Early one morning the broncho boys were startled out of their beds by the double explosion of a shotgun, followed by excited yells and screams of agony.
"That Chinaman has shot somebody," thought Ted, as he rapidly skipped out of bed and pulled on his trousers.
In the living room he met all the boys, as scantily clad as himself, hurrying out to see what the noise was all about.
They could hear Song behind the house screaming in Chinese at the top of his voice, and in an ear-splitting falsetto, which showed that he was tremendously excited.
Thither they rushed, and for a moment the ludicrous scene far outbalanced the seriousness of what had happened.
On the ground was a young fellow about seventeen years of age. He was writhing with pain, and the blood was oozing through his clothes in fifty places.
"Ha, ha!" shrieked Song. "Me shootee wolf, turnee into man light away. Ha, ha, me allee same plenty smart man, likee magician."
"Yes, you're a hot magician," said Bud; "You've made this feller second cousin ter a porous plaster. That's what you've done."
"Who is he, Song?" asked Ted.
"Me no savvy him. Me comee out chicken house getee eggs fo' bleakfast. I cally gun, shotee plenty wolf all samee Mliss Stella say."
"But this is not a wolf."
"All samee wolf. I open chicken house do'. I see wolf. Plenty glowl at Song. I no likee gun. Shutee my eye. Pull tligger, an' gun goee off. All samee wolf no mo' glowlee, him yellee like thundeh. When smokee blow way wolf gonee, all samee man comee. I plenty magician, I thinkee."
Ted looked in the chicken house, and on the floor lay the dried hide of a big gray wolf.
Now he understood. The message had come the third time from the Flying Demons.
"Kit, run around to the front door and see if there is a message there for us from our friends the Demons."
In a moment Kit was back, holding a piece of paper in his hand.
Ted took it from him, and read it.
It was the third and last warning. It said:
"TED STRONG: We have warned you twice before to leave this part of the country, but you have made no move to do so. This is the third warning. If you are not away from here in a week the vengeance will fall upon you. Beware!"THE FLYING DEMONS."
"TED STRONG: We have warned you twice before to leave this part of the country, but you have made no move to do so. This is the third warning. If you are not away from here in a week the vengeance will fall upon you. Beware!
"THE FLYING DEMONS."
"Did you bring this?" asked Ted, of the wretched youth, who still lay upon the ground groaning from his numerous wounds.
There was no reply. The fellow could only toss his head from side to side and rub his legs, into which the bulk of the shot had been fired by the excited Chinaman.
"You won't answer, eh? Well, we'll find a way to make you. I'm glad you've given us a week," said Ted, laughing. "That will at least give us time to hold our round-up and festivities."
"Oh, if I live through this I'll never go into anything like it again," moaned the youth upon the ground.
"Here, stand up," said Ted to him. "You're not badly hurt. You're only stung, twice. Get on your feet and we'll see what we can do for you. You're a long way from dead yet. What's your name?"
"Jack Farley. Oh, if I could only be sure that I wasn't going to die!" exclaimed the youth.
He was the young fellow Billy Sudden had spoken about.
"We can't tell how badly you are hurt until you get up," said Ted. "Rise, and we'll go into the house and examine your wounds."
Slowly young Farley got to his feet, but when he tried to walk he uttered a howl of pain, and sank down again.
"Yellow all through," said Ben, in a tone of disgust.
"Ever have about three ounces of duck shot pumped into yer system through yer hide?" asked Bud.
"Never had."
"Then yer don't know all ther joys o' life. I've had one ounce shot inter my leg, an' if ther contents o' two shells gives double ther pain one does, then excuse me. An' mine wuz only snipe shot, at that."
"Pick him up, boys, and lay him on the lounge in my room," said Ted. "I'll take a look at him after a while, meantime some of you watch him to see that he doesn't get away. We need him for evidence."
When Bud and Ben had carried the wounded boy into Ted's room and laid him on the lounge, Bud stood over him regarding him with interest.
"I sorter envy yer, kid," he said at last.
"You can have 'em, but I don't see why you envy me," said Farley.
"I wuz thinkin' how happy you'll be all through these lonesome winter evenings, pickin' ther shot out o' yer legs."
