Thudding along, their ponies seemingly as eager to reach the ranch camp as were the boys themselves, Bud, Nort and Dick raced toward the mysterious light. For that it was mysterious they all agreed, and that it was flashing from the top of the watch tower they had built to spy for rustlers was another conclusion.
"Do you s'pose it can be Old Billee, or Yellin' Kid signalling to us?" asked Nort, as he galloped between Bud and Dick.
"They wouldn't know we were coming," Bud answered. "I said we might not be back until to-morrow."
"That's so. But who do you think is signalling?" asked Dick.
"And who are they signalling to?" Nort wanted to know. "That's what we've got to find out," spoke Bud, grimly. "And it's what we're going to find out in a short time! Come on, Sock!" he called to his pony. "This is only exercise for you!"
Indeed the animals had not been hard pressed, and this burst of speed was rather a relief than anything else. Together the boy ranchers hastened toward their camp.
For some time the lantern—it was evidently that and not a torch—was waved to and fro, parallel to the horizon, and again up and down. It was so evidently a signal, or a series of them, that the boys no longer questioned this theory.
But who the signaller was, and to whom he was flashing his message in the dark night—those were other questions. And they were questions that needed answering.
"It must be one of our men," remarked Bud. "No one else could get into camp and climb the tower without a row being raised."
"How do you know there hasn't been a row?" asked Dick.
"What do you mean?" countered Bud.
"I mean there may have been a fight," Dick went on. "Maybe the rustlers have surprised our camp, put Yellin' Kid and the rest of our bunch out of business and are signalling to the main crowd to come up and drive off the cattle. I might as well say that as think it," he added. "And that's what I've been thinking the last few minutes."
This dire suggestion struck Bud and Nort silent for a moment. And then, more because he did not want to believe it, than because he did not believe it possible, Bud exclaimed: "I don't believe any such thing!"
"I don't want to believe it!" said Nort. "But of course there may have been a fight."
"If there was, there's a lot of dead Greasers and rustlers scattered around, you can depend on that!" declared Bud, grimly.
"Yes, I reckon Old Billee, Snake and the rest would give a good account of themselves," asserted Dick.
"And they wouldn't be taken by surprise, either," added Nort.
"Not likely," affirmed his cousin.
Again they directed their gaze toward the flashing signal on the tower. Once more they saw it slowly raised and lowered, and then swept from side to side.
"Are they spelling out a message in Morse or Continental code?" asked Bud.
"It does look like the Morse," said Nort. "We learned that when we were Boy Scouts. I can make out some letters, but they don't spell anything that has any sense to it."
"Maybe it's in Spanish," suggested Bud, who was not familiar with the method of spelling words by flags or lanterns. "There's a lot of Greasers around here who don't know anything but Spanish."
"That's so," agreed Nort. "I didn't think of that. I'll try and catch what the next word is, and maybe you'll know it, Bud," for the western lad understood some of the language of Mexico.
But just when Nort was directing his attention to the signal flashes Dick, who had ridden on a little ahead, suddenly called:
"Is that a fire?"
They looked to where he pointed and, for a moment, thought it was another blaze in the dried grass. For the eastern skyline that had been only dimly seen was now outlined in a red flare.
"It is a fire!" asserted Nort.
"It's the moon rising!" said Bud.
And so it proved. The moon was coming up, big, round and red, and, when below the horizon, cast a reflection not unlike a fire. The boys laughed with relieved spirits as they rode on. But when Nort next directed his attention to the flashing lantern it was no longer signalling. In the direction of the watch tower there was only blackness, for the moon's rays had not yet reached it.
"Looks as if they'd quit," said Dick.
"Maybe they thought the moonlight would give 'em away," suggestedNort.
"We'll soon know about it," declared Bud, with grim meaning.
They were now within a short distance of the tents, gleaming white in the moonbeams. From one of the larger canvas shelters shone a ruddy light, showing dark figures within. And then was borne to the ears of the boys the sound of laughter.
"That doesn't seem to indicate a raid or fight," spoke Nort.
"You can't be sure," Bud remarked. "We'd better be careful. Let's dismount and go on foot."
They left their ponies, throwing the reins over the heads of the animals, and cautiously approached the tents of the cow punchers on foot. This tent was, practically, the "bunk house," the assembling place of the men after their hours of work. But before the boys reached this their approach was evidently heard. For a figure came to the flap and a challenging voice called:
"Who's there?"
"Old Billee!" cried Bud, as he and his chums recognized the tones, and with the recognition came a sense of relief.
"Oh, you're back; are you, Bud?" asked the veteran cowboy. "I thought I heard some one."
"Who's up on the watch tower with a lantern?" called Bud, once it was certain that no disaster had occurred.
"Watch tower?" repeated Yellin' Kid, coming to the flap to stand beside Old Billee.
"Lantern?" added Snake.
"Somebody's signalling," went on Bud.
"You'd better come out and we'll have a look. Are you all here?"
"All of us," answered Old Billee. "Come on, Four Eyes!" he cried."Tumble out of your bunk. There's somethin' doin'!"
"Four Eyes must have gone to bed early," said Bud to his cousins as they stood outside the tent. For Billee's call indicated that the spectacled cowboy had retired.
"Hi! Four Eyes!" shouted Yellin' Kid, in a voice that would have awakened the proverbial Seven Sleepers. "Turn out!"
There was a moment's pause, during which Buck Tooth came up to the bunk tent from his own special nook for sleeping. And then, the voice of Snake Purdee announced:
"Four Eyes isn't here!"
"Isn't here!" repeated Billee. "Why, I saw him turn in a while ago, when we started t' play cards."
"He isn't here now," declared Snake. "His bunk is empty, and he didn't go out the front way, I'll wager on that. There's something queer going on all right!"
Into the bunk tent of the older cowboys crowded the young ranch lads. Doubt, suspicion and wonder mingled in their minds, and foremost of all were two outstanding matters—the mysterious signalling light, and the disappearance of Four Eyes—if, indeed, that individual had really taken himself off.
