The Boy Ranchers: or, Solving the Mystery at Diamond X

"If they aren't after gold, they're after something, and they're making a secret of it," declared Nort. "And meeting Professor Wright the night an attempt was made to steal some of your cattle, Bud, makes it look as if the whole outfit might be trying to rustle off stock."

"Yes, it might, and again it might not," said the western lad. "I'd hate to think two decent-looking men, like Professor Blair and Professor Wright, would be cattle thieves. But you never can tell. Their learned appearance may be all bluff. I'd sooner think it was Del Pinzo and his gang. But he may be working with the professors. Anyhow, they haven't got away with anything yet, and they won't if dad's boys keep their eyes open. Only I would like to solve the mystery of that camp," and he looked back toward the deserted one, where some strange excavations had been made.

"Maybe we can trail 'em and find where they've gone," suggested Dick.

"Oh, we could find 'em if we wanted to," said Bud. "An outfit like that can't travel along in a ranch country and not leave a trail like an old buffalo wallow. But will it be worth while – that's the question? We'll soon be busy with the round-up at Diamond X, and no time for trailing mysteries."

"Well, the round-up won't last forever," said Nort, "and when it's over we can see what all this means. It'll be a pack of fun!"

"It sure will!" agreed his brother, "and we can stay here till snow flies."

"And then you'll want to hit the trail for home," laughed Bud. "Though we don't get as severe storms as they do farther north, nor do they come so early. But it's bad enough, sometimes."

"What's that?" suddenly asked Dick, rising in his stirrups and pointing to two or three figures of horsemen, down in a little swale, or valley. They were evidently engaged in some lively occupation, for they were riding rapidly to and fro, and from a fire, about which knelt three figures, a curl of smoke arose.

"They're stealing some of your cattle now!" cried Nort. "Come on!

We'll capture 'em!"

He spurred his horse forward, an act instinctively followed by his brother. Bud, too, rode after them at a fast pace, but there was a smile on his countenance.

"Keep your shirts on, fellows!" he advised. "That's only some of the Diamond X outfit branding stray calves they come across. But it'll give you a chance to see how it's done."

Riding rapidly across the open plains, where, here and there as they topped little hills the boys could see cattle grazing, the boy ranchers approached the group in the swale. After a quick inspection of the oncomers, the cowboys about the fire went on with what they were doing.

Two of them held down on the ground a struggling calf, while the cow-mother of the little beast, lowing and shaking her head, endeavored to break past two other cowboys who were heading her away from the scene of the branding operations.

For that is what was going on. Some of the Diamond X cowboys had come upon an unbranded calf with its mother as they rode across the prairies. As they were on their employer's land they knew the unmarked animal must belong to him, and it ought to be at once permanently identified as Mr. Merkel's property.

It was the work of but a moment for one of the cowboys to lasso the little bawling creature, and drag it to where he wanted it.

While some of the cowboys held the calf, not taking the time to "hog tie" the creature, others headed off the frantic cow-mother. Then a fire was made of greasewood twigs, and the branding iron, which one of the cowboys carried at his saddle, was put in the flames to heat. When hot enough it was pressed on the flank of the calf, burning into the hair and slightly into the hide, the diamond with the X in the centre – the mark of Bud's father's cattle.

As the men released the calf, it staggered to its feet, uttered a feeble bawl or two, and ran to its mother, who at once began to lick with her tongue the branded place.

"Where you headin', Bud?" asked Yellin' Kid Watson, one of the cowboys who had been engaged in the impromptu branding operations.

"Headin' home," answered the rancher's son.

"Then you haven't heard the news?" asked Snake Purdee.

"What news?" asked Bud, while Nort and Dick listened eagerly.

"Bad business," went on Yellin' Kid. "A lot of your dad's choice stock was run off from the far range a while ago. Tar Blake just rode in and give notice. Bad business!"

"I should say so!" agreed Bud. "Who did it; Greasers or some of that outfit?" and he motioned back to the camp he and his cousins had just left.

