WILD COUNTRY
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," ventured
Nort.
"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," said
Yellin' 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," said
Slim, 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.