"What are you going to do with them?" questioned Dan Baxter curiously.
"Put them in a place we have ready for just such skunks."
"Prisoners?"
"Sure."
"Down below?"
"That's it."
Dan Baxter grinned to himself, and then leered at Sam and Dick.
"You won't like that. It's pretty musty under-ground, and wet, too."
"I'd rather go there than do what you have done, Baxter," answered Dick.
"What have I done?"
"You have joined these law-breakers; you need not deny it."
"Humph!"
"You may think it smart, but some day you'll rue it."
"I don't think so. As it is, the law and I are not very good friends," and Dan Baxter laughed harshly.
"I can't listen to your talk all night," put in one of the men."March!" the latter word to the prisoners.
They had been disarmed, so there was no help for it, and they walked through the ranch to where there was a big trap-door in the floor. This was raised up, disclosing a flight of wooden steps.
"Down you go!" was the next order.
They went down, side by side, to find themselves in a narrow cellar. At a distance, they made out a light, coming from the crack of a door. A lantern was lit, and they were ordered to a passageway at the end of the cellar. Beyond was something of a cell, built of stone and heavy timbers, with a thick door that was bolted and locked.
"In you go," said one of the men, shoving Dick forward.
"Is this where you intend to keep us?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"That is for the boss to decide."
"It's a wretched place," said Sam, looking around. "It isn't fit for a dog to stay in."
"That's not my fault. You brought this on yourself," said the man.
"When a kid takes it on himself to play the spy, he must take what comes," said the other man as he shoved Sam in behind his brother.
The cell was foul-smelling and damp, and both of the boys shivered as they looked around them.
"Will you leave us a light?" asked the youngest Rover.
"We'll leave you nothing," said one of the men as he bolted and locked the heavy door. "Come on, now," he added to his companion. "The boss will be wondering what is keeping us so long."
A moment later the two men walked off, leaving poor Sam and Dick prisoners in the dark, underground cell.
After Sam and Dick had departed, the camp in the woods seemed unusually lonesome to those left behind.
"I wish I had gone along," said Tom, not once, but several times.
"Of da only come pack in safdy," was Hans' comment.
To pass the time, Songbird tried to make up some poetry, but nobody cared to listen to him, and he soon subsided. The death-like quiet felt to them as if it was the hour before the storm.
"Are you fellows going to sleep?" asked Fred as it began to grow late.
"You can go, Fred," said Tom. "I'm going to stay awake until Sam andDick get back."
"Then I'll stay awake, too."
To tell the truth, nobody felt like sleeping, and all huddled together in a hollow, close to where the horses had been tethered. Wags came and rested his head in Tom's hand.
"Old boy, you know we are worried, don't you?" said Tom, and the dog looked up as if he understood.
It was a long time before their watches pointed to midnight. ThenSongbird stretched himself.
"I am so sleepy I can scarcely keep my eyes open," he said with a yawn.
"Then go to sleep," said Tom.
"I take a leetle nap, too," said Hans, and soon both were slumbering, leaving Tom and Fred on guard. They wished they had a fire—it would make things more cheerful—but they did not dare to indulge themselves, for fear their enemies might see the light.
By the time it was three in the morning, even Fred could hold out no longer. He dropped off, leaving Tom to keep the vigil by himself. But soon Songbird started up.
"Have they come back, Tom?" he asked.
"Not yet."
"They must be making some wonderful discoveries. Hullo! so the others went to sleep, too? Don't you want a nap?"
"Well, I'll take forty winks, if you'll promise to keep a good lookout."
"I'll do that. I'm as fresh as a daisy now."
Tom leaned back against a tree, and in a minute more was in slumber-land. When the others awoke, they did not disturb him, consequently it was some time after sunrise when he opened his eyes.
"I declare! I've had a regular sleep!" he cried. "Why didn't you wake me up?"
"We didn't think it necessary," said Fred.
"Have they got back?"
"No."
At this, Tom's face grew serious.
"That's strange, and I must say I don't like it."
"Oh, I guess they'll show up before a great while," answered Fred. "They couldn't travel very well in the dark. If they tried it, they'd be sure to get lost."
Once more, they unpacked the provisions they had brought along and made a leisurely break-fast. Then they packed their things again and waited.
"I am going up to the top of a tree and take another look around," announced Tom about ten o'clock. He could scarcely stand the suspense.
"I'll do the same," said Songbird, and soon they were in the top of a tall tree and gazing axiously in the direction of Red Rock ranch.
The place looked to be deserted.
"Not a sign of Dick and Sam anywhere," said the fun-loving Rover.
For reply, Songbird hummed softly to himself:
"The woods and plains are everywhere,But for those things we do not care.In every nook and every placeWe look for a familiar face.What has become of those we cherish?Are they alive, or did they perish?"
"Don't go on that way, Songbird, you give a fellow the blues," criedTom. "If I thought Dick and Sam had perished—"
"Merely a figure of speech, Tom. I had to find a word to rhyme with cherish, that's all."
"And such a word is rarish, I suppose," murmured Tom. "Honest, this is no joking matter," he continued soberly.
"I know it, and I wish Sam and Dick were back."
They continued to watch the ranch and presently saw a boy come out with a bundle under his arm and a fishing pole over his shoulder.
"There's a boy, and he is coming this way!" cried the poetic youth.
They watched the boy as long as they could and saw him turn to the northward and take to a trail running close to a fair-sized stream.
"I think he is going fishing," said Tom. "I'd like to run across him and question him."
They watched the boy as long as they could, and then climbed down the tree and told the others of what they had seen.
"I am going after him," said Tom. "You stay here until I get back."
"I am going along," said Songbird, and so it was arranged.
