CHAPTER IX—FIGURING IT ALL OUT
“What’s that you say, Uncle Jethro?” exclaimed Andy, his face wreathed in an expression of sheer astonishment; for it gave him a tremendous shock to hear that nightmare of a name, Percy, mentioned away out here in Arizona.
“I’m sure,” the rancher went on, “you said something to me about a scamp who was forever trying to do you both an ill turn up around home; and unless I’m mistaken, you also told me he was the only son of a wealthy but foolish widow, who supplied him with all the money he asked for. The first name was Percy, that I’d swear; and the last one began with the letters C-a-r, now didn’t it, boys?”
“Carberry, that’s it, uncle,” burst out Andy.
“But what makes you ask that, sir?” demanded Frank, looking curiously at what seemed to be a scrap of paper in the fingers of the gentleman.
“This is what made me mention it; it is apparently a small part of a letter that some one at this place must have received not a great while back, and which he thought best to destroy; but one of the fragments lodged in a bush; and when my foreman chanced to notice it, and idly picked it up, he was interested in the few words he could make out, so he brought it to me. Here, take a look for yourselves, boys, and tell me what you think.”
On the piece of paper with the ragged edges there could only be made out some dozen or two words; a portion of these being incomplete, though easily guessed.
These ran irregularly, and might be set down in something like the following order: “Fifty dolla—good job of it—anyway you like—burn it to cinde—hear how it—ld friend, Percy Car——”
Andy nearly had a fit when he read this; Frank, on his part, felt the blood boil within him, though better able to conceal the state of his feelings, or rather control his temper, than his impulsive cousin.
“Why, just think of that, would you?” exclaimed Andy, “not satisfied with doing everything in his power to injure the Bird Boys while they were up there, this contemptible ingrate actually has the nerve to write to some fellow who, he happened to know, was working on or near this ranch, and sent him fifty dollars, which was to pay him for doing something to make all our journey down here useless—he even put it in his head to burn our aeroplane, and all that! Oh! he is certainly the meanest fellow that ever came down the pike. I almost wish we’d left him up there on the summit of Old Thunder-Top, Frank, to get what he deserved.”
“Oh! I wouldn’t say that, Andy,” remarked his cousin, “it’s a rough deal, I know, but when we could save those fellows it was our duty to do it, no matter whether they were of any use in the world or not. You never can tell how things are going to turn out.”
“You nearly always can when Percy Carberry has got to do with it,” grumbled Andy.
“Now, suppose you enlighten me as to what all this talk is about,” demanded the rancher. “Am I to understand that you once saved the very life of this boy, who is right now doing his level best to play you a mean trick?”
And so between them the boys had to relate the story, which has been given in an earlier volume of this series, how they started in a desperate race with Andy for the crown of the rocky height not many miles away from Bloomsbury, away up in New York State; and a storm of wind coming up, the aeroplane of Andy was wrecked, so that he might have even lost his life, only that the Bird Boys managed to hold on to him; and afterwards get the two boys, one at a time, safely to the ground.
“Of all the cases of base ingratitude, that beats everything,” declared the indignant rancher; and he forthwith set out to call every puncher and employee on the place around him; after which he told the story and while they listened in breathless wonder he went on to say, angrily:
“If there chances to be any one within the sound of my voice who received that letter, which I can hardly believe, I want to give him fair warning right now, that if the slightest harm comes to either of these brave boys while they are visiting at Double X Ranch, or if any further attempt is made to injure their airship, the punchers of this outfit have my hearty consent to carry out their own sweet will; yes, and by thunder! under certain conditions, I’d be willing to help pull on the rope!”
A salvo of cheers interrupted his words. Apparently they had found an echo in every heart. But then Frank knew very well that if the guilty one were present, it would be only good policy on his part to shout just as loud as the rest, for fear lest suspicion be directed in his quarter. A short time later he saw Buckskin beckoning to him. Several of the other boys seemed to be clustered around him, as though they had been comparing notes.
“You see, Frank,” began Buckskin, when the other joined the group, “none of us boys feel quite right on ’count of the way Mr. Witherspoon said that same. It kinder made us feel oneasy like. We kept a-lookin’ at each other, just like we was a wonderin’ whether it could be this one, or that other night wrangler. Why, all of us feel meaner nor a mule skinner about the same. And we’ve got together in a bunch to talk it over, so’s to larn who it was got a letter from the East lately; and we struck pay dirt right away.”
“I’m glad of that,” said Frank, “though I hope it isn’t going to make trouble for any fellow on the pay roll of Double X Ranch.”
Buckskin grinned.
