Management of Strategy Concepts

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Management of Strategy Concepts International Edition 10th Edition Ireland Solutions Manual

Chapter 2: The External Environment

Chapter 2
The External Environment: Opportunities,
Threats, Competition, and Competitor Analysis

KNOWLEDGE OBJECTIVES

1. Explain the importance of analyzing and understanding the firm‟s external environment.
2. Define and describe the general environment and the industry environment.
3. Discuss the four activities of the external environmental analysis process.
4. Name and describe the general environment‟s seven segments.
5. Identify the five competitive forces and explain how they determine an industry‟s profit
potential.
6. Define strategic groups and describe their influence on the firm.
7. Describe what firms need to know about their competitors and different methods (including
ethical standards) used to collect intelligence about them.

CHAPTER OUTLINE

Opening Case British Petroleum (BP) and Its Environment: How the Deepwater Horizon
Offshore Drilling Platform Disaster Is Shaping Its Strategy
THE GENERAL, INDUSTRY, AND COMPETITOR ENVIRONMENTS
EXTERNAL ENVIRONMENTAL ANALYSIS
Scanning
Monitoring
Forecasting
Assessing
SEGMENTS OF THE GENERAL ENVIRONMENT
The Demographic Segment
The Economic Segment
The Political/Legal Segment
The Sociocultural Segment
The Technological Segment
The Global Segment
The Physical Environment Segment
Strategic Focus Firms‟ Efforts to Take Care of the Physical Environment in Which They
Compete
INDUSTRY ENVIRONMENT ANALYSIS
Threat of New Entrants
Bargaining Power of Suppliers
Bargaining Power of Buyers
Threat of Substitute Products
Strategic Focus The Multi-Industry Battle for Mobile and Home Digital Computing and
Entertainment
© 2013 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved. This edition is intended for use outside of the U.S. only, with content that may be different
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 Chapter 2: The External Environment
Intensity of Rivalry among Competitors
INTERPRETING INDUSTRY ANALYSES
STRATEGIC GROUPS
COMPETITOR ANALYSIS
ETHICAL CONSIDERATIONS
SUMMARY
REVIEW QUESTIONS
EXPERIENTIAL EXERCISES
VIDEO CASE
NOTES

LECTURE NOTES

Chapter Introduction: This chapter can be introduced with a general statement regarding
the importance of understanding what is happening outside of the firm itself and how
what is happening can affect the firm‟s ability to achieve strategic competitiveness and
earn above-average returns. This importance is illustrated by the Opening Case, which
discusses the impact events in the external environment can have on a firm‟s
performance, despite efforts to adjust to industry dynamics.

OPENING CASE
British Petroleum (BP) and Its Environment: How the Deepwater Horizon Offshore
Drilling Platform Disaster is Shaping Its Strategy

The opening case illustrates how BP can use information from the general environment to
develop plans for the future. For example, analyzing the Political/Legal segment leads one to
believe that increased regulations and governmental investigations are likely. Information
from the Economic segment indicates that the demand for energy will remain strong.
Demographic and Global data show that emerging countries will require greater quantities of
oil (and other sources of energy) in the future. Technological advances, Sociocultural factors,
and concern over the Physical Environment point toward the development of alternative
energy sources and increasing demand for „clean‟ energy. Taken together, one can see that
assessing the influence of factors in the general environment is important for planning for
future success.

Teaching Note: The opening case lays out how BP uses information from the
general environment to make strategic decisions. As an opening discussion
question, ask students to identify and discuss examples of how BP might
base its strategies on information from the general environment. Ask students
to identify and discuss how BP might develop forecasts to predict the impact
of the various environmental segments. Finally, since most students will be
familiar with BP and the Deepwater Horizon disaster, ask them to identify and
discuss some of the ways that BP could use other information from the
external environment to develop future strategies.
© 2013 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved. This edition is intended for use outside of the U.S. only, with content that may be different
from the U.S. Edition. May not be scanned, copied, duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
2-2
 Chapter 2: The External Environment

Explain the importance of analyzing and understanding the

1
firm‟s external environment.

Teaching Note: Given that the external environment will continue to

change—and that change may be unpredictable in terms of timing and
strength—a firm’s management is challenged to be aware of, understand the
implications of, and identify patterns represented in these changes by taking
actions to improve the firm’s competitive position, to improve operational
efficiency, and to be effective global competitors.

External environmental factors—like the war and political unrest, variations in the strength
of national economies, and new technologies—affect firm growth and profitability in the US
and beyond.

Environmental conditions in the current global economy differ from those previously faced
by firms:
 Technological advances require more timely and effective competitive actions and
responses.
 Rapid sociological changes abroad affect labor practices and product demand of diverse
consumers.
 Governmental policies and laws affect where and how firms may choose to compete.
 Changes to nations‟ financial regulatory systems.

Understanding the external environment helps build the firm‟s base of knowledge and
information that can (1) help build new capabilities, (2) buffer the firm from environmental
impacts, and (3) build bridges to influential stakeholders.

