The crowd of men and youths opened out in front of Ted, and he strode into the circle.
There he saw Jack Slate in a much disheveled condition, dressed in his evening clothes.
Ted gasped as he stared for an instant at the youth from Boston.
He wanted to tell Jack that "it served him right," but that was not the part of loyalty, and in the presence of the enemy it did not make any difference to a broncho boy if his pard was right or wrong, if he was in need of help.
"Where is the fellow who was going to throw me around?" asked Ted, looking into the faces about him.
No one replied, although Ted waited for a moment or two before looking at Billy Sudden.
Billy winked at him, but said nothing.
"Seems as if somebody's sand has run out," said Ted contemptuously.
"Oh, I don't know," said Wiley Creviss. "There's plenty of sand left if you need any to prevent your wheels from slipping downhill."
"No, my sand box is always full," said Ted quietly. "But there is some sneak in this bunch who hasn't the nerve to back up his brag."
"Are you talking to me?" said Creviss, swelling up as to chest.
"Oh, are you the misguided chump whom I heard make the remark about pushing me about, as I came up?" said Ted, in a tone of surprise.
The cowboys from Suggs' ranch were snickering.
"Well, what if I was?"
"I'm going to make you try it."
"Oh, I can do it, all right."
"Well, why don't you? I'm the easiest proposition you ever saw to be hazed by a bunch of hoodlums, such as you and your pals are!"
"For two cents I'd punch your nose."
"You're too cheap. I'll give you a heap more than that if you will. It's been so long since my nose was punched that it feels sort of lonesome. I'll pay you well for the job, if you succeed in pulling off the stunt."
"You think you're the whole works because you've got a crowd of dudes around you. You're not the only dent in the can."
Ted flushed at this allusion to his pards.
"I'll put a dent in you if you open your face to remark about my friends again," he said, with some heat.
"See here, you town rough, you better take in your slack and clear out for home, or you'll begin to taste the sorrows that come from inexperience and bad judgment," said Billy Sudden to Creviss.
"It's up to you to mind your own business," snarled Creviss. "What are you but a lot of greasy cow-punchers. We haven't much use for your sort in this town, anyway."
"Now, son, keep quiet and behave yourself," said Billy paternally. "If you get me riled I won't be as patient with you as Ted Strong has been. I'll fix you so as to keep two doctors busy the best part of the night."
"What are you fellows butting in for, anyhow?" said Creviss angrily. "Can't this freak that comes here in a dress suit and tries to lord it over us take care of himself?"
"Surest thing you know," drawled Jack Slate. "But there are ladies here, a thing you don't seem to realize. If you'll step outside, I'd be glad to whip you right and propah."
"What's the use, Jack, of fussing with these rowdies?" said Ted. "Let it go until some other time."
"You bet," said Creviss, courage returning when he heard Ted propose peace. "I guess you'd like to let it go forever."
"That settles it," said Ted. "Go to him, Jack, and if you don't give him what's coming to him, I'll finish the job."
"Git!" said Billy Sudden, opening the door and shoving Creviss out into the street. The rest followed.
As Jack stepped into the open air he peeled off his swallow-tailed coat and threw it over Ted's arm.
He had no sooner done so than Wiley Creviss made a rush at him from the front, while one of the crowd ran in on him from the rear.
It seemed an unequal beginning, and Ted was preparing to take on the second fellow.
But Jack had seen him out of the corner of his eye, and as he came on the Boston boy stepped backward and threw his right elbow up.
It was a timely and masterly trick, for the sharp elbow caught Creviss' ally full in the nose, and he dropped like a limp rag to the ground, with a howl of anguish.
At the same moment Jack swung his left. Creviss had struck at him and missed when he back-stepped, and coming on swiftly ran into Jack's fist with a thud that jarred him into a state of collapse.
"Finish him!" shouted the cow-punchers, who stood about the fighters in a circle.
"Go to him," said Ted, in a low voice. "I saw him signal his pal to tackle you from behind."
Creviss had partially recovered from the blow and was getting ready for another rush, when Jack slipped in and to one side and hit like a blacksmith at the anvil.
This time Creviss went down and out.
