CHAPTER VI—AT THE DOUBLE X RANCH
The Bird Boys would not soon forget that invigorating ride. On all sides they saw a thousand things that excited their wonder; and which they did not hesitate to ask about. And Uncle Jethro was only too willing to explain; he wanted these bright-faced boys who had come to visit him, to learn all about the things with which they would come in daily contact, and the sooner the better.
From this time on there would be a complete change in the air around Frank and Andy. The talk of the cowboys was along the line of ranch life; and by degrees many of the phrases that went to describe such things entering into the daily life of these wild plains riders, would become familiar to the “tenderfeet.”
They saw the cactus that grew along the border of the desert; the tufts of what Uncle Jethro called “buffalo grass,” possibly because the bison that formerly covered these same plains in countless tens of thousands used to feed upon it; watched the queer antics of a village of prairie dogs they passed on the way to the ranch; and heard the boys speak of a muddy hole as a “buffalo wallow,” though the chances were it had been half a century since such an animal had lain down to rid himself of the flies, by wallowing in the mud and water that came from a rainfall.
Here were a few stray cattle which the rancher termed “Mavericks;” and called to the foreman to mark down, so they could be rounded-up and branded on the morrow; there they overtook an Indian family on the move, with a calico horse harnessed to a couple of long drag-poles, upon which were piled all their worldly possessions, including the squaw herself and a dusky papoose; and once in the distance they saw a line of white-topped wagons that gave the boys a thrill, thinking of those old days when emigrants were in the habit of crossing the plains in such vehicles; until Uncle Jethro kindly explained that this was a freighter’s caravan, the prairie schooners being loaded with supplies for the mines that were located away up in the mountains, where it was difficult to get such material, the smelting being done on the ground, and only the pure copper shipped out to the market.
It was altogether too short a ride, Andy loudly declared, when his uncle announced that the ranch buildings were in sight ahead. He had seen so many new and interesting sights that he thought he could never drink in enough of this air, heated though it might be.
All the same, both lads looked eagerly ahead, anxious to know what the Double X Ranch would turn out to be like.
They saw a cluster of white buildings, none of them over one story in height; and partly surrounded by green trees, that had doubtless influenced the owner to make his headquarters in this particular spot, where good water was to be had in abundance.
Already the boys had started on a gallop for the house, whooping as usual. A genuine happy-go-lucky cow puncher is probably about the noisiest creature on the face of the earth; he never seems to be fully satisfied unless he is making some sort of a racket, either chasing cattle, cavorting on his pony amidst his comrades, or shooting up a border town when on one of his “pay-day” outings.
Before they reached the buildings they had drawn close enough to the passing freight caravan for the boys to even hear the vicious crack of the teamster’s long blacksnake whips, and to hear a choice collection of words when some little accident happened to delay the creaking wagons a brief time. Uncle Jethro was an old bachelor. He had a very efficient housekeeper in a Mrs. Ogden, a middle-aged widow, whose husband had been some sort of cousin to the owner of the ranch, and connected with him slightly in the business, at the time he died.
A beaming Celestial cook, who sailed under the name of Charley Woo, looked after the kitchen, and seemed to satisfy the demands of the vigorous punchers. When he was out with the boys in charge of the “grub wagon,” during their round-ups, those left at home were well taken care of by the housekeeper herself.
Everything was so fine that both Andy and Frank knew they were going to have the time of their lives; and would begrudge the days that slipped past. They meant to soak in all the information possible, as well as show these dashing riders that if they were greenhorns in all that was connected with cattle punching, at least they occupied a high standard when it came to bold exploits away up in the clouds.
During the remainder of the day they went here and there, making fresh discoveries at every turn, and fairly saturating themselves with the multitude of things that were associated with this new life.
One of the cowboys in particular had attracted the attention of Andy; and Frank also admitted having taken an immediate liking for the same fellow. He was a lively boy, full of vim and go, and yet with something winning about his ways. They called him “Buckskin,” and it was quite a long time before either of the newcomers learned that he had another name, Oliver Cromwell Jones.
He seemed more eager to hear about the exploits of the young aviators than any of the rest; though for that matter they were every one of them hanging around every minute they could spare from their duties, showing the newcomers their bunkhouse, the big stables, the enclosure where the saddle band of horses was usually kept when not in use, and everything else they could think of, until both Andy and Frank felt that they were growing confused under so much attention.
And what pleased Frank most of all was a rude building or shed which Uncle Jethro had had built to serve as a hangar for the biplane. Where he got his ideas from they did not know; but it must have been some magazine article; because the affair seemed to answer all requirements; though of course it was a mere shed, and not intended to be locked up.
