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Pony Rider Boys on the Blue Ridge

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<h3>CHAPTER XIX</h3> <h3>BUTLER MAKES A DISCOVERY</h3> "Well, if that doesn't beat all!" marveled Royal. "It certainly does," agreed Ellison. "Yes, but that isn't finding the dog," growled Dunkan. "Boys, we've got to find that collie, and what's more, we've got to find the man he was chasing. The fellow probably took the dog with him. He must have wanted a pup mighty bad to take those chances to get one." "Do—do they hang dog thieves down in this country?" questioned Stacy apprehensively. "We aren't saying what we'll do," observed Dunkan. "You've got to find the dog first," nodded Stacy. "You're right, young man. Get your guns, fellows. We'll follow this trail right smart." "I do not think it will be of any use," Tad informed them. "Why won't it? Don't you think we know how to run a trail?" "I haven't the least doubt of it," answered Tad with a smile. "Then what's the matter with you?" demanded Dunkan almost savagely. "Oh, there's nothing the matter with me. I am trying to help you, that's all." "Shake, pard. I didn't mean to be edgewise with you. I'm mad plumb through over that dog business. You're the smartest youngster I've ever come up with and I'll take off my hat to you when I get it on again." "Here, I'll lend you mine," offered Stacy, reaching his own sombrero toward the prospector. "I shake my own bonnet, not the other fellow's," grinned Jim. The others laughed at the fat boy's drollery. "Why do you say there is no need to follow the trail, Tad?" spoke up Professor Zepplin at this juncture. "For the good reason that there is no trail to follow," was Tad's brief reply. The party did not understand what he meant by that, and Dunkan asked him to explain. "I have run the trail out," announced Butler. "Some twenty rods from here the trail practically ends." "How can that be?" interjected Sam. "It is all hard rocks there for some distance and not a tree, hardly a shrub. The fellow went straight up the rocks. I know this because he trampled down a berry vine when he climbed up the rocks. That is the end of the trail. He may have gone in any direction from that point. I followed out several leads, but they came to nothing. I am sure that I should be able to pick up the trail somewhere were I to spend enough time at it. I will try it after breakfast if you want me to. Breakfast is getting cold. We'd better get back." "Shake, pard," exclaimed Dunkan, extending an impulsive hand. "You're the real thing. Nothing make-believe about you. The way you've puzzled out this trail business beats me. I'm pretty fair at it myself, but I'm not even a pussy-willow shadow to you." "Did you hear about the three-legged rat and our black cat?" bubbled Stacy. "No, I didn't. It isn't rats and cats, but dogs, in which we're interested at the present minute. We'll go back for some chuck. In the meantime we'll chew over it," said Dunkan. "Over the chuck?" asked Stacy. "I reckon," grinned the prospector. "And the dog, too." "I'm no Chinaman," objected the fat boy. "Very strange, very strange," declared the Professor, glaring from one to another of them. "A friend of mine lost a valuable Pomeranian in a somewhat similar manner a year ago and—" "I ate a whole one of those once," chuckled Chunky. "You ate a whole Pomeranian?" questioned Tad. "Yes, yes," bubbled the fat boy. "And I had a stomach-ache for a week afterwards." "Professor, Stacy says he ate a whole Pomeranian once," jeered Tad. "What, what's that?" bristled the Professor. "I did," insisted Chunky. "What, you ate a Pomeranian dog?" cried the horrified Walter Perkins. "A dog?" shouted Stacy. "Yes, a Pomeranian's a dog, you boob," replied Tad, shaking with laughter. "A dog? Oh, I thought you were talking about a cheese." Prospectors and Pony Rider Boys joined in a roar at the expense of the fat boy. Professor Zepplin's eyes twinkled, but his face was stern. He enjoyed the jokes of his boys fully as much as did they, and this whether the joke was at his expense or at the expense of another. "But what do you make of this disappearance of the collie, Mr. Dunkan?" asked the Professor when they were well started with the breakfast. "I don't make anything out of it." "Is it possible that the dog continued to follow the man?" "Yes, it might be, but he'd caught the fellow before he got to the ledge that Butler told us about. That dog is a streak of greased electricity when he gets headed for anything." "That's the way Chunky goes to his meals," nodded Rector. "I notice I'm usually about ten paces behind you," retorted the fat boy. "You men go on with your work after breakfast. I am going to fall to the trail, as the Rocky Mountain guides express it," announced Tad. Breakfast having been finished, the work of clearing away was left to the guide. Tad asked Ned to accompany him. Ned was hardy and almost as expert on trail work as was Butler himself, though with Tad such work was more second nature than was the case with the other boy. "Don't worry if we don't get back in time for luncheon," said Tad. "We have some biscuit in our pockets, and if we don't get back before night, why we will just camp out." "You must return before night," ordered the Professor. "I want you here when night comes." "We will do our best. We shall probably return before noon, but if we do not, remember that we are all right." "If you find that dog—well, never mind," said Dunkan. "I'll promise to do something handsome for both of you." The boys with their ropes