The Pony Rider Boys with the Texas Rangers | Page 2

was less than half his natural height. His body had
fairly telescoped itself. The fat boy sat leaning forward, his sombrero
tipped forward until it covered his face, leaving only the point of the
chin exposed.
By this time Professor Zepplin had driven his own pony into the creek,
the others following, where the horses drank greedily. Stacy and his
mount were still on the bank, too sound asleep to think of either water
or food.
"Stacy!" shouted the professor.
"Oh let him sleep," begged the boys.
"Too bad to disturb his infantile slumbers," jeered Ned Rector.
"But he will fall off."
"It wouldn't be the first time," laughed Tad. "Gid-ap!"
The ponies climbed the opposite bank, the tired Pony Riders throwing
themselves off and quickly stripping the equipment from their mounts.
They then led the animals farther into the bushes, where the ponies
were tethered until they should be wanted again.

Chunky still slumbered on.
In the meantime Tad was carrying water from the creek, while the other
two boys were starting a fire on the bank, the smoke from which was
already curling up lazily into the still, hot air. But not much of a meal
was cooked. It was too hot to eat or to cook. The boys sat down to their
little meal, almost choking with laughter every time they glanced
across the stream toward the sleeping pony and its sleeping rider.
"Most remarkable," nodded the professor. "Surely the smell of food
ought to awaken him if nothing else does."
"He's just as much of a sleeper as he is an eater, Professor," declared
Rector.
"That would be impossible," objected Tad. "As an eater he is a
champion, as a sleeper he is just above the average. You're the
champion sleeper of this outfit, Ned."
"It's too hot to resent your unseemly remarks, Tad. I'll take that matter
up when we get to the mountains. By the way, how much farther is it to
the mountains?"
"Just as far as it was this morning. How about it, Professor?"
"We ought to reach them this afternoon. According to my
understanding, we were a little more than forty miles from them this
morning. Since then we have gone a good twentyfive miles."
"Then we will camp there to-night?" questioned Walter.
"Yes, I hope so."
"What are we going to do about Chunky?" demanded Walter.
All eyes were directed toward the sleeping fat boy and his slumbering
pony. The latter was now beginning to show some signs of life. It had
lifted one foot, then another, until it had taken two steps toward the
creek. But the rider was as soundly asleep as before. Nothing seemed to

disturb Chunky when he was having a nap.
"He will fall off. Wake him up!" commanded the professor.
"Oh, please don't bother him. We want to see what he will do," begged
Walter.
"I think you will see, all right," chuckled Tad. "You will see what you
shall see, and---"
"There he goes!"
The pony had taken three or four more steps toward the stream. Now its
eyes were partly open. It saw the rest of the party on the other side of
the creek.
The cool water completed the awakening process for the horse. It drank
freely then started for the other side, Chunky still sleeping. All at once
the pony stepped into a deep hole in the creek. The animal went down
on its nose with a mighty splash. Stacy shot over the disappearing head,
then boy and pony vanished under the waters of Delaware Creek while
the others of the party bowled with delight.
"Oh, wow!" howled Stacy, coming to the surface and making for shore
with mighty splashes, coughs and chokings. "Oh, wow!"
Walter ran down to the water's edge, lending the unfortunate fat boy a
helping hand. The pony in the meantime had clambered up the bank
and was trotting off to join its fellows.
"What---what---who did that?" demanded Stacy belligerently.
"Did what?" replied Ned.
"Who threw me in?"
"I reckon you threw yourself in," answered Tad.
"I didn't."

"The pony did it for you. Don't be a goose," commanded Ned.
"Yes, you went to sleep. You've been asleep for the last ten miles or
so," nodded Butler.
"I'm all wet," wailed Stacy.
"You will be dry in a few moments in this hot sun," interposed the
professor.
"I don't want to be dry."
"Then jump in again," suggested Butler. "Anyhow, you've missed your
dinner."
"I---I've---what?"
"Missed your dinner."
Chunky's gaze wandered from the camp fire to the dishes and
provisions that already were being packed preparatory to moving on.
"I want my dinner," he wailed.
"Dinner is finished, young man," replied the professor severely. "You
should be on hand when meals are being served. There is no second
table