Frank himself hurried off to rope the pony in the corral. He had learned how to do this almost as well as any of the cow punchers themselves; and quickly made his reappearance leading the mount that had played havoc with his master’s limb when he failed to detect the gopher hole in the trail. The little animal was showing all the signs of anger at being caught by anyone other than the master he acknowledged, but Frank had no time to waste, and had handled him without gloves. Charley Woo did not seem to be one whit afraid because the pony snorted and tried to bite him when he approached. Watching his chance, when all was ready, the nimble Chinaman made a flying leap for the saddle that would have done credit to Alkali Joe himself. He had a quirt in his hand, secured by a stout buckskin thong to his wrist; and no sooner did he clutch the bridle than he brought this leather torment down upon the horse’s heaving flank with a vicious smack.
At the same instant Frank released his grip, and away the pony flew, the huddled figure of the Chinaman dressed in his white, flapping garments, on his back, with his long queue flying out behind like a rope.
“He’s headed straight to begin with,” said Andy, with a sigh of relief.
“Charley Woo is all right,” declared Frank, “and sooner or later he’ll get to where Mr. Witherspoon is camped, to carry him the news.”
“He will if that pony don’t play some smart trick on him,” muttered Alkali Joe, frowning. “You orter let me try it, Frank; I’m tough as knots, and I reckon I’d a-stood it.”
“You get back to your bed as fast as you can, Joe,” returned Frank. “Right now, perhaps you’ve put back the knitting of that bone, and it may have to be set all over again when Mr. Witherspoon gets a chance to look at it. Come along, Andy, we’ve got our job laid out for us.”
Joe still leaned against the hitching rail, and looked longingly after the Bird boys. From the gloom on his dark face, and the twitching of the muscles around his mouth, it could be plainly seen that the puncher was taking his misfortune with a bad grace; and that he thought himself the most badly used fellow inside of fifty miles; all because he had not been allowed to make that mad dash of twenty or more miles in a broiling sun, with a broken leg dangling uselessly at his side; and had to suffer the mortification of seeing a “heathen Chinee” gallop away on his pony. It must have been a cruel experience for Alkali Joe, and one that he would not soon forget either.
Meanwhile the two young aviators hurried over to the frame building that Mr. Witherspoon had had erected before their coming, and which was to be used as a hangar for their precious biplane.
“How lucky, Frank that you overhauled the motor only yesterday,” remarked Andy, as they reached the wide doors of the shed which, upon being thrown open would allow of the aeroplane being wheeled out to where they usually started off.
“I was just thinking that myself,” replied the other.