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Pony Rider Boys on the Blue Ridge

<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> <h3>STALKING THE FAT BOY</h3> The country on the other side of the rise was rugged, dotted with huge rocks and well wooded with second growth. It made an ideal hiding ground for one who wished to conceal himself. "Cut off to the right," shouted Tad. "Watch out that he doesn't go by us and get lost," warned the Professor. "You all keep quiet," directed Butler. "I'm going to have some fun with Stacy. Maybe it will teach him to be more watchful. Chunky would go to sleep even if he knew a band of Indians were creeping up on his camp." The outfit swerved to the right as suggested by Butler, and soon was well screened by rocks and foliage. It was some little time after that before Chunky topped the rise. "Hoo-oo-oo-oo!" he called in a long-drawn shout. "Hoo-oo-oo-oo!" Not a sound greeted his call. Chunky fired his revolver into the air. Instead of stopping to look about more carefully, and evidently not suspecting another trick, Stacy dashed down the incline at a perilous pace, leaping small obstructions in order to take a shorter course to the point where he thought his party had entered the thicket. Stacy had not penetrated into this very far before he pulled up and sat pondering deeply. Even yet he did not think far enough to realize that the boys would not desert him in this way. Riding slowly into a thinly wooded space the boy fired the remaining chambers of his revolver, listening intently, then, with a grunt, recharged the weapon and got down from his pony. "I'll stay here all the rest of the day. If they want me they can come back after me, that's all. If they don't, why I'll just go back to Hunt's Corners. I can get something to eat there. Yes, and the fellows will think something's happened to me and they'll be in an awful stew. I'll pay 'em back for this trick, I will. I guess they can't get so funny with me without getting the worst of it in the end." Tad Butler, in the meantime, had left his pony and run towards the place where Chunky had entered the rugged, wooded stretch. Tad finally got near enough to be able to overhear the fat boy's angry mutterings. In fact, Butler was near enough to have roped Stacy. He thought of doing so, at one time, but decided that it would give Chunky too much of a fright. Then again, the fat boy might send a bullet Tad's way in case he were to make a miss with the rope. Tad, having stalked his prey as silently as a panther, had not even disturbed Stacy's pony. But now Butler observed that the animal was pricking up its ears, tossing its head as if it had scented something. "Hang that pony. Has he discovered me?" thought Tad. "Whoa there!" shouted Chunky. "Do you want to run away and leave me, too? Well, if you do, you just go on. I don't ask any odds of a horse, I don't. I can walk and I can get along without the rest of that crowd." A faint noise to the left of Tad called his attention sharply in that direction. The sound was so faint that it might have been caused by a bird alighting on a treacherous small stone. At least something alive had caused it. The listening boy was sure of that. Crouching lower, Tad listened, every faculty bent to the task of determining what had caused the slight sound. Chunky's continued talking made the task somewhat more difficult. "I actually believe some other person is stalking him," muttered Tad. "I wonder if Ned has followed after me? No, he wouldn't come from that direction. He would not be likely to do so." "Ho—ho—hum," yawned Chunky. "I suppose I might as well take a nap while I'm waiting for something to turn up. Guess I'll tie the critter, then stretch out on this rock. It feels nice and warm, but it's pretty hard." The fat boy actually did what he had suggested. After securing the horse, he lay down on the rock, pillowing his head on his arms. It was at about this time that Butler came to the conclusion that some person other than one of his own party really was creeping up on Stacy. From Tad's position he was unable to see what was happening on the other side of the rock behind which he was crouching, so, taking a long chance, he crept around it on all fours like an ape. A stick snapped under a foot less than ten yards away. Tad put on a little more speed. Perhaps some harm was intended the fat boy. If so, Tad proposed to know about it and take a hand in the affair himself. Suddenly the lad discovered what had caused the disturbance, and he nearly betrayed himself by an exclamation as he made the discovery. There, cautiously creeping up on the drowsy fat boy, was a man. The man's face was swollen and bloody, but the swollen eyes were fixed on the form of Chunky Brown in a malignant stare. "Smoky Griffin!" gasped Tad under his breath. The bully had discovered Stacy. Perhaps the fellow had been lying in wait for the party and had been a witness to their running away from Brown. If so he had shown more cleverness than Tad had given him credit for. The situation was certainly a critical one—for Stacy. In his hand Smoky held a stone that must have weighed at least ten