Comrades of the Saddle; Or, The Young Rough Riders of the PlainsWebster, Frank V.
General
Comrades of the Saddle; Or, The Young Rough Riders of the Plains
Webster, Frank V.
Cowboys -- Juvenile fiction; Ranch life -- Juvenile fiction
"Then join your father as soon as you can. Don't try any fool
stunt like going into the mountains. Remember, when you are on the
prairie you can sec on all sides of you."
"Except when you're behind a crest," chuckled Tom.
At this reference to the recent contretemps Jeffreys frowned,
started to say something and instead dug his spurs into his pony,
galloping away without even so much as looking back.
"He's a fine neighbor--not," declared Larry as the trio resumed
their way. "I should have thought he would be only too glad to
help your father and Mr. Snider get back their cattle."
"He isn't very keen for the Half-Moon," rejoined Horace. "Father
beat him in a law case over a boundary line once and he's never
forgotten it."
"And I reckon he won't forget his meeting with us to-day," said
Tom, grinning.
At the memory of the reception they had given, Jeffreys the
comrades had a hearty laugh.
"Still, he gave us some good advice," asserted Larry. "I agree
with him that the thing for us is to find the Half-Moon and Three
Stars crowd as soon as we can."
"Which seems to be a pretty big order in itself," mused Tom. "I
say we go and see where they drove the cattle into the hills and
then decide."
This suggestion met with no opposition, and as the boys rode toward
the mountains, the wooded sides of which looked inviting because of
the relief they promised from the torrid heat of the plains, they
discussed various plans, only to discard them.
At last they reached the hills. Dismounting, they hobbled their
ponies, removed the saddles and bridles sticky with lather, and
then broke out some lunch which they ate ravenously, despite the
fact that their mouths were almost parched.
Greatly refreshed by the food, the boys decided to follow the trail
of the cattle till they could get some idea of its direction.
"Let's go on foot," suggested Tom. "The ponies will be all right,
the rest will do them good, and we can get through the brush and
over the rocks with less noise."
Readily his companions agreed, and picking up their rifles, they
quickly found the tracks made by the cattle.
For some distance the trail seemed more like an abandoned wood road
than anything else. But gradually it began to grow narrower and at
last became no more than a path winding in and out among the rocks.
Several times some sound caused the boys to raise their guns to
their shoulders and peer about in all directions, but nothing could
they see save the trees and rocks, and they ascribed the noises to
some denizen of the forest roaming about.
Of a sudden Tom, who was in the lead, stopped.
"I smell something awful queer," he whispered.
The trail wound along the edge of a sharp descent and just ahead
was an abrupt turn.
Ere either Larry or Horace could reply to their companion's
announcement all three were dumb-founded to see a big, shaggy brown
head appear round the turn in the trail.
"It's a bear!" gasped Horace.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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