Teaching Note: This section introduces definitions, Figure 2.1 (which deals
with the external environment), and the competitor/industry environment.
Because of the chapter layout, it is best to delay a detailed presentation or
discussion of the general environment until after discussing the external
environmental analysis process because the characteristics of the general
environment are presented in more detail later in the chapter.

Define and describe the general environment and

2
the industry environment.

Teaching Note: The firm’s understanding of the external environment is

matched with knowledge about its internal environment (discussed in Chapter
3) to form its vision, to develop its mission, and to take strategic actions that
result in strategic competitiveness and above-average returns. This is an
important point to make.
© 2013 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved. This edition is intended for use outside of the U.S. only, with content that may be different
from the U.S. Edition. May not be scanned, copied, duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
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Another random document with
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from the land of Mexico.
Tom’s description was not exaggerated. Here and there bright spots of a
yellowish color traced the course of the Rio Grande, and the low hills on
the opposite side were now touched with delicate purple shadows and
glowing lights.
In the vast sweep of country which their lofty perch embraced, not a
living thing was in sight. The undulating surfaces stretched far off with
the grasses billowing like waves of the sea, and finally melted softly into
a hazy sky.
“Superb!” murmured Dave.
“Gettin’ an inspiration for a poem?” asked Cranny with a chuckle.
“Almost,” laughed the stout lad, seating himself with a sigh of
satisfaction. His example was quickly followed.
Cranny still had a number of questions to ask. He wanted to know all
about their experiences since they had been in Wyoming together; and
the Ramblers, too, felt a keen interest to hear some further particulars in
regard to his own affairs at Tacoma. Naturally all this took some time.
The sun rose to the zenith and continued on its slow journey toward the
west while lively tongues rattled on. Cranny was in the midst of a
graphic description of his “failure” when a sound—a very faint sound
coming from the distance—abruptly caused him to break off in the
middle of a sentence. He glanced inquiringly toward his companions.
“What in thunder was that?” he demanded, raising his hand. “Listen!”
“Great Scott!” cried Tom, springing to his feet, and gazing intently
toward the Mexican hills. “That must mean trouble not so very far
away.”
Once more the sound, borne on the sweeping wind, came to their ears. It
was unmistakably the rattle of a machine gun, and presently a continuous
series of ominous reports convinced every one that somewhere across the
Rio Grande an engagement was taking place between Federal and
Revolutionary forces.
“By George! Fellows, I reckon if we ever got over there, we’d see some
excitement!” Cranny Beaumont’s eyes, as he spoke, were shining with
excitement. “Sounds like a hot scrap, eh?”
The Ramblers all knew the Tacoma lad’s reckless, daring nature.
Wherever any excitement was going on, there Cranny wanted to be. And
the eagerness of his expression plainly revealed the thoughts running
through his mind.
“I’d rather stay on this side of the river,” drawled Dave. He grinned
faintly. “It’s no fun, Cranny, to be anywhere in the vicinity of bursting
shells, or to hear bullets singing past one’s head.”
“We know by experience, too,” said Tom loftily.
“You bet,” chimed in Don Stratton.
“A chap wouldn’t have to run into any danger,” declared Cranny, rising
to join Tom, who stood near the edge of the roof. “Some day——” The
lad paused, but the sparkle hadn’t faded from his eyes, nor the notes of
suppressed excitement from his voice.
“He’s always out for adventure,” said Bob to Dave.
“Yes, and always bound to find it,” returned the other.
As the faint notes of warfare continued, sometimes barely perceptible
above the sighing of the breeze, then again booming forth clearly, the
nerves of all were tingling.
“How glad I am we’re neutral,” remarked Dave.
“How I’d like to be in an aeroplane lookin’ down upon it,” declared
Cranny.
Finally the distant guns spoke at longer intervals, and at length ceased
altogether.
“Yes,” said the Tacoma lad reflectively, “a jaunt into old Mexico would
—— Oh, don’t shake your head, Dave—I reckon I’ll have to go—so
near, you know. What! Lunch time already? By Jove! I’d almost
forgotten about it. Let’s hurry—I want to hire that nag this afternoon.”
Recklessly he sprang for the trap-door, and several times the ladder
threatened to collapse beneath the weight of the boys as they piled back
into the room.
When they reached the lower floor, Tom explained to Cranny that he was
“chef” for the afternoon.
“To-night Don takes a crack at it,” he added.
“And I reckon you’ll all want to take a crack at me after the frost is
over,” grinned Don.
The Ramblers immediately got things under way. Dick kindled a fire in
the old-fashioned open-grate; Bob brought forth the provisions and tin
dishes, while stout Dave and Sam attended to various odds and ends.
Tom went about his duties with a stern and determined air, and Cranny,
