  Business took a midsummer slump, and Jim found time hanging heavy on his hands. There were few calls for his services from the general public, and even Colonel Flesher had no cattle to be driven to market. Jim tried to persuade the stock buyer that it would be cheaper to drive hogs to town than to truck them. While the colonel had much confidence in his young assistant, he wisely concluded that driving hogs was beyond even Jim and Ticktock. Jim still went to town almost daily, partly to exercise his mustang and partly because he liked to hang around the newspaper office. He helped wherever possible, but probably hindered more than he helped, as he had so many questions. The linotype machine fascinated him, and he begged Bill Arnold to let him learn how to operate it. “If I do,” said the editor jokingly, “the first thing I know you’ll have that horse in here helping you. I’m afraid his feet would be too heavy for the keys.” “I need something to do,” urged Jim. “There’s a fierce depression in my line of business.” “Your overhead is low though,” pointed out Arnold. “That cayuse of yours is getting his feed from my back yard.” “Operating expenses may be low right now, but there is a long winter ahead,” said Jim with a worried frown. His cash was accumulating too slowly to suit him. One day Arnold came out of his office waving a slip of paper. “Here’s a fine opportunity for you and that wonderful horse to show your stuff.” “A big job?” asked Jim excitedly. “Do you happen to know Mr. Hernstadt?” asked the editor. “I know where his farm is,” said Jim. “He has all those big fat work horses.” Any horse that didn’t resemble Ticktock in size and build was an object of contempt to Jim. “Well, those big fat horses are very valuable Percherons. Hernstadt is one of the finest breeders in the Middle West. Anyhow, his prize mare got out of the pasture somehow and is lost.” “Work horses must be dumb,” said Jim with conviction. “You could never lose Ticktock.” “Young man, will you quit bragging about that mustang long enough to listen to what I am telling you?” “I’m sorry,” said Jim, who really wasn’t at all. “This mare strayed away two days ago, and Hernstadt has looked all over for her. Now he is advertising, offering a reward of twenty-five dollars for her return.” “Twenty-five dollars!” exclaimed Jim. “How I’d like to find that horse!” “This is scarcely ethical,” said Arnold. “The paper isn’t delivered until tomorrow; so I’m giving you a twenty-four-hour advantage over my other subscribers.” “I wouldn’t give you away for anything. When I find the horse, I’ll wait until the paper is out before I take it back to Mr. Hernstadt.” “Rather confident, aren’t you?” asked Arnold laughing. “Well, it couldn’t very well be stolen; a big horse like that would be too easy to trace. She’s just strayed, and Ticktock and I will find her.” Jim got up decisively. “If I can take a look at your big map, I’ll be on my way to locate that dumb horse that got lost.” After carefully studying the map, Jim drew a little sketch. He put Mr. Hernstadt’s farm in the middle and then drew in all the roads in the surrounding territory. He mounted Ticktock and galloped importantly out of town. It was only midmorning, and he explored the country roads and lanes for several hours before hunger drove him home. “I have to be gone all afternoon on a very important mission,” he announced as he was eating lunch. Mr. and Mrs. Meadows just smiled and asked no questions. They were used to Jim’s acting mysterious and important. Jean, however, followed him out into the yard. Her curiosity was definitely aroused. “Where are you going?” she teased. “I won’t tell on you.” “I gave a cowboy’s word not to tell,” said Jim saddling Ticktock. “Well, I think you’re mean,” said Jean. “You aren’t good to me at all any more.” Jim considered this a moment as he cinched up the saddle. He still felt a little guilty about the matter of the hideaway. After all, Jean wouldn’t be going anywhere to tell anyone. The secret would be safe. “There’s a big reward going to be offered tomorrow for a lost horse,” he said finally. “I’m going to find him before anyone knows about the reward.” “What kind of a horse?” “A prize Percheron mare of Mr. Hernstadt’s.” “If you find her, how are you going to catch her?” asked Jean, who was a practical young lady. “Why, Ticktock could catch any slow old Percheron,” said Jim scornfully. Actually he hadn’t thought about what he would do after locating the missing horse. “I don’t mean catch up with her. How are you going to put a halter on her if she’s the kind of horse that runs away?” “Well,” drawled Jim, who had just had an idea. “I’ve been doing a lot of practicing with my lariat. I think I could lasso a slow-moving horse.” While his admiring and envious sister gazed after him, Jim rode away. All afternoon he jogged back and forth, up and down the hills, carefully covering the territory of his map. The sun was hot and the country roads were dusty. What had begun as an adventurous hunt, turned out to be a tedious job. At sundown he turned toward home. He was very tired and so was Ticktock. Most of the roads were now crossed off the map. Only a few were left unexplored. That night Jim lay in bed considering the problem. The mail would be delivered at about eleven the next morning and then everyone would be on the lookout for the missing mare. He would have to work fast. At breakfast the next morning Jim asked to be excused from the remaining chores. “What is this mysterious mission?” asked Mr. Meadows good-naturedly. “Jean can tell you,” said Jim who was deep in thought as to the possible whereabouts of the stray. They would know as soon as the paper arrived anyhow. “Mr. Hernstadt lost one of his Percherons. There is going to be a reward in the morning paper and Jim is going to find her before anyone else knows about it,” said Jean importantly. It never occured to her to doubt her brother’s abilities or success. After all, he had said he would find the horse so find the horse he would. “Oh, he is, is he?” asked Mr. Meadows. “How?” “He has a map,” said Jean who considered that a final answer. “After he finds her he is going to catch her with Ticktock and then rope her. All he has to do then is collect the reward.” “I hope it’s as simple as it sounds,” said Mr. Meadows. “Anyhow, I think I can do the rest of the chores myself while you’re off performing this little task.” Jim also hoped it was as simple as it sounded. As he rode off he wished he hadn’t spoken so confidently either to the editor or to Jean. He was on the spot now. He had to find the horse. He urged Ticktock to a faster pace. Noon found the boy and his horse covered