CHAPTER XXIX—HANS AND THE BRONCHO
Sadie Rodney drew a deep breath.
“I am sorry, Mr. Merriwell,” she said, “that this unfortunate affair occurred, and I must express my admiration for the manner in which you disposed of that fellow. I can scarcely believe it now. But I fear it will mean more and serious trouble. I shall speak to father about it, and Indian Charlie shall be watched.”
“Don’t let it trouble you,” smiled Frank. “I do not fear that man, and he will not harm me, unless he does so in a treacherous manner.”
Within ten minutes every cowboy about the ranch knew what had happened, and it was not long before they were trooping around to the front of the house to get a look at the tenderfoot who had dared face Indian Charlie and had knocked him out. They stared at the youth doubtingly, and then went away shaking their heads.
“Look at them!” laughed Rattleton. “They won’t believe you could do it, Frank. I’ll bet that some of them think Charlie was struck by lightning.”
“It’s quite likely he will think so himself, when he is able to think at all,” said Hodge. “I thank you for chipping in, Frank; but I should have tried him a whirl if you hadn’t touched him.”
“I saw him reach for his gun, and——”
“You reached for him. You found him, too. Here come more cowboys!”
Another party of horsemen were seen tearing down toward the ranch, and the wild and reckless manner in which they rode made it a thrilling spectacle.
“Ah!” cried Jack; “those fellows are horsemen! It is not often you see men who can ride like that.”
“Vale, I don’d know!” put in Hans. “You don’d seen me ride a proncho alretty yet, eh? I vos a vonder. Pimeby britty soon I vos goin’ to shown you der sort uf a vild parepack rider I peen. You pet I vill surbrise meinself!”
“That’s right, b’gosh!” grinned Ephraim. “It will be better’n a circus to see ye.”
“Mebbe you don’d think I can’t ride a proncho?” cried Hans, resentfully. “You gif me a chance un I vill shown you.”
“Begorra!” cried Barney; “it’s a chance ye can be afther havin’ now. Come on, ye Dutch chaze.”
“Oh, gone avay mit yourself!” said Hans, quickly. “I nefer ride a pig preakfasts on.”
“Haw! haw! haw!” laughed the Vermonter. “I knowed he’d back aout. Why, you couldn’t ride a saw-hoss!”
“Vot?” screamed Hans, angrily. “Don’d you pelief me! I pet myself zwei tollar I can ride der pestest horse vot you never saw! Yaw! I done him any oldt times!”
“Then come on, an’ don’t ye darst back aout.”
Hans was wildly excited. His fat face was flushed and his eyes were bulging. He presented such a ludicrous spectacle that the boys broke into shouts of laughter.
“You hadn’t better try to ride a broncho, Hans,” warned Frank, who feared the fat lad might be injured. “Keep away from the deceptive broncho. Only the most expert horsemen can ride them.”
“Vale, I peen der most exbert horseman vot you nefer saw. Yaw! I profe him to yourself. Come on!”
Hans ran down the steps, tripped over his own feet, and rolled on the grass, producing still more amusement.
“Come on!” he wildly cried, as he struggled up. “You don’d know der kindt uv sduff I vasn’t made uf. Shust you pring me to a hoss vot I don’d peen aple not to ride! You can’t done dot!”
“He’ll nivver dare throy it, b’ys,” grinned Barney. “He’ll back out th’ minute he sees th’ baste. Come on. It’s poiles av shport we’ll be afther havin’ wid him.”
“Come on, fellows!” shouted Rattleton. “Here’s where we have a circus! Hurrah for fun!”
A moment later they were following the fat Dutch boy around to the nearest corral, in the vicinity of which a number of cowboys were gathered.
“Pring der proncho oudt righd avay alretty!” shouted Hans, as he waddled around toward the corral, with the others following him. “I peen goin’ to shown you how to ride him, you pet!”
The cowboys stared at him in astonishment.
“Hey?” cried Hank Kildare, putting his hands on his hips and glaring at the Dutch lad. “Whatever is thet thar ye say?”
“Vere dot proncho vos, ain’d id? I peen goin’ to took a whirl oudt of.”
“Git out! Ye’re crazy! Why, you couldn’t ride a dead cow!”
Hans grew still more excited. His face was red, and he wildly flourished his short arms, fairly choking in his excitement.
“Py ginger! I shown you dot about pritty queek right avay!” he cried. “Uf I don’t ride der vorst proncho I nefer seen you vos a liar!”
The cowboys shouted with laughter.
“Why, dern my eyes!” came from Pecos Pete, who was a veteran “broncho buster,” or horse trainer. “I reckon mebbe I’ll have to git you to show me a few p’ints about ther business.”
“I shown you somedings vot I don’t know,” flung back the excited Dutch boy. “Pring oudt der proncho!”
“Hyar,” said one of the cowboys, dismounting from the tough little beast upon which he had ridden up to the ranch; “hyar’s yer chance. Git right on hyar.”
“Vot am I gifin’ you!” shouted Hans. “Dot peen a drained horses. Vot I vos lookin’ for been a horse dot don’d peen drained alretty yet.”
“I’ll allow as how you’ll find ther critter ain’t trained any too much. You can’t ride him.”
“Vot vill I pet you apout dot?” excitedly demanded the fat boy. “You don’t think I can’t ride him, ain’d id?”
“Wa-al, I judge he’ll make it right lively for ye.”
“Dot seddles id! How I peen aple his pack to ged on?”
Frank interfered, seeing Hans was in earnest about attempting to ride.
“You hadn’t better try it,” he said. “The broncho might kill you.”