watching him with twinkling eyes, was before very long sniffing some
delicious odors. A monster coffee-pot generously let the nature of its
contents be known, and beans baked the day before in true lumberman’s
style, now having the finishing touches supplied, helped to indicate that
this meal at least would be no “frost.”
When the chef finally cried, “Fall in, fellows,” the others obeyed his
summons with wonderful alacrity, and in a few moments the good things
began to vanish like a flurry of snowflakes in the early spring.
About an hour later the boys were in the stable.
“Ho, for that little Mexican town, and the Texas Rangers!” exclaimed
Cranny. Then his eyes traveling over the mustangs he added, “A corkin’
fine pony o’ yours, Bob.” He critically examined the brown-patched
animal when the Rambler a moment later led it forth into the light.
No friendly look greeted Cranny from a pair of dark, intelligent eyes.
And at almost every sound the mustang’s shaggy sides quivered; its ears
were thrown back, while four active hoofs suggested the advisability of
keeping a considerable distance away.
“H’m—a jolly bad-tempered little beast,” commented the lad.
“Here’s the horse-dealer’s description of him,” laughed Bob. “‘He’s
hardy as a cactus, vicious as a rattler, and as ungrateful as a coyote, but
he certainly can go.’”
“Well, I only hope that I can find one just like him,” declared Cranny.
“They can’t be too gingery for me.”
It was a pretty difficult job to saddle “Whirly-gig,” but Bob
accomplished the task with an ease that brought an admiring comment
from the big Tacoma lad.
“You’re as clever as a cow-puncher in a wild-west show, Bob,” he
chuckled.
“Thanks,” laughed the other. “Whoa! old boy,” he patted the pony’s
neck. “Ready, fellows? Whoa—come along then!”
A clatter of hoofs echoed noisily throughout the dingy old building as the
horses one by one were led outside.
“Into the saddle, boys,” cried Bob, springing into his own. “Jump up,
Cranny—look out.”
Cranny, active, alert, his eyes shining with pleasure, had need to heed
this caution. The mustang, “Whirly-gig,” apparently having no desire for
a repetition of his early morning experience, was exhibiting a tendency
to buck and dance.
Seizing a favorable moment, he matched his speed with the pony’s and
won. Then almost simultaneously six mustangs leaped forward, soon to
settle down into a steady, loping trot.
And a few minutes later, bathed in the bright clear sunlight, horses and
riders became but tiny, far-off specks amid the ever-billowing grasses of
the plain.
 CHAPTER III
THE RANGERS
T importance of the little Texas town on the Rio Grande could not in
justice be estimated by the size of its population. Situated in a thriving
agricultural district, and near a stock-raising region, with ore deposits
and coal lands to be found not far away, it had gradually developed into a
center of trade for the surrounding country.
Founded by the Spaniards almost one hundred and fifty years before,
some portions of the town still bore a faint impress of their domination in
the quaint, pleasing architecture of the buildings. Others again were as
characteristically Mexican in appearance as though belonging to towns
on the other side of the Rio.
The demands of a rapid, hustling, up-to-date age, however, was bringing
about a change. Modern buildings sprang up, overtopping their primitive,
adobe neighbors, and, like the cattlemen retreating before the steady
advance of the homesteaders and farmers, a certain element of charm
was slowly vanishing from this frontier town.
Its inhabitants, too, were as varied in character as the streets. Cow-
punchers, Mexican vaqueros and men of business, such as might be seen
in any Eastern city, mingled together. The Mexicans, usually long-haired
and swarthy, their costumes often enlivened by gaudily-colored sashes or
handkerchiefs, furnished perhaps the most picturesque note.
The traveler who stopped here was apt to have his ears assailed by a
strange jargon of tongues. Sometimes it was English, sometimes
Spanish, or it might be a curious combination of the two.
An International bridge connected the town with another, considerably
smaller in size, on the Mexican side of the river. The railroad also
crossed at this point.
A company headquarters of Texas Rangers which had been located in
this section of Texas for some time was in charge of Captain Julius
Braddock. The officer, an old-time cattleman, had passed most of his life
on the plains. In the early part of his career the “bad man” of the border
and elsewhere occupied a far more conspicuous position than he does in
this age, when civilization is constantly reaching farther and farther
afield. And he could tell, and often did, stories of actual experiences with
cattle rustlers and other desperate characters, which made the usual
motion-picture drama on the same subject appear by comparison quite
tame indeed.
Captain Braddock was sitting at his desk in one corner of the big room,
when the door suddenly opened, and, on looking up in surprise, he saw a
great crowd of boys pushing their way inside.
“Hello!” he exclaimed, the stern lines on his rugged, weather-beaten face
relaxed into a smile of welcome. “You all here again, and—’pon my
word—what? Still another?”
He rose to his feet and advanced to a rail, his keen gray eyes fixed on
Cranny Beaumont’s smiling face.
“Yes, sir; still another,” echoed the lad with a chuckle. “How are you,