When Farley had been carried into the house, Ted called Kit to him and said:
"Kit, I wish you'd ride over to Suggs' ranch and tell Billy Sudden that his protégé is over here with his hide peppered with bird shot, and ask him to ride over and take a look at him."
During breakfast they related to Stella the story of Song's wolf hunt in the chicken house, and the result.
Song was as proud as a peacock, and wore "the smile that won't come off" as he flitted around the table waiting on every one.
"Say, Missee Stella," he said, "Song all samee one cowbloy now, eh? What you sayee?"
"Yes, Song, you have certainly followed instructions. You got your wolf that time, sure. How you likee shootee?"
"No likee, Missee Stella. Makee too much noisee, all samee too much plenty fiahclackers. Kickee like blazes. Plitty near knockee arm outee Song."
The boys stripped Farley after breakfast, and found his legs in pretty bad condition. They looked as if Song's gun had been loaded with smallpox, and all of it had lodged in the lad's legs.
"Boys, we'll have to take relays in picking the shot from our first victim," said Ted. "There's too much work here for one man."
"He's a turrible-lookin' demon now with a hide full o' shot. Ther punctured demon of Demonville! Say, kid, I'd hate ter laugh at yer, but yer a sight. Why didn't yer fix it so's them two charges o' shot would hev been distributed among ther gang? Then yer could sit down o' evenings an' pick shot out o' one another instid o' plottin' agin' ther whites."
"Let him be, Bud, he's having all he can do to think about these shots, as it is. The things for us to do now is to pick them out of him."
"We'll let him count 'em ez they come out. That'll help take his mind off his troubles, but he'll hev ter hev a great head fer figgers."
They went to work on him with their penknives, as most of the shot were just beneath the skin. But it was painful enough, at that, and every time a shot came out Farley groaned deeper. While they were engaged in this, to them, pleasing occupation, Billy Sudden arrived.
"Hello, kid," he said to Farley. "So you got it at last. I could have told you to keep away from Ted Strong and his bunch. They're bad medicine for a herd o' mavericks like you to graze with. You tackled the wrong outfit. They're too many fer you, and if you'll all take a fool's advice you'll keep away, or else some of you will be looking through a griddle in a door up at the penitentiary."
Farley made no reply, only hid his face and groaned at every extracted shot.
"Say, kid, what about this gang you belong to?"
The boy shook his head.
"D'ye mean to say you're not going to tell me about it?"
The boy nodded.
"What's the reason you won't?"
"The oath."
"Slush with the oath. You had no business to take it. What'll the home folks think when I tell them about this. Shot by a Chinaman in the chicken house at dawn!"
Billy paused to let the ignominy of it sink in. It did sound pretty bad and mean and cheap. There were no heroics in this, such as Farley had at first considered his rôle.
He hid his face on his arm, and his body shook. Billy had probed deep into his pride.
"Well, come on," said Billy. "This is no time for a conspirator to do the baby act. I suppose you thought it was to be a spotlight scene where you stood in the center doing the heavy stunt, and all the rest sat on the bleachers and applauded. By gee! Peppered by a Chinaman, and with snipe shot, at that."
"Oh, quit it!" said Farley. "I know I was a chump for sticking with those fellows, but I needed the money."
"What money?"
"My share of the—"
"What?"
"Oh, nothing."
"Yes, there is something. What robbery was it you shared in?"
"I didn't steal anything."
"I suppose not. You did the dirty work of being lookout, or something like that, and they threw you the bone while they kept the meat and fat, eh?"
"What shall I do with him?" asked Ted.
"Keep him locked up as a hostage. That may bring those young fools to their senses," said Billy. "I'm disgusted with him for not making a clean breast of the whole foolish business, and if it wasn't for his sister, I'd toss him up in the air and forget him."
The rest of the day was spent in picking shot out of Farley, and by evening he was relieved of the last one.
"We'll put him in that empty room at the corner of the house, and take turns watching him through the night," said Ted.
Until bedtime Farley sat in the living room with the rest of them, and they were unusually guarded in their conversation.
When it came time to retire Farley was conducted to the room which was to be his prison, and it fell to Carl to take the first watch, and to call Ben at one o'clock.
In the room there was a lounge and a pair of blankets for Farley, a table and a lamp, and a chair for the watch.
