The X Bar X boys on Whirlpool RiverFerris, James Cody
General
The X Bar X boys on Whirlpool River
Ferris, James Cody
Cattle stealing -- Juvenile fiction; Cowboys -- Juvenile fiction; Ranch life -- Juvenile fiction; Western stories
“We headed for the river,” the boy went on, “and when we got there
we heard some men talking. They were in a boat on the stream. Some
one they called Denver--”
“Denver!” Jake Trummer broke in. “That’s--But go ahead, son. I’ll
have my say later,” he added, with a glance at Mr. Manley.
“This Denver had a plan to rustle our cattle that had strayed over
here, an’ he aimed to let you think Mr. Trummer did as he had
threatened,” Teddy went on swiftly. “They’d found out, somehow,
about the whole business; maybe from The Pup, though he didn’t
appear to be with them. They were going to drive the cows off at
night, and, by golly, that’s what they did!”
For a moment there was silence. Mr. Manley looked at Jake Trummer,
his face a deep red. Then he threw back his head and thrust out his
hand.
“Jake,” he said falteringly, “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ now. I’ve done
all my talkin’--a sight too much, I reckon. I’ll stay dumb for the
rest of my life. But if you can forgive an old fool--”
With a grin, Jake Trummer clasped the hand offered him, and gripped
hard.
“We all make mistakes,” he said softly. “I made the first one. All
the forgivin’ to be done ain’t on my side. I come to you like a bag
o’ wind an’ shot my mouth off when I shouldn’t. Some hand of yourn
told one of my men that the orders were to let the cattle stray as
far as they wanted, on my range if possible, because the grazin’ was
good an’ they needed fattenin’. I was a fool to believe it.”
“The Pup!” Teddy and Roy exclaimed in the same breath.
“Was he tall, Mr. Trummer?” Teddy asked. “Dark?”
“Never saw him,” Mr. Trummer answered, releasing Mr. Manley’s hand.
“He told one of my men. Well, Bardwell, we’ll forget it. We were
both wrong, I, mebby, more than you. Now let’s get this thing
straight. First I want to ask yore boy: Did that man you said they
called Denver have a high-pitched, cracked voice?”
“I’ll tell a maverick he did!” Roy replied excitedly. “High as a
girl’s, almost. Why?”
“That was Denver Smith,” Mr. Trummer declared. “They’re the last of
the old gangs, an’ the sooner they go the better. They make their
headquarters on the banks of Whirlpool River an’ try to pick up tips
they can use in their business, which is everything from
high-jackin’ to rustlin’. I pity the man that rides that river road
alone an’ with money in his pocket. They’d get him sure. Yep, boys,
it was Denver Smith an’ his bunch fer a sure bet. What did they say,
again?”
“They were planning to steal our cattle and let you take the blame,”
Roy replied. “They knew you’d had an argument with dad up on our
ranch, though I don’t know how.”
“It’ll be the last one we’ll have, eh, Bardwell?” Mr. Trummer said,
and grinned. “As fer them findin’ out, they have ways an’ means. But
that’s not the point. Yore cattle’s gone, Bardwell. What you aimin’
to do?”
“Get ’em back!” Mr. Manley said grimly. “I hate to ask it, Jake; but
if you can spare a few horses for the boys, here--”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account