"Are you sure he was here?" asked Bud, when, after the first break of surprise, questions were in order.
"Sure," replied Yellin' Kid. "We all come in here, after th' chores was done, t' have a friendly game of cards an' smoke. We didn't look for you back until late, if at all."
"And was Four Eyes with you then?" asked Nort.
"You couldn't exactly say he waswithus," replied Snake. "An' yet he wasn'tawayfrom us. He pretended he didn't want t' play cards, an' he said he was so doggoned tired an' sleepy that he was goin' t' turn in. I told him that bein' in th' same tent with a whisperin' infant like Yellin' Kid, wasn't perzactly healthy for sleep, but Four Eyes said he didn't mind. So he turned int' his bunk, an' pulled th' covers tip over his head, though I don't see how he stood it, for it isn't winter, not by a long shot, an' this place was full of smoke. Anyhow he done it, an' t' keep th' light out of his eyes, so he said, he pulled a chair up in front of his bunk like you see it now, an' stuck his coat over it."
Snake pointed to a chair, now twisted awry from in front of the cot that the missing cowboy had occupied. His coat, draped over the back, effectually screened him from observation when lying on the bed.
"He did that so's he could slip out an' get away!" spoke Yellin'Kid, justifying the sarcastic name of "whispering infant," thatSnake had bestowed on him.
"But how did he get out?" asked Dick.
"And what for?" Bud wanted to know,
"He got out this way!" said Old Billee quietly, as he leaned over the cot and pushed with his hand against the side of the tent. A right-angled opening was disclosed, cut with a sharp knife. The loose point was at the bottom, and once Four Eyes had slipped out, the cut flap hung down in place, not disclosing, in the dim light, that the canvas had been cut.
"He got out that way," went on Old Billee, "because th' tent sides, bein' fast t' th' board floor, wouldn't let him crawl out very easy. He's a slick one, Four Eyes is!"
"But why should he slip out this way? Did he do anything? And who was doing that signalling?" exclaimed Bud.
"I reckon you'll find, son, that the signallin' an' th' vamoosin' of our late friend Four Eyes had some connection," spoke Old Billee. "We, bein' intent on our game of cards, didn't know nothin' at all 'bout it till you fellows rode up. Now it's about time we got int' action!"
"You win!" declared Yellin' Kid loudly. "There's suthin' queer prospectin' around these diggings an' I'd like t' know what it is!"
"I guess we all would," spoke Bud. "And we'd better start right in to find out about it. Come on, boys," he called to his cousins, but the older cow punchers took the invitation to themselves also, and soon, with lanterns and flashlights (which handy little contrivances the boy ranchers nearly always carried) they began the search.
First they made sure that Four Eyes was playing no trick on them by hiding under one of the cots in the bunk tent. Though, as Bud pointed out, it would pass the bounds of fun to have cut the canvas shelter as it was cut.
But no trace of Four Eyes was to be found.
"He's gone, hide, hair, horns, brand an' everythin'!" was the wayOld Billee expressed it.
"How about his horse?" asked Nort.
"He didn't get his black one back," remarked Snake. "But he may have sort of helped himself to one of yours, Bud."
This was found to be the case when the corral was visited. It could hardly have been expected, in that country of great distances, that the missing cowboy would not take a horse.
"And now let's have a look at the tower," suggested Bud, when a rapid survey, under the fitful moonlight, had been made in the vicinity of the camp, and no trace of the missing man discovered. "Some one was signalling from up there, and it must have been Four Eyes."
"Itcouldhave been some one else," suggested Dick, not because he believed that, but because he wanted to sift all the evidence and get to the bottom of matters.
"Yes, it may have been a wandering cowboy, Greaser or some Indian, far from his native reservation," Bud admitted. "But I'm saying it was Four Eyes, though why he did it I can't imagine."
Nor could any of the others. Or, if they had a theory, they did not give voice to it, though, afterward, one and all said they had associated the missing cowboy with the rustlers.
But a search on and near the hastily-built watch tower disclosed nothing. On the top platform, whence, doubtless, the signalling lantern had been waved, no light was found. There were burned matches and cigarette stubs, to be sure, but these were as much the discarded property of Yellin' Kid or Snake, as of Four Eyes, for they all had taken turns doing sentry duty, and, as it was lonesome up on the high perch, smoking was indulged in.
"Well, he's away, and that's all there is to it," said Bud, when the search was over. "Now all we've got to do is to wait for something to happen."
"Do you think something will happen?" asked Nort.
"Well, things have been happening ever since we came out here," observed Dick. "First it was the finding of the Triceratops. Then it was the water fight in the mysterious tunnel, and now it's the rustlers after our cattle. Isn't that enough to happen?"
"Oh, yes," admitted Nort. "But I thought Bud meant something special was about due."
"It wouldn't surprise me if it did happen," declared the western lad. "But I wasn't thinking of anything out of the usual. Only the combination—Four Eyes missing and us seeing the light makes me suspicious. So I'm ready for anything."
"And I'm ready for my bunk!" declared Dick, with a yawn. "It's most morning! Let's turn in!"
They did, but none of the boy ranchers rested well, for they were too worried.
What did it all mean? And what events portended? These were questions they wished soon would be answered.
The morning did not bring the return of Four Eyes, nor in the better light were any more clues discovered at the Watch Tower. Looking from its height, over the peaceful valley, the boy ranchers saw nothing evil, and there was no hint of coming disaster other than in the suspicions engendered by the recent strange happenings.
"Do you suppose that signalling could have meant an Indian uprising?" asked Nort.
"Cracky! If it does we'll have to fight 'em, won't we?" askedDick, with sparkling eyes.
"I don't imagine the Indians around here have any notion of rising," said Bud. "They have done such things, years ago, but I doubt if they have enough spirit left for it now. They are too well satisfied with their lot. But of course it's possible, though Buck Tooth says he doesn't look for anything of the sort. But then he's been with white men so long he isn't really much of an Indian any more."