"Whatever you do, don't go to sleep, Carl," said Ted. "The reason I'm putting you on the first watch is because you're such a sleepyhead."
"Don'd vorry aboud me," said Carl, with a yawn. "I pet you I vas der sleepinglessness feller in der whole bunch. If he gets avay on my vatch it vill not be pecause I don'd sleep."
"I guess you mean all right, but I swear I can't understand you. Only keep awake."
"Oh, yah; I avake keeping all der time."
Carl sat in the chair watching his prisoner, and soon saw Farley's chest heaving regularly and heard his deep breathing as he slept. Then things seemed to waver and fade away.
Carl started up at hearing some one beating on the door, and sat rubbing his eyes. It was broad daylight.
"All right, I'll get up pooty soon yet. Is preakfast retty?"
"Here, open the door. This is Ted."
"Vait a minute."
Carl staggered sleepily to the door and unlocked it.
"Where is your prisoner?" asked Ted, stalking into the room, and looking at the open window.
"My vat? Ach, Gott in himmel, vat haf I dided? I am schoost coming avake. He iss gone! I haf slept on vatch. I am foreffer disgraced. Kill me, Ted! I haf no appetite to live any more alretty," cried Carl.
Ted had been angry at discovering the escape of Farley, for he had conceived a plan to use him against Creviss. He had risen early, and when he found that all the boys were in bed except Carl, he immediately suspected the truth.
But Carl's despairing manner turned him from anger.
"Never mind, Carl," he said. "It was my fault for putting you on watch. You were not cut out for a watchman. Or, perhaps, you were, according to the funny papers, but not of prisoners."
During breakfast Carl was compelled to endure the jokes of the boys at his failure to guard the prisoner, which he did with a lugubrious countenance; then, at a signal from Ted, the subject was dropped.
About ten o'clock Billy Sudden rode up to the ranch house.
There was something in his manner that betokened news of importance, and he strode unbidden into the living room, where Ted was sitting at his desk.
"Where's the kid?" he asked abruptly.
"Who, Farley?" asked Ted, looking up from his work.
"Yes."
"Skipped."
"What?"
"I said skipped."
"Great Scott! I'd give a hundred dollars if he hadn't."
"Why?"
"What time did he get away?"
"Don't know, exactly. Carl was watching him, but he fell asleep almost as soon as they were in the room together, and didn't wake up until six o'clock this morning, and Farley was gone. No one knows how he got away or at what time. It might have been any time. He probably woke up in the night and saw that Carl was dead to the world, and opened the window, dropped to the ground, and hit the trail. That's all I know about it. But what makes you so anxious about it?"
"Then you haven't heard the news?"
"Guess not. What is it?"
"The First National Bank was robbed last night."
"Great guns! Creviss' bank! That's the United States depository!"
"The same."
"What are the details?"
"I rode through town this morning on my way over here to see if being confined for the night wouldn't make the kid talk, when I saw a bunch of men standing in front of the bank. I butted in and asked what the excitement was, and they told me that the bank had been robbed."
"But how?"
"That's what nobody knows. When the cashier, Mr. Henson, got to the bank this morning everything apparently was all right. The doors and windows were fastened, and there was no sign anywhere that the bank had been forcibly entered. Of course, he didn't look at these things first. He went to the vault and opened it at the proper time and examined its contents casually. Everything seemed to be as usual. But when, a few minutes later, he went to get out the currency, it was all gone. He hadn't counted up when I left there, so no one knows the exact amount, but it was large."
The excitement incident to the mysterious robbery of the Creviss bank was intense.
How had it been done? This was the question that every one was asking his neighbor. But none could answer it.
The evening before the robbery had taken place the bank had been closed by the cashier, and by Mr. Creviss himself.
The money, books, and papers, with which the business of the day had been conducted, had been carried into the vault by the cashier, and Mr. Creviss, who was an unusually cautious man, looked into the vault after the cashier came out, to see that everything was in. Then he closed the vault doors, and turned the handle of the combination, setting the time lock, thus securing the doors from being opened until nine o'clock the next morning.
The only way in which it could be opened, and an almost impossible way, at that, was by blowing it open.