Captain Braddock?—the boys have told me all about you.”
After a more formal introduction by Bob Somers, breezy Cranny began
to chat with all his accustomed ease and frankness. He told him about his
plans; about the “cracker-jack” nag called “Starlight” he had just hired
from a horse-dealer in town; he mentioned a rifle and revolver bought
but a few minutes before, and altogether managed to impress the bluff
old captain most favorably.
“So you’re out for adventure before settling down to the more serious
pursuits of life,” he said finally, with a twinkle in his eye.
“Yes, sir,” replied Cranny. “I say, Captain, has there been anythin’ doin’
around here lately?”
The officer looked thoughtful.
“Quite a great deal,” he answered slowly.
“To-day, from the roof of our ranch-house, we heard the sound of
firing!” broke in Tom.
“I am not surprised,” said Captain Braddock. “Reports to the effect that
the Mexicans were fighting close to the river reached us. The Federals
are now in possession of the opposite town, but I understand that an
army of Constitutionalists is encamped not twenty miles away.”
“Gracious!” murmured Cranny.
“What an unfortunate state of affairs!” put in Dave. “If the warring
factions could only get together and put as much energy in developing
the wonderful resources of their country as they do in fighting, how
much more sensible it would be!”
The Tacoma lad scarcely heard this observation. To one of his reckless,
adventurous temperament, the thought of actually visiting a town where
such stirring events were possible held an irresistible attraction for him.
He made up his mind to run over to the other side of the Rio before very
long—even if he had to make the trip alone.
The sound of their voices presently brought several of the Rangers, Carl
Alvin among them, from an adjoining room.
The members of the force did not have the spick and span appearance of
the scarlet-coated Royal Northwest Mounted Police of Canada, among
whom the Ramblers had spent some time the summer before. A certain
bearing, however, gained through years of hard service, was sufficiently
authoritative without additional embellishments.
“Hello, fellows! Mighty glad to see you,” hailed Carl Alvin. He turned to
the others. “These are the chaps I told you about.”
Thereupon he introduced the crowd to big Tom Raulings, Oscar Chaney
and Jack Stovall.
“Well, what do you youngsters think you’re goin’ to do out here,
anyway?” drawled Jack, chuckling audibly.
“For one thing—trail the Rangers a bit,” grinned Cranny. “We want to
find out what their job’s like. My—it must be dandy fun, ridin’ around
the country all day, an’——”
“I’ll wager them there notions won’t stick long in your head,” put in Jim.
“’Tain’t no easy snap.”
“But in the old days things was a heap worse,” exclaimed Stovall, the
youngest of the four. “Then Texas was full o’ outlaw bands an’ cattle
rustlers. The ranchmen and cow-punchers used to have some mighty hot
times, an’ the man who was slow on the draw didn’t stan’ much show!”
“You’re right there, Jack,” affirmed Captain Braddock. “I know, for I’ve
seen a bit of gun play in my time.”
“Here’s what I mean, fellers,” went on Stovall.
Walking to the center of the room he began to give an exhibition of “the
draw.” From almost every conceivable position, both on the ground and
standing, the tall, raw-boned Texan showed with what remarkable
rapidity and dexterity a man can draw his pistol and aim.
The boys enthusiastically applauded his efforts.
“Thanks; glad ye like it,” said Stovall, with a broad grin. “Whew! Maybe
I ain’t some hot after all that.”
“Say, Jack, do you chaps have any drills?” asked Tom Clifton.
“Drills?” repeated Stovall. “An’ what for, I’d like to know?”
Captain Braddock, with a laugh at the scorn expressed in the Ranger’s
voice, now excused himself, a proceeding which Dave promptly took
advantage of by starting toward the nearest bench.
“I’m uncommonly tired, fellows,” he explained.
“Drills!” remarked Jack a second time, when all were comfortably
seated. “No siree! An’ why? ’cause no chap ever gits appointed to the
force unless he’s shown beforehand he’s got the goods!”
“How many men are in this company?” asked Bob.
“Besides the cap’n and sergeant, there’s fifteen privates. Altogether we
have four companies o’ Rangers. One quartermaster acts as commissary
an’ paymaster for the whole business.”
“That’s a pretty big job, eh?”
“You can just believe it is. He has to make his accounting to the adjutant-
general of the state. An’ of course the company commanders send in
their reports to him, too. Whenever a detail from a company or
detachment headquarters is forced to be away longer’n twenty-four
hours the cap’n must report the object of the expedition, the reasons for it
and the name of the Ranger in charge.”
“Yes; an’ this company is about as busy as any,” put in Chaney. “You
see, onct in a while, when Mexican bandits find it gettin’ too hot for ’em
in their own country they take a little trip over the Rio Grande, an’ our
job is to see that they don’t stay here long.”
“How much authority have you?” asked Tom.
“Enough to make a whole lot of tough characters fight mighty shy of us,”
spoke up Alvin. “The act of the legislature covering our case speaks of a
‘rangers force for the protection of the frontier against marauding and
thieving parties and for the suppression of lawlessness and crime
throughout the state.’”