"Hooray fer ther bantam!" shouted a big cow-puncher, slapping Jack on the back. "Say, I hear them say you're from Bosting. I'm goin' ter buy a hundred-pound sack o' beans myself ter-morrer an' begin trainin'. If beans'll do that fer you, a sack o' them will make me fit ter lick Jess Willard."
But Jack was busy smoothing down his ruffled hair and pulling his white lawn tie around into its proper place, and when he had put on his coat he and Ted walked into the ballroom as calmly as if they had just stepped out to view the stars.
"What was the trouble?" asked Stella, when they reached her side.
"Some town rowdies became noisy, and they were put out," answered Ted carelessly.
But Jack's dress suit was the joy of the cow-punchers, who had never seen anything like it before, although they all knew that it was the way well-groomed men dressed for evening in the big cities.
"Say, pard," said a cowboy to Jack, as he crossed the room, "I axes yer pardon fer buttin' in, but yer lost ther front part o' yer coat tails."
"That's all right," answered Jack. "Can't help it, don't you know. I left the blooming coat hanging on the line at home to air, and a goat came along and ate the front half of the tails off before I could get to it. I was just on my way to apologize to the master of ceremonies for it. You see, it is the only coat I have, and I was bound to come to the ball."
"Ha, ha! that's on you, 'Honk,'" laughed the cowboy's friends, who had overheard the conversation, and Jack passed on, the boys alluding to him as a "game little shrimp," for the news of his summary punishment of Creviss had got abroad.
But Jack was not through yet. He went into the men's dressing room to leave his hat. As he was coming out he was met by a crowd of town youths, friends of Creviss. There was no one else about.
They scowled and sneered at Jack, and one of them bumped into him.
"Heah, fellah, that will do," said Jack, with his Bostonese drawl. "You're solid; you're no sponge."
"I ain't, eh?" answered the bully. "I'll tell yer, Mr. Slate, you're covered with bad marks what I don't like, an' I'm just the sponge to wipe them off."
"Step lively, then," said Jack, "for I've an engagement to dance the next waltz."
"I'll waltz you all you'll need this evenin'."
But before he had finished speaking Ben Tremont stepped around the corner.
"Hello, Jack! What is this I see?" said Ben. "Disgracing yourself by talking with these hoodlums."
"Yas, deah boy," drawled Jack. "This—er, what shall I call him?—stopped me to tell me he was going to rub the marks off me, at the same time wittily making a pun on my name. I was just telling him to hurry, or I'd miss the next waltz."
"Well, I'll take the job off your hands. Stella was asking for you a moment ago."
"Yes, run along to your Stella," said the hoodlum. "I reckon she's pining for the sassiety o' another dude."
That was where he made the mistake of his life.
It didn't really make much difference what these fellows said about themselves, but the boys would not permit Stella's name to be bandied about by the roughs.
So swiftly, that they didn't know what had happened to them, both Ben and Jack sailed into them.
They went sprawling like tenpins before the ball as Ben jumped in among them and mowed them down with his powerful blows, while Jack, hovering like a torpedo boat around a battleship, sent in several of the telling blows Ted had taught him during the boxing lessons at Moon Valley.
The fight was soon over, and Ben and Jack slipped quietly back into the ballroom, leaving a well-thrashed crowd to stanch bloody noses, and patch up swollen lips and black eyes as best they could.
Meanwhile, a diversion had been created in the hall by the joshing that the Suggs' ranch outfit had directed toward the fiddler, who knew only one tune, and sawed that off for a waltz, quadrilles, and two-steps, without fear or favor.
The musician had been engaged because he was a friend of the beneficiary, and had volunteered his services. As the ball grew more and more hilarious the cow-punchers felt the restraint of the folks from the fort and Moon Valley the less, and began to take it out of the fiddler, who paid no attention to them, but kept on scraping.
Suddenly there was a crack from a revolver and the top of the fiddler's bow was knocked off, and the playing and dancing stopped simultaneously.
There was more or less commotion, but the women did not scream or get panic-stricken. They were used to that sort of thing.
Nobody knew who had fired the shot, but the cowboys and soldiers were mad clear through because there was no more music to dance by.
The shot had come from the part of the hall in which the coatroom was situated, and directly afterward two slender young fellows climbed out a rear window, and a few moments later Billy Sudden and Clay Whipple came calmly through the front door and joined the throng about the musician, who said:
"Honest, folks, I don't blame no hombre fer takin' a shot at thet fiddle bow o' mine, fer I never could make it work right. I know it was bum music, but it was the best I could do."
