Читать книгу The X Bar X Boys at Nugget Camp - Roger Garis - Страница 5

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The two Manley boys rode back slowly, Roy glancing over his shoulder toward the rocks just before they were lost to sight. Teddy saw the gesture, and grinned.

“How high is the top of that cliff from the water, Roy?” he asked.

“One hundred feet; maybe less.”

“And how high was it when you were falling?”

“Seventeen and three-quarter miles.”

Teddy nodded. “I believe you have made a great discovery, Roy. Of course, some one else may have thought of it ahead of you. I seem to remember a man by the name of Einstein who made a crack about relativity—”

“That had to do with motion,” Roy answered seriously. “You see, he said that all motion is relative. For instance, suppose two trains are moving at the same rate of speed and you’re sitting in one of them. If there were no stationary objects near, it would be impossible to tell—”

“Oh, the sun shines bright in my old Kentucky ho-o-ome!” Teddy sang loudly. “’Tis summer, the darkies are gay. And the little tots play in the cabin round the do-o-o-ore! For my old Kentucky ho-o-o-o-o-ome—”

Roy leaned toward him casually, stretched out his arm and caught Teddy just under the fifth rib with his open hand. The “h-o-o-o-o-ome” was ripped apart, the pieces being expelled by a vigorous “ooof!”

“And no insurance,” Teddy grunted regretfully. “The home that had sheltered those people all these years, to be broken up by a careless blow of a calloused hand! My! My! Here, Flash, cut that out! Roy, hang on to Star for a second.”

He looked at his brother. Roy’s face was white and his eyes had little crinkles of pain at the corners.

“What the mischief?” Teddy demanded. “Your head, Roy? That was a pretty mean sock you got. Here, you tie this handkerchief around it—or let me. Go on, now, mind, little brother.”

“Guess I shouldn’t have been so funny, whacking you that way,” Roy muttered, and smiled weakly. “I don’t want that thing on my head, Teddy. If Nell sees me coming all tied up she’ll think something happened.”

“And nothing did happen—we’ve just been to a tea, and you got a little damp trying to do a six beat crawl in the punch bowl,” Teddy said sarcastically. “Listen to me, bucko! They’ll know you took a spill. How can they help knowing? But what of it? Tell ’em you got out all right—crawled ashore. Remember that? You crawled ashore.”

He glanced at Roy significantly.

If any one else had saved his life and Roy were asked to say nothing of it, he would have refused immediately. The smallest recompense one may offer to his rescuer is to acknowledge the debt publicly. But between these two there was no such formality. They were not concerned with what others thought of their relationship to one another. Calmly each accepted the full devotion of his brother, knowing that his own was accepted in turn. Thus, when Teddy signified that he did not wish known the part he had played in saving Roy, the other agreed at once to keep the true story hidden.

“All right, I crawled ashore,” Roy said. “And if you feel like playing doctor, go right ahead.”

He edged the pony toward Teddy and submitted to the ministrations of his brother. When the large handkerchief had been tied about the cut, Teddy removed his hat and placed it lightly on his brother’s head. Roy’s own hat was floating somewhere in Rocky Run River.

“It won’t hurt you with that bandage on,” he declared. “And this sun is pretty strong. No, leave it tilted that way.”

“Yes, doctor,” Roy replied meekly. “Anything you say. Now they’ll think I’m a gunman.”

“You look like a pirate,” Teddy laughed. “How does that bronc ride, Roy?”

“Pretty steady. Shakes now and then, that’s all. Jiminy! I didn’t notice that long scratch on Star’s hind leg.” He glanced down at the pony Teddy was leading. “Let me take him for a while.”

“No, you’ve got enough to attend to,” Teddy insisted. “Star’s all right. Needs a good rubdown, that’s all, and he’ll soon get it. We’ll be at the ranch in fifteen minutes.”

“Meantime—” Roy pulled his pony to a halt and began searching through his pockets.

“Money?” Teddy asked. “Forget it. If you had any in your pockets, it’s gone. Besides, what can you buy for eleven cents?”

“Not money,” Roy replied. “It’s—ah, here we have it!” He pulled a sodden mass from one of his pockets. The gleam of tinfoil showed as he held the object proudly up.

“For the love of Pete, what’s that?” Teddy gasped. “A first-aid kit?”

“Chocolate!” Roy exclaimed. “Real, honest-to-goodness chocolate—even if it is a little mildewed. Here, take a piece.”

