position he held for half an hour without having been able to draw a word from
him.
Leaving the town due east of them, the party galloped off across the country
in a straight line until finally the cowman pointed off across the plain to
indicate where their destination lay.
A slow moving mass of red and brown and white met the inquiring gaze of the
boys. At first they were unable to make out what it was.
"Cows," growled the guide, observing that they did not understand.
"What are they doing, Mr. Sanders?" asked Tad.
"Don't 'mister' me. I'm Big-foot. Never had a handle to my name. Never expect
to. They're grazing. Be rounding them up for bed pretty soon. Ever been on a
trail before?"
Tad shook his head.
"We have been up in the Rockies on a hunting trip. This is my first
experience on the plains."
"Huh! Got good and plenty coming to you, then."
"And I am ready for it," answered the lad promptly. "The rougher the
better."
"There's the bunch waiting for us. All of them got back from town. The
foreman don't allow the fellows to hang out nights when they're on a drive like
this."
Now, the rest of the Pony Rider Boys, understanding that they were nearing
the camp of the cowboys, urged their ponies into a brisk gallop and drew up well
into line with Tad and Big-foot. That is, all did save Stacy Brown, who, as was
his habit lagged behind a few rods.
The cowboys were standing about watching the approach of the new arrivals
curiously, but not with any great enthusiasm, for they did not approve of having
a lot of tenderfeet with the outfit on a journey such as they were taking now.
They were bent on grim and serious businessman's workthe sort of labor that
brings out all that is in him. It was no place for weaklings, and none realized
this better than the cowmen themselves.
Yet, they did not know the mettle that was in these four young American boys,
though they were to realize it fully before the boundaries of the Lone Star
State, had been left behind them.
The Pony Riders dashed up to the waiting cowpunchers with a brave showing of
horsemanship, and sprang from their saddles their eyes glowing with excitement
and anticipation.
Bob Stallings, the foreman, was the first to greet them.
"Fellows, this is the bunch I've been telling you about," was Bob's
introduction. "Where's Lumpy?" he demanded, glancing about him with a scowl.
"Lumpy's over behind the chuck wagon," answered the cowboy of whom the
question had been asked.
"Lumpy!" bellowed the foreman.
The fellow with whom Tad Butler had had such an unpleasant meeting, earlier
in the day, came forward reluctantly, a sudden scowl on his face.
"Lumpy, this is Tad Butler. Stick out your fist and shake hands with
him!"
Lumpy did so.
"Howd'y," he growled, but scarcely loud enough for any save Tad to hear.
The lad smiled up at him good-naturedly.
"You and I bumped ponies this morning, I guess," said Tad. "Maybe I was to
blame after all. I'll apologize, anyway, and I hope there will be no hard
feelings."
"Lumpy!" warned Stallings when he noticed that the cowpuncher had made no
reply to Tad's apology.
"No hard feelings," grunted Lumpy Bates.
He was about to turn away and again seek the seclusion of the chuck wagon, as
the cook wagon was called by the cow boys, when Chunky came rolling along. In
the excitement of the meeting the boys had forgotten all about him. The Pony
Riders swung their sombreros and gave three cheers for Chunky Brown as he dashed
up.
Chunky took off his sombrero and waved it at them.
Just then Chunky met with one of those unfortunate accidents that were always
occurring to him. His galloping pony put a forefoot into a gopher hole, going
down in a heap.
Chunky, however, kept on.
When the accident happened he was almost upon the waiting cowboys, his
intention having been to pull his pony up sharply to show off his horsemanship,
then drop off and make them a sweeping bow.
Stacy Brown was possessed of the true