CHAPTER XII

RIDING HERD

Yellin' Kid, Snake and the other cowboys stamped out the brands of the grease-wood fire, coiled their lariats and mounted their ponies before anyone answered Bud's question. He did not repeat it, knowing the character of the men to whom he was speaking. Then, as Old Billie Dobb, who might have been a foreman a dozen times over if he had only proved more reliable, spoke up and said:

"We don't know who did it, Bud; an' your paw don't neither! Tar just rid in with th' news, as we rid out to do some fence mendin'. We wanted to stop an' hear th' particulars, but your paw said for us to mosey over this way, an' we done so. He said if we seen you boys to send you home."

"We're heading that way," Bud answered. "We were just over to the camp where they had trouble the other night, but they've vamoosed."

"Can't see what they ever come here for," spoke Yellin' Kid. "An' it wouldn't s'prise me a bit if them fellers proved to be the cattle rustlers."

"Nor me," declared Nort, impulsively, thus drawing attention to himself.

"Well, you know all we do, Bud," spoke Billie Dobb. "Maybe your paw'll have more news by th' time you get there. Tell him you met us an' that we'll be back as soon as we find th' break an' fix it. It's a big bust, the report has it, an' he don't want th' cattle to stampede out."

"All right, we're going," declared Bud. "Come on, fellows," he called to his cousins, and they galloped away toward the ranch headquarters, while the cowboys rode on their way, Yellin' Kid singing at the top of his voice. The boy ranchers passed the newly branded calf, its mother still licking the burned place, but the little creature did not seem much to mind what had happened, for it was eating grass.

"Who broke the fence?" asked Nort, as he and Dick rode along on either side of Bud, whose horsemanship they were trying to imitate.

"Hard to say," was the answer. "Sometimes it's Greasers, and again Indians, who hope to get a few cattle in the confusion if a herd gets out. Then again something may have frightened the cattle themselves, and in a rush they may have broken through. Generally it's the cattle themselves, and then we have to rush a bunch of cowboys to mend the break, some of 'em stringing new wire while others keep the steers, cows and calves from coming out on the open range."

"Say, there's been a lot of excitement since we came here!" declared

Nort, his eyes shining in delight at the prospect of more.

"Oh, there's always more or less going on like this," said Bud. "If it isn't one thing it's another, though I must say we haven't had anything like those queer professors in some time."

"I'd like to know what their game really is," remarked Dick.

"So would I!" exclaimed his more impulsive brother. "And I'd like to catch 'em at it when I had my gun loaded," and he tapped significantly the .45 on his hip.

"Don't be too fast with gun play," advised Bud calmly. "You'll find, if you ever become a rancher, that you'll use more powder on coyotes, rattlers and in driving cattle the way you want 'em to go, than you will on humans. There isn't so much shooting out here as the writers of some books would make out."

"Well, if there's only a little, I'll be satisfied," said Nort.

They reached the headquarters of Diamond X ranch without mishap, save that Dick's pony stepped into a prairie dog's hole, and threw his rider over his head. But Dick was rather stout, and cushioned with flesh as he was, a severe shaking-up was all the harm he suffered.

"They're nasty things at night – prairie dogs' burrows," said Bud. "But mostly a pony can see 'em in time to side-step. Yours just didn't – that's all."

"Yes, he – didn't!" laughed Dick, as he climbed back into the saddle.

There was enough excitement at Diamond X ranch to please even excitable Nort. As the other cowboys had said, one of Mr. Merkel's men from a distant ranch – Square M, to be exact – had ridden in to report that during the early morning hours several head of choice steers, that were being gotten ready for a rising market, had been driven off by rustlers. Leaving his companions in charge of the remaining cattle, Tar Blake – who got his name from his very black whiskers – had ridden to headquarters to give the alarm.

"Well, we'll see if we can trail these scoundrels!" declared Mr.

Merkel, as Bud and his cousins rode up.

"Can't we go, dad?" asked Bud, as eagerly as Nort would have spoken. "Maybe it's the bunch from the queer professors' camp. Let us trail along!"

"Nope!" was the short answer from Mr. Merkel. "I've got other plans for you," he added quickly, and in a tone that took the sting out of his refusal. "You'll have plenty of excitement," he went on, "so don't look so down in the mouth, son. Get something to eat, and then pack your outfit for a few days. You've got to ride herd, while I pull in as many men as I can spare to trail these rustlers."

"What herd, dad?" asked Bud. "Over by Square M?" and he named the ranch where the thieving had taken place that morning.