“We aid the regular civil authorities,” explained Raulings. “When an
arrest is made the Rangers must convey the prisoner to the county in
whose jurisdiction he was at the time of the commission of the crime.”
“Then sometimes you get a bully chance to see the country,” said Don.
“Yes. I’ve even ridden in real trains while in the discharge of my duties,”
laughed Oscar Chaney.
“What weapons do you carry?” asked Cranny.
“A Winchester rifle and a pistol,” answered Alvin. “They are supplied to
us at cost.”
“But we’ve got to furnish our own horses an’ clothing,” said Raulings.
“Suppose somebody should draw a bead on your nag, and the next
minute he keeled over; what then?” inquired Cranny.
“When a horse is killed in action the state gives another free of charge.”
“There’s a detachment from this company temporarily located many
miles from here, an’ this bunch is detailed to take a ride over there to-
morrow,” put in Stovall. “We’ll be ridin’ within sight o’ your old ranch-
house early in the morning. Want to come along?”
“I should say so!” declared Cranny, enthusiastically.
“Yes siree,” said Tom.
“We’re off on scoutin’ expeditions all the time,” explained Raulings.
“An’ that means roughin’ it enough to suit anybody. This here one——”
The Ranger stopped suddenly, his eyes roved in the direction of the
captain; then, seeing no movement on the latter’s part he resumed in a
lower tone, “An’ this here one——”
“Oh, pshaw! Man—there isn’t any secret about it,” interrupted Stovall,
impatiently. “Speak up!”
“Yes; fire away!” urged Cranny, the flashing light which so often came
into his eyes now strongly in evidence.
“Wal, rustlers have started up work ag’in! Cattle is gettin’ stole right an’
left.”
“Rustlers!” broke in Tom, interestedly.
“Yes. An’ the job o’ this here bunch o’ Texas Rangers is to ketch them
fellers or run ’em out o’ the state,” declared Stovall. The lines on his
youthful face became hard and stern. “The ranchmen are mighty hot
about it, too. There’s Colonel Sylvester of the ‘Eagle Pass’ Ranch—some
o’ his stock is missin’ an’——”
Cranny Beaumont rose to his feet.
“Fellows!” he exclaimed impressively. “I wonder if we’re going to run
into any excitement!”
“Don’t think of such things, Cranny,” begged Dave. “I’m just longing for
a nice quiet trip.”
“Haven’t you any clues?” asked Bob.
“Nary a one,” responded Jack. “I reckon, though, it’s the work of a purty
well organized band o’ outlaws.”
“An’ to change the subject, boys,” interposed Raulings, “don’t forget that
little job we have on hand for Colonel Sylvester. The last time I saw him
he was all worked-up about that kid.”
Ranger Chaney was the only one who heard this speech, for at that
precise moment all the boys rose to their feet, which, together with
Cranny’s boisterous laughter at some observation of Dave’s, and a lively
rattle of tongues, proved quite sufficient to distract the others’ attention.
“I reckon he’s skipped from these parts a’ready,” remarked Chaney.
“An’ I reckon he ain’t,” returned the other.
A few minutes later the crowd took leave of the Rangers, promising to
keep a sharp lookout for them on the following morning.
Cranny Beaumont was in a very happy frame of mind. The Tacoma lad
had another interesting subject to occupy his mind just now—the cattle
rustlers. And it would be a mighty strange thing, he thought, if between
them and a visit to the Mexican side of the “Rio Bravo” he didn’t run
into some kind of excitement before his visit to Texas was over. And
excitement to Cranny seemed almost as necessary to existence as food
and drink.
 CHAPTER IV
THE INVADERS
T moon had risen and was casting a pale, greenish radiance over the
picturesque little town, when the seven, who had been seated on the
spacious veranda of a restaurant, reluctantly decided that it was time to
go. Under the magic of the soft illumination the harshness of line and
color had departed. Even the grim-looking grain elevator near the
railroad tracks, a flat mass of bluish gray rising against a luminous sky,
wore an aspect of calm serenity which fitted well into a scene full of
silvery lights and mysterious shadows.
“Ah, how superb is nature,” sighed Dave.
“What a superb meal we had,” chuckled Don.
“An’ what a superb ride is before us,” chimed in Cranny.
He was the first to dash down the wooden steps, the first to spring into
the saddle, and he also led the procession of riders which presently
swung into the broad white road.
Waving their hands in response to salutations from several interested
spectators, the boys allowed the mustangs to break into a lively gallop,
which they kept up until the railroad crossing was reached. There, a long
line of slowly-moving freight cars filled with crates of onions barred
their way.
“Huh!” said Tom, “I guess there’s enough of ’em to melt the whole
world to tears.”
“This little Texas town,” remarked Sam quite solemnly, “enjoys the
distinction of being one of the largest onion-shipping points in the
world.”
“Do tell,” grinned Cranny.
“And you might as well learn that the soil is good for all sorts of truck
and farm products. Figs, grapes, watermelons, cantaloupes, and
cabbages.”
“That sounds like a Chamber of Commerce booklet,” laughed Dick.
“When knowledge is being disseminated, don’t interrupt,” said Sam
severely.
“I say, Mr. Speaker, where did you capture that last word?” gurgled
Cranny. “Don’t spring anythin’ like that again so suddenly or——”
The lad did not complete his sentence for the cars had rattled by and the