But such a thing as injury coming to the precious aeroplane in this isolated place never once occurred to the boys. Surely there was no malicious Percy Carberry, and his shadow Sandy Hollingshead, away down here to want to render the biplane worthless for use; and every one of the punchers acted as though he believed the greatest treat of his whole life would arrive when he actually saw with his own eyes those daring young aviators mount upward toward the sky, until they seemed like a mere speck in the blue vault.
There was one occupant of the ranch building whom the boys were pleased indeed to meet. This was a little fairy of five, named Becky, a blue-eyed child, daughter of a niece of Mr. Witherspoon, who had departed this life. She was a winsome little thing, and the cow punchers seemed to fairly worship her.
Frank guessed that there was a little mystery attached to her, but he did not mean to seem curious, and ask any questions. In due time they learned from Buckskin that this niece had run away with a dashing Mexican named Jose Sandero; and after being cruelly treated by him, had fled once more across the border, arriving with her tiny baby at the Double X Ranch so worn out with fatigue that she had soon passed away. Her child had been left to Uncle Jethro; but not wanting to risk any chances, he had taken legal means to make himself the guardian of little Becky. And ever since she had been the sunlight of the whole ranch. The boys would stop in the midst of any wordy war, or wild singing, just to listen to the music of her sweet childish voice, that seemed capable of arousing all the best emotions in their natures.
Nothing had ever been seen of the father, and it was taken for granted that he must either be dead, or never wanted to attempt to claim his child. And, Buckskin declared that if ever he did show up round that region, he stood the finest possible chance of pulling hemp that any man ever knew.
That supper was one never to be forgotten. With the smiling Chinaman waiting on the noisy crowd, and appeasing every demand, Andy thought he had never enjoyed anything half so much in all his life. He had often camped out, and eaten the fare that is so greatly relished by every healthy lad with red blood in his veins, but there were so many things connected with this meal at the long table, where some ten ranch riders sat, and exchanged comments characteristic of their occupation, with everything so strange to the tenderfoot, that it made a deep impression on both the newcomers, never to be eradicated.
Then the punchers trooped off to their bunkhouse, to leave the travelers alone, for they felt that they needed considerable of a rest to make up for the fatigues of their long journey.
The man who drove the double team connected with the wagon must have coaxed considerable speed out of them after all without meeting with any accident on the road, for the freight had shown up an hour before sunset, and ere the call came for supper it had all been safely stowed away in the rude hangar, where Frank and his cousin could work at it on the morrow.
It was rather early when the boys sought their comfortable little room, where the white sheets invited them to sound slumber; and the soft night breeze fanned their cheeks, coming through the many windows that were always open.
They sat at the window some time, talking in low tones about many of the strange things they had already seen, and speculating on how this dry air of the desert border would affect them, when they made their first ascension.
Far away the mysterious lowing of herds came faintly to their ears; they could also catch the whinnying of horses in the stockade; and now and then the sound of music in the shape of a deftly manipulated accordion; or it might be the soft twanging of a Mexican mandolin, while one of the boys warbled softly about some black-eyed senorita he had left behind him in the country of the dons.
After a while the cousins decided that they ought to be in bed, and getting rested for the labors that awaited them in the morning. And once they threw themselves down, they were lost to the world in a few minutes.
Of course they dreamed as every boy does pretty much all the time. And it was only natural that Andy’s mind should go back while he slept to other days, when he and Frank were engaged in the hottest of races with their rival, Percy Carberry, who was just as deeply interested in all matters connected with aviation as they had been.
Many a time had they found themselves compelled to sit up and guard their property when they had by some successful exploit aroused the worse elements in the jealous nature of this rival. And even now, though removed from the home town and Percy by several thousand miles, Andy had to dream that once again a dark cloud was hovering over their fortunes, and all caused by the hatred of this boy who for more than two years had been the one thorn in their flesh.
So vivid had been his dream that Andy actually suddenly awoke with a low cry, and sat up in bed, trembling all over.
“What’s the matter?” demanded Frank, also springing up.
Before Andy could frame any sort of answer, owing to the confusion of ideas that seemed to be tumbling pell mell through his brain, both of them were thrilled to hear a voice from somewhere outside shouting:
“Wake up! help! help! fire! Whoop! get busy there, fellows!”
As though governed by a couple of springs the cousins leaped from their comfortable bed, and rushing over to one of the windows that looked toward where the new shed covering the precious aeroplane stood, they saw a sight that thrilled as well as alarmed them.