A few minutes of walking brought them to the stream of water, and they walked along the bank of this a distance of quarter of a mile, when Tom called a halt.
"There is the boy now—sitting on a rock, fishing," he whispered."Don't scare him off."
They crept into the shelter of the trees and came out again directly behind the boy, who had just landed a good-sized fish and was baiting up again. He was a small boy, with an old-looking face covered with a fuzz of reddish hair. He had yellowish eyes that had a vacant stare in them.
"Hullo!" cried Tom.
The boy jumped as if a bomb had gone off close to his ear. His fishing pole dropped into the stream and floated off.
"Out for a day's sport?" asked Tom pleasantly.
The boy stared at him and muttered something neither Tom nor Songbird could understand.
"What did you say?" asked the fun-loving Rover.
"Poor fishing pole!" murmured the boy. "Now Peter can't fish any more!"
"Is that your name—Peter?" asked Tom. He saw that the boy was not just right in his mind.
"Yes."
"Peter what?"
"No, no! Peter Poll—pretty Peter Poll, who will be rich some day—if he does not tell all he knows," said the boy, repeating the words in parrot-like fashion.
"Do you live at Red Rock ranch?" asked Songbird.
The boy bobbed his head up and down vigorously.
"With Mr. Sack Todd?"
Again the boy nodded.
"What do you do there?"
"Wash dishes and cook. But Peter will be rich some day—if he doesn't tell all he knows," went on the boy. Then, of a sudden, he flapped his two arms and crowed like a rooster.
"He is a dolt!" whispered Songbird to Tom, and the latter nodded.
"The poor fishing pole—it will be drowned," went on the dolt.
"Never mind, I'll pay you for it, Peter," said Tom, and drew a silver coin from his pocket. "So you live with Mr. Todd. How do you like it?"
"Peter must not tell all he knows."
"Does he treat you kindly?"
"Peter gets sugar sometimes—and he is to have a pipe and tobacco soon."
"Did you see anything of two strangers last night?" continued Tom in a sterner tone. "Two boys about my own age?"
"Peter must not tell—"
"You answer me, or it will be the worse for you!" and now Tom caught the simple-minded youth by the collar. He did not intend to harm the lad, but he wanted to make him speak.
"Oh, oh! let me go!" screamed the dolt. "Let me go for a hundred-dollar bill! A brand new one!"
"A what?" asked Songbird curiously.
"Peter must not tell all—"
"You answer my question," broke in Tom, facing the boy and searching his eyes. "Did you see those two boys last night or not?"
"Peter must not—"
"Answer!" and now Tom had the lad by the ear.
"Yes—yes—I saw them."
"Did anybody else see them?"
"Peter must not—"
"Peter, do you want to be drowned in the river?"
"No, no!"
"Then tell me all you know about the boys."
"Sack Todd will kill me! Peter must not tell—"
"Did Sack Todd see the boys?"
"Yes; he caught them—he and Andy Jimson—at the window! Peter must not tell—"
"Caught!" gasped Tom. "Were they made prisoners?"
The boy nodded, and then crowed like a rooster once more.
"Where were the prisoners put?"
"Down, down, down—in the deep hole where the water flows—down where they want to put Peter if he tells all he knows. But I shan't tell anything—not a thing!" and his eyes blazed fiercely. "Not a thing!"
"Poor Dick and Sam have been captured and are prisoners in some vile place," groaned Tom. "What will become of them?"
"This is a cheerful outlook, I must say. I wonder how long it is going to last?"
The question came from Sam, after an hour had been spent in the damp and lonely cell under Red Rock ranch.
"That is a riddle to me, Sam," answered Dick. "I don't think they will let us go in a hurry. We have learned too much."
"Do you imagine they will find Tom and the others?"
"I hope not. If they do, we'll be in a pickle, for I guess it will be Tom and the others who will have to get us out of this hole."
"I wish we had a light."
"I am afraid it would do us small good. This seems to have been built for a regular prison, and I suppose the only way out is through the door, and that is securely fastened."
The two Rovers were in no cheerful frame of mind. They realized that Sack Todd was much exercised over the fact that they had discovered the secret of the ranch, and what he would do to them in consequence there was no telling.
"Perhaps we'll never get away from here alive!" cried Sam after another talk.
"Oh, I don't think he'll dare to go as far as that, Sam. He knows we have friends and that they will do all in their power to rescue us or find out what has become of us."
Another hour went by, so slowly that it seemed three. Then, of a sudden, Dick uttered an exclamation.
"I've struck a prize, Sam!"
"What is it?"
"A bit of candle."
"Humph! What good will that do, if you haven't any match?"
"But I have several matches," answered the eldest Rover, and a second later came a faint scratch, and then the bit of candle, dirty and mouse-gnawed, was lit.
It was not much of a light, but it was far better than nothing, and both boys felt light-hearted when they could see each other once more.
"Let us make another examination of the hole," suggested Dick."Something may have slipped us before."
They went over each part of the walls with great care. On one side, a portion of the stones was set in squarely.
"This looks as if they had at one time closed some sort of a passageway here," remarked Dick. "I should like to know what is beyond."
"Can't we pick out one or two stones?"
"We can try."
The candle was set down on the stone flooring, close to the wall, and the two lads started to work without delay. In a corner of his jacket, Dick found an old jack-knife that had not been taken away from him, and this he used on the mortar. Sam had nothing but a long, rusty iron nail, so their progress was necessarily slow.
"Don't seem to be making much headway," observed Sam, after pegging away for a while. "Wish we had a hammer and a cold chisel."
"If we used a hammer they could hear us, Sam."
At last they had one stone loose and pulled it out of the wall. Holding up the light, they saw that there was a wall of plain dirt behind it.
