Back Aa

Pony Rider Boys in New England

<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> <h3>BAD NEWS FROM THE FRONT</h3> "P-R-O-OFESSOR!" Professor Zepplin came tumbling from his tent clad in his pajamas, wild eyed, his whiskers bristling excitedly. "What is it?" A few seconds behind the Professor came Ned Rector, and behind him Walter Perkins, each in a similar state of undress. "Trouble in plenty," answered Tad, thrusting the piece of brown wrapping paper toward the Professor. The Professor snatched the paper and holding it towards the fire as Tad had done, peered, rubbed his eyes, then peered again. "I—I can't read it. I'm not awake yet. What does it say?" he demanded impatiently. "Stacy Brown is in jail, fellows," answered Tad Butler solemnly. "In jail?" gasped the two boys. "Yes." "What's this? What's this?" cried the Professor. "How—how do you know?" stammered Walter Perkins. "I have his word for it. This note says so, and it is in Stacy's handwriting. He was very much excited when he wrote it." A tense silence followed Tad's announcement, broken a few seconds later by a loud laugh from Ned Rector. "What did I tell you?" he jeered. "Perhaps Charlie can tell us what has happened," suggested Walter. Tad turned sharply to the Indian. Charlie was nearer to being excited than the boys ever before had seen him. "Will you be good enough to explain this affair?" demanded Tad. "Man git um." "What man?" "Me not know." "But what for?" cried the Professor. "Charlie not know." "Have they got Stacy in jail now?" begged Walter. "Man take um away." "How did you get this letter, then?" "Man bring um to me. Say take to you. Fat boy, him scared." "I should think he had reason to be," muttered Tad. "What do you think, Professor?" "I can't think. My head is in a whirl." "What had Master Stacy been doing, Charlie?" demanded Tad, again turning to the guide. "Me not know. Me get stuff. Me bring um here. While me get stuff, fat boy go hotel. Me not see um again. Me hurry, ride fast, make pony all soap like wash tub." "When—when did you leave there?" questioned the Professor. "Last night." "Then you rode all night?" "Ride fast all night. Pony git sick in the legs and fall down once. Me not care. Why Charlie care? Fat boy git trouble plenty. No care horse die. He say come quick, eh?" "Yes, that is what he says," answered Tad, smiling faintly. "Then come. Mebby Charlie kill horse. Charlie not care for horse. Charlie like um fat boy." "Professor, there is only one thing to be done. Some of us must go back there at once. Perhaps you and I had better start." Professor Zepplin reflected. "It would be better were we all to go. I don't care to leave one or two of you boys here." "But that will detain us too long," objected Butler. "That makes no difference. Matters no doubt will be held in abeyance until our arrival. Then, again, we may not get back here at once." "If that is going to be done we had better leave our provisions here. We can't afford to be burdened with them on our way back. We shall no doubt return this way, when we can pick the stuff up. We will take enough for our meals on the way, but that must be all. Have you decided that we shall all go, Professor?" questioned Tad. "Yes, yes, by all means. Make haste!" "Charlie, help strike the tents. We've got to take them along and our kits," ordered Tad. "Boys, sail in and help Charlie. I will cache the provisions and mark the trees so we shall know where to find them when we return." "Oh, this is too bad," mourned Walter. "Serves the little rascal right," retorted Rector. "Maybe this will teach him a lesson. What do you think it is, Tad?" "I am sure I don't know. I haven't the least idea what he could have done that would have caused him to be arrested." "Well, no use to guess about it. We shall know when we get there—" "Go dress yourselves. You can't go that way," declared Tad, pausing long enough to observe that the two boys were still in their pajamas. Thus admonished, they hurried to their tent, returning very quickly with their clothes on. Then the boys got to work with a will. While Stacy's pony, that Charlie had ridden back, was lying down resting, Charlie got the other ponies in readiness, strapping the packs to their backs as fast as he could work. Charlie John was in as much of a hurry as the rest. The Indian had grown fond of Stacy Brown, and felt very bad to know that the fat boy had got into such trouble. Charlie held the law in deep awe. Daylight was upon them long before they were ready to start for the village of Matungamook. Ned Rector declared that, if Chunky's offense was as ugly as the name of the town, nothing short of hanging would be bad enough for him. "I think we are ready now," said Tad finally, walking slowly about the camp to make sure that nothing had been left. He had laid aside a small supply of food for their use while on the way out, deciding that they could get all they wanted to eat when they got to the town. At last they were in their saddles. Charlie had mounted Stacy's pony. The little animal appeared to be weak in the knees. Tad, good horseman that he was, felt sure the pony never would be able to make the journey without giving out before they had reached their destination. "Charlie, you get on my horse. I will take a run. That pony can't carry you." "No, me run," answered the Indian, grasping the bridle rein and starting off. "Come back here! I was going to foot it," Tad called after him. "Me run. Me said me run," flung back the guide, increasing his swift stride to a long lope. "Hold on, hold on," cried the