And yet the vault had been robbed, and the vault lock had apparently not been tampered with.
It had the appearance of necromancy.
Ted rode into town with Billy Sudden, arriving about noon.
Billy rode on to the Dumb-bell Ranch, and Ted stopped at the bank. It seemed deserted. But as he entered the door he saw a big man, dressed in the flashy clothes affected by managers of cheap circuses and fake shows, standing at the end of the counter talking to Wiley Creviss.
"I can't do anything with that check," Ted heard Creviss say. "You'll have to come in when the cashier is here. The safe is locked, and I can't get into it, anyway, and all the currency is in it. I'm only staying here until the cashier gets back from dinner."
"When will that be?" asked the stranger.
"In about half an hour."
The stranger picked up his valise, which seemed to be heavy, and walked out grumbling about banks that closed up for dinner.
Ted said nothing to Wiley, but he took a good look about the bank, disregarding the other lad's scowls.
He observed that the vault door stood open, but that there was no money in sight, and the place had an air of desertion, as if business was slack.
When Strong had seen all that he wanted of the apparent entrances to the bank that a criminal might use to force his way in, he left with two distinct impressions on his mind. One was that the vault door had been open when he came in, and that Wiley Creviss had abruptly closed it when he saw Ted staring at it. The other was the remarkable appearance of the showman, for without doubt he was that.
As before, the mysterious robbery of the bank proved to be too hard a nut for the citizens to crack, and when they had thrashed out all the theories advanced and knocked them to pieces again, they forgot it.
Not so Ted Strong. This succession of robberies, none of them leaving behind the slightest clew to the perpetrators, interested him. Its very difficulty of solution, which had made the lesser brains abandon it, compelled his attention and interest.
Had it been his business to tackle the problem, he gladly would have done so. But the only Federal end to it was the robbery of the post office, which the inspectors of that department were working on, unless, perhaps, it might be found that the funds of the government for general purposes at Fort Rincon had been stolen. Then the case would come under the operations of the United States marshal's office.
But other and more pressing things of a personal nature gradually took his attention from crime, and he devoted himself to the coming round-up.
All the spare room in the Moon Valley Ranch house was occupied by visiting cattle buyers, who had come to the round-up. The rooms of the boys had been given up to guests, while they camped on the prairie behind the house.
At last the great day came.
Early in the morning the boys were out, and with them was Stella.
Cow Suggs had loaned Ted his outfit for the day, and Ted was glad to have the boys, for there was no cleverer cowman in the country at a round-up, saving Ted himself, who was king of them all, and so conceded, than the dark, lithe cow-puncher, Billy Sudden, who had been through college and had traveled in Europe before he deserted the East for the toil, freedom, and excitement of the range.
It was now time to round up all the stock on the Moon Valley Range, cut out the marketable stuff, and brand the yearlings.
This is not only a troublesome task, but it is dangerous, and not a moment of the time until the task is accomplished but has its exciting adventures and escapes from death.
The boys did not know exactly how many head of cattle they owned. They had been selling and replenishing their stock from time to time, and the increase of calves had been very large, for Moon Valley, situated in the lee of Dent du Chien, or Dog Tooth Mountain, with its rich grass, the richest in the Black Hills, and its abundance of fresh, clear spring water, was an ideal breeding place.
There were on the ranch at that time several dangerous bulls, and this added to the hard work of the day, because the monarchs of the range did not like to be disturbed and have their following broken up and scattered.
In the big pasture, which lay at the foot of Deni du Chien Mountain, was the largest herd in the valley.
The king of this herd was known as "Gladiator." He was always looking for a fight, and never refused a challenge, whether from another bull or from what he considered his natural enemy, man.
A man on foot in that pasture would have stood no more chance for his life than if he tried to stand in front of the engine that hauls the Empire State Express going at top speed. Gladiator would kill him just as quickly and as surely.
So it was that strangers were kept out of the big pasture, whether they were mounted or not, unless they were escorted by some member of the broncho boys, or one of the older cowboys about the place. Stella, with her red bolero, nearly caused a tragedy one day by coming within the vision of Gladiator, who took the bolero for a challenge.
Stella turned in time and fled, and had it not been for the fleetness of her pony and her own superb riding, there had been no more to relate of the adventures of the girl pard of the Moon Valley boys.