"Well, if there's any Indian fighting to be done I want to do my share!" declared Dick, and his brother nodded in confirmation.
But as several days passed, and nothing more happened than the usual hard work on the ranch, the apprehensions of the boys began to disappear. They made inquiries about Four Eyes, but no one on the neighboring ranches had seen him. Mr. Merkel expressed himself as greatly disappointed in the character of the cowboy he had sent to his son.
"Maybe you got off lucky, with only a cut tent," the ranchman observed. "But better be on your guard, son."
"We will, Dad," replied the western lad.
It was about a week after the signal lights had been observed, the disappearance of Four Eyes coinciding, that, as Bud and his cousins were eating "grub" in camp one noon, they heard shots fired off to the north, and in the direction of the trail between Happy Valley and Diamond X ranch.
"What's that?" asked Nort, starting from his seat.
"Stampede, maybe," suggested Dick, for the boys knew that the older cowboys were in that direction, rounding up a small herd which had been purchased and that was to be shipped east. Bud hurried to the entrance of the tent and what he saw caused him to cry:
"Come on, boys! It's the rustlers again! They're making a raid!Get your guns!"
In less time than you would have deemed possible, unless you had seen it, the boy ranchers were in the saddle, and were galloping toward the scene of the shooting. The sounds were more plain, now, and as they straightened out on the trail they could see where a fight was in progress.
Yellin' kid, Old Billee and Snake Purdee were standing off the attacks of more than double their number. This was the spectacle that greeted Bud, Nort and Dick as they swept up the trail and toward the sound and sight of the firing. For now they could see the little puffs of smoke which preceded the discharges of the guns. Light, traveling faster than sound, brought to the eyes of the boys the puffs of burned gunpowder before the report echoed.
"This is the meaning of that night-signalling!" cried Nort, as he galloped beside his cousin.
"Looks so," was the answer. "They're getting bold and desperate to try to rustle our stock in the day time."
"You said it!" exclaimed Dick, as he looked to make sure he had a good supply of cartridges.
As the boy ranchers drew nearer the scene of the conflict they could observe that the herd, which their cowboys had been driving in, was now in confusion. And no wonder, with more than half a score of wildly-excited men riding among them, shouting and firing heavy revolvers.
For distant shouts borne to the ears of our heroes told of the excitement under way. As nearly as Bud, Nort and Dick could tell from their vantage point, eight or ten Mexicans, Greasers or other undesirable characters, had swept down from the north on Old Billee, Snake and Yellin' Kid as the latter were hazing the cattle along to the trail which led to the distant railroad station. Naturally the cowboys of Happy Valley had turned on their attackers and the fight resulted.
It was evidently the intention of the rustlers (for of their character there was little doubt) to drive off as many of the Diamond X Second stock as possible. And if they had to kill or maim the watchers it meant little to them.
But, so far, none seemed to have been seriously hurt, for no horses were running around with empty saddles, and no bodies were prostrate on the ground. I think, if the truth were known, that the first shooting on both sides was so wild that no one thought to take accurate aim, which is difficult on the back of a rushing cow pony, and with a heavy .45 gun.
It was, essentially, a running fight and Bud, Dick and Nort were urging their ponies forward as rapidly as possible to get their share of it. However, they were not destined to come to close grips with the enemy. For as they drew nearer to the scene of conflict, their guns out, and eager in their own hearts for action, yelling encouragement to their comrades, the boy ranchers saw their foes suddenly swing away.
This sudden giving up on the part of the rustlers was due either to a signal from one of their number that the raid was a failure, or else they saw reinforcements, in the persons of the boys, and had no desire for a more nearly even battle.
At any rate, with wild yells, the rustlers pulled up their ponies, and turned off down the trail, riding at break-neck speed. Yellin' Kid and Snake, with shouts of defiance, swept after them, and might have caught them except for what happened to Old Billee. The veteran suddenly reeled in his saddle, and would have fallen, except that, as he lagged behind his two companions, Bud rushed up to him and held him in place.
"Are you hit, Billee?" Bud cried.
"Only just a scratch, but it seems like it took th' tucker out o' me mighty suddin," gasped the old man. "Beckon I'd better get down. I'd 'a' fallen if you hadn't rid up, Bud."
"That's what I thought when I saw you reel."
By the time Bud, with his cousins, was helping Old Billee to the ground, Yellin' Kid and Snake turned and saw what had happened. They then gave up all thoughts of pursuing the retreating rustlers and came riding back, winded and excited, but none the worse for their encounter with the rascals.
"Did they get you, Billee?" asked Snake, a gleam in his eyes that portended no good to the perpetrators of the deed if he ever caught them.
"Only a scratch," said the old cowboy, but rather faintly. He put his hand to his side, and quickly opening his garments, as he sat on the ground, his friends saw that the wound was more than that.
However, the bullet had glanced off the ribs, and aside from having lost considerable blood, which accounted for his weakness, Old Billee was little the worse off.
"I think we got one of 'em," announced Snake. "I saw him holdin' pretty desprit like t' his saddle."
"What started it? Who were they?" asked Bud, as the last of the raiders swept out of sight amid the rolling hills of the valley.
"Oh, some of Del Pinzo's gang, you can make sure of that," said Yellin' Kid. "They just rid down on us an' started t' fire. We saw what their game was all right, an' come back at 'em. They didn't get one steer, Bud!" he added, proudly enough.
"That's good," said the boy rancher.
"But they did an awful lot of shootin'," added Snake. "I thought sure we'd all be hit, but Old Billee was th' only one what got it. I never heard so much Fourth of July since I was a kid."
"It was a lot of shooting, according to the results," spoke Bud, as he watched Snake bandaging Billee's wound, for the cowboys carried a primitive first-aid kit. "I wonder if that meant anything?"
"What do you mean?" asked Nort.
But Bud did not answer.
Making sure that none of the cattle had been hit, and managing, after rather strenuous work, in quieting the herd, the boy ranchers and their friends started back toward camp, Old Billee taking it as easily as possible, for his side was getting stiff and painful.
