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Pony Rider Boys in the Alkali

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<h3> CHAPTER IV </h3> <h4> THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE </h4> "You are not going to ride into town in daylight, are you?" demanded Ned in surprise. Though they had sighted the town of Eureka early in the morning, it was well along in the afternoon before they finally came up with it. Desert distances are deceptive and the further they journeyed the less headway did they seem to be making. This surprised all save the guide. Parry explained to them that the clear air brought distant objects much closer than they really were. "We are going into town exactly as we are," replied the guide in answer to Ned's question. "Why not?" "Well, maybe you are, but I'm not," returned Ned. "It may improve your complexion, young man," retorted Mr. Parry. "I'll stay out here and hide on the desert while the rest of you go on in," said Ned. "No, you don't," shouted the lads all at once. "You go willingly or we carry you." They gathered around him threateningly. "If you want a mix-up, we're here," warned Chunky, pushing his pony up beside that of Ned Rector. Ned, forgetting for the instant that he was in his bare feet, let drive a kick at the side of Stacy's pony. "Ouch!" roared Ned. Jerking the injured toe up to the saddle, he grabbed it with both hands, rocking back and forth, for his foot had struck the pony with such violence that it is a wonder every toe on the foot was not broken. "Did 'oo hurt 'oo little tootsie-wootsies?" cooed Chunky, with a grimace. Ned Rector, forgetting the pain for the instant, made a quick grab for his tormentor. He just barely reached the sleeve of Chunky's pajamas. But his sudden movement caused the fat boy's pony to leap suddenly to one side. Ned landed on his head and shoulders in the desert sand, feet kicking the air, to the accompaniment of yells of derision from his companions. With red face and angry eyes, the lad scrambled to his feet and started limping to his pony, which had sprung to one side, where it stood, evidently wondering what next was about to happen. "I'll get even with you, Chunky Brown," Ned growled, as he climbed into his saddle. "Now, now, Ned!" warned the boys. "Take your medicine like a man. Chunky never got mad when you nagged him." "I'll get even with him. I'll——" Tad rode up beside the angry lad. "Ned, you'll do nothing of the sort," said the boy gently. "You're mad, now, because your toes hurt. When they stop aching your temper will improve at the same time." "Oh, pshaw! Stop your preaching. Of course it will. I'm a grouch. I take back all I said just now. Chunky, when these toes get straightened out—they're all crooked now—I'll come over and hobnob with you. I deserve all you can give me." "You bet you do," chorused the lads. "Stop teasing him," commanded Stacy, with well-feigned indignation. "Can't you see his toes hurt him?" The incident was lost sight of in the general laugh that followed. The others were beginning to appreciate that Stacy Brown possessed a tongue as sharp as any of them. Ned now offered no further protest to entering the village, but it was observed that he dropped back behind the others as they reached the outskirts of the town. Tom Parry and Professor Zepplin were riding ahead, one in pajamas, the other clad in trunks—which resembled a meal sack—a sombrero hat and a sardonic grin of defiance. The others trailed along behind. Not one of the party glanced to the right or left of him, except Stacy Brown, who could scarcely contain his bubbling spirits. "They'll think it's some new kind of a menagerie come to town," he confided to Tad, who was riding beside him. "Then I hope they don't shoot the animals," laughed Tad. By this time they had entered the main street, down which they rode at a pace that the burros could follow. People passing along the street paused and gazed in unfeigned astonishment at the strange procession which they saw approaching. The most conspicuous of them all was Tom Parry. He was a sight to behold, but not one whit did he care for the amazed stares that greeted his strange outfit. Soon the grins of the populace gave place to yells of derision. "Look at the purty boy with the pink toes there behind," shouted one, pointing to Ned Rector. Ned's face went crimson. "Now, aren't you glad you didn't lose the tootsie-wootsies?" teased Chunky. Ned made no reply, but it boded ill for any of his tormentors who got within reach of his long arms. Already more than a hundred persons had turned to follow the strange outfit. This number was being rapidly added to as they proceeded. "For goodness' sake, how much further have we to go?" begged Ned. "The general store is down at the end of the street," the guide informed him. "I presume you want to get some clothes the first thing?" "I should say so." A whoop and a yell sounded far down the street. "Here's trouble," muttered Tad, instantly recognizing the cowboy yell. A band of them at that instant swung around a corner, straightening out in the main street, letting go a volley of revolver shots into the air. The band had come to town with a shipment of wild horses that had been captured among the desert ranges. They had been in Eureka for twenty-four hours and were by this time ready for whatever might turn up. The horsemen clad in pink pajamas attracted their attention at once. Here was fair game. "Who-o-o-o-p-e-e-e!" The shrill cry sent a shiver to the hearts of the boys. It was not a shiver of fear, either. In a moment more the Pony Rider Boys were the center of a ring of racing ponies, as the