When Cranny Beaumont spoke in a certain tone and squared his jaw there was generally nothing to do but to accede to his wishes, and Tom, knowing this, figuratively stepped into the spot-light. He told about the business which had brought the crowd to New Orleans, of their unexpected voyage on the Gulf of Mexico aboard Mr. Stratton’s power yacht, and of their still more unexpected and thrilling adventures in the troubled land of Mexico.
It was there the crowd had fallen in with Carl Alvin, the Texas Ranger, at that time on a furlough, and the idea had come to them to spend a few weeks among those famous policemen of the Lone Star State. Alvin was delighted at the idea, and this, in connection with the lure of the open-air life, proved irresistible.
So, in the Ranger’s company, the Ramblers and Don, who succeeded in gaining his father’s permission, had journeyed from the oil district of Tampico, Mexico, to Brownsville, Texas, and thence to a small town on the Rio Grande.
“My, what a great time you’ve had!” exclaimed Cranny. “By George, I only hope I’ll run into something just as full of ginger.”
“Not for me,” said Don Stratton, decidedly. “Gingery affairs of that kind are all well enough to read about, but when it comes to the real thing I’d rather be excused.”
“Well, boys,” broke in the sergeant, “we must be getting along now. Just stepped in to say howdy-do.” A grin crossed his weather-beaten face which was burned to a coppery hue by the sun’s hot rays. “Ride over to headquarters whenever you feel like it,” his glance fell on Cranny—“and don’t try too hard to run into adventures, my lad, or——”
His sentence, concluded by a significant gesture of a big brown hand, plainly conveyed his meaning, and caused the Ramblers to chuckle with mirth.
“The sergeant has you sized up all right, Cranny,” exclaimed Tom. He intended to speak in a low, confidential tone, but every one in the room plainly heard his words. “I say, old chap, it wouldn’t be possible to have a nice, quiet time with you along, eh?”
“Not if I could help it,” grinned Cranny. He faced the burly Howell. “You’ll see us come over, Sergeant. Honestly, I’m just pinin’ to get a glimpse o’ that bunch o’ Rangers.”
“An’ I guess all of ’em will be just as glad to see you,” remarked Carl Alvin. “If there’s anything a Ranger likes, it’s a chap brimful of grit.” He eyed the big Tacoma lad critically. “And if I’m not mistaken you’ve got the goods.”