Ted Strong had observed the quiet entrance of Billy and Clay directly after the shooting, and he put this and that together. He knew that both of them were finished musicians. Clay Whipple was an exceptionally good violin player, and Ted had often heard Billy Sudden make a piano fairly sing. Evidently they had got to the point where they could stand the fiddler's music no longer, and had put a stop to it.
But for all the badness of the music the people should not be deprived of their dance.
He hunted up the culprits, who were hovering on the outskirts of the crowd, listening to the threats against and denouncing the vandals who had "shot up" the fiddler.
"See here, you hombres, I'm on to you," said Ted. "Now you've got to do the square thing. You've beaten the dancers out of the music, and you've got to get in and furnish it, or I'll tell these punchers who plugged the fiddler's bow."
"How did you get on to it?" said Clay, with a grin.
"Never mind. Is it a go?"
"I reckon it'll have to be," said Clay, looking suggestively at Billy Sudden.
"All right," said Billy.
The cow-punchers, who had come to dance with the girls from the ranches, were growing angry, and were telling what they would do to the fellow who had spoiled their fun if they caught him, when Ted Strong stepped upon the platform, and, holding up his hand for silence, said:
"Gentlemen, please do not get obstreperous. You shall have all the dancing you want. Ladies, please be patient; the music that is to follow is such as has never been heard at a dance in this part of the country. Mr. Clay Whipple, of the Moon Valley Ranch, and Mr. Billy Sudden, of the Dumb-bell Ranch, will play the violin and piano respectively. Both of them are cow-punchers, so don't take any liberties with them, or some one will get hurt."
There was such cheering that the roof almost went off as Clay hunted up a violin and tuned it.
Then began a waltz such as they had never heard, and in a moment the floor was covered with dancers, the officers in their uniforms, and the ladies in their light dresses, adding beauty to the scene. But the finest-looking couple on the floor was Stella and the leader of the broncho boys.
Just before the dance began Bud approached Stella, and said:
"See that gal over thar? Ther one with ther corn-silk bang? She is mine, an' I'm goin' ter dance this with her; see? She's ther kind o' girl I admire. She's shore corn-fed, an' some woman."
"Don't you know who that is?" asked Stella.
"'Deed an' I don't, but I soon will. Who is she?"
"That's Sophy Cozak, from over on the Bohemian prairie. She's rich, Bud."
"I don't care nothin' erbout thet. She's shaped up jest erbout right. Yaller hair, and soft as feathers. Watch my smoke."
Bud sauntered over to the girl, who was really pretty and fat and pink. Apparently he was talking his usual nonsense to her, for she smiled, then arose from her chair, and went sailing around the room, Bud's partner in the waltz, and every time they passed Ted and Stella in the waltz Bud winked at them.
Later, however, he met the irate escort of the girl, when he took her back to her seat, and they glared at one another for a moment; then the escort walked off, leaving Bud master of the situation.
After this came the "sour-dough" quadrille, in which only old-timers were permitted to dance, and Bud led it with Mrs. "Cow" Suggs to the tune of "Turkey in the Straw."
But finally, as the ball was drawing to a close, Ted heard Stella utter a slight scream, and saw her trying to draw her hand away from a young fellow, whose back was turned to him.
He was across the room in an instant, and had the fellow by the shoulders and swung him around. It was Wiley Creviss, who had been drinking.
"What has this cur been doing?" asked Ted.
"He insisted on dancing with me, and when I told him I would not, he said he'd make me," answered Stella. "Then he caught hold of me, and I suppose I cried out, although I didn't mean to. That is what comes of wearing these clothes. If I'd had on my others, I'd have had my gun with me."
Ted had heard enough. There was a window close by, which was about ten feet above the sidewalk. Ted rushed the struggling and cursing Creviss toward it, and by sheer strength lifted him to the sill and threw him out.
"I guess we've had about enough of this," he said quietly, when he returned to Stella. "No more mixed balls for mine."
As Ted was escorting Stella to the carriage, Billy Sudden ranged up alongside of him.
"Look out for Creviss and his bunch on the way home. They're telling around what they're going to do with you. Want any help?"