While they were yet some distance away from the white tents that corresponded to the usual ranch buildings, Bud and his companions saw riding toward them a solitary figure.
"It's Buck Tooth," declared Dick.
"And if he doesn't bear evil tidings I miss my guess," murmuredBud.
Evil tidings they were, in very truth. For as the Zuni came near enough he was seen to be much excited. Drawing rein, he made a sweeping, comprehensive gesture with one hand, toward the south end of the valley, and exclaimed: "All gone!"
"What's all gone?" asked Bud, a great fear clutching at his heart.
"Cattle!" answered the Indian. "Rustlers drive 'em all 'way, while you shootin' off there!" and he pointed toward the scene of the recent conflict.
For an instant Bud said nothing. Then, with trembling lips, which alone betrayed his feeling, he remarked:
"That was it! They divided their gang and started a fake fight up at one end, to draw us there, while they worked against our big herd at the other end. It was a slick piece of work. No wonder they shot more than they hit. They wanted to keep us away from the south of the valley."
"I guess you've struck it, Bud," said Snake, grimly. "They sure fooled us, an' I never smelled a rat! Whew!"
Bud, with lips that were firmer now, touched spurs to his pony and hastened toward the tents and corral.
"What you aimin' to do?" called Yellin' Kid after him.
"I'm going to get on the trail of those rustlers," grimly announced Bud Merkel, "and I'm not coming back until I land 'em! Come on, fellows," he called to his cousins. "Let's pack up for a long hike on the trail!"
Following after Bud, his cousins and the older cowboys swept along toward the home camp—to the tents which served the purposes of ranch buildings. Yellin' Kid trotted beside Old Billee, who, however, now that his bullet-scarred side had been bandaged, rode with more ease.
"What you goin' t' stop for?" asked Snake, when he saw Bud turning in toward the corral where spare ponies were kept. "Aren't you going after the rustlers?"
"Yes, when we get packed up for a long ride!" Bud answered grimly. "What's the good of riding over just to look at the place where they drove off our cattle? I can see that any time. What I want to do is to get on their trail."
"And not give up until we land 'em!" added Nort.
"That's talking!" cried his brother. "Did you see any of 'em,Buck Tooth?" he asked the Indian, beside whom he was riding.
"Me see too many," was the grim answer, which explained why the Zuni had probably not gone in pursuit. "They ride like what you call—jack-rabbits."
"They can't keep that pace up long," declared Bud, as he slipped from the saddle, having turned his horse into the corral. "They can start the steers off with a hip-hurrah, but they'll have to slow down if they don't want to kill 'em, and that wouldn't pay. They'd get some fresh beef and the hides, but they'd waste more than they'd get out of it."
"What do you imagine they really plan to do, and who are they?" asked Dick, as he and his brother followed Bud to their own special tent.
"I can only guess who they are, and your guess is as good as mine," the western lad answered.
"Then I'll say Del Pinzo and the Hank Fisher gang," venturedNort.
"And I'll agree," replied Bud. "They have two motives, now, for working against us. One because we've beaten 'em in two innings—the time of the Triceratops and in the underground river game. But getting our cattle—or the cattle of any other rancher—is reward enough in itself at the price beef is selling for now. They want to make a lot of money, and ruin us because we've come to Happy Valley. But they'll find that we can bat a little, too," added Bud, carrying out the simile of a baseball game. "And it's going to be our turn at the plate mighty soon!"
"The sooner the better," declared Nort, and his brother nodded in agreement.
When Old Billee's wound had been further attended to, with the more adequate remedies kept in camp, there was a gathering of the "clan," so to speak, in the tent where the boys and their cowboy helpers usually ate.
"Then you aren't going to chase over to where they drove off your cattle right away; is that it, Bud?" asked Snake.
"I don't see any use," said the young western ranch lad. "All we'd see would be the marks of the trail, and they'll stay for some time, if it doesn't rain, which isn't likely. What I want to do is to pack enough grub—and other things," he added significantly with a motion toward his .45, "for a long trip. We've got to get at the bottom of how they drive off our cattle, and manage to get them out of the valley without leaving a trace.
"That's the puzzle we have to solve, as we found out about the hidden water. Up to now the raids of Del Pinzo and his crowd—assuming that they are the ones—have been small. They're the kind that's always going on, and a lot of the cattlemen, and Dad among 'em, seem to shut their eyes to the thefts. I'm not going to do that. But what I started to say was that, up to now, the raids have been small ones. Very likely they thought we wouldn't make much fuss over the steers we lost.
"But this is a big raid, and the others were only leading up to it. They played to get us out of the south end of the valley, and away from our big herd so they could drive it off unmolested."
"And they sure did it," added Nort.
"But they haven't gotten clear away yet!" snapped out Bud. "We're going to take after them! They can't go fast with a big bunch of cattle, and we're bound to catch them sooner or later!"
"They'll probably put up a fight," observed Old Billee, who was feeling much easier, now.
"That's what I'm counting on, and that's why I don't want any slip-up!" exclaimed Bud. "I'm going to call on Dad for some reinforcements."
"Oh, we can handle that Del Pinzo gang!" boasted Yellin' Kid.
"We could if they'd fight fair and even, maybe," assented Bud. "But they'll be on the lookout for trouble, now, and they'll have a big gang of Greasers with them. And while, ordinarily, one cowboy is a match for half a dozen of the ornery Mexicans, you've got to be on the watch for treachery. There's no use tackling this thing unless we have a big enough crowd to meet the biggest bunch Del Pinzo can muster."
"Well, there's some sense in that," admitted Snake. "I'm not afraid of any bunch of rustlers that Hank Fisher can scare up," he went on, "but it isn't a man's personal feelings we got to consider. It's for the good of this ranch. And, as Bud says, we want to make a clean-up this inning."
"That's why I'm going to have help," Bud remarked, as he went to call his father on the telephone.
Mr. Merkel whistled when he heard the disastrous news.
