B the time Roy Manley shortened the stirrup that had loosened and slipped down two holes, his brother Teddy was nearly out of sight behind the hunch-backed rise of ground. Roy heard a faint yell as pony and boy disappeared completely.
âGot lightning grease on his heels,â he grumbled, struggling with the stirrup. âBelle, why donât you take Nell in out of this sun? You and Curly get one on each side of her, and cart her along.â
âCart me along!â Nell Willis responded indignantly. âThink Iâm a bag of potatoes?â
Belle Ada, the girl Roy Manley had addressed, laughed merrily. She was Royâs sister, a dark-haired, dark-eyed daughter of the plains, thirteen years old, with a gift for practical jokes that was often extremely disconcerting.
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 âCurly,â 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 ranchâwhere Teddy and Roy livedâwas 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. Royâs stirrup had taken that moment to slip.
âBe good now, Nell,â Roy admonished. âYou put an awful dent in mother earth, you know. Yayâthere she is!â He gave the strap a final tug
little closer to his head, bunched his muscles a little tighter, and flashed ahead.
This time it was apparent the pursuers were gaining. The white spot on the runawayâs flank was plainly visible.
âNow we have it! Now we have it! Now we have it!â Roy grunted, the words keeping time with the beat of the ponyâs feet. âInto the rocks he goes, and in we go after him. âInto the valley of death rode the six hundred!â âMighty is he who wields the sword, but mightier stillââ I forget the rest of that. Good start, though.â He was talking aloud, not conscious of what he was saying, finding the effort necessary to pronounce the words a relief to his pent-up emotions.
Ahead were the rocks, black and forbidding, out of keeping with the placidness of the rest of the sceneâa strange contrast to the gentle sloping prairie. At some time in the formation of the earth this portion was fated to retain the characteristics of the early terrain while the surrounding landscape was calmed by some giant hand. Silhouetted bluntly against the sky, the rocks were the bane of cattlemen who had to skirt them in a wide path instead of following the river directly.
Their edges bordered on the water and in storms the river roared sullenly over their shiny backs. Frequently cows were found dead at their base, who, coming to drink, had slipped and been drawn into the turmoil.
âPretty looking sight,â Roy muttered, glancing toward the black mass. âJust the place a crazy horse would head for. Yepâthere he goes!â
The runaway had reached the first of the rocks, and, without stopping a moment, sprang for the lower ledge. Roy fancied he heard the hoofs scrape as the steed pulled himself up.
âWeâve got to do that pretty soon,â the boy said. No thought of abandoning the chase came to him. âGet out the old ground-grippers, Star.â
He came to the ledge, and pulled upward on the reins. With a little whinny Star tensed his muscles and sprang. The ledge was on a level with his chest, but it is one thing to clear a barrier, another to mount it. For a moment it seemed as if the horse and rider must slip back, but, with a supreme effort, the pony forced himself up and stood trembling on the rocky shelf.
âThatâs the first of them,â the boy breathed. âWatch it, Star! Take it easy. We canât rush this.â
CHAPTER II
O D
T thoughts that flashed through Teddy Mauleyâs brain as he stood below watching that terrible fall will never be known. If he had not called out, the runaway would not have jumped and dislodged Roy. He, Teddy, was responsible. If Roy was killedâ
To say that a manâs life whirls through his mind a moment before death is to state that which has been said many times. It may be that his senses are sharpened to such an extent that he can appreciate things in one second that otherwise would take him many minutes to think of. But here Teddy stood at the base of the mass of rocks. He was in no personal danger. Flash, his horse, was close beside him, his head tilted to one side, his eyes regarding his master calmly.
In that tiny space of time, while Roy, hands outstretched, was dropping toward the river, there came to Teddy in a swift panorama the events of the last hourâNell Willis thrown from her pony; Teddy taking up the chase; his capture of the bronco; the realization that Roy, and not he, was the logical one to take the horse back; the wait for his brother and the driving back of the runaway so that Roy would see him and take him to Nell; then following Roy to this place, watching him mount the rocks and rope the pony; and finally, the cry that Teddy could not hold in checkâthe cry that sent Roy toâ
A terrible wave of intense suffering passed through Teddy, shaking him from head to foot. His brother! Roy!