"No, I want you to help haze that bunch from Triangle B over to the railroad yard. They've been showing signs of uneasiness, and I don't want 'em to bolt when they're on the last stretch. You'll find 'em over by the bend. Ride there, and tell Charlie Smith and Hen Wagner to come in. You'll relieve them. Dirk Blanchard will be with you, and so will Chot Ramsey, and you three ought to be able to bed 'em down to-night. Drive 'em along easy. Dirk knows how to do it, and there's plenty of water along the way. Don't hurry 'em; if you do they'll work off all their fat, and beef is too high now to waste it by running it off the hoof. Mosey along now!" and the ranchman turned from Bud to give other orders.

Nort and Dick, with one accord, started forward, but their cousin anticipated their appeal.

"Can't Nort and Dick come with me, dad?" asked Bud.

"Sure thing – if they want to," answered Mr. Merkel.

"As if we wouldn't want to!" murmured Nort. "Oh, boy!"

"Say! It'll be great – riding herd!" exclaimed Dick.

Several hours later found the boy ranchers within sight of the four hundred or more steers and cows they were to guard, and gradually head over to the railroad stock yards, whence they would be shipped to a distant city, there to be sold to the profit of Mr. Merkel.

"Whoop-ee!" came a distant hail from one of the cowboys left to guard the Triangle B cattle.

"Zip-sippy!" yelled Bud in answer, and a little later he was introducing his cousins to the cowboys.

"Oh, boy! Rustlers!" cried Charlie Smith, when informed that he and

Hen Wagner were to form part of the pursuing posse.

"Just my rotten luck, I have to stay here!" complained Dirk, while Chot, to voice his disapproval of having to remain behind, slapped his pony with his hat and rode off over the prairie, only to return as fast as he went. It was his way of letting off steam.

The two cowboys, who were to join the bunch from Diamond X ranch, departed in haste, and then Bud and his cousins made preparations for spending several nights and days in the open, riding herd and hazing the cattle to their destination.

It was the season of warm nights, as well as days, though there was a certain coolness after dark. No tents were set up. Each man, or boy, was provided with a canvas tarpaulin, which was all the protection needed. The prairie itself would be their beds, their saddles their pillows and the grass a combination mattress and spring. They had packed enough food with them, and, if needed, a calf could be killed and eaten. There were water holes in plenty – in fact, they could live off the land.

Over a fire of greasewood, while the hobbled ponies rolled on the ground, the bacon was soon sizzling and the coffee brewing.

"Gosh, but I'm hungry!" cried Nort.

"You said something!" declared his brother, while Bud and the others smiled at the fresh enthusiasm of the easterners.

There was really not much to do after darkness had settled down, for the cattle were comparatively quiet, and after a full day of eating the sweet grass, having drunk their fill of water, they were content to lie under the silent stars.

But in order that none of the steers might start to stray away, and start a stampede, also in order that no thieves might sneak up in the darkness and "cut out" choice cattle, by this very operation also starting a panic, it was necessary to "ride herd."

That is, the cowboys, of whom Nort and Dick now counted themselves two, took turns in slowly riding around the bunched cattle during the night hours. As the early hours were always the ones when it was most likely trouble would happen, the two veteran cowboys volunteered for this service, leaving Bud and his cousins to make their beds, such as they were, near the little fire. The boy ranchers would relieve the others after midnight.

So, wrapped in their tarpaulins, their heads resting on their saddles, and their feet to the fire, the three boys looked up at the silent stars. They talked in low voices at first, for the voice of man is soothing to cattle. Now and then some cow lowed, or a steer snorted or bellowed. But, in the main, the animals were silent. And to this state Bud and his cousins soon came, for they were tired with their rather long ride late that afternoon.

"I wonder if any rustlers will come here?" spoke Dick to his brother, when Bud's regular breathing told that he had fallen asleep.

"Don't know – wish they would," Nort answered, half drowsily.

"Well, I'm ready for 'em," murmured Dick, as he felt of his gun where it lay in its holster at his side, though he had loosened his belt to lie down.

The night became more silent and colder. The two other cowboys were on the far side of the herd now, working around in opposite circles, meeting and passing one another. It would soon be time for them to turn in, and Bud and his cousins to turn out.