"I didn't think they'd go at it wholesale, that way, Bud," he told his son over the wire. "But you've got the right idea. Go after 'em and clean 'em up! When you take the trail don't turn back until you've finished the job. I'll send you as many men as I can spare, Slim Degnan with 'em!"
"Slim? That's good!" cried Bud. "Now we'll make a clean up. But don't get worried, Dad, if you don't hear from us in several days, or a couple of weeks. We'll probably be out of the reach of a telephone."
"Yes, I realize that! Well, good luck to you. When you going to start?"
"First thing in the morning. Old Billee was shot up a little, so I'll leave him and Buck Tooth to look after what cattle we have left. Can Slim and the others get here in time to start in the morning?"
"They can if I send them over in the jitney which will be quicker, and save them some hard riding. Have you got ponies enough for them?"
"Yes, plenty. Get 'em over here in the gasolene gig and we'll do the rest!" laughed Bud, though he was in anything but a laughing mood, His mind was grimly set on getting back his cattle, and in punishing the evil gang of rustlers that was dominating that section of the "cow country," as ranch localities are sometimes called.
Immediately on hanging up the receiver, Bud Merkel started in on a busy time. Nor were his cousins less engaged. Once the boy ranchers bad determined to "hit the trail," they planned to "do the trick up brown," as Nort expressed it.
Bud proved himself to be well fitted for the task in hand, in spite of his youth. But he had been well trained by his father, and life on Diamond X had put him in trim for hard fighting. It was not the first time he had had to do with cattle raids, though it was his own first experience on a large scale, and he was vitally interested. He followed the plans he had seen his father put into operation more than once.
Saddles, girths and lariats were looked to, as were all the various trappings of the ponies, without which the raid could not be undertaken in that country of far distances. Then it was necessary to pack sufficient "grub" to last for at least a week, in case no provisions could be come upon.
As for shelter, each man, and by that term I also include the boy ranchers, had a pair of blankets and a tarpaulin to spread under him on the ground. The days were hot, but the nights were cool in spite of camp fires.
Of course each one "packed a gun," some of the cowboys two, and there was no lack of ammunition.
Old Billee felt badly at not being able to go. But his wound was giving him more pain than he liked to admit, and after vainly protesting that he simply must go, he agreed that perhaps it was best for him to remain behind.
In the "jitney," as Mr. Merkel dubbed his auto, several cowboys from Diamond X (including the veteran foreman Slim) reached Happy Valley in due season. They were fitted out with ponies, and after the situation had been talked over, and every precaution against failure taken, they were ready to start early on the morning following the big raid.
The outfit of the boy ranchers had been sadly depleted by the descent of the unscrupulous gang, and what cattle remained had been driven to the feeding grounds in the vicinity of the reservoir, where Buck Tooth, Old Billee and one man from Diamond X could watch over them.
"Are we all ready?" asked Bud, as he and his cousins, followed in example by the older cowboys vaulted to saddles.
"I reckon so," announced Slim, as he slewed around his holster with its newly-oiled .45.
"Let's go!" said Bud, briefly, and away they started.
They made trail, first, to the scene of the raid. As Bud and the others had anticipated, there were plenty of signs showing where the cattle had been driven off. A large herd was missing, and it must have taken a number of rustlers to have rounded them up and started them toward Double Z, or whatever place was to be used to change, or blur the brands, so the cattle could be sold to some innocent purchaser, perhaps. Though there were not wanting, in that country, not-so-innocent-purchasers of rustled cattle.
"They'll have to keep near grass and water," said Slim, as he rode along with Bud and his cousins. "So we'll do the same."
"Yes, they can't make a dry drive very far," Bud agreed. "They followed this range, it seems."
On reaching the scene of the raid the trail led off to the left, along a tow mountain range or wild and rugged peaks, some, evidently, of volcanic origin. At the foot of this range was grass in plenty, and, occasionally, a water hole, made possible by the fact that End's father had brought the waters of the Pocut River to the valley by means of the tunnel flume.
"The trail's plain enough for a blind man to follow," saidYellin' Kid, who rode beside Snake.
"But it's going to get harder in a little while," spoke Snake. "We're getting into wilder country, and rocks don't take much of an impression. See, it's peterin' out now."
He pointed to the surface of the ground over which they were then traveling. The grass and earth were more and more scanty, and in some places there were patches of shale and rock, on which even an iron-shod hoof would leave no mark.
"Yes, it's a wild country," agreed Bud. "I've never been over as far as this, and I don't believe our cattle ever get here. There isn't enough feed," he added, as he looked around.
The cavalcade was now in a sort of narrow gorge, or gully, with rocky walls on either side, and only scant vegetation on the bottom, where some bunch grass grew. The water seemed to have disappeared.
"They can't drive cattle on a trail like this very far," saidSlim, looking about with critical eyes.
"And yet they did come in this gulch," said Bud, for the "signs" were still plain.
"Oh, yes, they've been here," agreed Slim. "It sure is a queer trail they picked. I don't see—"
He did not finish the sentence. Somewhere In that lonely and wild section of Happy Valley a single shot rang out, making the echoes vibrate loudly, and awakening a distant coyote, who sent up a mournful howl.
"What's that?" asked Bud suddenly, his voice seeming almost as loud as that of Yellin' Kid's. The horses had been reined to a halt as soon as the shot sounded, and there was stillness which made the boy rancher's exclamation appear more vociferous than would otherwise have been the case. "What's that?" asked Bud again.
"Some one fired," answered Nort.
"Brilliant!" chuckled Dick. "Bright answer!"
"Almost as bright as my question," conceded Bud, who was willing to admit when he had "pulled a bloomer," as some Englishmen might term it. "It was a shot, though," he added. "I wonder if we'll hear any more?"
They all paused, in listening attitudes; the boy ranchers, the cowboys associated with them in the Happy Valley venture and the others sent with Slim to help run down the rustlers, on whose trail they now were.