"No, I reckon not, Billy. Our bunch can take care of them."
"They are going to try to kill you to-night."
As the broncho boys swung through the streets of Soldier Butte, after leaving the ball, Ted Strong was in the lead, and Bud, Ben, Kit, and Clay were riding on either side of the carriage, while Jack Slate, with his black coat tails flapping in the breeze, brought up the rear.
They were passing an alley, at the corner of which an electric lamp shed a path of light across the street, when a revolver shot cracked out, and Ted's hat left his head.
The ball had just grazed his scalp, and the merest fraction of an inch lower would have killed him.
Instantly every one pulled up, and Ted, wheeling suddenly, rode at full speed for the mouth of the alley.
As he did so another shot came from the alley.
Ted's revolver was in his hand, and he fired at the spot where he had seen the flash from the muzzle of the assassin's weapon.
He heard Mrs. Graham scream, and turned back to the side of the carriage only to find that one of the horses attached to it had been hit by the bullet, and was down, but that neither Stella nor Mrs. Graham had been injured, and he rode straight into the dark alley, followed by Bud and Kit, leaving Ben and the other boys to guard the carriage, for he did not know from what direction another attack might come.
The alley was as dark as a pocket, and as Ted rode into it he well knew that he was taking his life in his hands.
At the far end of the alley he heard the beat of feet running swiftly, and fired his revolver several times in that direction, and heard a yell of pain.
"Come on, fellows," he called. "I think I got one of them that time."
As he said this they saw two dark figures dart out of the alley into the street at the end opposite that at which the boys had entered, and they spurred in that direction.
But when they came to the street there was no one in sight, but splotches of blood on the sidewalk testified to the fact that a wound had been inflicted upon some one.
They rode up and down the block, but without discovering where their attackers had taken refuge.
It was a low part of the town, and there was scarcely a house on either side of the street into which a criminal would not be taken and concealed.
"We'll have to give it up," said Ted, at last. "We could hunt here all night without being any the wiser."
Disappointed, they rode back, after tracing the bloodstains along the sidewalk to where they were lost in the dusty street.
They found that the carriage horse had been so badly hurt that its recovery was impossible, and Ted mercifully put a bullet into its brain.
The carriage was surrounded by people from the dance hall, who had been brought by the shots.
Among them was Billy Sudden.
"I reckon I called the turn," said he, as Ted came up.
"You sure did," said Ted.
"I ain't presuming to give advice none," said Billy, "but if it was me that got his sky piece knocked off and had a horse shot I believe I'd almost be tempted to round up this yere man's town and capture every hoodlum in it, and sweat them to find out who fired them shots."
"It wouldn't do any good, Billy," said Ted. "The people in this town have got it in for the ranch people. They think the ranches are taking trade away from them. They'd sooner see the ranches split into farms of forty acres each. They'd have so many more farmers to rob that way."
"I reckon so. But what are you going to do? I want to tell you that me and my boys stand with you till the burning pit freezes over, whenever and wherever you need us."
"May have to call on you one of these days, but not now."
"Ain't you going after that young imp, Creviss? Say, he's the meanest boy I ever saw. If I was his father I'd make him behave, or I'd bust him wide open."
"I understand his father thinks Wiley is just smart and spirited, and is ready to back him up in anything he does."
"Ought to make the old man popular."
"Not so you can see it. But that boy is a tough citizen, and getting tougher every day."
"I'm hearing a good deal about that kid these days. He trains with a bunch of bad ones over at Strongburg."
"For instance?"
"Lately he's been running with 'Skip' Riley, a crook who has the reputation of having made more money out of holding up trains than by working."
"I know his record. How long has he been there?"
"Several months. He came there from the Nebraska penitentiary, and he was smooth enough to work the reformed-criminal, first-offense racket on the women there until they finally got him a job in the fire department. He seems to be a hero in the eyes of a lot of tough young fellows here and in Strongburg, and they follow him in anything he suggests."
"That's not a healthy proposition for a boy. Mr. Riley ought to be conducted out of town."
"The worst of it is he has banded them into some sort of secret organization."
"What do they call it?"
"I did know, but I've plumb forgotten. There's a young fellow uptown whom I'm trying to keep straight on account of his folks back East. I know his sister." Ted could see Billy's face get red as he said this. "His name is Jack Farley. Perhaps you know him."