"Beaten!" muttered the youngest Rover, and a disappointed look came over his face. "Dick, we have had our labor for our pains."
"I am not so sure of that, Sam."
"Why not, I'd like to know? That doesn't look much like a passageway."
"That is true, but we may be able to dig through the dirt without great trouble, and if this spot is close to the outer wall of the building—"
"Oh, I see," and Sam's face took on a more hopeful look. "But it might take a long time, anyway," and his face fell once more.
They had just started to loosen a second stone, when the candle began to splutter. They saved it as much as they could, but in five minutes it flickered for the last time and went out, leaving them in a darkness that seemed more intense than ever.
"We might as well continue to work," said Dick as bravely as he could."There is nothing else to do."
But, at the end of an hour, they had to give up the task. All of the stones around the hole they had made refused to budge, and, as the opening was not over eight inches in diameter, it availed them nothing.
"It is no use, Sam," said Dick finally. "We are simply wearing ourselves out for nothing. Give it up."
Both boys were exhausted, but were too much disturbed to take a good sleep. Yet, as they sat on a bench, the eyes of each closed, and he took a series of naps, arousing at every unusual sound that penetrated to the underground cell.
Overhead, everything had become unusually quiet, but toward morning came heavy footsteps, and they heard the opening and closing of an outer door.
"Somebody has come in," said Sam. "I wonder if it is the party that went to look for Tom and the others?"
"More than likely. I wish I knew if they discovered anything, or ifTom managed to keep out of sight."
Again there was silence, and once more the boys dozed off, not to rouse up until there came the unlocking of the cell door. Sack Todd stood there, lantern in hand, and beside him Andy Jimson.
"Hope you had a good night's sleep," said the owner of Red Rock ranch.
"Fine," answered Dick sarcastically. "Your feather beds can't be beat."
"And the quilts were extra warm," put in Sam, catching his cue from his brother.
"Humph! Your night here doesn't seem to have tamed you down much," growled Sack Todd.
"I said they were gamy youngsters," came from the long-nosed man."They showed that when they were on the houseboat."
"I want to question you," said Sack Todd, setting down his lantern."How many were there in your party?"
"How many did you catch?" questioned Dick, at the same time pinching his brother's arm to make Sam keep quiet.
"You answer my question, boy!" growled the owner of the ranch.
"Why don't you answer mine?"
"I am not here to answer questions."
"Who said I was, then?"
"You are a prisoner."
"You had better answer up, if you know what's good fern you," broke in Andy Jimson. "Sack doesn't stand for any nonsense."
"Tell me, how many were in your party?" repeated the owner of the ranch.
"Something less than half a hundred."
"What!" The owner of Red Rock ranch leaped to his feet, and then sat down again on a bench opposite the two Rovers. "You are fooling."
"All right; then don't question me."
"They must have organized a regular searching party," burst out the long-nosed man. "If they did, Sack, we are in for it."
"It's all talk, Andy. They couldn't get up such a party around here. Folks know better than to bother me. Besides, they know I am a good spender, and they like to help, not hinder, me," and the ranch owner winked.
"Are you boys going to tell me the plain truth, or not?" demandedSack Todd after a pause.
"What I want to know is: what do you intend to do with us?" returnedDick.
"That will depend on yourselves, young man."
"Will you explain?" asked Sam.
"You came here entirely uninvited—you have got to take the consequences."
"That doesn't explain anything," put in Dick.
"You have learned a very important secret. If that secret was given to the world at large, it would spell ruin for me and all of my associates," went on Sack Todd.
"That is your fault, not ours."
"Bah! Don't talk like a child, Rover. Do you think I'll allow a couple of boys to ruin me? Not much!"
"Well, what do you intend to do keep us prisoners?"
"I must see about the others first. After that, I'll make you an offer."
"What sort of an offer?" broke in Sam.
"You'll either have to join us, or take the consequences."
"Join you!" gasped Sam and Dick in a breath.
"That is what I said."
"I'll never do it!" came quickly from Dick.
"It's foolish to think of it," added Sam. "We are not criminals."
"You had better give the matter careful consideration. If you won't join us—" The ranch owner paused.
"What?" asked both boys.
"I shouldn't like to say. One thing is certain, though: you shall never leave Red Rock ranch to expose us."
"That's the talk!" put in Andy Jimson. "You had better make up your mind to join us, just as that other young fellow did."
"You mean Dan Baxter?"
"Yes."
"Has he really joined?" questioned Dick with interest.
"To be sure he has, and he'll make a good thing out of it, too."
"In what way?"
"In what way? Can't he have all the spending money he wants? What more does a fellow need?"
"Counterfeit money, you mean?"
"What's the difference, so long as it passes?"
"Maybe you'll get caught passing it some day," said Sam.
"It is not likely. We are careful, and the money made here is very close to the real thing."
"Don't tell the kids everything," broke in Sack Todd.
At that moment there came a shrill whistle from the top of the stairs leading to the cell.
"Hullo! I'm wanted!" cried the owner of Red Rock ranch. "Come on, Andy, we'll finish this talk some other time." And he stepped to the doorway. Both were soon outside, the door was fastened as before, and off the men hurried, leaving Sam and Dick in anything but a comfortable frame of mind.
The knowledge that Sam and Dick had been made prisoners by those atRed Rock ranch was most discouraging to Tom and Songbird.
"They are in a hole in the ground," said the fun-loving Rover. "That must mean that they are in some sort of dungeon."
"More than likely they have a place for prisoners at the ranch," returned Songbird. "The question is, now that we have learned so much: what's to do about it?"
"We must rescue Sam and Dick."