But no further firing followed in the three or four minutes they waited there in that lonely gorge, the only sounds being those caused by the restless movements of the steeds.
"I wonder if some one shot at us, or if that was a signal!" remarked Nort, as Bud gave the sign to advance.
"I didn't hear any bullet singin' out this way," drawled Slim."Not that I'm hankerin' to," he quickly added.
"Then it might have been a signal," went on Nort.
"What makes you say that?" Bud questioned.
"Because it would seem that if the rustlers are ahead of us, trying their best to get far enough away, or to get to some secret hiding place, that they might leave some behind, on the trail, to give warning when we show up," went on Nort.
"Yes, that might be so," slowly admitted Bud. "In fact I think it was, probably, a signal, and it may have been given by the same one who gave signals before."
"What do you mean?" asked Dick.
"I mean Four Eyes, and the lantern flashes we saw from the watch tower that night we rode in," Bud answered. "I believe Four Eyes was and still is, in with the rustlers, and that he gave a signal to show that everything was ready for the raid."
"But the raid didn't take place until some time after we saw those flashing lights," said Dick.
"It takes some time to get a cattle-rustling gang together," declared Bud. "I wish we could find Four Eyes."
His gaze roved the sides of the lonely gorge, and sought to pierce the maze of the trail ahead. But as it wound in and out, following the windings of the defile, he could not see far in that direction.
"If it was Four Eyes, he played his game mighty slick!" declaredYellin' Kid. "He fooled us all, includin' your paw, Bud!"
"Well, if we get on his trail, and can connect him with the rustlers, which it won't be hard to do, I'm thinking, he won't play any more tricks," declared the western lad vindictively and with righteous anger. "But if that was a warning shot, and that's what it seems it must have been, we'd better take some precautions ourselves."
"Such as what-like?" asked Slim, willing to let Bud take the lead, as the search for the rustlers was distinctly an affair of the boy ranchers.
"We ought not to go ahead, all in a bunch," decided Bud. "We may run into a bunch of Greasers at some turn of the trail, and if we have scouts out we can handle the situation better."
"I was going to suggest it," said Slim, "but I thought you'd think of it yourself, Bud, being as you're your paw's son."
Bud was pleased at the implied compliment, and, a little later, as they advanced, they were divided into three small parties, with rear and vanguard, to insure against a surprise in back, which might easily happen.
And so they advanced through the defile, keeping watch on both sides of the trail. There were still evidences that a herd of cattle had been driven along the rocky defile, but because of the rocky floor, if such it may be called, the signs were faint, and only an experienced westerner could have picked them up. But the boy ranchers were accompanied by experienced cow punchers, who knew every trick of the trail.
Bud had insisted that it was one of his rights to ride in the advance guard, with Yellin' Kid, and it was while they were performing this duty, of watching for a surprise, that they saw, just around the bend of the trail, some wisps of white vapor floating up.
"There they are!" exclaimed Bud in a hoarse whisper, pointing. "They've stopped there—or some of 'em have. Or maybe it's the person who fired the warning shot."
"Might be," admitted Yellin' Kid, toning his voice down somewhat to suit the occasion. "Better let me get off and crawl ahead, Bud. I'm used to that. You hold the horses."
Bud realized the sense of this proposition, and he held the reins of the Kid's horse, while that cow puncher slipped from the saddle, and, on all fours, crept toward the wall of rock which rose abruptly at a turn of the trail shutting off a view beyond.
Bud watched Yellin' Kid closely, the lad's hand on the butt of his .45, and occasionally he glanced back to catch the first glimpse of the main party, so he might warn them. He saw the wisps of vapor rising and floating toward him.
"Not much smoke," mused Bud. "They're using very dry wood—regular Indian trick. I wonder——"
A moment later he heard Yellin' Kid shout, and it was such a cry as indicated pain. Yet Bud had heard no shot.
"I wonder if they knifed him?" was the thought that flashed into Bud's brain. He cast caution to the winds and galloped forward, making a great racket, and casting loose the reins of the Kid's steed.
The sight that met Bud's eyes was enough to startle him, though it was not what he expected to see.
For he beheld Yellin' Kid standing in front of a pillar of white vapor, or, rather, the cowboy was dancing about, holding one hand in the other, and using excited slang at a rate that soon would exhaust his vocabulary, Bud thought.
But, more strange than anything else, was the fact that there was no sign of a fire, to cause the white vapor, nor was there any indication that anyone besides Yellin' Kid and Bud were in the immediate neighborhood. No rustlers had started the blaze which caused the white clouds to drift upward.
"What's the matter, Kid?" asked Bud, as he saw that something had happened. "Where's the fire?"
"Under there!" and the cowboy pointed to the ground. "Keep away from it. Don't go near that spring, an' whatever you do, don't put your hand in. I did, an' I'm sorry for it!"
"Spring! Fire! What is it, anyhow!" asked Bud, as he slid from the saddle and ran forward.
"It's a boilin' spring, that's what it is!" declared Yellin' Kid."Boilin' hot an' it near took th' skin from my hand! What you seeis steam—not smoke! Horned toads and hoop-skirts! It's as hot asBuck Tooth's tea kettle! Look out for the boilin' spring!"
Bud stood in amazement looking at Kid and listening to what the excited cowboy was saying. Then the gaze of the western boy rancher turned toward a depression in the ground, whence arose what he and Yellin' Kid had thought was smoke but which, in reality, was steam from a hot spring.
"A boiler, eh?" repeated Bud. "First I ever knew we had any so near Happy Valley."
"Me, either," went on Kid. "I suspicioned what it was when I got close and couldn't smell any wood burnin'. Then I put my hand out, but the steam fooled me. I didn't know the top of the water was so close, an' I dipped right down into it. Whew! It was hot!"
"Did it scald you?" asked Bud.
"Pretty nigh it," answered the cowboy, exhibiting a very red hand.