Nort was turning over to get into a more comfortable position, when he heard something hiss through the air with a swishing sound. For an instant he thought of rattlesnakes, but almost at once it was borne to his mind that he had heard this sound before – the swish of a lariat through the air.

He sat up quickly, straining his eyes in the direction of the sound.

Just then a piece of the greasewood burned up brightly, and revealed to

Nort this sight.

From somewhere in the darkness, beyond the circle of light, a lariat had coiled in among the lads. And as Nort looked, the coils settled over the head of his brother Dick. Before Nort could cry a warning, or scramble from under his tarpaulin, the rope tightened and Dick was pulled from his resting place near the fire out into the darkness, his frightened yells awakening the echoes, and startling the cattle into uneasy action.

CHAPTER XIII

THE ATTEMPT FOILED

It was only a moment that surprise held Nort motionless, sitting up there by the small fire of greasewood twigs, with the bunch of cattle moving uneasily in the darkness. Then, with a yell that had in it both warning and encouragement, Nort scrambled to his feet and made a grab for Dick, who was being dragged off in the loop of a lariat, the other end being manipulated by some one unseen.

"Hold it, Dick! Hold it!" cried Nort, as, many a time he had thus shouted encouragement to his brother on the football field. "Hold it!"

But Dick was unable to do this. Taken at a disadvantage, awakened from a half-sleep as he was, and dragged from a fairly comfortable bed, he was puzzled and confused, not to say frightened.

But he was capable of yelling, and this he did to the best of his ability.

"Here! Quit that! Let up! What you doing?" shouted Dick, for, as he said afterward, he thought it was one of the cowboys playing a trick on him, hazing a tenderfoot, perhaps, though Dick proudly imagined that he was fast graduating from that class.

The yells of the two brothers naturally awakened Bud who, being more used to sleeping in the open than were his cousins, had almost at once gone soundly to sleep. But it did not take the young rancher long to rouse himself.

"What's the matter? What's going on?" shouted Bud, and Nort had a glimpse of his cousin with his gun in his hand. This reminded Nort that he had left his weapon under his tarpaulin, and he made a dash to get it, mentally blaming himself for not proving more true to his idea of the traditions of the West, and having his revolver always with him.

With a quick motion of his foot, Bud shoved some unburned sticks of greasewood into the blaze. They flared up, and the young ranchman wheeled quickly, and tried to pierce the gloom into which Dick had been dragged.

But that lad had not been idle during this strenuous time. He had felt the lariat tightening about the upper part of his body, and he had let out a frightened yell. But he had done more than yell. He had grasped the rope with both hands, in a quick, upward motion, and had succeeded in slipping it off, over his head, a task he would have been unable to perform had his enemy had daylight in his favor. But, as it was, Dick succeeded in escaping the noose.

"Who is it? Who did that?" yelled Dick, as he managed to get to his feet, and staggered back toward his tarpaulin, evidently with the intention of seeking his gun.

But there came no answer out of the gloom.

Bud and Nort hurried over to Dick, who was rather dazed and ruffled up from the experience he had undergone.

"Hurt?" asked Nort, quickly.

"Not to speak of," answered Dick. "Was that one of the boys?" he asked, turning to Bud.

"One of our cowboys? No, they don't do such things," was the answer.

"It must have been – "

He was interrupted by the rapid thuds of hoofs and, an instant later, there dashed into the circle of light Dirk and Chot, two of the men who had been left when the others rode away to get on the trail of the rustlers.

"What's the matter?" exclaimed Dirk, reining in his pony so suddenly that the animal slid with his forefeet almost in the embers of the fire.

"Somebody tried to rope Dick," answered Bud. "I didn't see it, but I had a glimpse of him being dragged off on the end of a lariat."

"I saw it come shooting in from out there," and Nort waved his hand toward the darkness.

"I felt it!" grimly declared Dick. "I just managed to slip it off in time."

"You were lucky," commented Chot. "Let's see who it was," he added. "Couldn't have been any of our lads," he said in a low voice. "I've known 'em to do such tricks, but not at a time like this. Might have been some fresh puncher from Double Z, but if it was – "

"Come on!" interrupted Dirk, satisfied from a glance that no harm had befallen Dick. Dirk wheeled his horse and rode off into the darkness, in the direction where the end of the lariat had disappeared, when the unseen thrower had pulled it to him after Dick's escape.