“Vot? Don’d you pelief me! Der proncho vot could done dot don’d peen porn alretty yet. Get oud der vay of.”
Hans was determined, and Frank found it useless to argue with him.
“Is the animal vicious?” he asked in an aside of its owner.
“Wa-al, he ain’t bad,” was the slow reply. “He kin buck a leetle, but he’s trained to it, an’ he won’t try it unless I set him at it.”
“Then don’t set him at it, for Hans might be thrown off and killed. Let him ride, and he will be satisfied. It’ll be more sport to hear him boast than it would be to see him flung off and injured.”
The cowboy looked doubtful, but Frank finally succeeded in getting him to agree not to set the broncho to bucking.
Then Ephraim and Barney each got hold of one of Hans’ legs to assist him to mount.
“Are yez riddy?” asked the Irish lad, a twinkle in his eyes, with one of which he winked a signal at the Vermonter, who grinned back knowingly.
“Vait a leedle!” squawked Hans, as he reached up with his short arms and got a hold on the saddle—“vait till I ged me der saddles hold uf!”
“Wal, be ye reddy naow?” asked Ephraim.
“Yaw. Led her went!”
Barney and Ephraim gave a whoop and lifted Hans off his feet. Then, as the broncho shied sideways, they dropped him with a dull thud to the ground, where he struck in a sitting posture, the breath going out of his body with a grunted puff.
The cowboys laughed heartily, and the girls, who were watching from a distance, were much amused, Miss Gale alone looking severe and unruffled.
“Shimminy Gristmas!” gasped the Dutch boy, as soon as he could catch his breath. “Why you done dot, ain’d id? Why you scared der proncho your holler mit? Don’d you know somedings?”
“Haw! haw! haw!” laughed Ephraim, slapping his thigh. “Darn my pertaturs! but that’s ther funniest thing I ever saw!”
“Hey?” squawked Hans, shaking his fist at the Vermonter. “Vot you don’d peen laughin’ at? I don’d seen nottings funny apoud id!”
He got up slowly and advanced toward the broncho, which was standing quiet enough.
“Begorra! it wur a mistake, me b’y,” declared Barney. “It wur simply an exidint.”
“Oh, id vos an oxident?” said Hans, his suspicions allayed by Barney’s honest manner. “Vale, don’d you led id fail to happen again. Und if dot Yankee poy from Fermonts done dot any more I peen goin’ ter kick uf him der stuffin’s oudt!”
With this threat he prepared to attempt to mount once more.
Barney and Ephraim came forward to lift him. The Irish lad made a significant upward gesture behind Hans’ back, and Ephraim nodded and chuckled.
“Are yez riddy?” Barney asked once more.
“Yaw. Led her gone!”
Then, with all their strength, the mischievous assistants fairly flung the fat boy over the broncho’s back.
Hans came down on the other side, striking the ground with a dull thud, having fallen flat on his back. He lay there a moment, and then slowly reached out toward the sky with his hands, as if trying to catch something.
“Py shimminy!” he exclaimed; “I nefer seen such peautiful fireworks pefore!”
This seemed to amuse the gathering cowboys more than anything that had happened, and their shouts of laughter aroused the fallen lad, who sat up and looked around.
Frank and his friends were amused.
“Vill somepody peen kindt enough to exblain vot habbened,” urged Hans, in a bewildered way.
Barney and Ephraim rushed around and lifted him to his feet, although he regarded them with some suspicion.
“May th’ ould Nick floy away wid a broncho thet won’t shtand still!” cried Barney. “Av th’ baste hadn’t moved thin it’s mounted ye’d been alriddy.”
“Did der proncho move?”
“Move?” cried Ephraim, with a broad gesture. “Does dynamite move if yeou swat it with a brick!”
Hans faced the animal, shaking his fist angrily at the innocent creature.
“Look ad here, Mister Proncho!” he squealed; “uf you don’d done dot again, I peen goin’ to kick uf you der hay oudt! Dot vos peesness! I don’d dislike dot foolin’, und I vant you to misunderstood dot!”
“Thar, b’gosh!” said Ephraim; “I kinder guess the gol darn critter understands it naow!”
“You pet! Now, you put me ub right avay queek pefore he haf forgotten id. Hurry up!”
Again the boys caught hold of Hans, but this time they lifted him onto the back of the broncho, where, with no small amount of awkwardness, he succeeded in getting seated in the saddle.
“Hah!” he cried, triumphantly. “Don’d I toldt you so! Ven I vos retty to done peesness, I vos der poy to got there!”
“Hurrah!” shouted the other boys, waving their caps and hands. “What’s the matter with Dunnerwust? He’s all right! ’Rah! ’rah! ’rah!”
The Dutch boy looked proud as a peacock.
“Look avay oudt now!” he said. “I vas goin’ to shown you der vay to ride.”
Then he tried to start the broncho, but the animal refused to stir.
“Vot peen der madder mit you?” angrily demanded Hans, striking the creature with his hand. “Why you don’d gone along, ain’d id?”
Still the broncho stood quite still, its head down and its short ears tipped back in an ominous manner.
Hans tried in various ways to start the creature up, but was not successful.
“Der proncho peen dead!” he said, in disgust, thumping the animal with his heels.
As if resenting this, the creature suddenly gave a squeal, made a bound into the air, and came down with all four feet close together and its back “humped.”
Dunnerwust shot up from the saddle in a most surprising way.
By chance he came straight down and struck in the saddle again. He tried to catch hold and cling on, but the broncho made another leap.
“Hellup! hellup!” roared Hans, as he again shot into the air. “Dat proncho haf injy-rubber mit his pack in!”