"Who wants to know?" the Kid asked, staring hard at the mounted visitor, his hand firm on the butt of his gun.
"Now, boys, take it easy—take it easy! I've got good reason's for wantin' to know, which same I'll explain if you give me a chance. If you don't mind I think I'll park here for the time bein'." And he dismounted and came closer.
By the light of the fire the ranchers saw a tall, rangy cowboy of about forty. Two deep-set eyes above a hooked nose gave him a hardened, desert look which his manner emphasized. He was, evidently, one to whom life had proved anything but a pink tea party. Yet, withal, he had something about him which seemed to inspire trust.
"Well, stranger, you're welcome, but we haven't much to offer," Bud said. "We weren't expecting to camp to-night, and we're somewhat shy on provisions. But I guess we can rustle up something for you."
"No need of that—no need of that at all," the stranger heartily assured them. "All I want is a little information. Guess I'd better introduce myself first. I'm Joe Hawkins, special deputy over at Roaring River."
The others exchanged glances in the dim light of the fire as the visitor continued:
"Here's my badge. Don't know whether you heard about the trouble we had, but if you didn't, I'll tell you. Roaring River is right on the Mexican border, you know, and there's been a lot of Chink smugglin' goin' on, with Roaring River as the key to the whole smugglin' situation, so to speak. We don't know who's the boss of these smugglers, but we'd give a lot to find out. Two thousand dollars, to be exact.
"Well, anyway, two days ago we had a tip that a car-load of Chinese was about to be rushed over the border just outside of town limits. So we got all set. Sheriff Townley and me and three other deputies hid in the bushes where we thought the car was goin' to pass. But we lost out.
"The car came by all right—and we hopped into the roadway to stop them. They never stopped a-tall. Goin' like a crazy steer they flew by on two wheels, lettin' ride with every gun they had. Got poor Townley good. We buried him yesterday. So—now you know what it's all about."
"And the car—did you see it again?" Dick; asked excitedly.
"No—but last night a Chink came to town and got oiled-up on pulque, and said a few things more than he meant to. When I jumped him he lit out for the open spaces. This morning I thought I'd take a look around, and see if I could spot him. Sure enough I did, but the old yellow-skin got away before I could reach him. I don't suppose you boys saw anything of him?"
"Well now, that's mighty strange," drawled the Kid. "It so happens that Ididsee your man—at least I'll take odds that he was the one you're after. This afternoon I was trapin' around for that water hole over yonder about three miles—you know the one," and the Kid told of his adventure with the "crazy Chink."
"That's him, for all the money in the world!" the deputy exclaimed. "Lookin' for a 'chock gee' was he? I'll chock gee him if I catch him."
"Say, what's all this about a 'chock gee'?" Nort wanted to know.
"Well, it's a government immigration office paper every Chink in this country is supposed to have, showin' they're here legitimately. Those that haven't got 'em try to get one from another Chink, and there's unlawful trading goin' on all the time."
"Like a passport, eh?" Billee Dobb suggested.
"Something like that. Where you men bound for—if you don't mind me askin'?"
"To a ranch just outside of Roaring River," spoke up Bud. "My father, over at Diamond X, bought it, and we're going to take charge."
"Your father Mr. Merkel?" Joe Hawkins asked suddenly, with new interest.
"Yes—do you know him?"
"Not exactly. But I know of him. When I heard that the Shootin' Star was changin' hands I wrote to Mack Caffery, the boy on the job over at Candelaria, askin' him to get in touch with the new owner. That's how I got the name Merkel. Did your dad hear from him, do you know?"
"Yes, he did. So that's what Dad meant when he said there might be trouble, eh? Well—we're ready for whatever comes. What do you say, boys?"
"Right!" the others chorused.
"Say, mister, what was that there you said about two thousand dollars?" Billee Dobb broke in.
"There's two thousand dollars' reward, offered by the government, for the capture, dead or alive, of the head of the Chink smugglers," the deputy said impressively.
"Two thousand bucks! Say, boys, with that you could buy yourself a new herd of cattle, to make up somewhat for the bunch you lost!" cried Yellin' Kid.
"We sure could—and then some," Bud agreed. "But I guess there's not much chance of us collecting the reward. We'll be busy enough at the ranch without trying to round up any smugglers. Say, Mr.—what did you say your name was?"
"Hawkins—Joe Hawkins."
"Well, how about bunking with us to-night? We can all start out in the morning together, and perhaps we'll come across your Chinese friend. It's pretty late now, and you can't make Roaring River 'til long after daylight."