At this moment a noise behind the two attracted their attention. They turned to see pointed at them the black openings of two .45 guns, and they had glimpses of eager eyes looking over the sights of the weapons. "Don't shoot! I'll come down!" laughed Bud, in imitation of what was the current saying concerning the famous Davy Crockett.
"What is it?" asked Nort, owner of one of the menacing guns, as he arose and slid his .45 into the holster.
"Did they get away?" Dick wanted to know, as he stood beside his brother. The two boys had left the main body and worked their way up to join the vanguard, in the persons of Bud and Kid.
"There wasn't anyone to get away," Bud answered grimly. "It was only a boiling spring, and we took the steam of it for smoke."
"Boiling spring!" cried Nort. "I never saw one before."
"Me, either," added his brother, and together they looked at the depression in the ground, filled with scalding hot water. At times it bubbled up, like some great kettle over a fire, and then the steam was as thick as the smoke at some camp fire when green wood is used. Again the spring was comparatively quiet.
"I've seen 'em before," remarked Bud, "though I didn't know we had any so near Happy Valley. There's lots of 'em out in the Yellowstone Park region, and in other places, some not many miles from here."
"Any volcanoes?" asked Nort.
"Or geysers?" Dick queried.
"Not that I know of," Bud answered. "You don't need volcanoes to make boiling springs, though I suppose the hot water must be boiled over some internal fire beneath the earth's surface. And these same fires do, sometimes, make volcanoes.
"But I've never seen any volcanoes around here; have you, fellows?" and he appealed to the cowboys.
"Not since I came up from Mexico," one answered. "I was close to one there. And I've seen Old Faithful, and some of the other geysers in the Yellowstone."
"They put soap in some to make 'em spout, don't they?" askedDick, who remembered to have read something to that effect.
"So I've heard," the cowboy said, "though it isn't supposed to be done. It sort of wears out the geyser, I believe, though I don't know much about such things. Anyhow, I don't know of any around here, though I have seen a few boiling springs, farther to the south."
"Yes, I have, too," Bud admitted. "Well, here's one, and she sure is hot," he added, as a sudden activity on the part of the phenomenon sent up another cloud of steam. "We could boil eggs there if we had any."
"We brought some along," Dick said, "but they're hard-boiled already. No use doing the job over. Say, but this is interesting!" he added, as the spring suddenly spouted up a little way, almost like a miniature geyser.
"It would be more interesting if we could get closer on the trail of that gang of cattle thieves, and take away our steers," said Bud. "I wonder if the poor animals hurried in here for water, and couldn't drink it because it was hot?" He recalled days of helping haze cattle on long trails, when the creatures were tormented by thirst, and he knew how they suffered.
"There are a few signs that they've been in here," remarked Slim, as the party was gathered around the boiling spring. "But they aren't here now."
"Not much use in us staying here, either," commented Bud, as he looked around on the bleak and cheerless prospect. Except for the boiling spring there was no sign of natural life. All about were great and small rocks, piles of shale and jagged stones, as though the place had been swept by a prehistoric fire. They were in one of the twists and turns of the rocky defile, and it was a rocky pass, with no trees or grass growing except near the top, and these appeared to be a sort of overgrowth from the grass and foliage growing down above.
"No, they didn't stop here long," declared Yellin' Kid. "They passed on, an' that's what we got to do."
"Might as well stay here and have grub, now we're dismounted," suggested Nort.
The idea was voted a good one, and was soon put into operation. They ate and talked of what had passed and what lay before them. Of the latter they could only conjecture, but it is safe to say that not one of them in his wildest imagination ever conjectured such an ending to their trailing as actually occurred.
"Well, let's get on," called Bud, when appetites had been satisfied—that is all but those of the horses. There was no grass for them, though they did manage to drink some of the water from the boiling spring where it had collected in little pools, and had cooled. But this would never have sufficed for hundreds of cattle.
Once more they were on the way, and shortly afterward they left the grim and rocky defile for a more fertile region, where there was grass for the animals. But they were still down between a range of high hills which towered on either side.
The trail twisted and turned, this way and that, winding back and forth. But ever there was to be seen, here and there, signs that the herd of cattle had been driven this way. Faint the signs were, at times, and at last they disappeared altogether.
"Where have they gone?" asked Nort.
"Looks like they dropped down a hole, but there isn't any hole here," said Yellin' Kid.
"Oh, we'll pick the trail up later on," suggested Bud.
But even as they started off once more Bud, who had just consulted a compass he carried, uttered a cry of amazement.
"What's the matter?" asked Slim.
"We're going the wrong way," declared Bud. "We're heading north instead of south. We're all turned around! Something's wrong!"
Some of those in the rear, who had heard Bud's exclamation, but who had not clearly heard what he said, came crowding up. Among them was Snake Purdee, and his eyes sparkled with hidden emotion as he inquired:
"Did you see any rattlers? This is just the place for 'em!"
"Yes, we came acrost a nest of baby ones what had lost their mother, an' they're countin' on you t' bring 'em up on th' bottle!" laughed Slim. The men, more or less, poked fun at Snake because of his great fear of reptiles, and Slim could not forego this chance.
But Snake understood the game, and realized that he had nothing to fear. He shot a look at Slim, however, which indicated that there would be an attempt, later, to get even.
"What's wrong?" asked Slim, for in his endeavor to play a joke onSnake he had not paid much attention to what Bud was saying.
"We're all turned around," spoke the western lad. "All in a maze. We started out, heading south, and we've kept, generally, to that direction ever since. But now we're heading back north. Looks like we'd lost the trail."
Slim and some of the more experienced cowboys studied the trail for several minutes. Surely it did seem to "peter out," as Yellin' Kid expressed it, though it had been fairly plain up to this point.
"They couldn't get up on either side," declared Nort, looking at the steep, rocky walls which hemmed the trailers in right and left.
"And they haven't gone on ahead, for there isn't a sign," added Dick, who had ridden up the defile for some little distance, returning to make his report. "Nothing short of an air ship could have lifted up a bunch of cattle from this gorge and set 'em down farther on."
