The Pony Rider Boys in New Mexico Part 16

"Sh.e.l.l out, fellows. Ten cents apiece. That ought to salve his injured feelings."

Ned pa.s.sed the hat, all contributing.

"That makes forty cents. Here, Professor, you haven't put in your ten yet. It'll take just fifty cents to paste up Juan's injuries."

"That reminds me of a fellow I heard about once," announced Stacy.

"Are you going to tell a story?" questioned Ned.

"If you will keep still long enough," replied Stacy.

"Then me for the bunch gra.s.s. It's like going to a funeral to hear Chunky try to tell a story."

"Let him tell it," shouted the lads.

"Go on, Chunky. Never mind Ned. He'll laugh when he gets back to Chillicothe," jibed Walter.

"I heard of a fellow once--"

"Yes; you told us that before," jeered Ned.

"Not the one we ducked in the spring, was it?" grinned Tad.

"Who's telling this story?" demanded Stacy belligerently.

"You are, I guess. I won't interrupt again."

"Well, did I say this fellow was a boy?"

"No."

"Well, he was--he's grown up now. He rushed into a drug store--"

"Was anything chasing him?" asked Ned innocently.

Stacy gave no heed to the interruption.

"And he said to the man in the store, 'Please, sir, some liniment and some cement?'"

"'What?' asked the clerk all in a muddle. You see, he'd never had a prescription like that to fill before. It made him tired, 'cause he thought the kid was making fun of him."

"'What--what's the trouble? What do you want liniment and cement for?'

"'Cause,' said the boy to the pill man, ''cause mom hit pop on the head with a plate.'"

For a moment there was silence, then the boys roared. But Ned never smiled.

"Laugh, laugh! Why don't you laugh?" urged Walter.

"Laugh? Huh! I laughed myself almost sick over that a long time ago.

Read it in an almanac when I was in short trousers."

"The ponies! The ponies!" cried Juan, rus.h.i.+ng up to them, waving his arms, then running his fingers through his long black hair until it stood up like the quills of a porcupine.

"What!" queried the Pony Rider Boys in sudden alarm. "What's the matter with the ponies?"

Juan pointed to the place where the stock had been tethered after they arrived at the camp.

There was not an animal to be seen anywhere on the plain.

"Gone!" gasped the lads, with sinking hearts.

"No, no, no. There!" stammered the guide.

With one accord the boys ran at top speed to the spot indicated by Juan.

There, stretched out in the long gra.s.s lay bronchos and burros.

"They're dead, the ponies are dead, every one of them!" cried the lads aghast.

CHAPTER IX

THE MIDNIGHT ALARM

"What's this, what's this?" demanded the Professor, striding up.

"Look! Look! The ponies are dead!" exclaimed Ned excitedly.

"What do you suppose could have happened to them?" stammered Walter.

"Is it possible? What's the meaning of this, guide?"

Juan shrugged his shoulders and showed his white teeth.

In the meantime Tad had hurried to his own pony, and was down on his knees examining it. Placing his hands on the animal's side, he remained in that position for an instant, then sprang up.

"They're not dead, fellows! They're alive!"

"Asleep," grumbled Ned disgustedly.

"But there's something the matter with them. Something has happened to the stock," added Tad.

"Only a false alarm," nodded Stacy.