"Well, now, men, that's right kind of you to suggest that—but I don't want to butt in. I can just——"
"You're not butting in at all!" insisted Bud. "We'll be glad to have you. Got a blanket?"
"Oh, I got a blanket, thanks. Thought I might need it on this Chink hunt of mine. Well, since you boys don't mind, I'll put up my pony and flop down here by the fire. Feels good at a time like this. Good-night, all!"
The remainder of the night was uneventful. The six slept soundly, tired out as they were, and with the morning they all awoke refreshed and eager to be on the way. After a meager breakfast they set out for the water hole the Kid knew of, as they wanted to let their steeds drink before starting for the Shooting Star, which was the name of their new ranch. Joe Hawkins went with them.
"What time do you calculate we'll hit the ranch, Kid?" Bud asked.
"Be there in about three hours, Bud. It isn't so far from the water hole. Why? You anxious to begin sheep herdin'?"
"Not exactly," Bud laughed. "But I do want to see what the place looks like. Hope we don't have to do much repairing."
"No, the Shooting Star is in pretty fair shape," Joe Hawkins said. "Your father got a good buy—if you can get hold of it all right."
"What do you mean, get hold of it all right?" asked Bud curiously.
"Well, the feller that's got it now isn't exactly a pleasant customer. There's something queer about him—we've been watchin' the Shooting Star for over a month now. I couldn't say for sure that there's anything wrong—but it looks suspicious. That's the reason I wanted to have the government official find out who the new owner was going to be. I'm right glad I met up with you boys. You may be able to help me out some time."
"And collect that reward," Billee Dobb put in. His mind seemed set on the two thousand dollars the deputy had spoken of.
"You might," admitted Hawkins. "It's waiting for the person who brings in the head of the smuggling system."
"Well, we'll do our best," the Kid said, with a side glance at Bud.
"Say, Kid, we're not down here to capture smugglers!" cried Bud. "We've got to take charge of the Shooting Star. Of course, if wedohappen to run across——"
"I knew that would get a rise out of you!" laughed the Kid. "Catch Bud duckin' any excitement! Why, even Billee here wants to trail the smugglers—don't you, Billee?"
"Never you mind!" came back the old rancher. "Want another race?"
"'At-ta-boy, Billee!" Nort yelled. "Guess that'll hold him! You didn't know Billee Dobb was a champion racer, did you?" Nort said to Hawkins.
"I didn't, no," responded the deputy with a smile. "But I believe it. Takes old birds like us to show these youngsters up, eh, Billee?"
"Sure does!"
"Well, here we are," declared the Kid, as they came in sight of the water hole. "Right down there is where I saw the Chink on his hands and knees. Hey, take it easy there!" This to his pony, who strained toward the water. "I know you're thirsty, but so are the others. Easy—easy!" The Kid dismounted and led the panting horse toward the water. Leaning over he filled his hat, and held it to the mouth of his pony. "Start in on that. Slow! Or you don't get any. 'At-ta-boy. Here's another hatful for you. Feel as though you can control yourself now? All right—go to it!" By this time the intelligent animal got the idea, and drank in small mouthfuls. The other ponies, restrained by their masters from drinking too fast, did the same.
"So it was here that you saw the Chink, eh!" asked Joe Hawkins.
"Yep—right in this spot. He was leanin' over here by this little bush, lookin' for—" the Kid stopped suddenly and picked up something from the ground. It was a folded paper. The Kid looked it over swiftly.
"Lookin' for—this!" he exclaimed, holding it out.
"What is it?"
"Let's have a look!"
The deputy walked over to the Kid.
"Mind if I see it?" he said quietly.
Without a word the Kid handed it over. He recognized the fact that it was the deputy's right to demand it.
"That's what the Chink was looking for," Hawkins declared after a moment. "See here! This paper——"
"Bang! Bang!"
"Duck!" cried the Kid. His hand reached for his gun as he hit the ground.
"Bang!"
Billee's hat went sailing from his head.
"He means business!" Dick yelled. "Down, everybody!"
Another report rang out, and a bullet went singing overhead. By this time guns were out ready for action. From behind a small knoll, about one hundred and fifty yards away, hazy smoke could be seen arising.
"Dick, you stay here and keep me covered," said the Kid in a low voice. The boys were all hugging the ground in the shelter of the brush. "I'm goin' to sneak around an' see if I can't connect with the onery skunk that's doin' the shootin'."
"Take it easy, Kid," Dick cautioned. "You can't tell how many men there are over there."