The morning of the round-up Ted undertook personally to turn the herd to the rendezvous.
Stella insisted upon accompanying him, and at last he was persuaded to give his consent, but only on the condition that she wear subdued colors, which she did, with skirt and jacket of a light-dun color.
The herd was grazing in the noble range that stretched for miles along and across the valley in the shadow of the splendid mountain.
It was widely scattered, and as the band of horsemen rode out toward it the cattle lifted their heads for a moment and took a quiet survey, then returned to their feeding.
Not so Gladiator.
The great white-and-black bull raised his head proudly, and his fierce, steady eyes regarded them without fear.
Indeed, Gladiator knew no fear, whether of man or beast, wolf pack or mountain lion, serpent or bird of prey.
He was monarch of that herd, and no one said him nay except Ted Strong, who ruled the ranch and all that was on it, by the general consent of his comrades and his own fitness for his rulership.
Ted and Gladiator had had numerous differences, and it was the bull that had backed down every time.
Yet he did not fear Ted. Rather he hated him because he could not conquer this quick, brave, and resourceful fellow.
"That bull will be the death of you some of these days," said Stella to Ted once when Gladiator, resenting Ted's intrusion into the herd for the purpose of cutting out some calves, charged him. But Ted in the end threw the bull with his rope, humiliating him before all the herd. From that time forth Gladiator's eyes always became red with anger when he saw Ted, but he did not misbehave, because he respected Ted's lariat and quirt, and the strong arm that wielded them.
When they got to the herd the boys circled it from behind, riding in slowly.
Ted and Stella were on the left point, with Bud and Kit opposite.
Bill Sudden was in the rear to drive, while the other Moon Valley cowboys and Billy Sudden's boys came in from the sides.
At the first interruption of their grazing the cattle moved along sluggishly, but Gladiator did not move.
The big bull stood his ground, with eyes gazing steadily at Ted and Stella, who were approaching him slowly and persistently.
Suddenly Gladiator threw up his head and gave a low, menacing bellow.
"The old chap is waking up," said Ted.
"Be careful, Ted," said Stella. "He's not in very good humor."
"I see he isn't. But if we go at him easily he'll be all right."
"Don't take any chances with him alone, Ted."
"Still, I'm not going to let him boss this job. He's got to lead this herd out, and that's all there is to it, for it's a cinch that they won't go without him."
Stella knew that it was useless to say anything more, as when Ted made up his mind to do a thing, it would be done if everything broke.
Billy Sudden had got the herd moving up from the rear, but the forward end of the herd was stagnant.
Gladiator refused to budge, and stood with his stubborn forefeet planted on the sod, his head raised insolently.
But it could be seen that his anger was working within him, and would soon break forth.
Bud was working the cattle nearest him gently on the move, but when they saw that their leader was standing still they ceased their progress and began to crowd and mill, and the steers were getting reckless and beginning to throw their tails in the air and utter low, growling bellows.
It was a critical moment. Who was to be the master must be decided quickly. If the bull conquered then the cattle would get to milling generally, and the mischief would be to pay.
It would not take long for them to stampede, if the bull started the panic, or made a charge. Ted saw the danger, and knew that the condition must be treated diplomatically, which was the easier way, or with force, of which the outcome was most uncertain.
It depended, in a measure, on the temper of the bull himself.
The cattle were crowding up from the rear, and those nearest the bull were beginning to feel the pressure and were pushing toward Gladiator, who was fifteen feet in advance of the herd.
When he noticed that the herd was moving, his anger increased, and he lowered his head and began to paw the ground.
Ted held up his hand to Billy Sudden as a signal to cease pushing the animals, but they had got the impetus and would not stop.
In a moment they had begun to crowd upon the bull, who, with legs planted stubbornly, would not be crowded, and began to gore aside those who were being pushed upon him.
Ted saw instantly that this was going to result in disaster if not stopped, as the frightened steers, feeling Gladiator's sharp horns, turned back on the herd, and were pushing their way frantically into the center of it, while others, coming up, were forced upon the bull's horns.
"Darn a stubborn bull, anyhow!" exclaimed Ted. "I've got to get in and put a stop to that, or Gladiator will have the herd to milling or running in less than ten minutes."
