Belle Ada, with her two brothers, had been visiting the 8 X 8 ranch, belonging to Peter Ball, a close friend of the two brothers and of their father. Some time before Nell Willis and Ethel, or “Curly,” Carew, had come from the East to see their aunt, Mrs. Ball. Whether it was due to their liking of Western scenery or to the fact that the X Bar X ranch—where Teddy and Roy lived—was within riding distance, is a question still to be determined; but at any rate, they stretched their visit from one month into many months.
They were rapidly growing to look upon the great spaces of the West as their real home. But an incident, such as had just occurred, served to show that they had not quite earned the title of cowgirls.
Nell had been thrown. Her mount stopped suddenly, and the girl had taken the shortest route to the ground, fortunately lauding free of the horse and unhurt aside from a severe shaking up. The pony tossed his head, rolled his eyes significantly, and streaked in the general direction of Chicago, Teddy hot on his trail. Roy’s stirrup had taken that moment to slip.
“Be good now, Nell,” Roy admonished. “You put an awful dent in mother earth, you know. Yay—there she is!” He gave the strap a final tug and then vaulted into the saddle. “If Teddy catches that bronc while his big brother is playing nursemaid to a horse, I’ll never hear the last of it. Got to get me a new pair of stirrups. Get in out of the sun, Nell! We’ll have you—”
“Never mind about the sun!” Nell called. “You rope yourself tight to Star and keep your feet out of the stirrups!”
It is doubtful if Roy heard the remark, however well directed it was, for he had given his pony a quick jab with his heels and was dashing toward the hills behind which his brother had disappeared. Seventeen is not an age which will gracefully admit the superiority of another, even though that other be a brother. Roy wanted very much to catch Nell’s runaway pony before Teddy did.
He bent low over Star’s neck and watched the little spurts of dust fly up as the pony pounded over the dry earth. To his ears came the low murmur of Rocky Run River, a stream which skirted both the X Bar X and the 8 X 8 ranches. The spring sun was melting the mountain snows, and the river was at its highest point.
“If Teddy heads him in the right direction, he can corner him,” Roy muttered. “And that means I’ll arrive just in time to be late. Blame that stirrup! If it had been Curly’s horse it wouldn’t be so bad. But I ought to catch Nell’s bronc—instead of Teddy catching him.”
He did not explain this enigmatical statement, even to himself. It just occurred to him, and re-occurred with added force as the moments passed. He, and not Teddy, should capture the runaway.
“But what chance have I?” he murmured. “I can’t—Sweet daddy, there he is! There he is! He must have doubled back!”