"Right! Now you pass the word to the others to keep that hill peppered with lead. As soon as you see a sign of life, let ride. If you can keep whoever's doin' all this out of sight, I'll have a chance. So long!"
Yellin' Kid had started. With a simple "so long" he was off on a mission which might—and very likely would—end in his death. Men who spend their lives on the prairies have no time for heroics. They do their job—and say nothing.
Slowly the Kid crept forward. The hidden gunman seemed to be withholding his fire. In the brush by the water hole lay the five watching men—Billee Dobb and Joe Hawkins with long-barreled Colts ready for action, Dick, Nort and Bud squinting along the barrels of their shorter guns. Closer, closer, the Kid crawled. Seventy-five yards! Seventy! Now, Kid—now——
"Well, by the ghost of my aunt Lizzie's cat!"
The Kid was standing upright, his mouth open, his gun hanging loosely by his side.
Not a soul was in sight!
A quick look about verified this. The country beyond the knoll was perfectly flat, and for over five hundred yards was bare of even the smallest bush. Whoever the mysterious shooter was, he had, apparently, vanished into thin air.
"Hey, you guys, come over here!" yelled the Kid. "We been blazed at by a ghost!"
One by one the men by the water hole got to their feet.
Dick was the first to reach the Kid's side.
"He's right, boys!" called back Dick, as he saw the empty space behind the little hill. "Nobody here. But let's have a look at the ground. We can tell if it's been disturbed, anyway."
A careful search revealed not only the traces of someone having lain down on the loose earth, but also two empty shells.
"That makes me feel a little better!" cried the Kid as he saw this. "I don't hanker to be shot at by someone I can't see. Now the thing to do is to find out what happened to our late playmate."
"He's gone, ain't he?" asked Billee Dobb incredulously, as he came shuffling along. Off his horse Billee was a bit awkward.
"You don't say! Well, now, I never noticed that! Say, Billee, you a de-tect-a-tive by any chance?"
"Go on, laugh, Kid! You spent enough time sneakin' up on a whole lot of nothin', didn't ye?"
"What do you think about this, Mr. Hawkins?" Bud asked of the deputy, who was looking around quietly.
"Not much, youngster, not much! Seems mighty funny to me. Doesn't hardly appear likely that a man could get away in this flat country without us seeing him. But that's what happened all right. Never knew a cowpuncher to have that much sneakin' ability in him."
"Maybe it wasn't a cowboy," Nort suggested. "Maybe it was a—Chink."
"Never knew a Chink to use a forty-four in my life," the Kid declared. "These here shells come from a gun big enough to knock a Chinee clean off his slippers. Nope, this here job was done by a puncher—or—" and he stopped a moment—"or a Greaser."
"A Mexican!" cried Bud. "Say, Dick, remember the conversation we heard in Dad's new bunk house? Maybe it was the same Mex that did the shooting!"
"What's this all about, boys?" asked Joe Hawkins. "Anything I ought to know?"
"It might help you," offered Dick. "It was two nights ago." And he told of hearing the voices in the shack.
"Well, I don't know. I don't mind telling you that the crowd we're after for the smugglin' is Mexican—at least we're pretty sure they are. Think you'd recognize the voices if you heard them again?"
"Certain sure I could tell that Greaser's tones in a million," Dick declared. "I'll never forget him."
After another survey of the terrain, it was decided to start for the Shooting Star ranch. Joe Hawkins said he would ride to Roaring River with them and make his report, and see if anything had developed in town. So, filling their canteens, the six set off.
On the way the Kid offered a tale of a tarantula fight. These bouts were carefully arranged by the cowboys, the scene being set in a deep washbowl. Two females were the combatants, and the one who first amputated all the legs of the other was declared the winner. Occasionally a particularly vicious spider would forsake his natural enemy and leap high at one of the spectators, inflicting a painful, though not necessarily dangerous, bite. Hence these contests were not without excitement.
"I used to have a pet tarantula I called Jenny," told Yellin' Kid. "She was absolutely the meanest critter I ever see! She could just about straddle a saucer, that's how big she was. Had a coat of hair like a grizzly. She won five fights for me, and I was all set to match her against a spider some puncher brought all the way from Oklahoma, when she took a sudden likin' to Jeff Peters, and her ca-reer was brought to a sudden close. I cried fer near a week—but Jeff, he was more sore than what I was. She got him good before he killed her!" And the Kid chuckled rememberingly.