pounds. It was plainly his intention to smash the stone down on the sleeping fat boy. Tad Butler was thankful that he had thought to play a further trick on his companion. Perhaps that very prank had saved Stacy's life, or would save it, for Tad had already made up his mind what he was going to do. "I'll give Smoky a surprise for the second time today," thought Butler, cautiously slipping his rope from his belt, straightening out the coils wholly by the sense of touch, never for a second removing his gaze from the face of Smoky Griffin. Finally, having got the rope in shape for a throw, he took a light grip on the honda, or slip knot, then stood crouched as if for a spring. Smoky straightened up. Tad was taking a great chance, but Chunky was taking even greater. The bully drew back his hand. He was not more than six feet from where Stacy Brown lay asleep. Suddenly the big loop of the Pony Rider Boy's lasso wriggled through the air. Smoky's keen ears caught a sound. He started to turn, then he uttered a yell and began clawing frantically at the nameless terror that had pinioned his arms to his side. With a yell of fright Smoky toppled over on his side, then rolled to his back as Tad leaped away and began dragging and tugging at the rope. Then another yell was heard. This time it was the fat boy's. "Oh, wow! Wha—what is it?" he howled. Just then his glances caught the livid face of Smoky writhing on the ground. Stacy did not see the rope, but he realized at once that Griffin was there to do him harm. With another yell Stacy let go three shots into the air. "Yeow!" howled the fat boy. Professor Zepplin and the other two boys heard both the shots and the yells. Tad's little joke was working out better than they had thought. Laughing and shouting they put spurs to their mounts and rode at a fast gallop towards the spot where they decided Chunky had met his surprise. Ned was the first to reach the scene, with the Professor following close after him, Walter Perkins and the grinning Billy Veal following hard behind. Young Perkins brought his pony up sliding. "What—what—" he gasped. "Professor!" Ned was out of his saddle in a flash. "Put up your gun!" he shouted, as Chunky began making threatening motions with the weapon. "That's right, Ned. Hold him!" cried Tad, as Ned threw himself upon the fallen bully. "What's this? What's this?" demanded the Professor, gazing perplexedly at the sight. "Nothing, only there were two of us planning to give Stacy a surprise. This is our old friend, Smoky Griffin, otherwise the fallen bully. Get up!" Smoky got sullenly to his feet. "What is the meaning of this?" demanded the incisive voice of Professor Zepplin. Smoky made no reply. "Stacy, what was this man trying to do to you?" "I—I don't know. I—I was asleep." "He was asleep," mocked Rector in a deep voice. "Of course he was. He always is. I'm going to organize a first aid to the sleepy corps." "There won't be any corps, 'cause we'll all be patients," retorted Stacy quickly. Tad answered the look of inquiry in the eyes of the Professor by explaining what had occurred. "I believe the fellow intended to crush Stacy's head with the stone. It is fortunate that I got here ahead of him. What do you think we had better do with him?" "We will talk that over, Tad. All being agreeable we will first seek a more favorable location for camping. Is there water down in the gully yonder, guide?" "Nassir, yassir. Ah reckon." "Go look for it. When you find water return here and lead us to it." "I would a heap sight rather be led to a lemonade stream," declared Stacy. "You will be wanting hot and cold water on tap next," laughed Ned. "I have them already," answered Stacy. "You have?" "Of course I have. I'm in hot water all the time, and there's plenty of cold water in the stream. Say, I've got a bone to pick with you fellows, but—I've forgotten what it's about." Billy Veal had ridden away in search of water while the two boys were talking. At the same time the Professor and Tad were observing the prisoner, who had been tied to a tree, and were conversing in low tones. "I think we had better let him go in the morning, Professor. We shall have to take our chances of more trouble from him. If he were wanted by the authorities, I shouldn't be in favor of this move. As it is, we can't bother with him." "Yes, I agree with you. But why wait until morning?" urged the Professor. "Because he might hang around after dark and get into mischief. If we send him away in the morning we shall have an opportunity to get a good distance away from the fellow before night." "That is good judgment," agreed Professor Zepplin. "It shall be as you suggest. Hasn't that lazy guide returned yet, boys?" "He is coming now, Professor," answered Walter. "It strikes me it is about time." "Did you find water?" called Ned. "Nassir, yassir." "Tad, how do you translate it?" "He has found water," answered Butler. "I've got it," cried Chunky. "If he'd said 'yassir, nassir,' that would mean that he had not, wouldn't it?" "You have solved the problem, Chunky," nodded Tad. "Guide, lead the ponies to the place, and if the camping ground is suitable, prepare to pitch the