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Pony Rider Boys on the Blue Ridge

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<h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3> <h3>AN EXHIBITION OF SHEER PLUCK</h3> "No, we will not break camp until nine o'clock," said the Professor when, on the following morning, Ned proposed that they get under way immediately after breakfast. "We promised our friend that we should be here until that hour, you know." "Then I think I will scout around to see if anything is doing," suggested Tad, who immediately hurried from camp. He returned half an hour later with the information that there wasn't a human being within a mile of them so far as he had been able to learn. It then lacked an hour of nine, so the boys passed the time with packing, joking and talking. They were not greatly troubled, nor would they have been had they known what was before them that day. Professor Zepplin, too, was filled with the spirit of the occasion. The old soldier never shrank when it came to a battle, though naturally he felt the responsibility of having four boys to look after, even though those boys were pretty well able to take care of themselves, as they had demonstrated on numerous occasions. An inventory of the supplies showed that everything was accounted for. This, Stacy declared, was because he had frightened the three-legged rat away from camp. He said he had a worse fright in store for it if it showed itself around that outfit again. Chops looked very solemn at this. The fright the guide had had served to chasten and subdue him. This was not lost on the Pony Rider Boys, nor was the significance of it, either. "Nine o'clock. Time to move," announced the Professor finally, closing his watch with a snap. "We will start now. Are you ready, boys?" "All ready," answered the lads in chorus. "All ready to start—something!" added Chunky. "No, we will not start anything, my boy," rebuked the Professor. "Stacy is quite given to slang of late," laughed Tad. "I have observed as much," answered the Professor dryly. "I trust you will cut out slang, young man." The Professor eyed the fat boy sternly. "I trust you will, too, Professor," retorted Stacy. "I—I use slang?" demanded the Professor indignantly. "Yes. You said I must 'cut out' slang. If that isn't slang, my dictionary is ahead of the times," returned Stacy triumphantly. "He has you there, Professor," chuckled Tad. "He surely has," agreed the other boys smiling broadly. "Young men, I admit it. I am properly rebuked, and I assure you the offense will not be repeated. I promise to refrain from anything of the sort in the future, and I shall expect you to do the same." "Well, I won't promise, but I'll try," drawled Stacy. "If I promised, honest Injun, I'd have to keep my promise. You know I don't like to be roped with a promise. It's like being tied to a tree. A fellow can't let himself out when he wants to." "You'll have plenty of opportunity to let yourself out, I am thinking. Something do—" began Tad. "Ah—ah!" warned Chunky. "I guess I nearly forgot myself, didn't I?" grinned Butler. "Yes, you'll have to cut it—" "Whoa, Chunky!" shouted Ned. "There you go again." "Hopeless! Hopeless!" groaned Professor Zepplin. "But that's right. Correct one another and you will soon overcome the habit. We are forced to live a semi-barbarous life, but that is no reason why we should forget either our manners or our English." "We shouldn't were it not for Stacy Brown," declared Rector. "That's right. Lay everything to me. I'm tough. I can stand it. But I'm the prophet of this outfit; I'm a necessary encumbrance." "Mount!" commanded Tad. "Billy, did you bring that bundle of dry sticks for kindling the fire?" "Nassir, yassir." "Then, forward march!" "Giddap, you old bundle of bones," jeered Chunky, giving his pony a smart unexpected slap. The pony kicked and squealed, giving Stacy a lively tussle for a few moments. "Why do you stir him up so?" rebuked Tad. "That isn't horsemanship. You act like a beginner." "He always is that way in the morning. It's his way of showing his pleasure at having me on his back. Whoa, there, you cayuse!" shouted the fat boy. Stacy lost part of his pack, necessitating a halt while he got down to repack and take a fresh hitch. Finally having arranged it to his satisfaction the fat boy mounted. His companions had waited with long-suffering patience, and there were sighs of relief when Stacy was once more ready. The party moved off at a leisurely walk, for the ground was rough and the trail not easy to follow. A close watch was kept ahead as far as they could see, and on all sides as well. But nothing of a disturbing nature occurred until near noon, when Stacy, having ridden off to one side, scared a doe, which fled through the brush making a great crashing, nearly frightening the fat boy out of his wits. Tad and the Professor rushed to Stacy's assistance. Their disgust was great when they discovered the cause of the uproar. It was then decided that Chunky must keep close to the party and try to behave himself. After a brief rest following the