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Updated: May 9, 2025
At their urgent request, Professor Zepplin told the boys to go ahead and enjoy themselves. "But be careful that you don't break your necks," he added, with a laugh. "I guess I had better go along to see that you do not."
But they didn't," added the captain with a mirthless grin. "I don't like this at all," declared Professor Zepplin with a slow shake of the head. "Neither do I," agreed Chunky. "I'd as soon be shot to death as scared to death. I'll bet my hair is turning gray already. Oh, wow!" "All hands, turn in," commanded the Ranger briskly.
"Not a sound, young man, if you value your life. Who and what are you?" "I -I'm a Pu -Pu -Pony Rider Boy." "A what?" "A Pu -Pony Rider Boy." "What are you doing here?" "Ga -gathering firewood." "Who is your party?" "Pro -professor Ze -Zep -Zepplin and the boys," stammered the fat boy, trembling at the knees. "I haven't done anything, but I'm a bu -bu -bad man when I get ma -mad."
Professor Zepplin had rolled into a depression in the ground, thus concealing his body from the unseen shooter. But in the meantime Captain. McKay had not been inactive. It seemed as if the bullet that had been fired at him from the bushes had barely shrieked past his ear, when the captain wheeled. His revolver -two of them -had appeared in his hands as if by magic.
"Think you want some liquor still, Juan, or would you prefer another dose of my magic drops?" "No, no, no, señor!" cried Juan, hastily moving away from Professor Zepplin. "Very well; any time when you feel a longing for strong drink, just help yourself to the hot drops," said the Professor, striding away to his tent, medicine case in hand.
Accompanied by the sound of breaking ropes and ripping canvas, the tent that had covered Professor Zepplin was wrenched loose. It shot up into the air, disappearing over a cliff. Now the lightning flashes were incessant, and the thunder had become one continuous, deafening roar.
Before the lad had time to swing the line and throw the pony from its feet, the muscular little animal had leaped to one side. The sudden jerk hurled the boy through the air. "Look out!" warned the cowboy. His warning came too late. Tad was thrown with great force full against the heels of another broncho. "He'll be killed!" cried Professor Zepplin.
"Why don't you use dynamite in the biscuit while you are about it? I think I'll go out and browse with the ponies. It's much safer and I'll bet will taste better." "Young man, if you don't like the cooking, you don't have to eat, you know," rebuked Professor Zepplin. "Yes, I do, too. What, not eat, and with an appetite like mine? Why, I'd eat my pistol holster if I couldn't get anything else.
Further to the rear of the car, their companions, Ned Rector and Walter Perkins, also were curled up in a double seat, with Professor Zepplin sitting very straight as if sleep were furthest from his thoughts. They were nearing their destination now, and within the hour would be unloading their stock and equipment at Bluewater.
"You haven't told us who the fellow is, yet," reminded Professor Zepplin. "He is Dunk Tucker, sir, one of the most dangerous customers infesting the border. We have been on his trail for weeks, but he's managed to give us the slip every time. We never expected to capture him alive. We expected to have to shoot him on sight, which we probably would have done."
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