Ted shook his head.
"Well, he's a good kid, but he got into bad company at home and skipped. I corresponded once in a while with his sister, and she wrote me about him, and one day I run across him in a gambling house here. I hadn't seen him since he was a kid, but I knew him straight off because he looks so much like Kate—Miss Farley I mean—and I called him outside and had a talk with him. He was mighty uppy at first, and threw it into me so hard that I had to turn in and whale some sense into him."
"That's one way of doing it," said Ted dryly.
"It was the only way for him. He thought he'd get sympathy by writing home about it, but all he got was that they reckoned he deserved it or he wouldn't have got it. After that he was good. But he'd got in with that Creviss bunch and didn't seem able to get out of it, so I let him stay, only I made him come to me every day or two and tell me what he'd been up to, and that's as far as I've got."
"Send him out to me."
"He won't work on a ranch, or I'd had him out at the Dumb-bell long ago. He likes to work in town, so I got him a job, and so far he has stuck to it. But the gang keeps him from doing any good for himself. He knows the name of this organization of boys under Skip, and the next time I see him I'll find out what it is. Then you keep your eye peeled for it, for Creviss is one of the leaders, and I'm afraid, after to-night, he'll do all he can to make things lively for you. He's a mean, vindictive little cuss."
"I'll keep a weather eye out for him, never fear. Thank you for the tip. This is the first time I've heard of the bunch, I've been away from the ranch so much lately."
The boys had hitched Jack Slate's horse into the carriage, and he got on the seat with Carl, and they were ready to start.
With an "Adios" to Billy Sudden and his boys, they were off, and arrived at the ranch house without further incident.
Mrs. Graham and Stella had retired for the night, and the boys were sitting before the fire in the living room, for the night was chilly and Song had built up a good blaze against their return.
Naturally, the conversation drifted to the shots fired at them from the alley.
"While I wuz ambulatin' eround ter-night I overheard some conversation what wuz interestin'," remarked Bud, who was sprawling on a bearskin in front of the fire.
"What was it?" asked Ted, who had been turning over in his mind what Billy Sudden had told him of the organization of tough boys under the guidance of the ex-convict.
"I wuz standin' clost ter one o' ther winders what opens out onter ther alley when I hears two fellers talkin' below me," said Bud.
"What were they saying?"
"I wuzn't aimin' ter listen ter no one's privut conversation, but I caught your name, an' I tried ter hear what wuz said erbout yer."
"Naturally."
"One feller wuz talkin' pritty loud, ez if he'd been hittin' up ther tangle juice, an' ther other feller wuz tryin' ter make him put on ther soft pedal, what Clay calls talkin' pianissimo. But when the booze is in ther wit is out, an' ther feller would shut it down some fer a while, then he'd get a good lungful o' air an' bust out ergin."
"What was it all about?"
"Erbout runnin' us off'n ther reservation."
"They'd have a fine chance to do that," said Ted, laughing.
"It seems they hev some sort o' a club, ther 'Flyin' somethin' er other'—I couldn't jest catch what. To hear them fellers talk they're holy terrors."
"How do they propose to run us off? Did you hear that?"
"No; they didn't discuss ways an' means, but they said as how ther boss, they mentioned his name, but it's clear got erway from me, hed riz up on his hind legs an' hed give it out straight to ther gang thet ez long ez we wuz in ther country they couldn't do no good fer theirselfs, consequentially we must skidoo, ez they needed this part o' ther country fer their own elbowroom. They wuz real sassy erbout it, too."
"I suppose they thought all they had to do was to serve notice on us, and we'd vacate."
"I reckon thet's ther way they hed it chalked up."
"Well, that bears out what Billy Sudden told me to-night after we were shot at."
Then Ted related what Billy had told him about Skip Riley and his influence on the boys of Soldier Butte and Strongburg.
"Thet thar's ther very feller they wuz talkin' erbout, thet Skip Riley. Now I recolict it, an' ther name o' their sweet-scented aggergation is ther 'Flyin' Demons.'"
"Oh, mercy! Aren't they just awful?" said Ben, with a grin. "But which way are they expected to fly, toward you or from you?"