"Be careful," was all Stella said, but there was a world of anxiety in her voice.
"You better get out of the way, Stella," said Ted "Ride to the rear. You will see it all, and have just as much fun, and will be out of danger."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to make that bull move along or bust a string."
Ted's jaw was set with determination, and when Stella saw that she knew that it would be useless for her to say anything more.
Ted loosened his rope, grasped his quirt firmly, and rode slowly toward the bull, while Stella signaled to Billy Sudden to ride up to the head of the herd.
The boys, observing Ted's actions, knew what he was about to do, and ceased moving the cattle and sat on their horses to watch for the outcome of the contest.
Most of them felt like spectators at a performance of a specially hazardous feat, and held their breath. But each was on the alert to rush to Ted's assistance the moment he seemed to need it.
As the bull looked up, and saw Ted approaching him, he ceased pawing, and stood with watchful eyes. Occasionally he sent forth a challenging bellow. His tail was switching from side to side, like that of an angry cat.
Ted was coming alertly. No one knew the danger of openly attacking the bull better than himself, and yet it must be done.
It was rule or kill, so far as the bull was concerned, for if the boys could not manage him they would be compelled to kill him so that they might be able to handle the herd, substituting a more amiable bull in his place.
A cowman cannot always tell what a bull is going to do when it is faced on the range. It may dodge the issue or it may attack, and Ted was wary enough to be on the watch for the latter contingency.
Therefore, when Gladiator, without so much warning as the lowering of his head, sprang at Ted when he was not more than ten feet away, he covered the distance in two or three lumbering bounds, and Ted had just sufficient time to wheel his pony to one side to avoid being bowled over. But the horns of the bull struck the gaiter on his left leg, as it rushed past, and tore it off, almost unseating him. Stella, breathlessly watching the encounter, gasped as she saw Ted reel in his saddle. But she breathed easier as she saw him straighten up and turn his horse rapidly to face the bull again.
With almost incredible agility, the bull turned and came rushing at Ted again, but the leader of the broncho boys rode swiftly away from him, tolling him away from the herd.
Finally the bull stopped and began to paw the earth. Ted, to tempt him to another attack, directed Sultan toward him at full speed, intending to swerve when he got close to his bullship, and dodge him and infuriate him further, so that he would follow. He knew that Sultan could outrun Gladiator.
But, as he got close to the bull, in spite of the warning cries from Stella and Bud, Gladiator swerved to meet the attack, and before the fleet-footed pony could escape he was struck, and went rolling over the ground.
A cry of horror went up from the boys as they all dashed to the scene. Ted Strong was on the ground. The pony had scrambled to his feet, and stood trembling a few feet distant. The bull, with lowered head, was charging upon Ted.
To the horror-stricken onlookers it appeared that Ted's end had come. He lay prone upon the sod with his face turned to the sky, evidently stunned.
The bull, with all the ferocity of his kind when goaded to anger, was charging upon him, his needle-like horns a few inches from the ground, and the foam flecking from his lips.
Stella, her face white and drawn, was galloping toward him as fast as her pony could go, while Bud was lashing his pony to the height of its speed as he crossed the face of the herd. Billy Sudden was neck and neck with Stella, calling to her to hold back.
Suddenly Ted Strong came to life, and looked over his shoulder.
He saw his danger, and quick as thought he rolled over, away from the bull.
But that was all. Every one could see that it would do no good. He could not expect to escape from the infuriated beast in that manner, and a hollow groan escaped the lips of more than one.
Ted surely was doomed.
The bull's horns caught Ted in the side as he continued to roll away from it, and it stopped for an instant, settling itself to toss him. Stella turned her head away with a muttered prayer, and even the cowboys, used to accidents in the round-up, gasped.
But suddenly they saw a cloud of dust fly upward, and thought at first that Ted had fired his revolver into the face of the infuriated beast, and it seemed strange that they had not heard the report of the weapon.
Then, miracle of miracles, the bull, with a snort of pain, threw up its head, and Ted was not impaled upon its horns.
There was another cloud of dust, and the bull began backing away, slowly but surely, shaking its head, as if in pain.