noon meal they once more mounted their ponies and set out. They had been on their way less than an hour when, riding out into an open space, they halted rather suddenly. As they entered the open space two horsemen rode in on the opposite side. The men carried rifles across their saddles, and came directly toward the Pony Rider Boys' outfit. "There he is!" exclaimed Tad. "Who—who—who?" demanded Stacy. "The black cat," answered Rector under his breath. Professor Zepplin recognized one of the men instantly. The Professor's lips closed firmly. One of the horsemen was the man who had claimed to be an officer when visiting their camp and ordering them to leave the Ridge. "Well, I see you fellows are still here," he said mockingly as he rode up to the outfit. "Your eyes do not deceive you, sir," answered the Professor coldly. "Where do you fellows reckon you are going?" "In the first place, we are not fellows," resented Tad, his face flushing. "In the second, we do not consider it any of your affair where we are going." "The young gentleman is right," added the Professor. "You have no right to interfere with us. What do you want?" "I want you to turn your nags about right smart and head in the other direction. This is a preserve, and—" "I deny it!" snapped Professor Zepplin. "It is not a preserve and what is more I don't believe you are an officer. Will you stand aside and permit us to go our way?" "I will not." "What do you propose to do?" "I reckon I'll wait here till I see you headed t'other way." "Then you will wait a long time," exclaimed Butler. "We are not going to turn about. We are going straight ahead, and we are going to keep on going until we are ready to head the other way, and—" "I reckon you won't do nothing of the sort." The mountaineer nodded to his companion, who started to ride around to one side of the outfit. Tad saw the purpose of the movement at once. They proposed to make a flanking movement where they would have more advantage so far as position was concerned. "If you please, stay where you are!" commanded Tad sharply. "What—what! You reckon to give me orders?" demanded the man furiously. "I'm telling you two to stay where you are if you know what's good for you. We have had about enough of your nonsense. Professor, are we going to stand for any more of this foolishness?" demanded Tad heatedly. "No, not much, Tad. But be patient for a moment. I want to talk with this man further. Do I still understand you to persist that we are on a government preserve?" he asked, turning to the mountaineer. "I reckon I've told you that before and I'll tell it to you again." "Say it as many times as you choose, sir, if it pleases you," answered Professor Zepplin sarcastically. "We heard you the first time. It's getting to be an old story now." "Well?" "I deny that this is a preserve. I further state that in my opinion you are a scoundrel. If you are not you will resent the accusation, and I am ready to meet any such resentment," added the plucky Professor, permitting one hand to drop lightly to his pistol holster. The movement was not lost on the mountaineer. Nor was the fellow to be deterred from carrying out his purpose. He shifted his rifle into a more convenient position. "It's the black cat," muttered the fat boy. "And we'll all be lame ducks in a minute." "Keep steady, lads," warned the Professor in a low tone. Tad nodded, taking in his fellows in the same nod as indicating that they were to take no action until ordered to do so. "Professor, I'm going on," announced Butler. "We may stand here all day arguing at the present rate." With that Tad clucked to his pony and started, picking his way through the growth in the open space. "You stop where you are!" commanded the mountaineer. "You stop me if you dare," retorted the Pony Rider Boy. "Come along, Professor." Instead the Professor sat grimly in his saddle, eyeing the mountaineer sternly. The latter half raised his rifle, bringing the muzzle to bear on the advancing Tad. "Oh, fudge! Put that gun back in your boot!" scoffed Butler. "You know you don't dare to use it. You know very well that you would get the worst of it if you dared to pull the trigger." "Are you going back?" roared the mountaineer. "No, I'm going forward," answered Tad, putting spur to his pony and starting at a jog trot. He was headed directly towards the mountaineer, and the latter's pony took a step aside in order to prevent a collision. The muzzle of the mountaineer's rifle almost grazed Butler's sleeve as he trotted past the man who had threatened to shoot him. "Come on, fellows. Are you going to camp there in your saddles?" For answer the Professor and the three lads started to follow their companion. It was at this juncture that the mountaineer's companion took a hand in the affair and changed the situation instantly into a much more serious one. Up to this time Tad's sheer grit had overcome the desperate purpose of the alleged officer. The intervention of the other man had put a new complexion on the affair. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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