"That may be easier said than done, Tom. My idea is, the fellows at the ranch are desperate characters—horse thieves, or worse."
"No horse thieves there!" burst out Peter Poll, who had listened to the talk in wonder. "Sack Todd is rich—piles of money, piles. But Peter must not tell all he knows!" he added with a whine.
"So Sack Todd is rich?" questioned Tom.
"Piles of money—fine bank bills, I can tell you! Some day Peter will be a millionaire! But Peter must not tell—"
"Say, perhaps this dolt isn't telling the truth," cried Songbird."He seems to be more than a button short."
"Button, button, who's got the button!" sang out the foolish boy. "Played that once—lots of fun. Let us play now." And he started to pull a button from his jacket.
"Come with us, Peter," said Tom. "Come, we won't hurt you."
"Where do you want Peter to go?"
"Not very far away. Come, we will give you something nice to eat."
Now, as it happened, eating was one of the dolt's weak points, and he readily consented to accompany them. Without loss of time, they made their way back to where Fred and Hans had been left.
"Hullo! who vos dot?" ejaculated the German youth as they hove in sight.
"This is a boy we picked up along the stream," answered Tom, and then drew the others aside and told his story.
"What are you going to do next?" questioned Fred seriously. "It is certainly too bad Sam and Dick are prisoners. We must take care that we are not captured."
"The mystery of the ranch grows deeper," said Songbird. "I rather wish we had some officers of the law to consult. We could then ride right up to the ranch and make our demands."
"It may come to that before we get through," answered Tom.
"That dolt may not be telling the truth, Tom."
"Well, he has told some truth anyway, for if Sam and Dick are free, why don't they show up here?"
They did their best to make Peter Poll tell them more concerning himself and those at the ranch. But the foolish boy was growing more and more suspicious, and would scarcely answer a question.
"Peter wants the fine eating you promised him," said he, but when they spread before him the best the camp afforded, he broke into a wild laugh of derision.
"Call that good!" he shrieked. "That is nothing! You ought to see one of the spreads at the ranch—especially when the men from Washing-ton and Chicago come down. Everything of the best to eat and to drink! This is plain cowboy food. Peter wants something better—roast lamb, peas and pie!"
"This is the best we have, Peter," said Tom. "I am sorry you do not care for it. So they have feasts at the ranch, eh?"
"Peter must not tell all he knows." The foolish boy started up. "Peter is going."
"Don't go yet!" cried Tom.
"Peter must go to the other ranch—boss told him so—after he got through fishing. Going now." And, with a sudden jerk, he tore himself loose and was off like the wind among the trees.
"Hi!" cried Songbird. "Hadn't we better stop him?"
Tom was already after the dolt. But the foolish boy seemed to have legs like those of a deer for swiftness, and before they realized it he was out of sight. He knew how to run with but little noise, so it became almost impossible to follow him.
"Will he go back to the ranch, do you think?" asked Fred after the momentary excitement was over.
"He said something about going to the other ranch," returned Tom."What he meant by it, I don't know."
"Well, he is gone, so we shall have to make the best of it," went onFred. "I trust, though, that he doesn't get us into trouble."
The boys sat down in the temporary camp, and there Tom and Songbird gave all the details of how they had fallen in with Peter Poll.
"I suppose those rough characters make him do all sorts of dirty work," said Fred. "The boy isn't really responsible."
After a long consultation, it was decided to leave the neighborhood and move to the other side of Red Rock ranch. This would tend to throw the enemy off the trail, if the dolt should go back and relate what had occurred.
"Dis vos gitting so interesting like a story book," was Hans' comment."I only vish I could see der last page alretty!"
"We all wish that," laughed Tom. "Then we'd know if the villain dies and the girl marries the millionaire," and this sally brought forth a short laugh.
The things were packed rapidly, and soon they were on horseback and leading the steeds Sam and Dick had ridden. They had to ford the stream where the dolt had been captured, and here the horses obtained a refreshing drink.
"Some day I suppose this whole forest will fall before the woodman's ax," remarked Songbird. "Too bad!" and then he murmured to himself:
"The sturdy woodman with his axWill strike full many a blow,And as the chips go flying fastHe'll lay these giants low,Until the ground is bare and voidOf all this grateful shade—"
"And then the planter beans can plantWith plow, and hoe, and spade," finished Tom. "Beans would pay betterthan trees any day."
"Beans!" snorted Songbird in disgust. "What have beans to do with poetry?" and he walked ahead so that he might make up his verses without further interruption.
They soon found the ground getting very rough, and the tangle through which Sam and Dick had passed made them do not a little complaining.
"Mine cracious! How long vos dis to last, hey?" cried poor Hans as he found himself in a tangle from which he could not escape. "Hellup, somepody, oder I ton't vos git out of dis annyhow!"
"Hans is stuck on this brushwood," sang out Fred. "He loves it so he can't bear to leave it."
"This way, Hansy, my boy," came from Tom. "Now then, a long pull, a strong pull and a pull altogether!"
With might and main he hauled on the German boy's arm, and with a tearing sound Hans came loose and almost pitched forward on his face.
"Hi! hi! let go alretty kvick!" he bawled. "Mine clothes vos most tore off of me." He felt of his trousers and the back of his jacket. "Too pad! Da vos full of vinders now!"
"Never mind, Hansy, you need the openings for ventilation," returnedTom smoothly.
"Vendilations, hey? Vot you know about him, hey? I vos look like a ragpickers alretty!" And he surveyed the damaged suit dubiously.
"Now is the time to have your picture taken," suggested Fred. "You can send it to your best girl, Hans."
"I ton't vos got no girls."
"Then send it to your grandma," suggested Tom blandly. "Maybe she'll take pity on you and send you a new suit. That would suit, wouldn't it?"
