Ted Strong in Montana Part 14

They heard guttural shouts in the distance, and a band of ponies came through the gateway of the corral, scattering over the prairie.

Behind them rushed a band of Indians, who, seeing that there was no further occasion for silence, gave forth whoops of defiance.

Then Ted saw Sultan gallop out, and on his back was an Indian.

This was more than Ted could stand, and his rifle flew to his shoulder.

There was a flash and a crash, and the Indian fell to the ground, over which he writhed in agony.

Ted whistled, and Sultan trotted to his side.

The ponies had scattered, and the corral was empty.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE WAR PARTY.

The Indians had fled in every direction.

They had been foiled in their purpose of running the ponies off in a band, as they had intended, by Ted's fortunate discovery of the raid.

How to gather the ponies together again was the question that puzzled Ted, for the broncho boys had no mounts with which to pursue the would-be thieves.

It was not long before the light appeared in the east, and by that time Ted had ridden to Bud's sign camp, and thence to camp No. 2, and had four more hors.e.m.e.n to a.s.sist him in the pony round-up.

These worked unceasingly, riding the snowy prairie, picking up the ponies which the Indians had not been able to round into a bunch to drive to their rendezvous in the mountains.

The attack upon them had been so sudden that they had taken no heed of where they were going. It was every man for himself, with the broncho boys' bullets for the hindmost.

About noon Ted and the boys from the sign camps rode up to the ranch house, driving before them a band of about twenty ponies which they had found grazing on the prairie or seeking the shelter of the coulees.

Not a sign of the marauding Indians had they seen.

"Boys, as soon as we can get something to eat we're going after those Indians," said Ted, dismounting and going into the house. "We've got mounts for nearly all of us, now. A guard will be left at the house, then we'll get on their trail. We can't afford to let this thing go.

Those Indians must be taught a lesson, so that they will get over the idea that they can run in on us and take what they want just because we are boys."

"That's ther way ter talk," exclaimed Bud Morgan heartily. "Give 'em what's comin' to 'em, an' give it to 'em good an' plenty."

"I guess it won't be any snap to find them now," said Ben.

"They've scattered. But we can trail them. They'll leave a track like that of a moose, it will be so wide. They're in the hills somewhere, laying for another opportunity to raid the corral. They need ponies to ride, and beef to eat, and they have got the idea into their heads that we were sent out here to cater to their wants. It's our business to fool them."

"Oh, hurry up," cried Stella. "I'm so anxious to get started I'm all in a flutter."

"Who said you were going?" asked Ted, with a smile. "This is no pleasure trip. Trailing and fighting Indian outlaws is no matinee."

"I should say not," said Stella coolly. "But it's work for the broncho boys, and I'm one of them. Bud has promised to teach me the art of following an Indian trail, and there never will be a better time than this."

Ted could only shrug his shoulders, as he turned away to see if McCall was hurrying dinner. He knew that he would waste time arguing with the spirited young woman, who was as good a cowgirl as he was a cowboy, and for one of her s.e.x quite as courageous.

So eager were the boys to be off that they fairly bolted their food, and rushed to the corral to saddle their cayuses.

Then they saw to their arms, and each took his rifle in the boot of his saddle.

Sultan had had such a hard day's work since daylight, rounding up the scattered ponies, that Ted left him in the corral, and decided to ride a fresh horse. The only serviceable animal he could find was the worst riding beast on the place, a vicious, half-broken Texas pony, which had to be roped and held before the rider could mount.

This, however, made little difference to Ted, who could ride anything that would fit a saddle.

While he held the saddle ready to throw it on Bingo's back Bud roped and held the rearing, raging, bucking beast, who was busy kicking holes in the air with his wicked heels.

After maneuvering around the corral several times, Ted managed to dodge the flying hoofs long enough to slip the saddle and tie the latigo.

Then it was up to him to mount.

Whenever he approached Bingo from the rear, dancing around to escape the pony's battery, and got to the side where he could grasp the horn of his saddle, Bingo would wheel in a circle away from him as if he was fastened to a pivot.

The performance was getting monotonous, for the boys were standing around in a ring waiting to start.

Ted was getting impatient also at the fool antics of the pony.

"Stop your fooling," he said to Bingo. "When I do land on your back I'll make you sorry you didn't stand still, my bucko."

He stepped back several feet and stood looking at the pony, who, with ears flattened and the whites of his eyes showing, stood still also, waiting for further developments.

He didn't know exactly what was coming, but wanted to be ready for it, whatever it was to be.

Suddenly Ted gave a short, swift run, leaped in the air, and before Bingo could gather himself for a plunge, Ted was astraddle of the saddle.

Bingo remembered his part then, but he was too late, for simultaneously he felt the sting of the quirt across his shoulder, and the p.r.i.c.k of the spur in his flank.

A horse can think of only one thing at a time, while a mule can pay attention to the mule-skinner's lash and think of forty-seven varieties of devilment at the same time.

In trying to keep his mind on the sting of the quirt and the p.r.i.c.k of the rowels at the same time, Bingo got rattled.

He leaped high into the air, intending to fall backward, and crush his rider. But Ted had been there before many times, and as he went up a stinging blow across Bingo's withers brought him down in a hurry.

Then he did some more plunging, but the spur in his side, and Ted's firm seat, soon convinced him that it was wasting time to fool with Ted, and he set off at a gallop across the prairie.

With a ringing cheer the boys followed, and soon caught up with him.

When they were together again, Ted paired the boys off to scout.

"I'll tell you how you will probably find it, fellows," said Ted. "The Indians ride in different directions. Whenever you hit a trail follow it, but go slow and keep your eyes peeled for an ambuscade. You will find that eventually all the trails will lead to the same place. If we are in luck, we will find them before they go on into the mountains, and we may have a skirmish. I hope, however, that we will be able to settle the matter without resorting to any shooting. Uncle Sam is mighty touchy about any one killing his Indians except his soldiers, no matter what an Indian does. We'll probably all come together where the Indians are.

Kit, you ride with me. You other fellows choose your partners. Bud, take good care of Stella."

"You kin bet yer active an' useful life I will," said Bud, as he and Stella galloped off together.