By this time the riders had come in sight of Roaring River. They had all been through the town, if it might be so dignified by a name, and of course Joe Hawkins lived there, so it was no new sight to them. But it was a change from the surroundings the Boy Ranchers had been used to, and when they remembered that it was here all the smuggling was going on, all were conscious of a feeling of excitement. They decided to feed-up in town before going to the ranch, which lay about three miles out.
They headed for "Herb's Eating Place," the one and only restaurant with tables. The meals they ordered would have done justice to a hungry bear.
"We have arrived!" cried Bud, when he swallowed sufficiently to allow himself to talk. "After a long and hazardous journey through the bad-lands of Texas, we finally came to this little gem, nestling among the hills, resplendent in——"
"Roas' biff, roas' pork, and lem'," Nort finished. "How do you get that way? Food always do that to you? Look at the Kid here. Not saying a word."
"Good reason for that," laughed Bud. "He couldn't talk if he wanted to. Hey, Kid, they serve supper here, you know."
"Yea? But I'm takin' no chances! This place may not be here to-night. Wow! What a meal! Help me up, boys! Help me up!" And the Kid struggled slowly to his feet. "Guess that'll hold me for a while," he sighed.
"How about some more pie, Kid?" asked Dick with a grin on his face.
"Pie? More pie? Well, now—what kind is there left?"
"Apple, and apple, and—apple."
"Huh! Don't like them. Guess I'll take apple. Yes, a small piece of apple would just about finish me off."
Billee Dobb put down his fork and gazed up at the Kid.
"Did I understand you to relate that you was goin' to eat some more pie?" he asked carefully.
"You did—why?"
The veteran rancher arose and, walking over to another table, he seized a bunch of artificial flowers that were set in a vase. Carrying them over to the Kid, he held them reverently out before him.
"My little offering," he murmured, "to one who will be with us no longer."
The diners in the restaurant, all of whom were observing the scene, let out a roar of laughter. It was so ludicrous to see the old puncher indulge in a joke that it seemed twice as funny as if anyone else had done it. Billee Dobb certainly scored heavily.
As the ranchers were leaving the restaurant they passed a Mexican who was coming in. Dick looked sharply at him. Something about the shape of his back seemed vaguely familiar, and the boy was about to say something when Joe Hawkins, who was the last out, exclaimed:
"Did you see that Greaser just going in Herb's? One of the worst men in town. I'm telling you because he works on the next place to yours. If I were you I'd leave him entirely alone. Not that you'll have trouble with him—but forewarned, you know. Well, boys here's where I leave you. Got to get back to the office, and see how things are. I reckon I'll see you right soon, as you're so close, and anything I can do for you, let me know ime-jit! Think I'll take a run out to your place within the next week, and see how you make out. Well,adios, boys. Good luck!"
With a wave of his hand he was off. The boys were sorry to see him leave, for he was very pleasant company.
"I have an idea he'll be a good friend," declared Nort as they rode toward the ranch. "And if anything turns up, we may need a couple of such friends."
"He's regular, all right," the Kid agreed. "Looks as though he could handle himself in a fight, too. Doesn't talk much, but when he does—he says something. Yep, he suits me to a T."
"Good thing we met him," Dick said. "Well, boys, here we are!"
In front lay the ranch. As the five drew closer, they could see that the houses were well built. It was indeed in good shape.
"Say, here comes somebody that's sure in a hurry," Billee Dobb said suddenly. "Wonder what he wants?"
Riding toward them, dust raising under his bronco's feet, came a lone horseman.
Pulling their ponies to a halt, the five gazed curiously at the approaching rider. As he drew closer, they noticed he carried a sawed-off "scatter-gun," otherwise a shotgun. This in itself was strange. No true Westerner ever sports one of these, and they are looked upon with derision by the regular "gun-totin'" cowboy. A long-barreled Colt is the puncher's favorite weapon.
The stranger reined up sharply as he came within talking distance and looked piercingly at the ranchers as he called out:
"Anything I can do for you?"
"Well, I don' know," answered the Kid slowly. "You might, and then again you might not. What happens to be your special line?"
The stranger scowled.
"That's my business. What I'm aimin' to find out is, what's yours?"
"This is the Shooting Star, isn't it?" broke in Bud.
"It is."
"Well, we're the new owners. My name is Bud Merkel—my father just bought this ranch, and we came over to take possession. This is Dick Shannon, and his brother Nort. Billee Dobb and Yellin' Kid on my right. Will that do you? Now how about tellin' us who you are?"