“Not me,” Teddy said firmly. “I like my chocolate in a cup or dry—but not half and half. You go ahead and eat it.”

“I will,” Roy answered, munching on the candy. “It’s good, too.”

“Is it?” Teddy commented. “Well, that’s nice.”

He could think of nothing else to say, and the two boys rode for a while in silence. The chocolate gave Roy added strength, and gradually his cheeks were resuming their normal color, that peculiar reddish brown that comes to the faces of men who live in the open. There is nothing more sickly looking than to see a man whose skin is tanned go suddenly pale beneath it.

“You know,” Roy said after a few minutes, “I would have been after this bronco as quickly as you, only my stirrup slipped.”

“I thought something happened. I—er—thought I had him when he doubled back and got away again. Hope Nell didn’t get hurt when she fell off.”

“She didn’t,” Roy assured him. “Wanted to know if I thought she was a bag of potatoes when I suggested that Belle and Ethel carry her in. Or maybe I did say cart her in.”

“You probably did. From a youth you were given to the use of the correct expression in the incorrect place.”

Another period of silence. Then, from Teddy:

“Well, I’m glad of that.”

“Huh?”

“That she didn’t get hurt when she fell off. Just continuing the conversation. How’s your head feel now?”

“Is by me Ho Kay! Such is the resilience of youth that—”

“Applesauce! Snakes, it’s getting hotter by the minute! I’m nearly dry. And that reminds me—”

“Yes, I thought of that, too,” Roy said meaningly. “How’d you get wet watching me swim to shore?”

“Well, I waded in and helped you, then. That’ll pass.”

Both Roy and Teddy knew the real reason for not saying anything about the rescue. In the first place, Nell Willis would berate herself for having fallen off, and so, consequently, having exposed Roy to danger. In the second place—and this Teddy realized more than Roy—there would be small glory to Roy in having to be dragged from the river. And after all, it was Teddy’s fault, for his cry startled the runaway. For these and other reasons the boys judged it best that none but themselves should know the true story.

Ahead of them now was the hill that over-topped the 8 X 8 ranch. Within ten minutes they would be greeting the girls.

Suddenly Teddy, who was ahead leading Star, held up his hand.

“Got a question to ask?” Roy said laconically. “Well, go ahead. But remember teacher isn’t here to—”

“I heard a yell,” Teddy interrupted shortly. “A funny yell.”

“A funny yell?” Roy noticed the seriousness of his brother’s face and did not carry the joking further. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it sounded like a yell for help. Pipe down a second while I listen.”

The horses were brought to a halt. The boys remained silent, but heard nothing but the murmur of the river in the distance.

“Reckon I was mistaken,” Teddy said finally. “I must be hearing things. What say we get a wiggle on? You feel all right?”

“Sure! Step on it. Don’t worry about me. That chocolate brought me around.”

They swung their mounts into a trot. Both Star and Flash were well schooled, and could trot as well as any Eastern pony. Nearly all Western steeds will go right from a walk into a gallop, since there are few times when a trot is demanded of them. The Western stirrup is usually too long to allow “posting,” which is the peculiar rising and falling of the rider to co-ordinate with the pony’s motion.

At the foot of the hill was a small clump of trees, the only shade visible for miles around. Teddy headed for this.

“Any special reason?” Roy inquired.

“For going this way? Well, it’s no longer, and that yell—if it was a yell—came from this direction. We might take a look—see?”

“Check! We shall investigate the ghostly sound.”

The boys were intent on this new experience now. The fall into the river was forgotten for the moment. Roy scarcely realized that his head was injured, yet was forcibly reminded of the fact when he took off his hat to rub an itchy place.

“Man’s yell?” Roy asked after an interval. They were approaching the trees.

“I thought so. Not shrill enough for a woman or a girl. And it couldn’t have been a cat.” Teddy was referring to a mountain lion, not a house cat.

Coming into the shadow of the trees, Teddy halted again, as a man does who is uncertain of things around him. The woods were about a quarter of a mile deep, tapering off at one end like a triangle.

“Going to ride through?” Roy asked.

“Might as well.” He urged Flash forward. “Maybe—”

The sentence was never finished. So close to them that they started violently, as did their horses, came a cry:

“Don’t! For heaven’s sake, don’t shoot! I haven’t got it with me, I tell you! I—”

The roar of a gun cut the voice short. It died out in a groan. From the point of the triangle two men rushed into the open—two men, riding hard and leading a third horse.