Professor. "You will have us lost in five minutes at this rate. You keep in sight of us all the time. Remember, we do not know our way to the town." Charlie John slowed down with evident reluctance. The party now settled down to a slow but steady trot. The guide was choosing the easiest trail possible, knowing that better time would be made that way than by a shorter cut over rougher ground. Had he been alone he could have reached his destination in much better time by taking a course as the crow flies, regardless of the roughness of the trail. The party did not halt until shortly after midday, when they stopped to give the stock rest and water and to take a bite on their own account. "Chunky ought to get about twenty years for causing us all this trouble," declared Ned during the halt. "You wouldn't think so, perhaps, were you in Chunky's place," rebuked Tad. "But I wouldn't be." "You can't tell. You may be some time; then you will be mighty glad to have your friends hurry to your assistance." "Yes, but what are you going to do when you get there?" insisted Ned. "We can tell better when we get there." "If he has done something very bad he will be punished for it, that's all." "Stacy hasn't done anything so terrible. Take my word for that," answered Butler sharply. "You will find that he has unwittingly got himself into difficulties. Chunky isn't bad. He is imprudent and he likes to talk and glorify himself and exaggerate things. I shouldn't be surprised if that were where the trouble lies in this instance." "Ah! I have an idea," cried Ned. "I thought you would get something through your head after a while," chuckled Tad. "What time shall we reach our destination, Charlie?" called the Professor. "Mebby soon, mebby not so soon," was the indefinite reply of the Indian. Tad laughed. "Is that perfectly clear?" he asked. "About as clear as a watering hole on the plains after the cattle have drunk their fill," replied Rector. Professor Zepplin smiled grimly, but he did not seek for further information at that time. Late in the afternoon Stacy's pony went lame, and a halt was made while Tad examined the little animal's foot. He found that a sharp sliver had been driven into the frog. Blood was streaming from the wound. With a pair of forceps the boy carefully extracted the splinter, then washed the wound out with an ointment that he carried with him. "Will he be able to go on?" questioned Walter. "Yes. He will be lame, but it isn't half so bad as if he had gone lame in the shoulder. We must slow down for half an hour or so, and I think you will find he will go along better after that." It was as Tad had said. The pony began to show less lameness in exactly thirty minutes from the time the boy had removed the hardwood splinter. In an hour, though weary, the pony was walking as naturally as ever. Just before dark another stop was made. All hands were tired by this time, the ponies more so than their riders. Saddles, packs and bridles were removed, giving the stock a chance to lie down and get all the rest that the halt would permit. Tad suggested that they would gain time by stopping at least two hours, giving the horses a chance to get a little sleep. The others agreed to this with poor grace. They were in a hurry to be on, still, they realized that Tad was the best judge of horseflesh in the party. It was ten o'clock at night when they again took up their journey. There was a bright moon high up in the heavens, but it did little good in guiding them, as only now and then did a bar of light penetrate the denseness of the forest. Ned went to sleep in his saddle shortly after midnight and fell forward on his pony's neck when the animal stumbled over an unseen tree trunk. It gave the boy a sudden jolt, but was attended with no more severe consequences, although it aroused the laughter of his companions. "Matungamook," grunted Charlie John, halting sharply at half past two o'clock in the morning. "Where?" questioned Tad. The guide pointed. Butler could not see anything that looked like a town, but the guide appeared to be sure of himself. "How far?" he asked. "Mebby mile, mebby half mile," grunted Charlie. "Professor, if Charlie is right, the town lies over in that valley. I don't suppose it will do any good to go in now. Everyone must be asleep. There is not a light to be seen." "No, we would gain nothing by so doing," replied Professor Zepplin. "Then what do you propose—to sit down on the ground here and wait for daylight?" demanded Rector. "I would suggest that we pitch a camp right here, if there is water handy," said Tad. "Plenty water," the guide informed them. "Very good, Tad; go ahead." Ned and Walter were too sleepy to be of much use. Tad kept stirring them up, but without results. He and the guide and the Professor were very much awake, and within the hour had pitched two tents and built a campfire, beside which they were warming themselves while a pot of hot water was steaming over the fire for an early morning cup of tea. Tad was waiting impatiently for morning. The others wished it were much further away, for then they would have a longer time to sleep. Tad was worried, too, about Chunky, who, he had every reason to believe, was in serious difficulties. After a time Butler lay down, but he did not sleep at all. Instead he lay gazing out and up at the stars, waiting for the day to break. Dawn would soon be there. He knew that by the faint twittering of the birds in the trees and that restless stirring of nature—the advance guard of a new-born day. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.