impatient mustangs, like hounds unleashed, abruptly started off on their
own accord.
At a rapid pace the seven clattered along. The houses became farther and
farther apart until finally the last one was reached and left behind, and
they saw stretching before them a broad undulating country.
Beneath a grove of cottonwoods by the side of the road they reined up.
“Hello!” exclaimed Cranny, looking behind. “There’s that little Mexican
town.”
“So it is,” said Tom.
They could see a few twinkling lights, some apparently poised in space,
and a darkish patch stretching across the Rio—the International bridge.
Half an hour later, now on the open prairie, the boys had halted once
more. Their eyes were following a train on the railroad, which had its
terminus at a rapidly growing settlement on the river about twenty-five
miles away. They watched the tiny starlike points of light blinking from
the car windows, now flashing into view, now blotted from sight, as
intervening objects came between, with an interest born of the solitude
and silence which surrounded them.
“Fine,” said Cranny, “but I’m glad I’m not aboard. Ha, ha! Just think,
Sergeant Howell doesn’t want us to go out huntin’ for adventures.”
“We never have to,” returned Sam, quite truthfully, “for our crowd is
always running into them.”
“I do hope this trip will be an exception,” said Dave, with a yawn. “What
do you say, Bob?”
“Either way suits me,” laughed the other.
“I’m watchfully waiting for something to start pretty soon,” remarked
Dick, laughingly. “Better be prepared, Dave, old chap.”
“Come on, fellows,” cried Cranny.
The boys were soon following an old cattle trail. The hoofs of countless
animals, which for years had followed this route to the town, had beaten
a path almost as plainly marked in places as though the hand of man had
taken part in its making.
“Just think of the thousands and thousands,” said Tom, thoughtfully.
“My, mustn’t it take an awful number of cattle to supply the world?”
“The state of Texas does its share,” declared Dave. “Why, in San
Antonio County alone, an area as great as Belgium, Holland and
Denmark could be tucked away and still there would be plenty of space
to spare.”
“Well,” said Cranny, “no wonder everything around here looks so big.”
Soon the party reached a dense thicket of chaparral, which merged into a
brake of cottonwoods and willows, interspersed with mesquite and
prickly pears. The moonbeams filtered through the dense masses of
vegetation in silvery streaks; here spotting the tree trunks, there
detaching branches and leaves from the shadowy, mysterious
background.
The soft, musical sighings and rustlings, as the breeze stole through this
leafy coverlet, made of it a place conducive to thought and reflections,
and even Cranny Beaumont fell under its spell. And what was more
natural than that he should recall the time when, with three hundred
dollars in his pocket, he had left home henceforth to depend upon
himself.
Three hundred dollars! Why, at that time it had seemed like a fortune,
enough to go forth and conquer the world. Yet now—he didn’t like to
think of it—his finances were dwindling rapidly. The hiring of
“Starlight” and the purchasing of firearms had cut a pretty big hole in his
resources. Was he to go back to his father—a failure?
“No, never!” he murmured. He bit his lip almost savagely. “I must find a
way!”
And despite the lively conversation of his companions and the bantering
remarks which his continued silence brought from them, the Tacoma lad
continued to ponder over the important problem.
A few miles beyond the timber they began to see familiar objects.
“Not far now, fellows,” sang out Tom, at length. “The old ranch-house is
just beyond the next rise.”
“And after such a glorious ride, how glorious it will be to crawl under a
blanket and reflect upon the lovely things we have seen,” said Dave.
“I’d rather steer away from reflections,” declared Cranny, who was
beginning to recover his spirits. “I’ll race you to the top, Tom.”
The Ramblers promptly accepted this challenge, and the two, cracking
their quirts, started off. The distance, only a few hundred feet, was
quickly covered; “Starlight,” to Cranny’s extreme gratification, leading
by a head. But the first glance he took toward the ranch-house stifled his
shout of triumph and made him utter an exclamation of surprise instead.
“Just look at that, Tom!” he gasped. “Did you ever see anythin’ to beat
it?”
Tom was staring in open-mouthed wonder.
The grim, square outlines of the ancient ranch-house made a dark
silhouette against the cloudless sky. All of its windows but two appeared
as dark, gloomy patches; and from these exceptions a dull glow of
yellowish light struggled forth.
Their castle had been invaded.
 CHAPTER V
NEW FRIENDS
A of exclamations arose when the others rode up.
“Great Scott!” exclaimed Dick. “Say! Maybe this isn’t some surprise.”
“Well, I like that,” cried Tom, fiercely.
“I don’t,” said Don, with decided frankness.
“We’ll just dash right down and see what it all means. Come on,
fellows.”
The impetuous Tom, quite as indignant as though the ranch-house were
his own private property, was about to act upon his own suggestion,
when Don hastily voiced an emphatic protest.
“Wait—hold on!” he cried.
Don had been thinking about Jim Raulings’ revelation regarding the
cattle rustlers. Was it safe, he demanded, to rush heedlessly ahead, not