There was one little ray of hope, and even before Roy struck the water, Teddy seized on it fiercely. Seven feet from the base of the rocks the water had hollowed out a deep pool. Not more than five feet across and about ten feet longâthen the rocks again. If Roy hit this, he had a chance. If!
With eyes that burned, Teddy watched his brotherâs descent. He was out from the cliff, far enough out perhaps to reach the deep pool. âLet him be saved, Lord! Give him a chance!â
Then, with horrible suddenness, boy and horse struck. High in the air rose the white spray. Through it Teddy could see a dark form and he heard
the shrill scream of the pony; a cry once heard never forgotten.
As a man is awakened from a trance, the sound shocked Teddy into action. He flung himself into the saddle. His hand flailed the broncoâs side. Flash, hunching his hind legs, sprang forward.
âDown to him, Flash! Down to him! Weâve got toââ
The horse understood. Oblivious of his own safety, he plunged headlong toward the rocky beach and toward the boy and horse struggling in the water. Teddy, in a passing moment, knew that the runaway had, after all, remained safely on the ledge above.
As the boy neared the spot, he saw with a heartfelt prayer of thankfulness that Roy had cleared the rocks and had fallen into the deeper part of the river.
Even before Flash had reached the waterâs edge, Teddy had his rope in readiness. If Roy were conscious, he could grab the end and be pulled ashore. If notâ
Then Teddy saw his brother. The rushing waters calmed for a moment and disclosed Roy, his hand still clutching the bridle of his pony, lying inertly on the surface of the pool, kept afloat by that grip alone. His face was upward, a red streak showing across the forehead.
Teddy uttered not a word. His lips were bloodless and pressed tightly together. He slid swiftly from the saddle.
Without a single waste motion he uncoiled his rope and tied the loose end of it about his waist. The other was fastened to the saddlehorn. Between the shore and Roy was a fierce current, and it was into this that Teddy threw himself. Flash, his neck craned forward, stood like a rock a little distance from the turbulent stream.
Everything was fighting Teddyâthe stream, the rope about his waist, and a growing sense of panic, a fear that when he reached his brother it would be too late. But he kept on, scarcely daring to hope, swimming with a fierce determination to see it through. Now he could hear the breathing of Star. Now he saw the drawn, grey face of his brother. Now he could reach him!
The current released its clinging swirls from his body, and Teddy floated in the comparative stillness of the pool. His arm encircled Royâs shoulders.
For one long moment he gazed into the face of him who had been always at his side, who had shared every danger with himâhis brother. âRoy!â
The pallid lips moved. The eyes opened.
âTeddy, old boyâall right, Teddyâletâs getââ
A great sob forced the breath from Teddyâs lungs.
âRoy! Thank God! Oh, Roy, I was afraidââ
âNot this time, old boy! Still kicking. Only I feelâfunny.â
âNow, Roy, let go the bridle. Thatâs it! All right, kid. Here we go. Donât move. I have you. Donât shake your head. Easy, kidâeasy! Let yourself slide. A-a-a-atta baby! Here we go, now. Starâs all right. Heâs just watching you, thatâs all. I have you, kid. Easy, big fellerâjust a littleââ
They were out into the stream. Holding his brother with one hand, Teddy pulled on the rope with the other. Flash braced his feet and stood firm. The current drew them down hungrily, but Teddy fought toward the shore. Closer, closerâhe felt the rocks under his feetâand then Roy was laid gently on the ground and Teddy was bending over him, the tears coursing unashamed down his cheeks. Roy was safe.
It might be wise for the moment to leave these two alone. We wonât hear the first words that Roy said to Teddy, nor shall we hear Teddyâs answer. We shaânât watch Teddyâs hand meet his brotherâs in a firm grip, nor shall we see the look that passed between the boys. It is better to leave the curtain drawn.
We may, instead, say something of these two who have just gone through such a vivid experience. Teddy, one year younger than his brother, was in his sixteenth year. His life had been spent mainly on the plains, as had Royâs. Their father, Bardwell Manley, was the owner of a large cattle ranch, the X Bar X, and when he took his sons out of school to help him with the management of it, they were anything but sorry. They were born to the life of the cattle rancher and loved it. On the plains they were receiving a better education than many who attend college.
