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Updated: June 2, 2025
He knows when it's time to laugh. Ha, ha!" Professor Zepplin was smiling broadly. Stacy's joke was just dawning upon the professor. But Tad's mind at that juncture was in another direction. The lad had raised his head in a listening attitude, his glance fixed keenly on the other side of the camp ground. "Did you see something?" whispered Walter. Tad shook his head. "You heard something?"
The mountaineer leaped straight up into the air, which action was followed by two shots in quick succession, as both of the man's revolvers were accidentally discharged, the bullets burying themselves harmlessly in the ground in front of him. Tad's arrow had sped home.
This led the lad to ponder deeply, the result being a hurried trip to the store, followed by sundry mysterious preparations in the stable at the rear of the house. Tad's early mornings were devoted to cleaning up the store, so that he had no time then to give to his own affairs.
Tad shot up his free left hand, fastening his fingers in the long beard of the man behind him. He heard a smothered exclamation over his shoulder, and for the instant the hand over his mouth was withdrawn. "Help!" shouted Tad Butler. Then a blow on the head sent him limply to the deck. Tad's assailant hastily gathered the boy up.
As if interpreting his thoughts, the young Indian rode up close beside him, at the same time thrusting something into Tad's hand. "What is it?" asked the boy. "Eat. Good meat," answered the Indian. The boy nibbled at it gingerly. It was meat of some kind, and it was tough. But most anything in the nature of food was acceptable to him then, so he helped himself more liberally and enjoyed his lunch.
He sat quietly on his pony a moment before starting, placing the lance at just the proper angle then galloped at the mark. He, too, rose in his stirrups. The spectators were silent. The ring just missed being impaled on the tilting peg, slipping along the pole half way then bounding up into the air. The spectators groaned. The Mexican had lost. Now it was Tad's turn.
He looked at his father, and said, as one whose intimacy made him familiar with his inmost thoughts: "No, papa; not hang them but hang on to them!" The President triumphantly repeated: "We must hang on to them! Tad's got it!" "Springfield! how happy four years hence will I be, to return there in peace and tranquillity!"
His hair was dark, as were his eyes, the latter having a trick of growing suddenly darker than their natural color, seeming to sink further back in his head under some sudden stress of emotion. The brown fingers were slender and nervous in their movements. "I'll bet he would be quick on the trigger," was Tad's mental conclusion.
"I believe Austin is a strong Rebel sympathizer," Law ventured. "Sure! And him and the Lewis outfit are amigos. If you go pirootin' around Tad's place you're more'n apt to make yourself unpopular, Dave. I'd grieve some to see you in a wooden kimono.
"They were planning to attack the herd, to stampede it and kill all the animals they could " "Is it possible?" demanded the woman, growing pale. "They mean it, too. I think I will get the pony and start now," decided Tad, rising. "You are a brave boy," exclaimed the banker's wife, laying an impulsive hand on Tad's shoulder. "I wish you did not have to go. You are tired out now. I can see that."
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