slung over their shoulders, their revolvers in the holsters, strode out of camp waving good-bye to their fellows. They were soon lost sight of. "Fine boys," averred Ellison. "Great," agreed Royal. "The best ever," finished Dunkan. "What about me?" demanded Chunky. "Well, I reckon that any fellow who can eat a Pomeranian and get off with nothing more serious than a stomach-ache is copper-lined and brass-riveted," answered Dunkan. The men soon went about their prospecting work, Professor Zepplin accompanying Jim Dunkan, Walter going out with the other two men, while Chunky remained at camp with Chops. The fat boy decided that he could have more fun teasing the guide and sleeping between times than he could in climbing over the rocks on foot. He could ride all day, but a walk of a mile made him weary. Tad and Ned, in the meantime, had started out on the trail of the dog and the man, which they had again picked up at the very edge of the camp. Reaching the rocks where the trail had been lost the boys sat down to take a survey of the landscape. "I think," said Butler, after a few moments of study, "that a person climbing up this way would naturally head for that cut yonder. How far is that from here?" "A half mile, I should say." "Yes, that is my idea. The course to the cut would seem to be the easiest. Naturally the fellow would have taken the easiest route, because he was in a hurry to get away." "But what became of the dog?" "Can't you guess, Ned?" "I might guess a good many things. But they might be a long way from the truth." "Does this tell you anything?" asked Butler, pointing to a discolored spot on the rock near where they were seated. "Blood!" gasped Ned. Tad nodded. "He hurt the dog here. It is my opinion that he hid behind this boulder and when the dog leaped up to the slippery rocks, the man struck him with a club. It was very foxy." "Gracious, but you have eyes and some other sense that I don't seem to know much about," declared Rector admiringly. "It is just horse sense, that's all, Ned. A fellow doesn't have to be of the steel-trap variety. All he has to do to find out things is to think a little and use his powers of observation." "But—but, where is the dog?" begged Ned, still more perplexed now that Tad had pointed out a real clew. "Oh, the fellow carried him off so as to get him out of sight. If the dog had been left here dead, that, he knew, would anger the men so that they would get right out on the trail. If the dog were carried away they might think the animal had got lost or fallen off a cliff, or something of the sort." "More horse sense," answered Rector with a grin. "Yes, that's all it is. And now if you will come with me I'll wager that I show you the dog," added Tad, scanning the landscape critically. "All right. I shan't be surprised at anything you show me or tell me after this. I am stricken dumb with amazement and wonder. Oh, I am a thick one." "It's well you admit it, Ned," answered Butler laughingly. "Do you admit your failings?" snapped Rector. "Always, when I am accused by my friends." "Then I have nothing more to say." Tad had scrambled to his feet. Ned followed his lead, and together they began climbing the steep side of the mountain, bearing off to the right towards a gap in the ridge, rather than climbing straight towards the top. All the time Butler was keeping a sharp lookout for trail marks, but he found nothing that would aid him in his quest. He was positive that the collie had been killed by the prowler whom he had scared away from the camp on the previous night. "Who do you think it was, Tad?" questioned the other boy after a long, hard climb. "If I were to guess I should say it was the same old trouble-maker, Stillman, or Batts, his assistant, or companion-in-crime, whichever you may wish to call it." "Well, I must say those fellows are bold." "They probably have a good deal at stake," answered Tad. "What do you mean by that?" "That there is crooked business of some kind going on up on this ridge. I don't suppose it is any of our affair, except possibly as it interferes with us and our rights." "We've a large-sized bone to pick with the man anyway." "We have," agreed Tad. "Here is a ledge that we can walk on. Keep a sharp eye down in the gulch below and look out that you don't fall. Shall I pass the rope around you?" "No. What do you think I am, a baby? I don't get dizzy so easily as all that." "You're not like Mrs. Snedeker—you know Mrs. Snedeker in Chillicothe?" "Yes." "She refused to go around the world with her husband because she said it made her dizzy and sick to travel in a circle." Ned grunted. "If Stacy had told that story I shouldn't have been surprised, but I am amazed at you, Tad." "All right, we'll let it go at that. What do you see down there?" "Nothing but air and the bottom." "Then I have sharper eyes than you," chuckled Tad. "Back up a little. There. Now look about six feet to the left of that rock with the twin peaks. See anything?" "Not a thing." "Where are you looking?" Rector pointed a finger, Tad glancing over it. "You are looking six feet to the right of the twin peaks. I said you should look about six feet to the left of the peaks." "Oh!" "Now what do you see?" "Good gracious you don't mean—" Tad nodded triumphantly. "It's the collie!" whispered Ned in an awed voice. "I think so. We can't be sure until we climb down and see for sure whether it is or not." "Well, if this doesn't beat anything I ever heard of," muttered Ned. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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