Author: | Frank Fowler | ISBN: | 9781465623799 |
Publisher: | Library of Alexandria | Publication: | March 8, 2015 |
Imprint: | Language: | English |
Author: | Frank Fowler |
ISBN: | 9781465623799 |
Publisher: | Library of Alexandria |
Publication: | March 8, 2015 |
Imprint: | |
Language: | English |
Adrian Sherwood, who had so recklessly risked his silver dollar as a target for his companion to shoot at, was the owner of a ranch in Wyoming, which he had but recently inherited and come into possession of through a series of most exciting adventures as told in a preceding volume of this series, entitled “The Broncho Rider Boys on the Wyoming Trail.” He was a youth of much wisdom and judgment for one of his years and a close chum of Billie, who had been christened William Stonewall Jackson Winkle. Because of the exciting adventures through which Adrian, Billie and Donald had passed and because they had practically lived in the saddle for the past year and a half, they had become known to the cowboys and rough riders of three states as “The Broncho Rider Boys.” Born in the south, but having spent most of his boyhood in New York State, Billie had come west nearly two years previous to find health and to rid himself of the superfluous weight which some good-natured doctor had said was the cause of his trouble. Months in the saddle had made very little difference in his weight and if there were a more healthy chap in the country than he, such a one would be hard to find. When Billie first came west, he was a veritable tenderfoot. He was always creating fun for those with whom he was thrown and was invariably in some sort of trouble. The number of times he had been thrown from the back of his broncho could hardly be enumerated, and more in fun than because he was a daring rider, he had been rechristened Broncho Billie by his cowboy friends. But Billie had developed rapidly. Of the three there was not one who could ride or shoot better than he. His only weak spot was in throwing the lariat. He never seemed to get just the proper hang and his attempts to use the rope almost invariably resulted in disaster to himself or his friends. As is usually the case with fat people, Billie fairly bubbled over with good humor, being a fine example of Tony Lumpkin’s famous advice to “laugh and grow fat.” Donald Mackay, Billie’s cousin, whom he had come west to visit, was the son of the owner of a big ranch, known as Keystone Ranch. He was one of those steady, reliable boys whom we have all met and who can always be depended upon in any emergency to do the right thing, although at times he may be slower than some others in the manner in which he works. Taken all in all they were a well-balanced trio, as their actions under many trying conditions and in many hazardous adventures had justly proved. They had thwarted an unscrupulous syndicate from robbing Donald’s father of valuable property. They had protected an inoffensive tribe of Indians against the designs of a band of sharpers, and they had straightened out affairs at Adrian’s ranch in a manner which would have been a credit to much older heads.
Adrian Sherwood, who had so recklessly risked his silver dollar as a target for his companion to shoot at, was the owner of a ranch in Wyoming, which he had but recently inherited and come into possession of through a series of most exciting adventures as told in a preceding volume of this series, entitled “The Broncho Rider Boys on the Wyoming Trail.” He was a youth of much wisdom and judgment for one of his years and a close chum of Billie, who had been christened William Stonewall Jackson Winkle. Because of the exciting adventures through which Adrian, Billie and Donald had passed and because they had practically lived in the saddle for the past year and a half, they had become known to the cowboys and rough riders of three states as “The Broncho Rider Boys.” Born in the south, but having spent most of his boyhood in New York State, Billie had come west nearly two years previous to find health and to rid himself of the superfluous weight which some good-natured doctor had said was the cause of his trouble. Months in the saddle had made very little difference in his weight and if there were a more healthy chap in the country than he, such a one would be hard to find. When Billie first came west, he was a veritable tenderfoot. He was always creating fun for those with whom he was thrown and was invariably in some sort of trouble. The number of times he had been thrown from the back of his broncho could hardly be enumerated, and more in fun than because he was a daring rider, he had been rechristened Broncho Billie by his cowboy friends. But Billie had developed rapidly. Of the three there was not one who could ride or shoot better than he. His only weak spot was in throwing the lariat. He never seemed to get just the proper hang and his attempts to use the rope almost invariably resulted in disaster to himself or his friends. As is usually the case with fat people, Billie fairly bubbled over with good humor, being a fine example of Tony Lumpkin’s famous advice to “laugh and grow fat.” Donald Mackay, Billie’s cousin, whom he had come west to visit, was the son of the owner of a big ranch, known as Keystone Ranch. He was one of those steady, reliable boys whom we have all met and who can always be depended upon in any emergency to do the right thing, although at times he may be slower than some others in the manner in which he works. Taken all in all they were a well-balanced trio, as their actions under many trying conditions and in many hazardous adventures had justly proved. They had thwarted an unscrupulous syndicate from robbing Donald’s father of valuable property. They had protected an inoffensive tribe of Indians against the designs of a band of sharpers, and they had straightened out affairs at Adrian’s ranch in a manner which would have been a credit to much older heads.