"Unless they went through a hole in one of the side walls," suggested Slim, "like that underground river you fellows discovered in the tunnel."
"There are no side passages here," declared Bud. And he seemed to hold the correct view of it, the others agreeing, after a careful inspection of the rocky and shale-covered walls on either hand. "It looks just as if they came up to this point and—vanished!"
"Pretty slick work—I'll give Del Pinzo credit for that," said Slim, as if it were already established that the wily Greaser halfbreed had made the descent on Happy Valley. "How he and his bunch could haze cattle this far into a rocky pass, an' then make 'em disappear, gets me!"
"It shore do!" shouted Yellin' Kid.
"But that doesn't change the fact that we're all switched around," declared Bud. "We're going north instead of south!"
"Not so hard to account for that," said Snake. "This vale just naturally twists and turns like a windin' river. I wouldn't wonder but what we'd been going north other times, only you never noticed your compass, Bud."
"Well, maybe so," admitted the boy rancher, rather dubiously. "But it looks as if we were back-trailing, instead of keeping on after those rascals."
"We're keeping on all right!" asserted Slim. "By some hook or crook they've fooled us, but we haven't passed 'em, that's certain, and they must be somewhere up ahead. It would take Rocky Mountain goats to scramble up there," he added, motioning toward the steep walls of the gorge. "Some trick ponies might do it, but no cattle ever could, unless they're like some of them Swiss cheese brand I seen in pictures!"
"Then do you think we should keep on?" asked Dick.
"I shore do!" declared the foreman.
"Forward march!" cried Bud, with a little laugh. "We want to get our cattle back, and catch the rustlers who took 'em!"
And so, though all signs of the trail seemed to have vanished, they kept on. Night saw them in even a wilder region, though there was a spring of water—not boiling this time—and some grass for the animals. So it was decided to camp there and take up the search in the morning.
They were in the enemy's country in every sense of the word, and could afford to take no chances. So after a fire had been built, and coffee made, bacon and flapjacks being the other items on the bill of fare, the men and boys were told off into watches.
Bud and Slim, Nort and Snake, and Dick and Yellin' Kid were assigned to divide the night among them working as partners in the order named. The others were to be allowed to roll up and get what sleep they could, Bud and Slim taking the first watch.
That passed off uneventfully, as did the vigil of Nort and Snake, nothing more important occurring than the distant howls of the coyotes.
When it was the turn of Dick and Yellin' Kid they rolled out, albeit sleepy and tired, to stand guard until morning, when the trail would again be taken up.
"Zimmy! But it's chilly!" said Kid in a low voice, as lie tossed some wood on the fire and wrapped his blanket more closely about him.
"Yes, it always is just before sunrise," added Dick. "I wonder what we'll find after daylight?"
"I hope we find that ornery bunch!" murmured Yellin' Kid, keeping down his voice so as not to awaken the sleepers.
"So do I," said Dick.
Then they sat about the fire, occasionally strolling around the improvised camp, to make sure that none of their enemies were creeping up on them in the darkness.
The stars shone clear and bright in the sky above, and occasionally a little wind swept up the dismal defile. Now and then a loose stone rattled down the sides of shale and volcanic rock, and at such times Dick, and even Yellin' Kid started, and felt for their guns. But all the alarms were false ones.
That is, the watchers decided they were, for no sight was had of anyone until Dick, after a stroll about the fire, suddenly started back and whispered to Yellin' Kid:
"Isn't that a head looking up over that rock?"
The Kid glanced to where Dick directed his gaze, and, in an instant, the cowboy had his weapon out and leveled. His finger was even pressing the trigger when he laughed silently and thrust the .45 back in its leather case. "Why didn't you shoot?" asked Dick.
"It was an owl," answered Kid. "It was his ears you seen stickin' up! Listen!"
And, a moment later, there was the mournful hooting of the nocturnal bird, which had flown away, but on such downy-feathered wings that it made no sound.
"An owl!" murmured Dick. Then he was glad he had not shot first, as he had intended. He would only have awakened the others and been laughed at for his pains. Sometimes, he reflected, it was better to hold your fire, even in the west, that region of quick action.
Soon there was a little grayish, pinkish light to be observed over the edge of the eastern hill. It grew slowly, and daylight came, though it was some time before the sun itself was seen, so deep were the searchers down in the defile.
After breakfast they set out again, looking carefully for signs of the rustlers, but they saw none, and at last they decided that, in some mysterious manner, their quarry had given them the slip.
"Though I don't see how they did it," declared Slim, somewhat vexed that he and his men were not better able to pick up the trail.
"There must be some side passage—like that!" suddenly declared Yellin' Kid, leaping from his horse and then, as suddenly disappearing from the sight of his companions. "Hey! What's the idea! Where'd he go?" asked Snake.
"In this side passage," answered Yellin' Kid, as suddenly reappearing. "Look, here's a crack, or fissure in the rock, I saw it from where I sat on my pony. It goes off from th' main trail, but I can't see where it leads."
They all dismounted and investigated. As the Kid had said, it was a traverse defile, opening out of the main one and almost at right angles. The opening was concealed behind a great pinnacle of rock, so that the cleft was only visible from a certain point, and it was at this point that the Kid saw it.
"Where does it go to?" asked Bud as they entered, single file. It was only wide enough for that.
"We've got to follow and see!" said Slim.
"If there was a place like that, back where we discovered we were in a maze, it would have been easy enough for the rustlers to have driven the cattle through, one at a time," observed Nort.
"But there wasn't any such place!" declared Bud. "We made sure of that. But where does this lead?"
That was what they all conjectured, and they were soon to learn. As they rode along, the side cleft widened, until there was room enough for three to ride abreast. And it was while thus progressing that Dick, who was in the lead with Slim and Snake, made a surprising discovery. He rode around a turn in the new trail, and at the sight of something beyond, in the smaller, rocky defile, he set up such a shout as brought all his companions to his side.
"What is it?" shouted Bud.
"Look!" answered Dick, pointing. "Del Pinzo and big gang!"