"Screamin' catamounts, did yer see thet, Stella?" cried Bud Morgan, as he rode alongside the girl,
"What did he do?" asked Stella.
"He's saved hisself by blindin' ther bull. He throwed dust inter its eyes. I'm dinged if I see how thet feller kin think o' things like thet when he's down an' out. Look at him!"
As the bull rubbed its face in the grass Ted rolled over twice, then leaped to his feet and ran to where Sultan was awaiting him.
A mighty cheer went up from the boys, and the color came back into Stella's face with a rush, but she could not have uttered a sound to save her life.
In the meantime, the bull had recovered, having rubbed the dust from its eyes in the short grass, and looked about for its enemy.
It caught sight of Ted in the act of mounting, and sprang toward him with the swiftness of a deer.
Then Stella recovered her voice.
"Run, Ted! Run!" she cried.
But Ted had seen the necessity of that himself, and, wheeled Sultan and dashed off, looking over his shoulder at the enraged monster that was following him, while he rapidly uncoiled his lariat.
Having run several hundred yards and outdistanced the bull, he turned and stopped with his rope in his hand, closely calculating the animal's distance and speed.
Bud and Stella were following the bull closely, both of them preparing their lariats for the throw.
As the bull charged, Ted's rope was seen to leave his hand and go sailing through the air in graceful loops and curves that lengthened out one after the other.
One of the most difficult throws a cow-puncher can make with a lariat was that which Ted attempted. He had to calculate to a degree the speed with which the bull was advancing toward him, and that at which the rope was leaving him. To calculate the point where the two would come together would seem an almost impossible task.
But so nicely had Ted estimated it, that the open noose fell over the bull's head and settled down, and, turning swiftly, Ted spurred Sultan to one side, and the bull, shaking his head and emitting short, angry bellows, rushed past.
The intelligent pony had suddenly come to a stop, bracing himself for the shock, and when Gladiator came to the end of the rope he turned completely over, and landed on his back with a thud that shook the earth.
Bud had galloped forward, and was about to throw himself from the saddle to tie the brute, when, with the agility of a cat, the bull was on its feet, shaking its head and stamping the earth in a perfect fury of anger and desperation. But it was by no means beaten, and ran at Bud, who took to his heels. When again it arrived at the end of the rope, it went head over heels, much to its loss of wind and dignity.
This time it did not rise so briskly, and Ted gave it all the time it wanted.
Suddenly Stella dashed out and rode toward the bull, and when a few feet from it curved off, with the angry brute in full pursuit. Had her pony stumbled it would have been all up with her, for Gladiator was wild with rage, and when it was again thrown its fury knew no bounds.
"A few more throws like that will settle him, I think," shouted Ted. "Bait him again, Bud."
Again Bud rode out, and the bull took after him as before, and, when he was jerked onto his back by the rope, he lay there.
Ted rode rapidly up to him, and, detaching a rope which had been knotted around his waist, tied the bull's legs fore and aft, and the exhausted brute did not make an objection.
For several minutes the bull lay panting, then it recovered.
When it came to its normal condition at last, it struggled furiously to get to its feet, but each time it got up Ted jerked it to its side, standing close to it so that it could see him.
Time and again it thus fruitlessly struggled.
It seemed to realize suddenly that it had been a very foolish bull, and that it had met its master, who now stood over him ready to tumble him over at any moment.
So he lay quite still, following Ted's movements with its great, dark eyes, out of which all the ferocity had vanished.
Ted stepped up to it and patted its head, and it made no objection to these attentions. Then he began to untie the bonds that held its legs together.
"Look out fer him, he's treacherous," called Bud.
"He's all right," answered Ted. "I'll bet he'll eat out of my hand."
When it felt that it was free again, the bull got slowly to his feet and walked sedately in the direction of the herd.
"You've broken the spirit of that bull," said Stella.
"You bet I have," said Ted. "That's just what he needed. He'll be a good bull now. If he isn't, I'll give him some more."
Ted now rode to the head of the herd with Stella, and the other boys took their places.
"All right, Billy. Send them forward," shouted Ted to the rear of the herd.
Skillfully Ted set the herd to moving toward the south, where the other herds were gathering under the management of the boys.
At first Gladiator threw up his head arrogantly, and did not stir.