"Me? Oh, Jim'll do, I guess. I happen to be the boss hand on this here sheep ranch. So you're the new owners, hey? Wonder what old 'J. D.' will have to say to that. You got papers, I suppose?"
"Certainly. Here is the bill of sale, and——"
"Take it easy, Bud, take it easy," Billie Dobb cautioned in a low tone of voice. "I don't exactly care for this feller's looks."
"Who's 'J. D.'—the one tendin' the ranch now?" asked the Kid.
"Yea—only he's not exactly tendin' it. He's here, and something tells me he's goin' to stay here—new owners or not. 'J. D.' don't care much about owners. What he's interested in is keepin' what he's got. And as far as I can see, he's still got the Shootin' Star."
"I don't like to dispute your word," Nort said hotly, "but we might have something to say about that ourselves. Come on, boys, let's ride in."
"Just a minute—just a minute! Where you-all countin' on headin' for?" sneered the lone horseman.
"The ranch house, of course!"
"Now just you let me give you-all a little piece of advice. I won't charge nothin' for it, and itmightbe useful. If I was you boys, I'd turnrightaround and ride the other way. Tell you what you do, youngster—" this to Bud—"you tell your father you couldn't find the ranch."
There was a moment's ominous silence. The Kid was the first to speak.
"Well, now, stranger, that's kind of you. Yes, sir, I think that's right kind of you to take an interest in us like that," he drawled. "But you know how it is. We sort of want to find out things for ourselves. So if you don't mind—" his tone changed suddenly. "We'll be gettin' along to the ranch. Out of the way, puncher! Let's go, boys!"
The stranger's eyes narrowed. He half raised his rifle, then apparently thinking better of it, let it drop again. As the five moved forward he rode slowly along in the rear.
They reached the corral at the side of the house, and Bud and Dick dismounted. Nort, Billee, and the Kid stayed on their ponies. Walking to the door of the house, Bud knocked boldly. There was no answer. He knocked again, this time a little harder. Still no result.
"Wonder if there's anyone around?" asked Dick. "Suppose we take a look at the side."
"Here's someone," Bud declared as there was a sound of a key grating in a lock. "They certainly keep things tight down here."
The door opened slowly. In its frame stood a man of slight build, and, by cowboy standards, dressed effeminately. He wore a "boiled" collar, small black string tie, low cut vest and gray trousers. His long black hair, with a slight shine on it, was brushed straight back.
"What'll you have, gents?" he asked. "Lookin' for me?"
"We're looking for the man in charge of the ranch," Dick said slowly. "If you can qualify, then I guess it's you we want to see."
"Right! And what can I do for you?"
"This will tell you," spoke Bud, handing him a copy of the bill of sale for the ranch. "We're the new owners. You rent the place, don't you? I believe the deed says your term was up last month. Sorry to have to put you out, but business is business. Can you get ready to shift by to-morrow morning, do you think? We'll make out down in town for to-night."
The man in the doorway didn't answer. He read over the paper Bud had handed him and then looked up. His expression was anything but friendly.
"And I'm supposed to beat it out of here, hey?" he asked coldly.
"Afraid so," answered Bud.
The man suddenly stepped to one side.
"Come in a minute, boys," he suggested. It was evident that his manner had undergone a change. He seemed more friendly.
"You just get in?" he asked.
"Yes—we were delayed on the way, or we would have gotten here sooner."
"Sit down, boys."
As the slightly-built man was drawing up chairs Bud cast a quick glance at Dick. "Watch out"! his look signaled. But there seemed no need for suspicion. "J. D.," as they had heard him called, appeared harmless.
"I take it you boys are sensible?" he began when they were seated.
"Hope so," Dick answered with a slight grin. "We've never been in any asylum that I know of."
"Check! Now I'd like to talk business with you. First of all, could you use one thousand dollars?"
At this surprising query Dick and Bud started. One thousand dollars! It represented a small fortune. Bud thought of the herd of cattle they had just lost and was about to reply affirmatively, when he felt, rather than saw, a cautioning look come into Dick's eyes.
"That's a lot of money," declared Dick, before Bud could speak. "We could certainly use it, but you know it pays to be careful how one earns it. Robbery is a bit out of our line."
"Oh, it's nothing like that—nothing like that at all," the other assured them quickly. "This thousand that I speak of can be yours for just doing me a favor."
"Sounds like a high price to pay for a favor," Dick said. "But let's hear the proposition."
"Sure! It's simply this: you boys let me stay on at the ranch here, for, say, six more months, and as rental I'll pay you one grand."
