Everybody laughed.

"Why, there are no wild animals of any account here," laughed Tom.

"Nothing bigger than a jack rabbit," said Ned.

"And Ned Rector got all there was of them," added Walter.

Laughing and joking, the lads mounted their ponies and set off for a day's pleasure.

The entertainment at the ranch was scheduled for the afternoon, so they had plenty of time in which to make the journey. They arrived shortly before noon, just in time to see the preparations made for a barbecue. A large Texas steer had been chosen for the occasion and roasted in a pit, and they were making ready to serve it.

Stacy's eyes stuck out as he saw the cook with a knife almost as long as a sword, cutting off slices as large as a good-sized platter, and serving them on plates scarcely large enough to hold the pieces, without the latter being folded over.

The fat boy managed to get an early helping by pushing his way through the crowd of hungry men that had gathered about the savory roast.

When there was anything to eat, Stacy Brown would always be found in the front rank.

Just as they got started with the meal, a volley of shots sounded up the valley and a band of half a dozen cowboys, yelling, whooping and shouting came racing down on the Jessup ranch.

With a wild "y-e-o-w!" they circled the roast ox, then bringing their ponies up sharply, threw themselves from their saddles and greedily attacked the portions that were quickly handed out to them.

This barbecue and day of sports was one looked forward to by the cowmen with keen antic.i.p.ation. Two a year were given on the Jessup ranch, one after the midsummer round up, and another late in the fall.

"This is great," confided Tad to Tom Phipps, as the two seated themselves on the gra.s.s to eat the good things set before them.

"It seems so to me. I don't get out of the mountains very often. I wish I could ride the way you boys do. You ride very well."

"We have to. At first some of us came a few croppers," laughed Ned, who had overheard the conversation. "Chunky had the most trouble, his legs being so short that it's difficult for him to reach the stirrups."

"I fell off," interjected the fat boy.

"That's a habit of his," laughed Ned.

"I wonder if they would let us take part in some of the games this afternoon," inquired Tad.

"Why, of course they will. I'll speak to Mr. Jessup about it,"

answered Tom Phipps.

When the owner of the ranch pa.s.sed them later on, Tom called him, and after introducing the boys to him, told the rancher what they desired to do.

Mr. Jessup looked the lads over critically.

"It's a pretty rough game, boys," he smiled. "But you look as if you were able to take care of yourselves. Of course you may go in for the fun if you want to. I'll tell the bunch."

"Thank you," said Tad, rising.

Mr. Jessup shouted to attract the attention of the noisy cowboys.

"Hey, fellows, we have a bunch of tenderfeet lads from the East with us to-day. They're taking a trip over the mountains and they want to know if they can join you in the fun this afternoon?"

"Sure!" roared the cowboys. "We'll give the tenderfeet all the fun they want."

Tad smiled appreciatively.

"Don't let them disturb you," warned Tom. "They mean all right."

"Yes, sir; I understand cowmen pretty well. Have spent quite a little time with them."

"I guess they are getting ready for something."

"Line up for the hurdle race!" shouted the ranch foreman, who was acting as master of ceremonies. "Half mile down and back with a hurdle every quarter!"

"Here's where you see some real fun," announced Mr. Jessup, nodding significantly to Tad and Tom Phipps. "Are you boys going into this?"

"Guess we might as well. Will these ponies take hurdles, Mr.

Phipps?"

"You try them and see. Every one trained down to the ground."

"That's not the way I want to go," laughed Tad. "I want to stay above it while I'm riding."

Ned Rector already was tightening his saddle girths preparatory to entering, so Tad hurried to his own mount to get ready for the contest.

When the contestants had finally lined up, the Pony Rider Boys were surprised to observe that Stacy Brown had ridden down to the scratch with the others. He was sitting on his pony as solemn as an owl, industriously munching a sandwich that he had made for himself.

"You'll break your neck. You'd better keep out of this," advised Ned Rector.

"Better look out for your own neck," retorted Stacy. "Guess I know how to ride as well as the rest of you."

"All right, it's not my lookout. Remember I gave you good advice,"

was Ned's parting admonition.

Stacy's pony was a glossy black, the only one of that color among the contestants, and between pony and boy the cowmen were undecided as to which was the most conspicuous.

"At the second shot of the pistol you will start," announced the foreman. "All ready for the first?"

"Yes!" roared the impatient riders.

The foreman pulled the trigger and the ponies began to dance about.

Bang!

"Whoop-e-e-e!" yelled the riders, digging in the rowels of their spurs.

A dozen ponies fairly leaped into the air under the prod of spur and quirt. Away they dashed enveloped in a cloud of dust.

"They're off!" roared the crowd.

Stacy, still clinging to his sandwich, was well up with the leaders of the bunch when they got away. He was riding with elbows up to a level with his shoulders, one hand grasping reins and quirt, the other holding the sandwich to his mouth.