The two cowboys, who had been on the far side of the herd, had ridden hurriedly in on hearing the cries of the startled boys. And now they rushed off in the darkness, trying to find out who it was that had displayed such evil intentions.

For it was a desperate thing to do. A little higher up and the rope would have encircled Dick's neck, and it would have taken only a short time of pulling him across the ground to have choked him. He, himself, did not realize his danger until later.

For a few moments, after the arrival of Dirk and Chot from the far side of the resting herd, and their subsequent dash off into the darkness, Bud, Nort and Dick did nothing. They stood there around the greasewood fire, trying to understand clearly what had happened.

Then, from the herd of cattle came unmistakable signs of some disturbance. There were snorts and bellows, the mooing of cows and the stamping of hoofs. At the same time, from the far side, whence Dirk and Chot had ridden in, there came the murmur of voices.

"Rustlers!" cried Bud, understanding at once what it all meant now.

"Dirk! Chot! Come on back! The rustlers are here! It's a trick!

Come on back!"

"Rustlers!" exclaimed Nort.

"Yes!" shouted Bud. "That's their game! They tried to scare us so they could work in from the other side, and run off a bunch of steers. Dirk! Chot!" he cried again, making a megaphone of his hands, and sending his cry out into the night.

"Whoo-oop!" came faintly back to the boys, and then the thud of rapidly moving hoofs mingled with the movement of the cattle. For the steers and cows that were being hazed to the railroad yard were now in motion.

"Put some more wood on!" cried Bud. "If they stampede this way it may hold 'em back!"

"Will they stampede?" asked Dick.

"No telling. Somebody's in among 'em, over on that side, trying to cut out a bunch. We've got to held 'em in if we can! Get on your ponies!"

It was the work of but a few seconds to do this. The ponies had been staked out not far from the fire, which was now burning brightly from the amount of greasewood piled on it. Bud was first in the saddle, but his cousins were not far behind him.

And, as they mounted, and started to ride around the herd, to hold the now frightened and uneasy animals in check, Dirk and Chot galloped in out of the distant darkness.

"What's the matter?" shouted Dirk.

"Rustlers!" yelled Bud. "They tried that lasso stunt to draw you in from the far side, and now they're over there trying to cut out some steers."

"Well, I guess we'll have something to say about that!" grimly observed

Chot. "Come on!"

Clapping spurs to his pony, he and Dirk began the work of milling the cattle – that is, getting them to move around in a circle rather than dash off in a straight line stampede. This turning of the herd, into a circular instead of a straight movement, is the only way to save the lives of the animals, or prevent them from being driven off by thieves.

Dick and Nort had been on Diamond X ranch long enough to understand what was being attempted, and they joined with Bud in the work. As Chot and Dirk rode back to take the stations they had left, firing their guns and shouting to turn the leaders, Bud and his cousins did the same in their locality.

As yet they had caught no sight of the rustlers, but it was very evident that these unscrupulous men were at work, trying to drive off some of the valuable animals, all fattened and ready for market. Confused shouts came from the direction where Chot and Dirk had ridden.

"Lively, boys! Lively!" cried Bud to the two easterners, and he fired his gun in the air as he rode toward the cattle that seemed inclined to dash past the circle of firelight.

Following their cousin, Dick and Nort dashed in, also firing, and the five cowboys – for Dick and Nort were now entitled to be called that – finally succeeded in milling the cattle, and preventing the stampede.

But it was hard work and it was nearly morning before the steers were quieted down after the excitement. The attempt of the rustlers had been foiled, for that time at least.

CHAPTER XIV

THE STAMPEDE

"Well, what do you make of it?" asked Bud of Dirk and Chot, when all five had the first moment of respite from the strenuous work of quieting the excited cattle. They had met near the fire, which was only glowing dully, now that its flame was not needed to head off the steers.

"Don't just know what to say," answered the older cowboy. "It all came so sudden."

"There must be two bands of rustlers around here," observed Chot. "That is, unless those your dad is after, Bud, gave him the slip and tried to operate here."

"Maybe there's only one gang, divided up for the night," suggested Nort.

"Well, of course it's only guesswork," stated Bud, "but I think this was an altogether different gang trying to put one over on us. And another thing – it was a Greaser who roped Dick."