camp. We will join you soon." "Yassir." "Hey, Chops, you forgot something," called Stacy. "Yassir?" "No, sir, 'nassir.'" "I think we might as well be getting over to the camping ground, Professor," suggested Tad. "It is understood, then, that Smoky is to remain with us until morning?" "Yes, if you think best." The boy walked over and untied the bully. Griffin started to walk away. Butler laid a hand on his arm. "Not so fast. We are not going to lose you yet awhile." "What are you goin' t' do?" "Going to keep you with us for a time," smiled the Pony Rider Boy. "You ain't got no right t' hold me." "I think you are right about that. Neither did you have any right to interfere with us at Hunt's Corners, nor to try to shoot me, which you surely would have done had I not taken your pistol away. If you think we ought to let you go, why I'll do so after I have turned you over to a sheriff. Which shall it be?" questioned Butler sweetly. The prisoner grunted. His rage threatened to get the better of him, though he was making strenuous efforts to control himself. Tad motioned to the man to come along, which Smoky did, walking sullenly by the side of the Pony Rider Boy, though he was not bound. He was as free as ever save that he knew any attempt to run away would meet with a quick, stern check. He had had evidence of the Pony Rider Boy's prowess with his fists. Smoky looked enviously at the pistol in its holster at Tad's side. The boy observed the glance in the direction of the weapon, but made no comment. "Keep your pistols where they won't be a temptation to Smoky," whispered Tad to the boys after they had reached the camping ground, which was on a gentle slope leading down to a mountain stream. They understood, and were on their guard from that time on. Griffin sat sullenly watching the pitching of the camp. No one appeared to be giving the slightest attention to him, yet he knew he was being watched just the same. Twenty minutes sufficed to pitch the tents, after which duffle-bags were stowed in the peak of the triangle formed by the rear of the tents, beds made, and all preparations completed for the night. "How's that for record time, Smoky?" chuckled Tad, turning to the prisoner. "All right," grumbled Griffin. "Come, cheer up," urged Tad. "Don't be a grouch. We don't like to have grouches around this camp. The fat boy is our official grouch. We can't stand more than one at a time." "I guess I'm no more a grouch than some other folks I know of," protested Stacy. "Say, I know now what that bone is I want to pick with you. Why did you fellows run away from me this afternoon?" "Run away from you?" exclaimed Ned. "Yes, run away from me. You needn't look so innocent. You know you did and you did it on purpose, and you nearly got me killed. That—that gentle soul over there was about to smash my head with a stone. He would have done so, too, if I hadn't woke up and scared him off with a shot or two." "You have another guess coming." "Do you mean to say you didn't run away from me?" demanded Stacy indignantly. "I haven't said. We were ready to go and we went, that's all there is to it." "No, that isn't all there is to it, Ned. There's some more to it, but the other part hasn't come to pass yet," declared Chunky significantly. "That means you, too," he added, turning to Griffin. "I'll have something to say to you also for wanting to smash me with a rock. I ought to take it out of you right here and now. I would if you weren't so bunged up already. I don't like to pitch into a helpless man." Smoky growled long and deep. Tad signaled Stacy to keep away from the prisoner. About half an hour later an early supper was spread. "Come, Griffin, join us," urged the Professor. "Don't want no supper," grunted the prisoner. "You must eat," insisted Tad, stepping up to him. "Because we are not good friends is no reason why you shouldn't eat. It will not impose any obligation on you. If you want to fight right after you have broken biscuit with us there's not the least objection in the world to your doing so." With an unintelligible grunt the fellow got up and dragged himself over to the blanket on which the supper had been spread. Perhaps it was the savory odor of the bacon and the steaming coffee that so tantalized the prisoner as to cause him to be willing to sit down with his enemies and eat. At least Smoky's appetite had not suffered by his unfortunate experiences. Even Chops opened his eyes on seeing the mountaineer stow away food. Chunky watched the fellow almost admiringly. After supper the prisoner was permitted to smoke by the campfire. Tad Butler was shrewd. He hoped by this friendliness to disarm the bully so that the fellow, when released, would go on about his own business and give them no further trouble. Butler did not know Griffin. His hope was vain. Revenge deep and deadly was smouldering in the heart of the mountaineer. At that very moment he was planning how he might get even with the boys who had so humiliated and punished him. They would hear from Smoky Griffin again and in no uncertain tone. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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