knowing who might be there to confront them? Suppose, for instance,
they should belong to a band such as the Texas Rangers had described—
what then?
“Oh, pshaw!” scoffed Cranny, his eyes sparkling with interest. “It’s no
use to call for the police. I’ll bet there isn’t one due on this beat for
another moon. Besides we’re seven—all armed—— That for the cattle
rustlers!” He snapped his fingers.
“Let ’er rip!” cried Tom.
And then Don saw the others flash away from his side and go swinging
down the gentle incline. With a feeling of apprehension the lad slowly
followed.
The moonlight falling across the dusky figures of the horsemen who had
drawn rein before the windows produced a decidedly picturesque effect.
Long greenish shadows straggled over the grass, details merged
themselves together, though glinting lights on spurs and horses’
trappings occasionally shot forth from the half obscurity with singular
clearness.
“Hello there; inside the house!” yelled Tom.
Almost instantly the broad, yellow spaces of light behind the windows
were broken. Two figures flashed against it. Then the highly expectant
crowd heard the creaking of the heavy window-frame as it was slowly
raised.
“Hello! Who are you?” demanded a loud clear voice. The speaker
leaning far out of the window gazed upon them earnestly.
“The question is—who are you?” called back Tom. “That’s our house.”
“Ah, indeed! Then, in that case, you may come in.”
Don Stratton’s visions of cattle rustlers and desperados immediately
vanished. Surely the tones of that voice, a hearty, musical one, had
nothing in them suggestive of the characters he had so vividly pictured in
his mind.
Joining in the ripple of laughter which the man’s response had caused,
he, like the others, tied his pony to a hitching-post, and right behind them
bounded up the steps.
At the entrance the mysterious visitors looming up in the doorway faced
the crowd.
“Thunderation! What a big bunch it is!” cried one, evidently the younger.
“I say—— Great Cæsar, Professor! Am I right—nothing but a lot of
boys?”
“Boys!” echoed Tom, stiffly. “We’re——”
“All explanations inside, if you please,” interrupted the man who had
spoken to them from the window. “Parry,” he slapped his companion
good-naturedly on the shoulder, “in spite of all my traveling, I’m not
over the faculty of being surprised. Well, well—I am again!”
“And so were we,” remarked Tom, rather grimly.
They followed the men into the dining-room, where the rays from a
couple of lanterns resting on the table revealed their faces clearly.
The taller and elder of the two appeared to be a man of about forty-five.
And though his face was bronzed by exposure to the elements, a dark,
pointed beard and eye-glasses served to give him an air quite in accord
with the title of “professor.”
The most conspicuous features about the other, evidently but a few years
older than the lads, at whom he stared with a mingled look of wonder
and amusement, were a pair of clear blue eyes, and dark, chestnut hair.
“Now, fire away, fellows!” he began easily.
“Yes, do! Really this is a most welcome surprise,” interjected the other.
Then, dropping his bantering tone for one of seriousness, he added, “But
do kindly assuage my feeling of overwhelming curiosity. How does it
happen that a crowd of boys——”
“Oh, yes; we know just what you’re going to ask,” Tom’s voice had a
weary note in it—“that kind of question has been often tossed to us
before. But I think, sir——”
“Quite right,” replied the man, smilingly. “Our explanations should come
first. Besides, we owe you an apology for so unceremoniously entering
your house.”
All this, spoken in a jovial tone, had the effect of prepossessing the
crowd in the visitors’ favor.
“My name is Horatio Kent,” he explained. “And I am a lecturer. Every
year I deliver a series of travelogues in the large Eastern cities, which are
illustrated by motion-pictures.”
“What a great job!” cried Cranny.
“It has its advantages. This is my assistant—an expert motion-picture
photographer.”
“Glad to meet you, I’m sure,” grinned Parry. “At present we are traveling
rather unconventionally on horseback, with a little burro to help us carry
our stuff. Passing this old ranch, about sundown, en route to the town
yonder,” he waved his hand toward the south, “and, being rather weary,
after a long day in the saddle, the idea struck us that we might stop here
for the night. The door wasn’t fastened, you know. Our horses are back
there in the stable.”
“You’re most welcome, I’m sure,” declared Bob, heartily.
“Thanks.”
“And say, maybe we weren’t surprised when all these evidences of
civilization struck our eyes,” laughed Parry. “Both the professor and I
thought somebody would be moseying along pretty soon, but we never
expected——”
“Of course you didn’t,” broke in Tom, a bit scornfully. “Nobody ever
does. The idea—a pack of kids out on the plains at this time of night;
why—— Sir”—he swung around to face the older man who had
addressed him—“shall I tell you who we are, and where we come from?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sit down, fellows,” grinned Dave; “here’s where the history of the
Rambler Club is wound off once more.”
Dave was quite right. Tom’s lips lost their sarcastic droop as he plunged
ahead, and, for fully half an hour, his deep-toned voice held almost
undisputed sway. At the last, pleased with the exclamation of surprise,
and the brief comments which occasionally punctuated his words, he