"I ton't vos do noddings, but ven ve go to camp again, I make you all sit town und blay tailors," answered the German boy; and then the whole crowd pushed forward as before.
They had to cross a tiny brook, and then began to scramble over some rather rough rocks. This was hard work for the horses, and a consultation was held regarding the advisability of leaving them behind.
"I would do it in a minute," said Tom. "But it may not suit us to come back this way."
"Yes, and we may need the horses to ride away on," put in Fred. "Supposing those men on the ranch come after us? We can't get away very well on foot, and, if we could, we wouldn't want to leave the horses behind." And so it was decided to go slowly and take the steeds along.
It was growing dark, and they were afraid they were in for another storm. So far, there had been no breeze, but now the wind began to rush through the trees with a mournful sound.
"If it does come, it will surely be a soaker," announced Tom when he got to an opening where he could survey the sky. "Perhaps it will pay us to stay in the shelter of the forest."
"Yes, and have the lightning bring a tree down on us," added Fred."None of that for me."
They were still among the rocks when it began to rain. At first, the drops did not reach them, but, as the storm increased, the water began to fall in all directions from the branches.
"We must find some shelter, unless we want to be soaked," said Fred. "Hullo, just the thing! Couldn't be any better if we had it made to order."
He pointed to a spot where the rocks arose to a height of twenty or more feet. Low down was an opening leading to a hollow that was very like a cave.
"That will do first-rate," returned Tom. "It is large enough for the whole crowd."
"Too bad the horses can't get in, too," said Fred. "But maybe a wetting won't hurt them in this warm weather."
The steeds were tied close by, and then the boys ran for the shelter under the rocks, followed by Wags. They had just reached it when the storm broke in all its violence, and the rain came down in torrents.
"Just in time, and no mistake," remarked Songbird as he surveyed the scene outside. "No use of talking, when it rains down here, it rains!"
"Well, a rainstorm isn't a picnic party," returned Tom. "I wouldn't care so much if I wasn't so anxious to hear from Sam and Dick."
"Dot is vot ve all vonts," broke in Hans.
They crouched in the back of the shelter, so that the rain might not drive down upon them. It was a steady downpour for half an hour, when it began to slacken up, and the sun looked as if it might break through the clouds once more.
"We won't be detained so long, after all!" cried Fred.
"I am just as well satisfied," began Tom, and then gave a jump. "Boys, look there! Did you ever see anything like it?"
They looked in the direction pointed out, and each one sprang up as if he had received an electric shock, while Wags began to bark furiously. And small wonder, for directly in front of the shelter was a collection of snakes numbering at least thirty or forty. They were black, brown and green in color and from two to four feet in length. Some were lying flat, while others were curled up in various attitudes.
"Snakes!" faltered Fred. "And what a lot of them!"
"Dere ain't no choke apout dis!" gasped Hans, his eyes almost as big as saucers. "Vot shall ve do?"
"Get your pistols, boys!" came from Songbird, and he drew his weapon.
"Don't shoot!" and Tom caught the other by the arm. "If you kill one snake, the others will go for us sure. What an awful lot of them! This locality must be a regular snakes' den."
"If they come in here, we'll all be bitten, and if they are poisonous—"Fred tried to go on, but could not.
"There is no telling if they are poisonous or not," returned Tom. "One thing is sure, I don't want them to sample me," and the others said about the same.
What to do was at first a question. The snakes lay about ten feet from the front of the shelter and in a semicircle, so that the boys could not get out, excepting by stepping on the reptiles or leaping over them.
"They are coming closer!" exclaimed Fred a moment later. "It looks as if they were going to tackle us, sure!"
"I have a plan," cried Tom. "Come here, Hans, and let me boost you up."
The others understood, and while the fun-loving Rover gave the German boy a boost, Songbird did the same for Fred.
The edge of the cliff of rocks was rough, and, when hoisted up, Hans and Fred were enabled to grasp at several cracks and projections. They laid hold vigorously and soon pulled themselves out of harm's way.
By this time, the snakes had wiggled several feet closer to the shelter. Evidently, it was their den and, while they wished to get in, they did not know exactly what to do about the intruders.
"Can you get a hold?" questioned Songbird as he stood on a flat rock and raised himself into the air a distance of two feet.
Tom was already trying to do so, and soon he was crawling up the edge of the cliff. As the rocks were slippery from the rain, it was by no means an easy or sure task. But he advanced with care, and soon joined Fred and Hans at the top.
"I am glad we are out of that!" exclaimed Fred. "Ugh! how I do hate snakes!"
"I think everybody does," returned Tom. "Hi, Songbird!" he called out. "Coming?"
"I—I guess I am stuck!" was the gasped-out answer. "The rocks are too slippery for me."
"We'll give you a hand up," sang out the fun-loving Rover, and got down at the edge of the rocks.
"Look out that you don't slip over," came in a warning from Fred.
"Of you go ofer, you land dem snakes your head on," put in Hans.
The words had scarcely been uttered, when there came a wild shriek from Songbird. The poetic youth had lost his hold and slipped to the ground below. He came down directly on top of three of the snakes, and with an angry hissing they whipped around him.
"Songbird has fallen on the snakes!"
"Run for your life!" sang out Tom. "There goes Wags!"
And Songbird did run the moment he could regain his feet. One snake got tangled up in the boy's legs and was carried along, whipping one way and another. But it soon lost its hold and then wiggled through the grass to rejoin its fellows. In the meantime, the dog had disappeared.
"Are you safe?" called out those at the top of the cliff.
"I—I—guess so," came in a panting answer. "But two of them did—did their be-best to bite me!"