"But certainly this place can't be worth that much to you," broke in Bud thoughtlessly. It was a very unwise remark, for it was obvious that this excessive figure was offered for something more than the mere use of the ranch. "J. D." had made the mistake of going too high in his offer, and it instantly awoke suspicion in the minds of Dick and Bud. But now that Bud had blurted out this suspicion, the possibility of being able to secretly find out why they had been offered a thousand for the place disappeared. The cards were on the table.
"As to that, I'm the best judge," "J. D." said sharply. "If you want to accept, say so. If you don't—well——."
"Can we have until to-morrow to think it over?" asked Dick.
"Nope—sorry, but I have to have your answer now. All you have to do is to sign the present owner's name to a renewal clause—and since he's your father, he won't object to that," said the man, turning to Bud.
Evidently he was anxious to get things settled as soon as possible—perhaps before the boys had a chance to investigate.
Dick looked at Bud, and saw that he had permission to take things into his own hands. Dick arose.
"Well, sir, we can't do it, and that's that. We were sent out here to take charge of this ranch, and we're going to do it, unless Mr. Merkel tells us to do otherwise. You must get in touch with him if you want a renewal of your lease. And until that time we must take control here. We are sorry, but we must ask you to make ready to leave by to-morrow morning."
The man seated opposite did not move.
"Is that your last word?" he asked, slowly.
"Yes, it is. If we can offer you any assistance in getting ready we'll be glad to do it."
The man made no response. He arose suddenly, walked over to the door and flung it open. Then he turned to the two boys and with a sneer upon his face, said:
"Very well! You've had your say, and now I'll make my little speech. You guys come over here and think all you have to do is to tell me to move out, and you move in. I don't know who you are—never saw you before. For that matter I don't want to know. You show me some kind of a paper that you may have written yourselves, and expect me to accept it as a bill of sale. Well, that's out. I don't go.
"And another thing! I don' know how many men you brought with you, but I've got twelve here that will stick close to me. So don't start anything. Good-day, gents!"
It was a moment before Bud and Dick realized the import of what had just been said. Then, tight-lipped, they started for the door. Neither said a word as they passed out, and behind them the door slammed shut.
As they approached the three waiting by the corral they must have shown by their expressions that things had not gone well, for Nort said:
"What's the trouble, Dick?"
"Let's ride around a bit," spoke the Kid quickly. The rider with the saw-off shot-gun was still within hearing. "Great weather we're havin', ain't it? Though it might rain soon," and he looked over to where the other sat with one leg resting against his saddle horn.
"Not so good, hey?" this cowboy called over. "Come see us again, when you can stay longer," and he chuckled at his joke.
"We will," answered Nort grimly. "In fact, we intend to——"
"Now do you know, I think it looks a mite like rain myself," interrupted Billee Dobb in a musing tone of voice. "Them clouds over there are pretty heavy. You say you want to ride around a bit, Kid?"
"Yea. Just a little. Let's go, men."
With as few words as possible Bud told the Kid of their talk with "J. D." Riding slowly along, the Kid made no comment for several minutes. Finally Dick burst out:
"For Pete's sake, Kid, let's hear you say something! Don't you think it's mighty queer behavior for a tenant of a sheep ranch? The way I understand the facts, he hired the place to raise sheep on, about thirteen months ago. Now when his year is up he refuses to get off. There are plenty of other farms further back from the border he could get. I don't think your father bought the sheep with this ranch, did he, Bud?"
"I believe he contracted with the owner that one thousand heads of woolies were to be sent to him within a month of taking possession. This tenant, whoever he is, will walk his sheep when he goes, of course. I thought it was unusual to hire a ranch to raise sheep on for only one year, but Dad said the sheep get some sort of a disease if they're not walked frequently, and I guess this fellow sort of figured on trying it out for a year before settling down to a permanent place. The owner of the ranch lives up north somewhere, and Dad simply bought him out. Why Dad wanted to go in for woolies I don't know, but he must have had his reasons."
"Then we won't have to start sheep nursin' right away," Nort said.
"We'll have to get this 'J. D.' out before we can do anything," declared Bud. "What do you think about it, Kid? I don't want to run to Dad at the first sign of trouble, but it looks as though we had a job on our hands before we really begin herding."
Yellin' Kid pushed his sombrero to the back of his head and looked up.