In the first book of the series, âThe X Bar X Boys on the Ranch,â it is told how Teddy and Roy Manley captured a band of cattle rustlers after many trials and adventures. The friends they made in those hazardous days stayed with them through other exciting times, and, in the book just
CHAPTER III
M R
T two Manley boys rode back slowly, Roy glancing over his shoulder toward the rocks just before they were lost to sight. Teddy saw the gesture, and grinned.
âHow high is the top of that cliff from the water, Roy?â he asked.
âOne hundred feet; maybe less.â
âAnd how high was it when you were falling?â
âSeventeen and three-quarter miles.â
Teddy nodded. âI believe you have made a great discovery, Roy. Of course, some one else may have thought of it ahead of you. I seem to remember a man by the name of Einstein who made a crack about relativity ââ
âThat had to do with motion,â Roy answered seriously. âYou see, he said that all motion is relative. For instance, suppose two trains are moving at the same rate of speed and youâre sitting in one of them. If there were no stationary objects near, it would be impossible to tellââ
âOh, the sun shines bright in my old Kentucky ho-o-ome!â Teddy sang loudly. â âTis summer, the darkies are gay. And the little tots play in the cabin round the do-o-o-ore! For my old Kentucky ho-o-o-o-o-omeââ
Roy leaned toward him casually, stretched out his arm and caught Teddy just under the fifth rib with his open hand. The âh-o-o-o-o-omeâ was ripped apart, the pieces being expelled by a vigorous âooof!â
âAnd no insurance,â Teddy grunted regretfully. âThe home that had sheltered those people all these years, to be broken up by a careless blow of a calloused hand! My! My! Here, Flash, cut that out! Roy, hang on to Star for a second.â
He looked at his brother. Royâs face was white and his eyes had little crinkles of pain at the corners.
âWhat the mischief?â Teddy demanded. âYour head, Roy? That was a pretty mean sock you got. Here, you tie this handkerchief around itâor let me. Go on, now, mind, little brother.â
âIs by me Ho Kay! Such is the resilience of youth thatââ
âApplesauce! Snakes, itâs getting hotter by the minute! Iâm nearly dry. And that reminds meââ
âYes, I thought of that, too,â Roy said meaningly. âHowâd you get wet watching me swim to shore?â
âWell, I waded in and helped you, then. Thatâll pass.â
Both Roy and Teddy knew the real reason for not saying anything about the rescue. In the first place, Nell Willis would berate herself for having fallen off, and so, consequently, having exposed Roy to danger. In the second placeâand this Teddy realized more than Royâthere would be small glory to Roy in having to be dragged from the river. And after all, it was Teddyâs fault, for his cry startled the runaway. For these and other reasons the boys judged it best that none but themselves should know the true story.
Ahead of them now was the hill that over-topped the 8 X 8 ranch. Within ten minutes they would be greeting the girls.
Suddenly Teddy, who was ahead leading Star, held up his hand.
âGot a question to ask?â Roy said laconically. âWell, go ahead. But remember teacher isnât here toââ
âI heard a yell,â Teddy interrupted shortly. âA funny yell.â
âA funny yell?â Roy noticed the seriousness of his brotherâs face and did not carry the joking further. âWhat do you mean?â
âWell, it sounded like a yell for help. Pipe down a second while I listen.â
The horses were brought to a halt. The boys remained silent, but heard nothing but the murmur of the river in the distance.
âReckon I was mistaken,â Teddy said finally. âI must be hearing things. What say we get a wiggle on? You feel all right?â
âSure! Step on it. Donât worry about me. That chocolate brought me around.â
They swung their mounts into a trot. Both Star and Flash were well schooled, and could trot as well as any Eastern pony. Nearly all Western steeds will go right from a walk into a gallop, since there are few times when a trot is demanded of them. The Western stirrup is usually too long to allow âposting,â which is the peculiar rising and falling of the rider to coordinate with the ponyâs motion.