horse-hunters dashed round and round, yelling like mad and firing off their revolvers. "Oh, see that purty boy with the pink toes!" jeered one. "Give him the tenderfoot dance," yelled another. "He ought to be able to dance the fairy lancers on them pinkies." Ned did not dare refuse. He slipped from his pony, and, limping to the center of the ring which the racing ponies had formed about them, began to dance as the bullets from the revolvers of the cowboys struck the ground, sending up little clouds of dust under his feet. Faster and faster barked the guns, and faster and faster danced Ned Rector. Stacy Brown was almost beside himself with joy. "Better look out, or you'll be doing it next," warned Tad. Evidently the cowboys had not recognized Tom Parry as yet. He might be the next victim. Finally Tad rode his pony forward, right through the fire of the skylarking cowboys. "I guess you've had enough fun with him, fellows," he warned. "Let up now." A jeering laugh greeted the lad's command. Their attention was instantly turned to him. "Get off that broncho and give us a dance, young fellow," they shouted. "Thank you, I'm not dancing to-day," smiled Tad Butler. "Ain't dancing? We'll see about that. Come off that nag." Tad shook his head. At that instant a rope squirmed through the air from a moving pony. Butler threw himself to one side just in time to avoid it. The lad's eyes snapped. "Guess I'll take a hand in this, too," he growled. The lad unlimbered his rope in a twinkling and let fly at the cowboy who had just sought to rope him. With unerring aim Tad's lariat caught the left hind foot of the cowman's broncho. Pony and rider went down like a flash. Instantly there was a loud uproar. The horse-hunters yelled with delight; at least all of them save the cowboy who had bit the dust, and he sprang up, bellowing with rage, as he made for the grinning Tad. Tom Parry decided that it was time for him to take a hand. The guide jumped his pony between Tad and the angry cowboy. "That'll do, Bud! You stop right where you are!" Tom commanded. "But the miserable coyote roped me." "You tried to rope him first." "It's Tom Parry," shouted the cowmen. "Hey, Tom! Them's a fine suit of clothes you've got on there. Where'd you get them?" "Call off Bud and I'll tell you," grinned Tom, "He's got no reason to interfere with my boys here." Laughing uproariously, the cowboys forced their bronchos between Bud and the others, cutting him off and bidding him attend to his own business. Then the cowmen halted their ponies, after closing in about the Pony Rider Boys, while Tom Parry related the experiences they had passed through on the previous night. "Come along. We'll take you to a place where you can get all the pants you want," shouted the leader of the party, after Tom had finished his story. The cowboys wheeled their ponies and the procession moved on down the street. They had discovered that the Pony Rider Boys were not the band of tenderfeet that they had at first taken them for. Arriving at the store, the lads lost no time in leaping from their ponies, which they tethered at the rail in front, and hurried into the store. This was a postoffice as well as general trading post. Half the town, it seemed, had gathered outside the building to get a look at the nearly naked strangers who had ridden in a short time before. But once inside the store, the boys did not propose to exhibit themselves further if it were possible to avoid it. An entire new outfit was necessary—tents, provisions and all, and to purchase all these things would occupy the greater part of the rest of the afternoon. No sooner had they entered the store and made their wants known, than the boys became conscious of the presence of ladies. The boys could not see them plainly, because it was a dim, dingy place at best. But, all at once Ned felt a cold chill run down his back. One of the ladies was speaking to him. "Isn't this Mr. Rector?" asked a pleasant voice. "I am quite sure I am not mistaken." Ordinarily Ned would have been glad to meet an old acquaintance, but when a boy is clad only in a pair of pink pajamas, his feet bare of covering, he is not particularly anxious to see anyone he knows. It was so with Ned Rector. At first he pretended not to hear. A hand was placed lightly on his shoulder. Then he turned, his face flushing painfully. "I am Mrs. Colonel McClure from Texas," she informed him. "We had the pleasure of entertaining you and your companions when you were with the cattle drive in our state." Ned bowed and mumbled some unintelligible words. He failed to note the twinkle in the eyes of Mrs. McClure. "And this," she continued, "is my niece Miss Courtenay, Miss Barbara Parks and Miss Long," continued Mrs. McClure mercilessly. The young women were blushing furiously as they acknowledged the introduction. Ned failed to observe it, however. His eyes were on his feet and the pink toes which seemed abnormally large at that moment. "Where are your companions, Mr. Rector? I thought they were with you a moment ago?" "Wh—ye—yes—they are here, they——" Ned looked about him blankly. No one was in sight. Then he discovered the grinning face of Stacy Brown peering at him from behind the postoffice wicket. At the first alarm Walter Perkins had sunk down behind a cracker barrel with Tad Butler crouching behind him. Over behind the counter was the guide, while, behind a pile of horse blankets, Professor Zepplin lay flat on the floor, shrinking himself into as small a space as possible. Ned Rector was left to face the enemy alone. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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