"Bring the horses around while you are about it," said Tom, and then the three on the cliff walked around to rejoin Songbird. When they reached him, they found the poetic youth trembling from head to foot.
"Never had such an experience in all my life," said he. "Why, I came down almost headfirst on those snakes! I never want such a thing to, happen again."
"I've got no use for snakes," said Tom. "I don't know what they are good for, excepting to scare folks."
"I believe they rid the land of many insects."
"Say, Songbird, I tole you vot," put in Hans, with a twinkle in his eye now that the danger was past. "You vos make a nice poem up apout dem snakes, hey?"
"A poem on snakes?" shivered Songbird. "Ugh! the idea is enough to give one the creeps!"
The rain had now ceased completely, and soon they were leading their horses forward as before. It was very wet in the brushwood and, as far as possible, they kept to the open spaces. The outlook was certainly a dismal one, and the boys felt in anything but a good humor.
"Our little trip to Mr. Denton's ranch isn't panning out so beautifully, after all," remarked Fred. "I thought we were going to have the nicest kind of an outing. All told, I rather think I would prefer to be back on the houseboat."
Presently they came' out on a road in the rear of Red Rock ranch. There was a ditch to cross, and then a line of thorns, which gave all more than one scratch.
Suddenly they were startled by a shot, fired at a distance. Another shot soon followed.
"What does that mean?" cried Fred. "Where's the dog?"
"Perhaps Sam and Dick are trying to escape," returned Songbird.
"I hope nobody is shooting them," put in Tom. "I must say," he added,"I don't like this at all. The dog is gone."
"Hadn't we better place the horses in the woods and investigate?"
"No, we'll take the horses along, and if there is trouble, we'll use our pistols," answered Tom firmly.
They advanced with caution, and soon came to where the road made a turn westward. Tom uttered an exclamation of surprise, and not without good reason.
"Man—on the road—flat on his face!"
"Is he a spy?"
"Is he dead?"
"I don't know," answered Tom. "Go slow—we may be running into a trap."
They advanced with caution. Not another soul seemed to be in sight, and presently they stood over the man. He was breathing heavily.
"Looks like a planter," observed Fred, noticing the apparel the stranger wore. "What's the matter with him?"
"Perhaps he was shot. Let us turn him over."
This they proceeded to do, and then, without warning, the man sat up and rubbed his eyes. His wig and beard fell off, and to Tom's astonishment there was revealed James Monday, the government detective.
"Mr. Monday!" cried the boy. "How in the world did you get here?"
"Wha—who are you?" stammered the man. "Wha—what hit me?"
"I don't know what hit you. I am Tom Rover. Don't you remember me?"
The government official looked perplexed for a moment, and then his face brightened.
"To be sure I remember you, Rover," he stammered. "But I am all in a twist." He brushed his hand over his face. "I thought I was down and out, as the saying goes."
"Did you fire those shots?"
"I fired one shot. The other was fired by a man who ran away. I believe the villain wanted to take my life. The bullet struck a rock and then struck and stunned me, and I keeled over."
"And the man ran away?"
"I suppose so. You didn't see him, did you?"
"No."
"Where are you bound?" went on the government official curiously.
"We are looking for my two brothers, Sam and Dick. They went over to the ranch yonder, and we have heard that they are being held prisoners."
After that, there was nothing to do but to tell their story in detail, to which the government official listened with close attention. Then he asked them many questions.
"You are certainly in hard luck," said he when they had finished. "Beyond the slightest doubt, those men at the ranch are desperate characters, and I don't know but what I ought to summon help and arrest them on the spot."
"Den vy not do dot?" asked Hans. "Ve vill hellup, too."
"If those men are what I take them to be, I want to catch them red-handed,'' responded James Monday.
"What do you take them to be?" asked Tom.
"Can I trust you boys to keep a secret?"
"Yes," came from each of the crowd.
"Then I'll tell you. Unless I am very much mistaken, the men at RedRock ranch are counterfeiters."
"Counterfeiters!" came in a chorus.
"So I believe. I may be mistaken, but all the evidence I have points in that direction. I have been following this trail from Philadelphia, where I caught a fellow passing bad twenty-dollar bills. He confessed that he got the bills from a fellow in Washington who claimed to be printing them from some old government plates. That story was, of course, nonsense, since no government plates of such a bill are missing. I followed the trail to Washington, and there met a crook named Sacord. He, so I discovered, got his money from two men, one the owner of this ranch. Where the bad bills were manufactured was a mystery, but, by nosing around, I soon learned that the owner of the ranch never allowed strangers near his place, and that he sometimes had strange pieces of machinery shipped there. Then I put two and two together and came to the conclusion that the bad bills were printed here. Now, I want to prove it, and not only round up the gang, but also get possession of the bogus printing plates. If the government don't get the plates, somebody may keep on manufacturing the bad bills."
"In that case, it is just as important to get the plates as the criminals," put in Songbird.
"Well, this stumps me," declared Tom. "No wonder they kept chasing us off."
"And no wonder Sam and Dick were made prisoners," added Fred.
"I hope the rascals don't do them harm," said Tom. "If I thought that, I'd be for moving on the ranch without delay."
"I think your brothers will be safe enough for the time being," came from James Monday. "I am sorry that you let that dolt get away from you."
"If we had thought it of such importance, we should certainly have kept him a prisoner," replied Songbird.
"I was watching my chance to get into the ranch house unobserved," continued the government official. "That shot rather floored me. But I am going to get in, some way," he added with determination.
"Listen, I think I hear somebody coming!" cried Songbird.
"Let us get to the side of the road," said James Monday.
They did as advised, the boys mounting their horses and the government official donning his wig and false beard and taking Sam's steed. Soon they were stationed behind a pile of rocks.
