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Pony Rider Boys on the Blue Ridge

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<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> <h3>ON THE WAY TO SMOKY BALD</h3> "The crowd always goes with the upper dog," nodded Rector, as the mountaineers crowded about Tad to congratulate him on his plucky fight. But Tad was too much interested in rescuing the letter to his mother to give heed to the men who clamored to tell him what a brave boy he was. There were a few among the mountaineers, however, whose faces were dark and threatening. These did not offer their congratulations. They were men who, for reasons best known to themselves, sympathized with Smoky Griffin, but who had not dared to go to his assistance with the ready revolvers of Ned Rector and Chunky Brown so plainly in evidence. "Come in here and help yourself to anything in my store," shouted Jim Abs from the doorway. "Any galoot that can fit like that without turnin' a hair is welcome to anything that Jim Abs's got. Come right along in, all the rest of you strangers. Hi, men, if them ponies want to drink don't let 'em suffer." "Thank you," smiled Butler. "There is nothing that I can think of that would make me any happier than a glass of water, if I might trouble you." "Shore, little pardner. Want a bit of lemon in it?" "If you will let me pay for the lemon." "Nary! I reckon you've done me more'n five cents' worth of benefit in getting rid of Smoky Griffin. He won't be around these parts right smart, I don't reckon." "Then I will take the water without the lemon," decided Tad. "You'll do nothing of the sort." Jim hustled around, setting out five glasses which he filled from a pump at the rear of the store. Into each glass he squeezed some juice from a lemon, adding a spoonful of sugar that he dipped from a barrel. He shoved the concoction across the counter grinning good-naturedly. "Drink hearty, lads." "My goodness, I'm glad he gave me a glass of that lemonade," gasped Chunky between gulps. "I nearly got lockjaw watching him fix it." "Say, but you-all can fit," declared Abs, addressing Tad, at whom he gazed in admiring wonder. "Thank you, sir. That's the very best glass of lemonade I've ever drunk," answered Butler, smiling sweetly. The battle grin had given place to a smile that was almost girlish in its sweetness. It was a winning smile, too, but the person who thought an effeminate nature was hidden back of the smile was likely to be keenly disappointed. The boys went back to the porch where they sat down to finish writing their letters. Tad's letter to his mother was so trodden with dirt that he was obliged to rewrite it. "If any more of those bad men come along here looking for a fight, please tell them to wait till I finish my letter, then I'll attend to them," said Stacy pompously as he sat down. "Say, that fellow didn't take his revolver, did he?" A mountaineer shook his head. Chunky went out and picked up the weapon, examining it critically. He carried the weapon in and handed it to Mr. Abs. "I reckon you'd better keep this," he said. "Smoke may come along looking for it when he gets his eyes open so he can find the way." "No, sir, not Griffin. He won't show his face around these parts in a right smart time." "Then you may have it. I wouldn't tote such a cheap gun as that. Why, he couldn't hit the side of a house with it and do any damage," declared Stacy. As Chunky emerged from the store he discovered the big eyes of Billy Veal peering around the corner of the building. "You may come out now," grinned the fat boy. "Circus all over and the concert let out. Perfectly safe for you now. Here, have a banana," offered Stacy, helping himself to one from the bunch on the porch and tossing it to the colored man. "Everything belongs to me around here." "Chunky, go in and pay for that banana," commanded Tad, glancing up with a disapproving frown. "But didn't the man say we could have whatever we wanted?" "You do as I tell you." "Lend me a nickel, then," begged the fat boy. "Regular cheap man, you are, Stacy Brown." growled Rector. "Here's your nickel," said Tad, handing out a five-cent piece. "That makes seventy cents you owe me." "Why do you want to remind me of it every time? Don't you think I have trouble enough without having to worry over my debts all the while?" Muttering to himself, Chunky entered the store, laid the five cents on the counter, uttering a deep sigh as he did so, then returning to the porch threw himself down and began scribbling. After a few minutes of this Stacy's head began to nod. He recovered himself with a start, grinned sheepishly, and started writing again. Five minutes later he lay on his back on the porch, both legs hanging over, snoring loudly. He was still asleep when the boys, having finished their writing, went in to post their letters. This done they started for their ponies, Chops having, in the meantime, packed the supplies. The Professor was about to awaken the sleeping boy when Tad whispered to him. The Professor grinned. "Mr. Abs, when we are off yonder by that rise of ground you wake him up, will you?" "Sure," chuckled the storekeeper. "You'll see some fun then." "How far is it to the rise?" asked Tad. "Nigh onto three miles." "Good. That will give him a run for his money. Thank you for all your kindness. We may be back here for further supplies later on. We've got two good, healthy food-consumers in our outfit." The storekeeper said he would be glad to see them at any time. They had spent nearly twenty dollars with him, so of course he would be glad to see them again. He didn't care if they came back for more supplies next day. In the meantime the party quietly rode away, settling down to a gallop after they had ridden far enough from the store so that the hoofbeats should not awaken the sleeper. While all this was going on the loungers sat about watching the sleeping Chunky and grinning broadly. They were appreciating the joke, and they knew they were going to have some fun. Smoky Griffin's friends had taken their departure some time since, so there was no apprehension felt as to their interfering with Stacy. The fat boy, in all probability, would not have awakened in hours had not someone carelessly stumbled over him when the party were drawing near the rise referred to by Butler. Chunky sat up grumbling. "Say, fellows, what do you want to wake me up for—" Stacy rubbed his eyes and gazed around him somewhat bewildered. Thinking the boys must have gone into the store, he got up and hurried in. Mr. Abs was unusually busy and it was fully two minutes before he found time to lend an ear to Stacy's urgings. "Where's my party?" "What, you here yet?" demanded the storekeeper in well-feigned surprise. "I reckon I am. Where's the rest of the crowd?" "Don't you know?" "If I knew I wouldn't be asking you, would I?" This line of reasoning seemed to strike Jim Abs forcibly, for he nodded his head until Chunky feared the storekeeper would dislocate his neck. "Where are they?" "I reckon they're on their way to Smoky Bald." "Smoky Bald? On their way to Smoky Bald?" shouted the fat boy. "Sure. Didn't you know that?" Chunky regarded the storekeeper keenly for a few seconds, then bolted out through the door. Shading his eyes he gazed off across the plateau. There in the far distance he could just make out a body of horsemen jogging along. "Is—is that my crowd?" he demanded, turning to the grinning faces of the mountaineers. "I reckon it is, boss," answered one. "That's what I call a mean trick!" shouted the fat boy, making a dash for his pony. In the meantime the pony had been moved around to the other side of the store. Chunky howled when he failed to find the animal where he had left it, and it was some five minutes later when he discovered the horse. It did not take the boy many seconds to leap into the saddle, and urging his horse he went dashing off across the plain in pursuit of his party, shouting and occasionally shooting up into the air to attract their attention. A chorus of yells from the mountaineers followed him, but Stacy Brown was too angry to listen. Already the pony's neck was flecked with foam, Stacy urging the animal on to renewed efforts by frequent applications of the pointless rowels which he rubbed vigorously against the little animal's sides. "There he comes," shouted Tad as a report from Stacy's revolver reached their ears. Glancing back the boys saw a cloud of dust rising between them and Jim Abs' store. "Ride for it! We can get out of sight before he tops the ridge," shouted Tad. Professor Zepplin, sharing in the youthful enthusiasm of the moment, touched spurs to his own horse and the party swept away. In the meantime Stacy Brown, the sweat rolling from his face, was pounding across the plateau. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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