"If they come monkeyin' eround these broad acres they'll be flyin' fer home," said Bud.
"Or to jail, if we can prove what I believe against them," said Ted thoughtfully.
"What is that?" asked Kit.
"You haven't forgotten the mysterious robbery of the Strongburg Trust Company's office, have you?"
"Nope."
"You remember that a great many people to this day disbelieve that the office was robbed at all, because everything was found locked and barred, and the most careful examination showed that no one could have broken into the room from which a box containing twenty thousand dollars in currency and a package of negotiable bonds was stolen."
"Shore, I remember. That's allays been ther greatest mystery in these parts."
"You haven't forgotten the robbery soon afterward of the Soldier Butte post office and the disappearance of the registered mail pouch that came in on the train at two o'clock in the morning. It was thrown into the inner office by the carrier, and the office securely locked. Yet in the morning it could not be found, and there was nothing to show that the post office had been entered."
"I reckon I haven't. We lost a bunch o' money in it ourselves."
"But we got it back."
"That's so, but the carrier is still in jail, awaitin' trial fer stealin' the sack, an' I don't believe he had any more ter do with it than I had."
"And yet the most careful examination by the post-office inspectors failed to show that the place had been forcibly entered, and, although the carrier, Jim Bliss, had witnesses to show that he went into the post office with the sack, and came right out without it, still he is in jail, accused of stealing it," said Kit.
"There are several other cases of mysterious robberies which I might cite, but those are enough," said Ted. "But the curious thing about it all is that the robbers left not the slightest trace, not a broken lock, not a mark to show that a window was forced or a hole bored. When the place is closed up at night there is the money, when it is opened in the morning the money is gone. And again, these robberies only occur when valuables are accidentally left out of the vaults."
"It is curious. Everything yer say is true, but I never thought erlong it ez much ez you, an' I didn't figger out how near they wuz alike."
"Well, what's your theory?" asked Ben. "You started to tell us."
"Yes, who do you think committed these robberies?" asked Kit.
"Who but a gang of bad boys under the leadership and tutelage of a criminal?" answered Ted. "Who but the gang of Strongburg and Soldier Butte young toughs who go by the silly name of 'The Flying Demons'? If they get gay around this ranch, we'll have to tie a can to them and head them for the reform school or the penitentiary."
When Ted Strong stepped out on the veranda the morning after the ball he found Stella staring curiously at a large, square piece of paper stuck on the wall of the ranch house.
Nobody in the house had risen early, as they had all been up very late, except Song, the cook, who, when he saw that no one was disposed to turn out for an early breakfast, had gone out to work in the garden, in which he had with much skill raised an abundance of vegetables that year.
"Good morning, Stella; what is so interesting?" said Ted.
"It beats me," answered Stella. "I wonder if this is one of Ben's witticisms. If it is, he ought to be spanked."
Ted was standing by her side, reading what had been printed on the paper.
"H'm! this is good," said he, and read aloud, as if to himself, the following warning:
"TED STRONG AND BRONCHO BOYS: You ought to know by this time that you are not wanted in this part of the country. Advise you to sell out and skip. If you stay your lives will be made a hell on earth, and we have the stuff that will do it. This is no bluff, as you will find out if you disregard this word of friendly warning. You will be given a short time to sell your stock, then git. This means business."THE FLYING DEMONS."
"TED STRONG AND BRONCHO BOYS: You ought to know by this time that you are not wanted in this part of the country. Advise you to sell out and skip. If you stay your lives will be made a hell on earth, and we have the stuff that will do it. This is no bluff, as you will find out if you disregard this word of friendly warning. You will be given a short time to sell your stock, then git. This means business.
"THE FLYING DEMONS."
"That's a pretty good effort for a lot of kids," said Ted. "Wait, here's a watermark in the paper. Let's see what it is?"
Ted took the paper from the wall and held it up to the light.
In the paper was the representation of the fabulous monster, the griffin, and woven into the paper were the words "Griffin Bond."
"That's as easy as shooting fish in a tub," said Ted, as he folded the paper and put it in his pocket.
"The fellow who put that warning up certainly left his footprints behind him," said Stella, with a smile.
"He did, but even without that I should have known the authors of it."
"How?"