"It's a wagon that is coming!" said Tom a minute later. "I can hear the wheels scraping on the rocks."
"I think I'll investigate on foot," said James Monday, and slipped to the ground once more. Soon the wagon came in sight. It was pulled by a team of strong looking horses and was piled high with boxes. On the seat sat an old man.
"Hullo, there!" called out the government official, stepping along the trail in the direction of the turnout.
The old man was evidently startled, and he pulled up with a jerk. As he did so, the boys rode a little closer.
"Hullo, stranger! What do you want?"
"I want to talk to you," responded James Monday.
"What about?" and the old man began to grow uncomfortable.
"Where are you bound?"
"What do ye want to know fer?"
"I am curious, that's all, friend. Are you afraid to answer me?"
"No, I ain't. I'm bound fer Red Rock ranch."
"What have you on the wagon?"
"All sorts o' supplies that came in on the railroad."
"What's your name?"
"Bill Cashaw. It seems to me you're a curious one, you are."
"Do you belong in town, or out here?"
"In town, o'course. Hain't I lived there nigh sixty-four years?"
"Do you work steadily for Sack Todd?"
"No. I do a leetle drivin' now an' then, that's all. But, see here—"
"Do you know all the others at the ranch?"
"Most on 'em. I don't know the new fellers much."
"Did you intend to stay at the ranch?"
"You mean to-night?"
"Yes."
"Not unless Sack asked me to stay. He's queer about that, you know."The old man glanced at the boys. "Quite a party o' ye, hain't there?"
"You state positively that you do not belong to the crowd at the ranch?" resumed the government official.
"I said so. But, see here, stranger—"
"Please get down off that wagon," went on James Monday quietly.
"Eh?"
"I said get down off that wagon."
"What fer?"
"Because I want you to."
"Say, are this a hold-up?" cried the old man in renewed alarm. "If it are, I hain't a-goin' to stand fer it, an' let me say that Sack Todd will be after you-uns bald-headed fer it!"
"This is not exactly a hold-up," said the detective with a faint smile. "Get down and I will explain. If you try to resist, you'll only get into trouble."
"Suppose I'll have to obey," groaned the old man as he climbed down from the seat. "You-uns are five to one on this. I'm like the coon an' Davy Crockett—I know when ter come down out o' the tree. But I don't understand your game, stranger."
"As I said before, I don't intend to hurt you, Mr. Cashaw. But I am after certain information, and I rather think you can aid me in getting it."
"What you want to know?"
"In the first place, I want you to tell me all you know about SackTodd. What does he do at his ranch?"
"Humph! Don't ask me, fer I don't know. An' if I did—"
"And if you did—"
"Sack's been a putty good friend ter me, stranger. Lent me a hundred dollars onct, when a fire had cleaned me out. A feller don't feel much about hurtin' his friend."
"That is so, too. Then you really don't know what is going on at the ranch? Come now, speak the truth," and James Monday's voice grew stern.
"Well, it's some sort o' patent, I guess. Sack don't want folks to git onto it. Reckon it's a new-fangled printing press—one to run by electristity—or sumthin' like that."
"He told you that, did he?"
"Yes. But I hain't goin' to answer no more questions," went on the old man, and started to mount the wagon seat again.
"Wait," said James Monday. "I am sorry, but you'll have to stay here for the present, Mr. Cashaw."
"You mean you are goin' to make me stay here?"
"For a while, yes."
"With the wagon?"
"No, I'll drive your wagon to the ranch."
"I ain't askin' you to do the job."
"I'll do it for nothing," answered the government official with a quiet smile.
"See here, I don't understand this, at all," cried Bill Cashaw. "What is yer game, anyhow?"
"If you want me to be plain, I'll tell you. I suspect the men at the ranch of a serious crime. For all I know, you are one of the gang and as bad as the rest. If so, you're face to face with a long term in prison."
"Crime? Prison? I ain't done a thing!"
"If you are innocent, you have nothing to fear, and you will do what you can to aid me in running down the guilty parties."
At this, the face of the old man became a study. He started to talk, stammered and became silent.
"Tell me!" he burst out suddenly. "Are you an officer?"
"I am—working under the United States Government."
"Oh!" The old man turned pale. "Then let me say, as I said afore, I ain't done nuthin' wrong, an' I don't want to go to prison. If them fellers at the ranch are criminals, I don't want ter work fer 'em no more, an' I'll help you to bring 'em to justice."
After that it was a comparatively easy matter to get the old man to talk, and he told James Monday and the boys practically all he knew about Sack Todd and his followers.
He said it was commonly supposed that Sack Todd had some invention that he was jealously guarding. Some folks thought the man was a bit crazy on the subject of his discoveries, and so did not question him much concerning them. The machinery and other material which arrived from time to time were all supposed to be parts of the wonderful machine Sack Todd was having made at various places.
While he was talking, the old man looked at Tom many times in curiosity.
"Might I ask your name?" he said at length.
"What do you want 'to know that for?" returned Tom.
"Because you look so wonderfully like my son Bud—an' you talk like him, too. But Bud's skin is a bit darker nor yours."
"My name is Tom Rover."
"Talking about looking alike," broke in Fred. "There's a strong resemblance," and he pointed to the detective and the old man. "Of course, you don't look quite so old," he added to James Monday.
"I am glad that you think we look alike," smiled back the government official. "I was banking on that."
"What do you mean?" came from Songbird.
"I will show you in a minute. Mr. Cashaw, I'll trouble you to exchange hats, coats and collars with me," the detective continued, turning to the old man.
The latter did not understand, but gave up his wearing apparel a moment later, and soon James Monday was wearing them. Then the detective rubbed a little dirt on his hands and face and, with a black pencil he carried, gave himself a few marks around the mouth and eyes.