Ted again rode toward him, swinging his lariat. The bull saw him as well as the rope, and, recognizing the agents of his defeat, moved off briskly at the head of the herd.
"Say," said Bud, across the head of the herd, "yer could slap that old duffer across the face with your hat, and he'd apologize."
They were almost at the rendezvous, where thousands of cattle had been gathered into a huge herd, and in every direction could be seen dust clouds announcing that others were on the way.
"Here comes Carl hotfoot," said Stella. "He looks as if something had happened, and he was an extra edition with 'a full account of the terrible disaster.'"
"Hello, Carl! What is it?" asked Ted.
"Der United States marshal vaiting for you on der veranda iss," answered Carl solemnly.
"Well, what do I care?" asked Ted. "He's come at a mighty busy time if he just wants to swap a little conversation. Did he say what he wanted?"
"No, but he say it is very important vork, an' for you to hurry."
"My compliments to the marshal, and tell him I'm busy, and will see him as soon as I get through. You entertain him for a while."
"But he der boss iss."
"Not on this ranch. This is a free and unadulterated republic, where there are no bosses. Tell him to make himself at home, and I'll be there as soon as I can."
Now the cattle were all rounded up, and the cutting out of the two and three-year olds began.
This was intensely exciting work, in which Stella joined, as she was as skilled at it as any of the boys. Outside of the big herd, the cowboys were picking up the cut-outs and driving them to the branding pens, for many of them were acquired stock, and even many of the home yearlings had never been branded.
Then the cows with calves were cut out, so that the youngsters might get a touch of life by feeling the sting of the hot iron with the Crescent V brand on it.
The buyers were circulating in the herds, looking over the stock.
Several of the buyers had brought their own cow-punchers with them, and these went to work cutting out the selections of their employers.
The sky was thick with dust, and the air rang with the shouts of the cowboys and the lowing and bellowing of the cattle.
The rattle of countless hoofs on the hard soil added to the din, and the cattle weaving in and out ceaselessly, and the dashing riding of the cowboys as they swooped out of the mass occasionally to drive back an escaping steer, made a scene of excitement, movement, and noise never seen anywhere, except at a Western cattle round-up and cut-out.
Soon the work was pretty well in hand, and, leaving Bud Morgan as segundo, Ted went to the house to see the marshal.
He found that officer sitting on the veranda, quietly smoking a cigar, an interested witness of the proceedings.
"How are you, Mr. Easton?" said Ted, shaking hands with the marshal. "I must apologize for not coming sooner, but my hands were full."
"So I see," said the marshal cordially. "I was watching you work out there. Say, I believe I'd like to be a cow-puncher if I wasn't so old."
"It's a young man's job," said Ted, laughing; "and even at that it is about all a young fellow can stand at times. But this to-day is a mere picnic to what we are up against sometimes."
"Well, you seem to be right in it."
"Yes, I love my business. I wouldn't be anything in the world except a cow-puncher."
"But, remember, you are also a government officer."
"I never forget that. But, if it came to being compelled to quit one or the other of the occupations, I'd still be a cow-puncher, and let the marshalship go."
"That's the very thing I came to see about."
"You want my resignation?" asked Ted, his spirits falling to zero.
"By no means," laughed the marshal. "Not that, but to ask you to undertake a somewhat difficult job. It transpires that when the Soldier Butte bank was robbed the other night, a large amount of money belonging to the government was taken. I didn't know this until early this afternoon, when I received a telegram from Washington to go after the robbers and land them."
"That'll be somewhat of a job," said Ted, drawing his chair closer to the marshal, so that he couldn't be overheard by passing people.
"I'm well aware of that, and that's the reason I come to you. You and your boys must undertake the duty of clearing up the mystery of the robbery, and, if possible, recovering the money."
"I have a very probable theory as to who the robbers are, but it will be entirely another matter to fasten it on them."
"I leave it all to you. I don't want to have anything to do with it. All I want are results."
"But I shall not have time to tackle it for a day or two. Unfortunately our fall round-up is in progress, and, as this is the time we sell the product of our business, we can't leave it until everything is cleared up."
"That's all right, Mr. Strong. But when you do get busy, don't come back home until you land the thieves."