"Well, boys, I'll tell you," he said slowly. "While Bud and Dick were inside gassin' I took a good look around. And I'll tell you a funny thing; I didn't see no sign of sheep ever being on this here ranch at all. No feedin' troughs, no hurdles, no nothin'. Billee, how about it? Did this look like a sheep ranch to you?"
"Not any," the veteran puncher answered laconically. "Of course I'm no sheep expert, but I can tell a sheep ranch when I see one. Usually they have a feedin' ground around somewhere, for the woolies to feed in durin' the winter. And they have troughs to put the fodder in when they can't get to the range to graze, for sheep are dam perticular what they eat off of. Maybe it was away 'round the back somewhere, but I couldn't spot it."
"That's what I thought," went on the Kid. "Of course he may have sold all the sheep a while back, and cleared his truck away at the same time, but it don't hardly seem likely he could get rid of all traces. Where ever sheep go, you can usually tell they been there." He paused reflectively and added:
"Sort of queer that deputy we met didn't say something about there bein' no sheep here. Did you tell him we was expectin' to find a sheep ranch?"
"Now that you mention it, I don't believe I did," Bud answered. "I said we were going to take charge of a ranch. He probably thought we were bringing the cattle over later."
"Probably. So your friend in the house told you he'd give one thousand bucks if you'd let him stay, did he?"
"Yep. That made me suspicious right away, and I foolishly spoke up and told him as much. Then he said it was his affair if he wanted to pay that much to stay on. I knew that Dad wouldn't want me to allow him to do that without his permission, so I refused—asked him if I could let him know later. But no, that wouldn't do. He wanted me to sign an extension right away. Then when I told him I couldn't do that, he threatened to stay anyway, and practically dared us to put him off."
"He did, hey? That sort of puts it up to us, don't it?"
"You know what I think would be a good idee?" Billee Dobb broke in. "We ought to go down and have a talk with Joe Hawkins. Tell him what we found, and ask him if he's got any advice he'd like to dish up. Seemed to me he was a pretty reliable feller."
"Not bad—not bad," said Yellin' Kid approvingly. "He said he'd be glad to help us any time. Not that we're goin' to need any help gettin' this dude off," he added quickly. "But it might be a good idea to have the law on our side."
"We can see him and get him to sign a dispossess notice," Nort suggested. "I don't know whether he knows what that is, but it's just a paper saying we have a right to put out whoever is on the land."
"We'll do that, Nort," agreed Dick. "Then we can start right. Let's get on, fellows. It's getting late, and we want to catch Hawkins before he leaves for home."
Spurring their broncoes to a faster pace, the five made their way toward the town. The suggestion that they were to confer with the friendly deputy seemed a wise one, not because they were afraid to tackle the job of removing "J. D." alone, but because they wanted to know just how things stood. Perhaps by inquiry they could gain some clew as to why the tenant refused to vacate. If he sincerely wanted an extension of his lease to legitimately conduct the business of ranching, he was going about it in a queer way.
As the riders reached the town, they stopped a cow puncher and asked where they could find Joe Hawkins.
"Right down the street a ways," they were told. "Can't miss it. Jail, court house and sheriff's office all in one. Some shootin' been goin' on?"
"Not that we know of," Dick laughed.
"Though there might be soon," said Bud impetuously.
"How's that? You figgerin' on pluggin' someone, youngster?" the cowboy inquired with a grin.
"Not hardly," the Kid spoke quickly. "We just want to see Hawkins about some land. Thanks for the info."
Their friend looked back at Bud and grinned again as he rode away.
"Evidently thinks you're an amateur bad man," said Billee Dobb. "You'll have a reputation in this town before you know it, Bud."
By this time they had reached the sheriff's office. All dismounted and went in.
They found Hawkins seated in a chair talking to another man who was leaning against the side wall gazing out of the window. The deputy sprang to his feet as he saw the boys, the light of welcome in his eyes.
"Come in, boys, come in. Jerry, I'd like you to meet some new friends of mine. This here is Bud Merkel. Over here is—er——"
"My cousins, Nort and Dick Shannon," finished Bud. "And Billee Dobb and Yellin' Kid—if he ever had another name I've forgotten it, and I guess he has too."
The deputy's friend laughed and Joe said:
"This is Jerry Adler, boys. Say, I thought you fellers were headed for the Shootin' Star?"
"We were," Bud answered, "but something happened that we want to ask you about."
"Guess I'll be goin'," said Jerry Adler. "I'll drop in to-morrow about that matter, Joe. No hurry, you know."
