But all at once there came a sudden end to his practice. Stacy's pony
suddenly leaped to one side, planting its front feet firmly on the
ground and arching its back like an angry cat at bay. Stacy did a
beautiful curve in the air, landing on his shoulders on the hard
ground. He had a narrow escape from breaking his neck.
The Rangers howled. They were still bowling when Stacy, getting his
breath back, sat up, bunching his shoulders to get the kink out of
them, and rubbing himself gingerly. The pony stood looking at its
young master sheepishly.
"What's the trouble, Stacy?" cried Tad riding back.
"I---I fell off."
"I know you did. There couldn't be any mistake about that, but what
caused him to throw you?"
"I---I don't know."
"That pony was frightened at something. What was it?" demanded the
captain of Cad Morgan.
"I'm blest if I know, Captain. There wasn't anything that I saw."
"Take a scout around through the brush, you and Polly. There may be
some one taking a parallel trail."
"Yes, there may be some German raiders hiding out there in the bush,
laying for us. We ought to have some bombs. They would clean those
fellows out in short order," declared Stacy.
The two men trotted from the line and disappeared among the trees,
while the fat boy got back in his saddle, somewhat more sad, but no
wiser than before. But he was thinking a great deal.
Pages:
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145