The third member of the trio of riders was named William Stonewall Jackson Winkle. Hence it would go without saying that he came of an intensely patriotic Southern family, one or more of
whose members must have ridden with the famous Confederate general in those terrible days of the Civil War; though the Winkles now lived in the North, and Billie’s father was a rich New York lawyer.
The boy had really been sent to pay a year’s visit to his cousin, Donald, in the hope that the bracing air and breezy life of a cattle ranch, with plenty of outdoor exercise thrown in, might reduce his flesh more or less; and the cure had been fairly successful.
While Billie was still an enormously fat chap, his muscles were no longer flabby, but “hard as nails,” as he often joyously avowed. He had come out West a genuine tenderfoot or greenhorn, only knowing how to ride fairly well; but gifted with an extraordinary stubborn disposition that forced him to keep “plugging” away at any thing he wished to learn until it had to succumb.
So he had conquered the vicious pony named Jupiter, which none of the cow-punchers had had the patience to break of his evil ways. For a long time it was an open question whether Billie would break the pony, or the latter break Billie’s neck; but in the end the determined boy had won out. And from that day on they delighted to call the fat chum Broncho Billie.
Down in Arizona these three lads, known far and wide as the Broncho Rider Boys because they were
nearly always seen galloping swiftly over the plains on their mounts, either in pursuit of game, runaway cattle, or just for a wild lark, had of course met with numerous exciting experiences.
Some of these will be found narrated in previous volumes of this series, to which the reader who would know more about the saddle pards, is referred.
They had made the journey of hundreds of miles mounted on their horses, and taking things rather easy. With them they carried rifles, and some cooking utensils as well as blankets; for many a night they camped just as they found themselves in the open, making themselves fairly comfortable. At other times they put up at roadside taverns, especially when a bad spell of weather came along, and the chance for shelter offered.
From what Adrian had said to the stout chum, they were now close to the end of their long journey, with their mounts in tiptop condition. Indeed, he had assured Billie that this night would in all probability be their last on the Wyoming trail, as they should reach Bar-S Ranch before another sundown succeeded the one that was before them.