"All right, Jerry. Glad to see you any time. Now, boys," and he turned to the five standing near him, "what can I do for you? Or is it just a friendly visit? If it is, I'm right glad you stopped in. Now that you're here, you must come over to my place for supper. Got the best cook you ever saw."
"Thanks, Mr. Hawkins," responded Bud. "We may take advantage of that later. But just now we want to ask your advice."
"Go right to it, Bud. If I can help you I'll sure do it!"
"When we went over to the Shooting Star," Bud began, "we expected to find a sheep ranch. Instead we find a place that could be used for sheep, but certainly isn't now. We went in and showed our credentials, and asked the occupant, who was called 'J. D.,' I think, if he could move out by to-morrow, so we could get ready to move in.
"Whoever this 'J. D.' is, he isn't a cow puncher, nor a herder either. He's dressed like a Chicago dude," stated Bud.
The deputy nodded understandingly. Evidently he was not surprised at Bud's description of the Shooting Star and its tenant.
"Well, as I say, we asked him to leave. He not only refused, but threatened trouble if we tried to put him out. Said he had twelve men who'd help him, too. So we thought, if you'd give us a dispossess notice, we could go up there with authority and if he still turned ugly—well—we could do as we thought fit."
"I see. He told you he wouldn't leave?"
"Yes."
"He has no right to stay there, has he?"
"None at all. He rented the ranch from the man who formerly owned it, but his lease was up a month ago. Dad bought the place free and clear. We were to manage it for him, and take charge of the sheep when they came in. I believe they are to be driven over in about two weeks."
"In about two weeks? Well, boys, I can't exactly say I'm surprised at your story. I don't mind sayin' we've been puzzled at the actions of this 'J. D.'—James Delton, I think his name is—for some time now. When he first came he did have some sheep—not many, and he sold them a month after he took the ranch. Since then it's been empty, though, as he says, he's got a number of hands on the place. They keep it in good shape, as you may have noticed. But what his business is nobody seems to know. Of course out here a man doesn't go pryin' into other people's affairs unless he's fairly certain there's something wrong. I'll go to Shooting Star with you!"
Taking his belt and pistol holster from a hanger, the deputy led the way from the office. Mounted once more, the party swung away toward the Shooting Star ranch. Nort looked over at the Kid.
"Why that smile, Kid?" he asked.
"Was I smilin'? I didn't know it. Say, Nort, looks as though we might hand ourselves somethin' of a time before we finish with this 'J. D.' feller."
"And you're kind of hopin' we do, hey Kid? The last time I saw you smile like that was just before we had that fight with the Del Pinzo gang. Hope you don't expect another ruckus out here, as bad as that one."
"And if we did, I suppose you'd run away and hide your head," laughed the Kid derisively. "Yes you would not! You'd be in the thick of it with the rest of us."
"Perhaps," admitted Nort with a grin. "However, I really don't think we'll have any trouble. From Bud's description of Delton he's sort of a weak-kneed type. We'll just have to tell him what's what, and I'm sure he'll back down."
"Can't tell," the Kid averred. "Those Dudes have sometimes got a mean lot of fight in them."
Up ahead Joe Hawkins and Bud were talking in low tones. Finally Bud turned about and called to the rest:
"Close up a minute, fellows. Mr. Hawkins has something to say before we reach the ranch."
"It's just this," began the deputy, when they had gathered around him. "The way I figure, there's no sense of us all going in to see Delton. If we call on him like a delegation, he'll get het up, and be more disagreeable than if we went about this thing quietly. Now Bud and I will go in. You four stay around the corral, and Kid and Billee, while you're waiting, you might take a ride around and size up the place. See if you can discover traces of sheep bein' here in the last six months, and whatever else you can find out. All right, boys, here we are. Remember what I told you, Kid. Let's go, Bud!"
The two dismounted. Turning their horses over to Nort, they walked toward the ranch house. The deputy stepped to the door and knocked.
"He took quite a while to answer when we were here before," Bud suggested. "Better knock again."
The deputy did so.
"'Pears like he don't care for no visitors. Wonder if we can see anything by lookin' in the window?"
"I'll have a try," volunteered Bud. Stepping to the side of the house he peered in the casement.
"Too dark," he reported. "Can't see a thing!"
"Must be somebody around," Hawkins declared, as he knocked again, this time more loudly.
Within all was quiet.
"Funny," he commented. Then suddenly he turned the doorknob. The door swung open. After a quick glance the deputy walked in.
"Not a soul in sight!" he called after a minute. "The place is sure deserted. Not only have they got no sheep on this place, but even the men are gone now!"