Boy Scouts on the Open Plains; Or, The Round-Up Not Ordered

by G. Harvey Ralphson

Ned at first wondered why they had been brought here to the camp, the location of which had long been a mystery to outsiders. He even feared that circumstance meant something terrible to himself and two chums, because now that they held the secret of the hide-out of the rustlers, it did not seem likely they would be allowed to depart, even if they swore never to betray the fugitives from justice.

Then he noticed certain signs, being a most observant lad, as we already know, that told him another story. The rustlers for some reason or other were getting ready to make a change of base. Perhaps they believed that the vicinity of the Double Cross Ranch was likely to become too warm for them after what had happened, for Ally Sloper must have brought considerable news when he joined the gang.

The boys were allowed to sit together on a blanket. They had been tersely warned by the hoarse-voiced giant that if they so much as tried to escape they were sure to be shot down like coyotes; and there was that in his ferocious manner that made Harry shiver with apprehension; while Jimmy was seen to clench his fists and grit his teeth, as though his fighting blood had been aroused.

Ned had to smile, though, when he looked at the fearful difference between the two; one a giant and the other not far from being a dwarf. It reminded him of a little bantam defying a great barnyard rooster, or of David, armed only with his puny sling, facing Goliath, the mighty man of the Philistines.

Fortunately Jimmy had sense enough not to open his mouth, thanks to the shove Ned gave him with his elbow. Had he dared say anything bold and saucy to the big bully, the chances were he would have rued the day, for Hy Adams could have easily seized him by the nape of the neck and swung him around his head six or seven times, just for a lark.

“I wonder now do we get any?” Jimmy was saying, rather plaintively, as he sniffed the odors of supper cooking.

Jimmy could have stood for almost anything save starvation, or being deprived of his regular feed. If he had known that he had to run the gauntlet in the morning, or be toasted at the stake, the chances were that he would have let out a howl to the effect that he hoped they would at least fill him up with something to eat before making him lie down for the night.

“I wonder where he can be right now?” Harry was whispering, as he managed to cast his eyes around the bordering rocks, without doing it in such an open manner as to invite suspicion, in case any of the rustlers were watching them.

“Of course you mean dear old Jack,” the scout master went on to say; “and I’m hoping he’s at the ranch by this time, telling his story to the Colonel.”

“I can shut my eyes and see the riot there’d be in that case,” mused Harry, with a sigh; “every puncher would be wanting to join the rescue bunch, and the herds might go hang for one night. But Ned, perhaps he followed us up here?”