drew from his breast pocket a well-bethumbed copy of “The Kingswood
High School Reflector.” “That’s published in our home town,” he
explained loftily. “There’s an account in it, too, of some of the
adventures of the club written by Dave Brandon, our historian.”
“Parry, how dreadful it would have been if we had missed all this!”
laughed the lecturer, glancing over the sheet, which Tom placed in his
hand. “Dear me, I’m glad I never lost the faculty of being surprised.”
“I’ll never get over this,” chuckled Parry. “You’ll have to put this crowd
into your next lecture, Professor. Now you chaps will get some fame!”
“We’re pretty well known already,” remarked Tom, modestly.
Now the boys began to ask a few questions themselves, and the lecturer,
in the clear, resonant tones of one long accustomed to speak on the
public platform, obliged. Rapidly he told them something about the
various countries they had visited in quest of material for his work,
ending up with the explanation that this year he had decided to make an
exploration of Mexico, and on his way to that country study conditions
along the Texas border.
“I think some of our people in the East would like to have visualized
scenes and incidents connected with the work of the United States
soldiers who are patrolling this section,” he said. “I expect also to get
some pictures of a more stirring nature on the other side of the Rio.”
“What!” cried Cranny, his eyes opening wide with astonishment, “the
scrappin’, you mean?”
“To be sure; why not? The lecturer and motion-picture photographer are
attended by risks of many sorts. Our comfortably-seated audiences,
while viewing pictures of lands taken in various quarters of the globe,
and of wild and ferocious animals prowling about their native haunts,
probably seldom realize the dangers and hardships which are
encountered by the men who have traveled thousands of miles to get
them.”
“They don’t indeed!” agreed George Parry.
“I shouldn’t care to tackle that job in Mexico,” commented Sam Randall,
reflectively.
“Nor I, either,” confirmed Don.
“Count me out of such adventurous proceedings, too,” said Dave.
“And I’m right in for ’em!” exclaimed Cranny, so emphatically that the
two men looked at him with a smile. “I say—are you goin’ across the
Rio pretty soon?”
“Very shortly,” replied the lecturer. He shifted his position on the rough,
wooden bench, and the glow from the lanterns falling across his bronzed
features with picturesque effect revealed a thoughtful look in his eyes.
“Judging from what has been told to us on the way,” he continued
slowly, “that little Mexican town over yonder and its surroundings will
be the theater of some exciting events before many days have passed.”
“And if it does turn out that way, we ought to get some bully films,”
remarked the photographer.
There was no room in Cranny Beaumont’s mind just now for
troublesome thoughts of the future.
“I’m mighty glad these chaps happened along,” he reflected. “It’ll make
it easier for me to skip across into old Mexico; and, by Jove, maybe I’ll
go with ’em.”
The unusual meeting of the two parties at the old ranch-house proved to
be a most pleasant one for all concerned. They talked so many hours,
too, that by the time it was decided to turn in, the stout historian sat
dozing in a corner.
He complained energetically at being disturbed, but Tom and Dick
cruelly hustled him, sleepy-eyed and yawning, to his feet.
“We have to stable our ponies, you know,” Dick reminded him.
“And get up mighty early in the morning,” chimed in Tom. “We don’t
want to miss that trip with the Texas Rangers.”
“The Texas Rangers?” queried Professor Kent.
“Yes, sir,” answered Cranny. Then in a few words he explained about
their plans for the following day.
“I wonder if they’d object to our accompanying the expedition?” mused
the lecturer. “I declare, Parry”—he turned to his assistant—“it would suit
me capitally.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Parry.
“The Rangers will be glad to have you, I’m sure,” declared Bob,
confidently.
“Good. Anyway, a word in our favor from the Ramblers ought to have
great weight with them,” laughed the other.
Within another half hour the crowd had attended to their mustangs,
besides examining those of the visitors, which, together with a sturdy
little burro, they found very interesting. Then each took a hasty look at
the motion-picture cameras and other paraphernalia necessary to the
travelers’ profession.
“Oh, my! Don’t I wish I could lecture,” sighed Cranny. Disturbing
thoughts concerning that bothersome subject—his future—flashed into
his mind once more, but Tom’s loud, gruff remark: “Step along lively,
fellows! We ought to be hitting those balsam boughs—the Rangers, you
know!” drove them away on the instant.
“Don’t worry, Tom, we won’t miss ’em,” he gurgled.
On their way to the house the group stopped for a few moments to study
the calm and poetic aspect of nature. The far-off hills on the Mexican
shores rose faintly against a bluish-green sky unflecked with clouds,
while the tall grasses of the prairie, still waving and tossing under the
influence of a gusty breeze, were edged with delicate touches of silvery
light.
“Glorious!” pronounced Dave.
“And yet only a few miles away, perhaps amid just such another peaceful
scene, rival armies are encamped ready to hurl themselves upon each
other at the first opportunity,” remarked the professor, with a thoughtful
look.