with a blanket of dust and discouragement. The allotted territory was exhausted and there was still no horse. Of course, the Percheron could have strayed farther than Jim had expected. He considered enlarging his area. That idea didn’t seem too promising, as by now everyone in the countryside would know about the reward. Feeling rather low in spirits and very hot, he turned toward Briggs Woods. He had already explored the road through the woods and all the open trails, but at least it was cool there and Ticktock could have a drink of water. Once in the cool cover of the forest, Jim turned toward his hideaway. He would take a rest there and eat his lunch. He was picking his way moodily through the trees when Ticktock suddenly decided to go off toward the left. Somewhat annoyed, Jim pulled the mustang back in the direction of the hideout. A few minutes later the pony again veered off to the left. This time he put his nose in the air and neighed. “What is it, boy?” asked Jim. Ticktock stood still and neighed a second time. This time there was an answer from the depths of the woods. Excitedly Jim urged the pony forward, giving him his head. Ticktock threaded his way through the trees confidently. After a short distance Jim suddenly saw through the woods the figure of a big gray horse. “Hurrah! Ticktock, you found her!” he shouted. He uncoiled his lasso as he approached. He was going to make good his boasts after all. Triumphantly he started to swing his rope. He made two circles around his head and the rope caught on the limb of a tree and fell in a tangle about his shoulders. He straightened out the lariat and tried again. This time the noose caught on a limb and refused to come loose. Feeling very uncowboylike, Jim dismounted, climbed the tree, and freed his lasso. Half an hour later Jim was still trying. Either the rope would catch on a branch or the horse would move away just as he cast. He couldn’t use a very large noose due to the crowding branches, and somehow a limb always protected the mare’s head or she moved just in time to make the small noose whiz by harmlessly. Being hit on the head a number of times by a rope wasn’t making the Percheron any more approachable either. She was definitely getting tired of the game and fast becoming skittish. Ticktock watched his master’s endeavors patiently for a long time. He was used to Jim’s games and at first thought this was another form of roping practice. Gradually, however, he began to realize that Jim was really trying to rope the mare for some purpose. He could sense the disappointment after each unsuccessful try. Also, Ticktock was getting tired of going through trees after the mare. He had been going steadily all morning and felt like stopping. So he decided to end all this nonsense. While Jim was resting after a particularly strenuous cast, Ticktock took charge. He gave a soft neigh and then waited. The mare neighed back. Ticktock turned his head around and gave a long look at his rider. There was no mistaking his meaning. “You’ve had your chance, now let me try,” he seemed to say. Very slowly and patiently he made his way toward the mare. Jim sat quietly in the saddle. Finally Ticktock stopped and stood waiting. After a few more exchanges of nickers, the mare walked over to the mustang and the two horses began to rub noses. Gradually Ticktock edged around until they were side by side. Jim reached over and slipped one end of his rope around the mare’s neck. The chase was ended. He led the mare back to the hideaway and tied her to a tree. He took off Ticktock’s saddle and the pony rolled gratefully in the tall grass. Jim sat down to eat his lunch, feeling very satisfied and happy. Ticktock was certainly a smart horse; he knew how to do everything. Now they could go back home in triumph. That seemed even more important than the reward. There was no question about it; his horse had saved the day. Roping a horse As he thought about how creditable Ticktock’s part had been, Jim began to grow dissatisfied with his own performance. He had fallen down on the roping. He couldn’t very well go back and tell how he had finally caught the horse. There wasn’t anything very dashing about that. Something had to be done. He got up, saddled Ticktock, and led the mare out to the middle of the clearing. Very gently he undid the rope from her neck, talking soothingly all the time. While the mare contentedly cropped the grass, Jim backed Ticktock away a few feet. He swung his lariat quietly and slowly. He leaned forward and when the mare looked up he cast. The noose dropped squarely over her head. With a sigh of relief, Jim rode up to the mare. He tied a knot so the noose would not choke the Percheron and then rode off through the trees, leading his valuable captive. Home was only slightly out of his way to the Hernstadt farm and Jim could not resist the temptation to display the mare. Trying to appear very casual and unexcited, he rode up the lane. His father had just come in from the field when he arrived; so the entire family came out to meet him. It was a very satisfactory entrance. “Where did you find her?” asked Mr. Meadows who was plainly amazed. “Over in Briggs Woods. Ticktock found her and I roped her,” said Jim very calmly, but with a twinge of conscience. “You and that horse continually dumfound me,” said Mr. Meadows. Jim went inside and telephoned Mr. Hernstadt that his missing horse had been found. The pleased owner offered to come over after the mare but Jim insisted on delivering her. Before he left he called the editor. “You can take that ad out of the paper,” he told Arnold with a pardonable amount of pride in his voice. “I am on my way to take the mare home right now.” Arnold insisted on knowing a few details which Jim gave him with pretended reluctance. After all, as Mr. Morgan had said, what a business needs is publicity. Besides it would look nice in the paper about his roping the runaway horse. That would really make the other boys’ eyes bug out. When Jim delivered the horse that afternoon, Mr. Hernstadt handed him twenty-five dollars gladly. He listened to the account of how the horse had been found. “The man that helped me take care of the horses left a few months ago to run a farm of his own,” the horse breeder explained. “I’ve been so busy that I didn’t notice the fence needed repairing in one corner. That’s how she got out. Now that you have found the horse you don’t suppose you could find me a good man to help take care of her and the other horses?” “Well,” said Jim considering the matter seriously, “the Pony Express does all sorts of things. I’ll see what I can do.” |
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