Ted then told Stella the substance of the conversation between the boys the night before, and of his suspicions as to the guilt of Creviss and his gang in the mysterious robberies that had occurred in the two towns. "But," he concluded, "it is not up to me to get at the matter. It is work for the sheriff. However, if those boys try any of their foolishness with us, we'll turn in and send them to the reform school, where they belong."
"They're certainly a bad lot. I was talking to a lady at the 'rent rag' last night, and she was telling me what a horrid boy young Creviss is."
"I wish I knew at what time this notice was put up here. It must have been done in daylight, for it was getting light in the east when we turned in."
"Perhaps some one was so quiet as to put it there while you were all inside talking."
"I hardly think so, for we were all sitting near the fireplace, and the room was so warm that Kit opened the door, and it stood open until we separated to go to bed."
"Sure you could have heard them? Some of you were talking pretty loud, for I heard you in my room just before I went to sleep."
"Well, of course, I couldn't be certain about it; but I came out on the veranda to take a look at the sky just before I turned in, and I didn't see it then. Surely, as I turned to come back into the house my eye would have caught that big piece of white paper beside the door."
"What time was it that the most important part of your conversation took place?"
"Just before we broke up. I remember we were going over the mysterious robberies, and I expressed the opinion that they were the work of the gang under Skip Riley and Creviss."
"That was probably the time the fellow who put up that notice was about. You see, if he followed you from Soldier Butte he wouldn't get here much earlier than that, for he wouldn't dare ride a pony the length of the valley at that time of the morning, so he had to walk from the south fence."
"By Jove! I believe you are right."
"If my theory is true, the fellow who brought the warning also carried back your conversation to the gang."
"Then they surely will have something to fight us on."
"Yes, fear that you will get on their trail will compel them to try to make their bluff good, as expressed in that message."
"I'd give something to know when this thing was put up."
"Let's see; it was about four o'clock when you turned in, wasn't it?"
"Just about."
"And just about that time Song gets up to cook for the boys in the bunk house who get out to relieve the night watch in the big pasture. Doesn't he?"
"Those are the orders."
"Then have Song in, and we'll ask him if he saw a strange man around the place when he got up. He might have seen him and thought nothing of it, and would never think of reporting it."
"Good idea. Wait here and I will call him."
In a few minutes the Chinaman came shuffling in from the garden."
"See here, Song," said Ted. "Did you see a strange man here early this morning?"
"Stlange man!" said Song meditatively, with a smile of innocence on his broad, yellow face. "No savvy stlange man."
"Man no b'long here," said Stella,
"Oh, yes, I savvy. No see stlange man."
"What time you get up?"
"Me gettee up fo' clock."
"Did you go outside?"
"Yes, me go out an' call cowbloy. Tell gettee up, P. D. Q. No gettee up, no bleakfast."
"What did you see outside that you don't see every morning?"
"Evely moling? No savvy."
"Yesterday morning, day before that, day before that, all mornings."
"Lesterday moling, evely moling?"
"Oh, the deuce! You try him, Stella."
"Say, Song, you see something makee you flaid this moling?" said Stella, imitating Song's pidgin English.
"Oh, yes, me lookee out, plenty jump in."
"What you see?"
"Plenty wolf. He sneakee lound side house. I lun like devil."
"What wolf look like?"
"Plenty big wolf. When he see me he lise up on hind legee, and lun likee man."
"Ah ha! There's your clew," said Stella, turning to Ted. "The fellow who posted this notice was disguised in a wolfskin so that he could sneak up to the house unnoticed by the Chinaman, or, if seen, he would make a bluff at scaring Song."
"Stella, you're a wonder."
"Say, Song, you no likee wolf?"
"No, me plenty flaid wolf," answered the Chinaman, shaking his head violently.
"All right, Song. I givee you shotgun. Next time you see wolf, plenty shoot. Savvy?"
"All light. You givee me gun, I shootee wolf plenty. Makee go 'ki-yi' and lun belly fast."
Song went away with a grin on his face like a crack in a piece of stale cheese.
"Stella, you've solved it. I believe whoever put that message there heard our conversation, and at least they'll hate us a bit worse than before, if that is possible."
"Let them bark, the wolves. I never was afraid of a wolf, anyhow. If you want to throw me into spasms show me a bobcat. That's the fighting animal."
