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Updated: May 20, 2025
"Then, what are we going to do?" "I'll stay here and hang on. You send Walter back with the pony as soon as you get there. Better call to him to get Pink-eye or one of the others saddled as soon as you can make him hear. We'll save time that way. I'm afraid Bad-eye won't be able to make the return trip." "Now grab for the rock," cried Tad. Ned did so, but he missed it.
Ned had no need to be told that. He could almost feel the spray from the falls on his face, so close were they to him and their roar was loud in his ears, so that he was obliged to raise his voice in calling to his companions. Leaping to the back of Bad-eye, Ned was off like a shot, tearing through the brush, headed toward camp.
He is resourceful and strong. And besides, he has my revolver. No; more than one on the trip would be apt to delay rather than to help. Master Ned, you may go." "Good!" shouted the lad. Bad-eye looked up almost resentfully as the boy approached him on the run, threw on the saddle and cinched the girths.
But Ned clung doggedly to the bridle reins. He, too, struck on his back. He heard the squealing, kicking pony floundering down upon him, its every effort to right itself forcing it further and further down the slippery bank. Now on its back, now with its nose in the sand, Bad-eye was rapidly nearing the swiftly moving creek.
Weary looked and wilted against the wall. "Oh, Mamma!" he gasped. "Ain't she a peach? There'll be more than one pair uh hands go into the air to-night. It's a good thing Len got the drop on me first or I'd be making seven kinds of a fool uh myself, chances is. Bert says she's bad medicine a man-killer from away back. "Say, she's giving us the bad-eye.
Ned swam the pony alongside of them, pulling hard on the reins to slow the animal down without exerting pressure enough to stop him. "Is Chunky able to help himself?" "Yes, if he will." "Then both of you grab Bad-eye by the mane as he goes by. Don't you miss, for if you do, we're all lost." "The pony won't be able to get the three of us up the stream," objected Tad. "I know it."
His weight made the pony sink at first, the animal whinnying with fear. Fearing to drown the broncho, the boy slipped off, at the same time taking a firm grip on the lines. Bad-eye came to the surface at once. Ned's right hand was on the pommel, the reins bunched in his left. He brought his knee sharply against the animal's side. "Whoop!" he urged, again driving the knee against the pony's ribs.
Moffat's exit from his lady-love's presence, was indignantly ducked in the watering-trough before the Miners' Retreat, and given ten minutes in which to mount his cayuse and get safely across the camp boundaries. He required only five. Bad-eye Connelly, who was suspected of having cut Mr.
While the bluff was sandy at the point where they had fallen in, down below, where Tad was now desperately clinging to the rock, the stream wound through a rocky cut, whose high sides were slippery and uncertain, especially in the darkness of the night. Bad-eye needed no further goading to force him to do his master's bidding. With another squeal of protest the little animal plunged for the bank.
"Beats being in the river at midnight," laughed Tad. "Bad-eye looks as if he needed grooming, too. Ned, I take back all I said about the bacon this morning. You did me a good turn last night. If it hadn't been for you, Chunky and I wouldn't be here now. I couldn't have held to that rock much longer." "Neither could I," interjected Stacy wisely. Ned gave him a withering glance.
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