"No; the skin isn"t broken, but I"m going to have a beautiful goose egg there," he concluded. "It"s swelling already. If I"d had my rope I could have roped him easily when he rose at me that last time."
Scrambling up the bank, Tad found his hat. Then he picked his way to the pyramid-shaped rock on which he had first discovered the stallion.
Poising himself, he swung his sombrero to his companions down in the foothills.
"Hurrah!" he shouted. "I met the enemy. I"ve seen the white stallion, fellows!"
"Is the enemy yours?" jeered Ned Rector.
"No; I rather think I was his," laughed Tad, turning back and hurrying down the rocks to rejoin his companions.
He was met by a volley of questions the moment he reached the foothills. With his companions gathered about him, Tad told them how he had followed the trail, finally coming upon the handsome animal while the latter was taking an observation from the pyramid-shaped rock.
"It"s a wonder he didn"t attack you," said the guide after the lad had finished his narration. "Those wild stallions are very savage when aroused."
"I guess he tried to do so all right," laughed Tad.
"I knew he was up there somewhere, watching us, but I did not think for a minute that you would get close enough to him to be in any danger,"
announced Tom Parry, with a disapproving shake of his head.
"I could have roped him easily," said the lad.
"Lucky for you that you didn"t try it. It"s getting late now. I presume the Professor is beginning to think we are not going to finish pitching our camp. Come, we"ll go back and get to work."
The work went rather slowly, however, for the lads were too full of the subject of the wild stallion to devote their whole attention to putting their camp to rights for the night. Then again, they had to go all over the story for the Professor"s benefit.
"Do you think we could catch one of these wild ones to take back East with us?" asked Tad.
"You couldn"t catch one yourself, but you might be able to buy one for a small sum from the horse-hunters," the guide informed him.
"How much?"
"Depends on the animal. Perhaps twenty or twenty-five dollars."
"Then, I"ll do it. I could get him home for as much more, and he"d be worth at least two hundred dollars. Perhaps I might take two of them along, providing I can get what I want."
"You ought to be a horseman," laughed the guide. "You"ve got the horseman"s instinct."
"He is a horseman," volunteered Stacy. "There aren"t any better."
"Thank you," glowed Tad. "I"ll pull you out next time you fall in, for that."
They were very jolly at supper that night. They had nothing to trouble them. Water was near by and they were soon to partic.i.p.ate in the most exciting event in their lives, a wild-horse hunt.
"Do you think they will be able to find us!" questioned Walter.
"Who, the horses?" returned Ned.
"I hope they do," laughed the guide. "No; Master Walter means Bud Stevens and the gang. Find us? Why, those fellows could trail a cat across the Desert Maze if they happened to take a notion to do so."
There being plenty of dry stuff about, the boys built up a blazing camp-fire as soon as night came on. Gathering about it they told stories and sang songs.
"I move that Stacy Chunky Brown favor us with a selection," suggested Ned. "He has a very rare voice--an underdone voice some might call it."
"Yes, Chunky," urged Walter. "You haven"t sung for us since we started."
"Me? I can"t sing. Besides it might scare the wild horses," protested Stacy.
"I guess there"s no doubt about that. But we"ll take the chances."
"Yes, do sing, Chunky," added Walter. "It may soften Ned"s hard heart."
Stacy c.o.c.ked an impish eye at Ned Rector.
"All right, I"ll sing," decided the fat boy, clearing his throat.
"Stand up," thundered Ned. "Have some respect for the audience."
Stacy stood up.
"What are you going to favor us with?" questioned Tad.
"It"s a little thing of my own," grinned Stacy. "Hope you"ll like it."
"Oh, we"ll like it all right," chuckled Ned. "The audience will please refrain from applauding until the performer finishes."
"What"s the name of the piece?" demanded Walter.
"Hasn"t been named. You can name it if you wish."
"Go ahead, go ahead. Never mind the name," chorused the lads.
Stacy surveyed the upturned, laughing faces of his companions and then launched out in a shrill soprano:
It"s all day long on the alka-li, Where the coyotes howl and the wells run dry, Where the badgers badge in the water holes, And the twisters twist the old tent poles-- Right up from the alka-li.
"Yeow!" shrieked the Pony Rider Boys.
"It"s a new poet. Hurrah for the poet lariat!" shouted Ned Rector, jumping up and down, slapping his thighs in his amus.e.m.e.nt.
"Go on, give us another verse," laughed the guide. "That"s real po"try that is."
"Is there another verse?" cried Walter.
Chunky nodded solemnly.
"Hush! He is going to sing some more," cautioned Tad Butler, holding up his hand for silence.