MISSING STEERS
Like a flash Bud, who had been standing beside Nort, to watch
the effect of Dick's try, turned and faced outward to view the
darkening valley, whence had come the sound of that shot. Nort
turned also, but Dick seemed to think one of his companions had
played a trick on him.
"That isn't fair!" cried the stout lad. "What'd you want to go
and bust that bottle for, Nort?"
"I didn't do it!" asserted his brother.
"Nor I," added Bud in a low voice. "The shot came from out
there," and he indicated the long and fertile valley, over which
the purple evening shadows were falling. "Duck, fellows!" he
suddenly cried, and he pulled Nort beside him in the grass.
Dick, who caught the words of warning, and saw what his cousin
had done, also dropped down, so that, a second or two after the
firing of the strange shot that had shattered the bottle, only
the heads of the boy ranchers showed above the grass, and then
only slightly. "What's the idea?" asked Dick, as silence followed
the measure of safety.
"Whoever it was that fired might shoot again," replied End.
"Who was it?" asked Nort.
"That's what we've got to find out," answered Bud in a low voice.
"Could it have been either Snake or Yellin' Kid, riding back and
breaking that bottle over our heads, to show what good shots they
were?" asked Dick.
"No, I hardly think so," replied his cousin. "They're both good
shots, all right, and they could have broken that flask from the
distance it was broken. But they wouldn't throw a scare into us
this way. Besides, they haven't any time to fool around. They
have an all-night ride ahead of them."
"What makes you think the bottle was busted from some distance,
Bud!" Dick wanted to know.
"The way the bullet sounded," was the answer. "It was almost
spent when it got here, but it had force enough to break the
glass, and would have damaged us if it hit us. I thought whoever
played that fool trick might try another shot, so I yanked you
down, Nort."
"Glad you did! I might not have thought of it. But whoever it was
doesn't seem to be going to shoot again."
"No," agreed Bud, after a little period of silence, during which
no other menacing crack of a weapon was heard. "But we'll wait a
little longer."
Through the fast-gathering darkness the boys looked out from
their semi-hiding places across the valley. No wisp of smoke, and
no movement of horse or rider was to be observed. And silence
once more settled down on Happy Valley--not quite so happy as it
had been. For, following the clearing-up of the mystery of the
water supply, new and sinister events seemed pending for the boy
ranchers.
But, as yet, there were only straws, showing which way the evil
wind was blowing.
"Could it have been a chance shot?" asked Dick, raising himself a
little to get a better look.
"That bullet was aimed straight for the bottle, over our heads,"
declared Bud. "It was no chance shot."
"One of ours couldn't have glanced, could it?" Dick wanted to
know.
"Surely not!" affirmed Bud. "Why, no one had shot for some time.
I'd just put the new bottle on the stick for you."
"Yes, and I was just going to shoot, when somebody took the
bullet out of my gun, so to speak," went on Dick, grimly jesting.
"Do you think they were shooting at--us?" asked Nort,
hesitatingly.
Bud did not answer for the moment, and when he did it was to say,
as he suddenly arose:
"If they did I'm going to give 'em another chance. And I'm going
to do some shooting on my own account!" He had his gun in his
hand, for he had so held it since he had shattered the first
bottle, and now it was grasped in readiness for instant action.
"We're with you!" cried Nort and Dick, as they emerged from their
recumbent positions in the grass, and hastened to the side of
their cousin.
But though they looked across the valley, now half shrouded in
gloom, and up and down, as far as they could see, no one was in
sight. Here and there were small herds of their cattle. Back at
the camp tents Buck Tooth was performing his evening duties, or
"chores," as Bud called them. The Indian paid no attention to the
shooting, for he knew the boys had gone to practice, and he could
not be expected to realize that one of the shots was, possibly, a
hostile one.
I use the word "possibly" with reason, for, as yet, there was
nothing to show that it was not either an accident, or had not
been fired by some passing cowboy who, from a distance, seeing
the bottle on a stick, could not resist a chance to "take a
crack" at it. And yet this last theory would seem to be a poor
one. For if the shot had been a joke the one who had fired it
would, in all reason, it appeared, have shown himself soon after.
"No one seems to show up," remarked Nort at length, in a low
voice.
"Then we'd better look for 'em before it gets too dark," declared
Bud. "Come on! Let's get our horses."
"Isn't it taking a chance, riding out to look for some one who
may have fired at us purposely?" asked Dick.
"Yes," agreed Bud, after a moment's thought, "but life out west
is all more or less of a chance and risk. You take a risk, every
time you ride at more than a foot-pace, of your pony stepping
into some prairie dog's hole and not only laming himself, but
killing you. But you don't stop riding on that account."
"No," agreed Nort.
"And we take a chance every time we ride herd," went on Bud. "The
steers may stampede, and before we can get 'em to milling, they
may rush over us. But I notice neither of you ever back out of
that job; do you?"
"No," agreed Nort, adding: "Well, then, I reckon going after this
unknown shooter isn't taking such a long chance."
"I'm with you!" exclaimed Dick.
Briefly telling Buck Tooth what had happened, the boy ranchers
rode off at a fast pace, to take advantage of what little light
of day remained. They headed, as nearly as they could ascertain
it, in the direction whence the single shot had come. But it is
hardly needless to say they found no one, and no sign that could
be construed into a tangible clue.
"We'll tell Snake and Yellin' Kid about it when they come back,"
decided Bud, as he and his cousins returned to camp when darkness
had completely fallen. For it was useless, after that, to search
for the perpetrator of the joke.
Or was it a joke?
That is what the boy ranchers asked themselves more than once.
Contrary to their half-formed expectations, the night passed
quietly. There was no disturbance among the cattle, and no
midnight visitors invaded the camp. But, for all this, the slumbers
of our heroes were not easy. Perhaps they had premonitions of
coming disaster.
For disaster came, with the return, early on the morning of the
next day, of Snake and Yellin' Kid.
"They're after you, Bud!" shouted the cowboy with the loud voice.
"They're after you!"
"Who?" asked Bud, as he and his cousins came out to meet the
cowboys.
"Rustlers!" was the grim answer. "There's a lot of your steers
missin' from that far herd! Rustlers, Bud! Rustlers!"