"How do you do, boys?" he called out, in exact imitation of Bill Cashaw.
"Wonderful!" ejaculated Tom. "That will do splendidly.
"Mine cracious! I ton't vos know vich been you an' vich been der old man!" burst out Hans. "You vos like two pretzels alretty!"
"That's a fine comparison," laughed Fred, and all had to smile over the German youth's words.
"I reckon I know what you intend to do," said Tom to the government official. "You want to take the old man's job away from him."
"Yes—for the time being. But I don't expect to get paid for it." James Monday turned to Cashaw. "Will you stay with the boys until I return?"
"Well, now—"
"I want you to stay."
"That means as how I'm to stay whether I want to or not, eh?"
"You can put it that way if you wish. I want to make no trouble for you."
"Sack Todd will make trouble if he hears of this," returned the old man dubiously.
"Then you had better keep out of sight."
"Will you return my horses and wagon?"
"Either that, or pay for the turnout."
"Then maybe I'd better go to town. I can say I stopped off at a tavern an' sumbuddy drove off with my rig."
"Very well," returned the detective. "But, mind you, if you dare to play me foul—"
"I won't! I won't!"
"Then you can go. But wait. Boys, let him stay here an hour. Then he can go."
So it was arranged, and a few minutes later James Monday was on the seat of the wagon and driving off in the style of the old man.
"He is certainly a good actor," murmured Tom, gazing after the government official. "I declare, the two look like two peas!"
"That's a mighty risky thing to do," observed Songbird. "If Sack Todd and his cronies discover the trick they'll stop at nothing to get square."
"Trust Mr. Monday to take care of himself," responded Tom. "I am only hoping he will be able to aid Sam and Dick."
"Oh, we all hope that, Tom."
The boys sat down on some partly dried rocks and began to ask the old man about himself. But Bill Cashaw was too much disturbed mentally to give them much satisfaction.
"Well, by hemlock!" he burst out presently.
"What's up now?" queried Tom, and all of the others looked equally interested.
"If I didn't go an' forgit all about it."
"Forget what?"
"This letter I had fer Sack. An' that was o' prime importance, too, so the trainman said."
As the old man spoke, he brought forth a letter which he had had stowed away in a pocket of his shirt.
"What's in the letter?" asked Fred.
"I don't know. It's sealed up."
"I think we'd be justified in breaking it open," put in Songbird."Those rascals are outlaws!"
"No! no! don't break it open!" burst out Tom, and snatched the communication from the old man's hand. "I've got a better plan."
"What plan?" came from his friends.
"Didn't you say that I looked like your son Bud?" asked Tom of BillCashaw.
"I did."
"Has Bud ever been to Red Rock ranch?"
"Three or four times, but not lately."
"Does Sack Todd know him?"
"Yes, but not very well."
"Then that settles it," announced the fun-loving Rover. "I, as BudCashaw, am going to deliver the letter at the ranch."
"Tom, that's too risky!" cried Fred.
"I don't think so. I can tell them that the letter was left for father"—pointing to Bill Cashaw—"after he started for the ranch. I don't see how they can help but swallow the story."
"Yes, but see here—" interrupted the old man. "This ain't fair. I want you to understand—"
"I know what I am doing, Mr. Cashaw, and you had better keep quiet.Watch him, fellows."
Without loss of time, Tom made his preparations for visiting the mysterious ranch. He rubbed some dirt on his face and hands, disheveled his hair and turned up one leg of his trousers. Then he borrowed the rather large headgear that Hans wore and pulled it far down over his head.
"How will that do?" he drawled. "Say, is my pap anywhere around this yere ranch?"
"Mine cracious! of dot ton't beat der Irish!" gasped Hans. "Tom, you vos make a first-class detector alretty!"
"He certainly looks like an Alabama country boy," was Fred's comment.
A few touches more to his disguise and Tom was ready to depart for the ranch. He called Songbird aside.
"Watch that old man," he whispered. "He may not be as innocent as he looks. Don't let him get to the ranch. If he does, our cake will be dough."
"Of course you don't expect to catch up to the wagon," said Songbird.
"No, but if I do, I'll go ahead anyway—if Mr. Monday will let me."
It was not long after this that Tom left the others. He struck out boldly along the poorly defined wagon trail, which led over some rough rocks and down into hollows now filled with water. The marks of the wagon ahead were plainly to be seen, but, though the youth walked fast, he did not catch sight of the turnout.
It was dark by the time he came to the fence that surrounded the ranch buildings. He saw Bill Cashaw's wagon standing under a shed. Two men were unloading the contents. They were both strangers to Tom.
It must be admitted that Tom's heart beat rapidly as he stepped into view and slouched toward the wagon shed. The men started in surprise when they beheld him.
"Say, whar's my pap?" he called out. "Didn't he come in on the wagon?"
"It's Bud Cashaw," murmured one of the men. He raised his voice."Your old man is in the house with Sack Todd."
Tom turned toward the ranch proper and was close to a door when it opened and Sack Todd came out and faced him. At a distance behind the man was James Monday.
"Hullo, pap!" sang out Tom. "You forgot that letter from that train hand—or maybe you didn't see him."
The government official stared at Tom, wondering who he could be.
"What letter?" demanded the ranch owner quickly.
"Here it is," answered Tom, and brought it forth. Sack Todd ripped it open quickly and scanned its contents. It was short and to the point:
"Look out for government detectives. They are on your track. One is named James Monday. There is also a fellow named Rover—beware of him.—NUMBER 9."
Utterly unconscious of what he was doing, Tom had played directly into the hands of Sack Todd and his evil associates.