During breakfast the boys were shown the warning that had been posted beside the door, and it was decided to pay no attention to it, but to watch for the appearance of a messenger from the "Flying Demons," and if one was caught to make it hot for him.
Ted had no doubt but Creviss and his gang would try to injure the broncho boys by every means in their power, but until they committed some overt act the boys could hardly afford to become the aggressors.
For several days nothing happened, and the Moon Valley Ranch went the even tenor of its way.
Preparations were under way for the fall round-up, and Ted had received letters from several heavy stock buyers that they would be present at that time to make their selections of such cattle as they desired to buy.
It had always been the custom at the ranch to have an entertainment of some sort at the ranch afterward. This was started for the purpose of amusing the buyers with cowboy tricks and that sort of thing, but it had developed into something far greater, until now all the world was invited to the barbecue and the "doings" afterward. No one was barred who behaved himself.
This year Ben Tremont had charge of the entertainment, and he was not limited as to expense, for every fellow was on his honor to provide the best entertainment for the least money.
The manager's plans were generally kept secret from every one except Ted and Stella, who were the exceptional ones and were in every one's secrets and confidence.
Ben had declared himself as to the superlative excellence of his show this year.
"It's going to be hard to beat," said he, in boasting about it. "We've had some pretty good shows, but nothing like the one I'm getting up now."
Kit had charge of the cowboy end of it, the races, the bronchobusting, the roping and tying contests; in fact, all the arena acts.
This year Clay Whipple attended to the inner man, and was to provide a genuine old Southern barbecue, with trimmings.
The round-up was to begin in less than a week, and the festivities were to follow immediately.
Invitations had been sent broadcast into Nebraska, Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho, Montana, and the Pacific coast States; everywhere, in fact, where the boys had friends, and from the responses received an enormous crowd would be present.
Three days elapsed after the finding of the warning beside the door before anything more was heard from the Flying Demons.
Then Ted found another message from them near the front door.
It was as follows:
"TED STRONG AND OTHERS: You think you know who committed the mysterious robberies, but you are on the wrong track. You will never find out, while your secrets are known to us. This is warning number two. The third and last will come soon; then look out."THE FLYING DEMONS."
"TED STRONG AND OTHERS: You think you know who committed the mysterious robberies, but you are on the wrong track. You will never find out, while your secrets are known to us. This is warning number two. The third and last will come soon; then look out.
"THE FLYING DEMONS."
"Now, why in the world do they call themselves the Flying Demons?" asked Ted reflectively, as they were reading the second screed from their enemies. "It seems to me that there is the secret of the whole thing. You never can tell what a pack of boys like that are going to do. They are more to be feared than older criminals, for they have no judgment, and will rush into the most reckless things just to show off before one another."
"Pay no attention to them," advised Stella. "That's what I think they are doing now—showing off. I doubt if they think they can frighten us, but they are afraid of us."
"Oh, by the way," said Ted, suddenly thinking of something. "You remember I looked at the watermark on that first warning we received from these terrible demons. Well, this screed has the same mark—'Griffin Bond.' When I was in town to-day I went into the bank. Old man Creviss was behind the counter, and that precious son of his was beside him. I had a check cashed, and Mr. Creviss asked me why we didn't keep our bank account there. I told him we had thought something about it, but I didn't mention that we had decided not to. Then I asked him for a couple of sheets of paper on which to write a note, and he handed them to me. I took them to the window and held them up to the light to see the watermark."
"And what was it?" asked Stella eagerly.
"The griffin."
"Then the paper on which these things were written came from the bank?"
"They certainly did. After I had looked at the watermark I turned to young Creviss and looked him square in the eye. He turned as white as chalk, and his lip trembled."
"He's a coward," said Stella positively. "Why didn't he bluff it out?"
"He had nothing to stand on; but, as you say, he's a rank coward, and it's my opinion that it's only fear of Skip Riley that keeps him at it, anyway. At all events, I gave him a good scare, for instead of writing the note I folded up the paper and put it into my pocket. He stepped forward as if he would interfere and make me give the paper back, not having used it, but I gave him a glassy glare and walked out."
"Then it was he who wrote the warnings."
"Of course, and he knows that I have him dead to rights. That is another mark against me with the gang."
"Better watch out."
"They can have me if they can get me."