

  Day by day the herd is driven nearer the ranch, until they are eitherplaced in corrals, which are big pens, or are counted, brands put onthe new calves, and turned out again, to roam about over the immensepastures, and fatten up for the market.

  Mr. Bradner was an extensive ranch owner, and had several herds ofcattle. He was considered quite wealthy, but he had made his money byhard work, having very little when he first went out west with his wifeand little boy. His wife had died soon after he reached Colorado, and,after his baby days, Roy had been brought up by his father.

  The boy liked the life on the ranch, and was fast becoming an expertalong cattle lines. He was a good judge of steers and horses, and,while he knew nothing of city ways, never since a mere infant havingbeen in anything larger than a town, and not having traveled more thana few m
iles, there was nothing about life on the plains but what he wasacquainted with.

  After much hard riding Roy managed to get that part of the herdentrusted to the Indian, into compact form. Then he came back to hiscompanion, who was riding along as if he had nothing more to thinkabout than keeping his cigarette lighted.

  "Hu! Heap smart boy!" grunted Low Bull. "Know how make steers travel."

  "I should think you would know how to do it too," said Roy. "You'vealways lived on the plains."

  "Too much work. Indian no like work. Like sit an' think, an' smoke.No like work."

  "Everybody's got to work in this world, Low Bull."

  "Rich man no work. Me like be rich man."

  "But the man sure had to work hard to get rich. I s'pose rich men feelthat they can take life easy after they have earned a fortune."

  "Indian no like work. Drive cattle too hard. Me quit soon," was allLow Bull replied.

  "Yes, and if you don't quit I think Billy will make you vamooseanyhow," murmured Roy.

  Low Bull rolled another cigarette, and seemed to go to sleep under theinfluence of it. Roy had to race off after a couple of strayingsteers, and had no further time for talking. When he had brought thecattle back, a long, shrill cry echoed over the plain. At the sound ofit Low Bull seemed to wake up.

  "Billy make camp now," he said. "Soon supper--eat--Low Bull hungry."

  It was the signal for making camp, and, finding themselves no longerurged forward, the steers stopped, and began to crop the rich grass.

  The cowboys, of whom there were several, with joyful shouts, cameriding up to the cook wagon, which had been pulled along in the rear,but which now came to a halt on the broad, rolling plain. "Smoke"Tardell started a fire from grease-wood, and began to prepare theevening meal.

  "Set out plenty of grub, Smoke," called one of the cowboys, ridingclose up to Tardell, and playfully snatching his big sombrero off.

  "Here! You let that be, Bruce Arkdell!" exclaimed the cook. "That'smy new hat, an' I don't want it spoiled!"

  "Give me an extra plate of beans, or I'll shoot a hole in it!"threatened the cowboy, drawing hit heavy revolver, and aiming it at thehat, which he held in one hand.

  "All right. You can have three platesful, but don't you spoil my hat!"cried the cook, as he received back his sombrero. "I never see suchcrazy chaps as them boys be when they're headed for the ranch,"muttered "Smoke," as he set the coffee pot over the fire.

  It did not take long to prepare the meal, and the cowboys crowdedaround the "grub wagon" as they called it. Low Bull was among them,his eyes greedy for food.

  "Here, Low Bull," exclaimed Billy Carew, "you go out and ride aroundthem steers awhile. They ain't quieted down yet, and I don't want nostampede now. Ride around 'em, and make 'em feel easy."

  "After supper," said the Indian.

  "No, now!" insisted the foreman.

  "Low Bull hungry. Like eat."

  "Low Bull is going to stay hungry then, until some of the others havepiled in their grub," declared Billy. "I'll send somebody out to takeyour place, as soon as they've eaten. Now vamoose!"

  "Low Bull like eat."

  "Yes, I know. Low Bull like eat, but no like work. That's what's thematter with Low Bull," exclaimed Billy with a laugh. "Now git."

  The Indian knew there was no use disputing this decision, so, with novery good grace, he started to ride slowly around the cattle, to keepthem from moving off in a body.

  "I'll go out and relieve him in a little while," offered Roy. "I'llsoon be through supper."

  "You take your time now, son," advised Billy. "It won't hurt thatredskin to go hungry a while. Maybe he'll be a little sprier afterthis."

  Supper was soon served, and when Roy had eaten his share he prepared togo out, and relieve Low Bull. He threw the saddle over his pony'sback, and, having tightened the girths, was about to vault into place,when he and the other cowboys became aware that some one was riding ingreat haste toward the temporary camp.

  "Somebody's coming," remarked Bruce Arkdell.

  "Don't you s'pose we know it," said Billy good naturedly. "We've gotour sight yet."

  "Yes, and it's Porter Simms, from the way he gallops," added the cook,shading his eyes from the setting sun, and peering across the prairiesat the riding man.

  "'Tis Porter," confirmed Billy. "Wonder what he wants? Hope nothing'shappened."

  Somehow the words sent a slight feeling of fear to Roy's heart. Theman might have bad news for some one in camp.

  "Is Roy here?" cried Porter, as soon as he had come within talkingdistance.

  "Yes, I'm here," replied the boy. "What's the matter? Is it myfather--?"

  "Now don't go gettin' skeered," advised Porter, as he pulled up hishorse sharply. "I sure did ride fast to locate you, but your daddywanted me to be sure to tell you, first-off, not to git skeered."

  "What's the matter?" asked Roy, his heart fluttering.

  "Well, your daddy's a little under the weather, and he wants for you tocome back to the ranch right away. That's the message I was to give toyou. Don't wait to come in with the steers, but start right off. I'llstay here and take your place."

  "Is he--was he very bad?" asked Roy, who had left his father,seemingly, in perfect health.

  "No, not so very I guess. The doctor was there, and he didn't seemmuch put out. I reckon Mr. Bradner had a sort of a bad turn, that'sall."

  "I'll start right away," decided Roy. "If I ride all night I can getthere by morning."

  "Don't you want one of us to go with you?" asked Billy.

  "No. I'm not afraid. I've done it before. Smoke, will you pack me alittle grub?"

  "Surest thing you know!" exclaimed the cook, as he began to do up somebacon and bread.