THE BOILING SPRING
"What's that?" asked Bud suddenly, his voice seeming almost as
loud as that of Yellin' Kid's. The horses had been reined to a
halt as soon as the shot sounded, and there was stillness which
made the boy rancher's exclamation appear more vociferous than
would otherwise have been the case. "What's that?" asked Bud
again.
"Some one fired," answered Nort.
"Brilliant!" chuckled Dick. "Bright answer!"
"Almost as bright as my question," conceded Bud, who was willing
to admit when he had "pulled a bloomer," as some Englishmen might
term it. "It was a shot, though," he added. "I wonder if we'll
hear any more?"
They all paused, in listening attitudes; the boy ranchers, the
cowboys associated with them in the Happy Valley venture and the
others sent with Slim to help run down the rustlers, on whose
trail they now were.
But no further firing followed in the three or four minutes they
waited there in that lonely gorge, the only sounds being those
caused by the restless movements of the steeds.
"I wonder if some one shot at us, or if that was a signal!"
remarked Nort, as Bud gave the sign to advance.
"I didn't hear any bullet singin' out this way," drawled Slim.
"Not that I'm hankerin' to," he quickly added.
"Then it might have been a signal," went on Nort.
"What makes you say that?" Bud questioned.
"Because it would seem that if the rustlers are ahead of us,
trying their best to get far enough away, or to get to some
secret hiding place, that they might leave some behind, on the
trail, to give warning when we show up," went on Nort.
"Yes, that might be so," slowly admitted Bud. "In fact I think it
was, probably, a signal, and it may have been given by the same
one who gave signals before."
"What do you mean?" asked Dick.
"I mean Four Eyes, and the lantern flashes we saw from the watch
tower that night we rode in," Bud answered. "I believe Four Eyes
was and still is, in with the rustlers, and that he gave a signal
to show that everything was ready for the raid."
"But the raid didn't take place until some time after we saw
those flashing lights," said Dick.
"It takes some time to get a cattle-rustling gang together,"
declared Bud. "I wish we could find Four Eyes."
His gaze roved the sides of the lonely gorge, and sought to
pierce the maze of the trail ahead. But as it wound in and out,
following the windings of the defile, he could not see far in
that direction.
"If it was Four Eyes, he played his game mighty slick!" declared
Yellin' Kid. "He fooled us all, includin' your paw, Bud!"
"Well, if we get on his trail, and can connect him with the
rustlers, which it won't be hard to do, I'm thinking, he won't
play any more tricks," declared the western lad vindictively and
with righteous anger. "But if that was a warning shot, and that's
what it seems it must have been, we'd better take some precautions
ourselves."
"Such as what-like?" asked Slim, willing to let Bud take the
lead, as the search for the rustlers was distinctly an affair of
the boy ranchers.
"We ought not to go ahead, all in a bunch," decided Bud. "We may
run into a bunch of Greasers at some turn of the trail, and if we
have scouts out we can handle the situation better."
"I was going to suggest it," said Slim, "but I thought you'd
think of it yourself, Bud, being as you're your paw's son."
Bud was pleased at the implied compliment, and, a little later,
as they advanced, they were divided into three small parties,
with rear and vanguard, to insure against a surprise in back,
which might easily happen.
And so they advanced through the defile, keeping watch on both
sides of the trail. There were still evidences that a herd of
cattle had been driven along the rocky defile, but because of the
rocky floor, if such it may be called, the signs were faint, and
only an experienced westerner could have picked them up. But the
boy ranchers were accompanied by experienced cow punchers, who
knew every trick of the trail.
Bud had insisted that it was one of his rights to ride in the
advance guard, with Yellin' Kid, and it was while they were
performing this duty, of watching for a surprise, that they saw,
just around the bend of the trail, some wisps of white vapor
floating up.
"There they are!" exclaimed Bud in a hoarse whisper, pointing.
"They've stopped there--or some of 'em have. Or maybe it's the
person who fired the warning shot."
"Might be," admitted Yellin' Kid, toning his voice down somewhat
to suit the occasion. "Better let me get off and crawl ahead,
Bud. I'm used to that. You hold the horses."
Bud realized the sense of this proposition, and he held the reins
of the Kid's horse, while that cow puncher slipped from the
saddle, and, on all fours, crept toward the wall of rock which
rose abruptly at a turn of the trail shutting off a view beyond.
Bud watched Yellin' Kid closely, the lad's hand on the butt of
his .45, and occasionally he glanced back to catch the first
glimpse of the main party, so he might warn them. He saw the
wisps of vapor rising and floating toward him.
"Not much smoke," mused Bud. "They're using very dry
wood--regular Indian trick. I wonder----"
A moment later he heard Yellin' Kid shout, and it was such a cry
as indicated pain. Yet Bud had heard no shot.
"I wonder if they knifed him?" was the thought that flashed into
Bud's brain. He cast caution to the winds and galloped forward,
making a great racket, and casting loose the reins of the Kid's
steed.
The sight that met Bud's eyes was enough to startle him, though
it was not what he expected to see.
For he beheld Yellin' Kid standing in front of a pillar of white
vapor, or, rather, the cowboy was dancing about, holding one hand
in the other, and using excited slang at a rate that soon would
exhaust his vocabulary, Bud thought.
But, more strange than anything else, was the fact that there was
no sign of a fire, to cause the white vapor, nor was there any
indication that anyone besides Yellin' Kid and Bud were in the
immediate neighborhood. No rustlers had started the blaze which
caused the white clouds to drift upward.
"What's the matter, Kid?" asked Bud, as he saw that something had
happened. "Where's the fire?"
"Under there!" and the cowboy pointed to the ground. "Keep away
from it. Don't go near that spring, an' whatever you do, don't
put your hand in. I did, an' I'm sorry for it!"
"Spring! Fire! What is it, anyhow!" asked Bud, as he slid from
the saddle and ran forward.
"It's a boilin' spring, that's what it is!" declared Yellin' Kid.
"Boilin' hot an' it near took th' skin from my hand! What you see
is steam--not smoke! Horned toads and hoop-skirts! It's as hot as
Buck Tooth's tea kettle! Look out for the boilin' spring!"