“That’s where he played it fine,” he said. “Member the slim chap you met yesterday when you landed, and who went by the name of Parsons? Well, he gave notice as he’d been called back home, and had to quit here last night; so off he goes late in the afternoon, bag and baggage. None of us seemed to cotton to him much, though, as a puncher he knew his business all right, and was fair spoken enough. But there always seemed to be something slick about him that stood us off. Now, several of us, on comparing notes, chances to remember that the Parson he had a letter from East somewhere only a few days back. Looky here, Frank, did you ever know anybody up in your town by the name of Edmondson; because that was his real name, Collins Edmondson it was, though we always called him Parson because he was so solemn like.”
Frank looked at his cousin, who was also of the group.
“That is certainty the name of his uncle; over in Rahway,” declared Andy, “yes, and I remember hearing that name Collins before. I guess you’ve struck pay dirt this time, Buckskin. And I’m glad, for one, that now we know no man on this ranch would be guilty of such a mean game as setting our machine on fire.”
Buckskin was immensely pleased with the remarkable results of his figuring, and detective work. He hastened over to tell Mr. Witherspoon all about it; and soon afterward the rancher was seen to wring his hand until he undoubtedly made the tears come in to the stunted cow-puncher’s eyes.
Great was the indignation among the rest of the boys when they learned what appeared to be the probable truth. Some of them were making hurriedly for their horses, muttering under their breath; and Mr. Witherspoon had to do some quick hustling in order to cut the threatening mutiny off.
“Let the snake go, boys,” he said. “He didn’t carry out his contemptible scheme, after all, thanks to your promptness and bravery. I give you permission that if ever he shows his head around these diggings again, which isn’t likely, you can treat him to a nice warm coat, even if you have to borrow my tar kettle, and steal one of my best down pillows. That goes, boys; so just turn back now.”
Which the impulsive ones did, knowing that the rancher was a man of his word, and evidently did not want the affair carried any further. But doubtless they would manage to get word to the Parson, if so be he had found employment anywhere in the country, that unless he felt cold, and wanted a splendid down coat applied, regardless of cost, he would be wise to keep away from Double X Ranch.
Andy begged that scrap of paper from his uncle. He declared he meant to keep it carefully and compare the writing with some of Percy Carberry’s later on; and if this convicted him, he would throw the matter up to him right on the school campus in the presence of a score of the higher scholars, and spread his proofs before them, so that they could let the cur know what they thought of his mean actions.
Andy could be a good hater when he had occasion for it; he always declared that he had a strain of good old Scotch blood in him that rose to the surface every now and then.
“Seems to me that lets Rustler Carlos out of it,” remarked Buckskin, turning to some of the others with a wide grin, a little later, when he came back feeling tenderly of his digits, that had a pinched look, where they had lain in the tremendous grip of the rancher.
“Well,” said another puncher, an old fellow called “Shorty,” though he was six feet in height, “he’d be guilty of anything just as bad, if so be he happened around; and for one I’m a-goin’ to keep my eyes skinned for signs of him. Some say he crossed the line again below here fifty miles, and made a swoop through the Underwood section; but that report has been denied, and none of us know what to believe. So it stands to reason we ought to keep on guard, and remember that Carlos, he don’t hold our crowd in high esteem.”
The boys felt in splendid spirits as night came on again. Apparently, now, all clouds had rolled by, and they ought to have clear sailing after this. There were dozens of other thrills they were holding back in store for future exhibitions; for the Bird Boys had already learned that secret of exhibitors to always keep the best in reserve.
On special invitation from the boys they went over to the bunk house that night and spent the time with them, listening to stories of thrilling interest connected with the wild life of the desert trails, and the valleys among the mountains in that strip of Arizona, most singular of all the States in the Union in its many sharp contrasts with regard to the rock strata and mineral formations.
In return, Frank and Andy told in a modest way something of the many exploits in which they had been concerned as air voyagers. Most of all, the punchers wanted to hear about how they had gone down to South America, and found Frank’s missing father a prisoner in a cliff-enclosed valley, into which he had fallen at the time his runaway balloon drifted far to the south from the Panama Peninsula, when he was conducting a series of experiments, and explorations in the interest of the great Northern college with which his name had long been connected as a scientist.
Andy was not so backward as his cousin about telling of what wonderful things they had seen, and how close to death they had been on numerous occasions; he even took advantage of the opportunity to describe how often Frank’s splendid nerve had been the only thing that had kept them from instant destruction; and although the other tried to make light of the facts, those hardy cow-punchers realized that in this slender stripling, who was so modest, and yet so self-possessed, they saw as true a hero as ever had his name recorded in the annals of history.