"THE PROFESSOR!"
Loud and long drawn out was that weird cry of the night. It sent
shivers down the spines of Nort and Dick, and they both confessed,
afterward, that if they had not been wearing the heavy range hats,
supplied them by Bud, that their hair would surely have risen and stood
up straight.
Then, as suddenly as it had come to them out of the half darkness, the
fiendish noise ceased, dying away in what seemed to be sobbing, insane
laughter. With a swallow or two, to wet his parched lips and
fear-dried throat, Dick asked in a whisper:
"What--what was that?"
Like an echo came his brother's question:
"Was somebody killed?"
Bud's hearty laugh relieved the tension.
"It was only a coyote," said the boy from the ranch.
"A _coyote_!" repeated Nort and Dick in unison.
"Yes; you'll see plenty of 'em, and you must have heard of 'em. Little
animals, sort of half wolf, half dog. They hang about for something to
eat, and they sure can howl!"
"_Howl!_" exclaimed Nort. "If that's a _howl_ I want to know it! Of
all the infernal noises----"
"You said it!" exclaimed his brother. "Was that his death cry, Bud?
Did Babe shoot one?"
"No, of course not. It isn't as easy to shoot one of the pesky coyotes
as you'd think, and it isn't much use. They don't do any particular
harm around here. Besides, you didn't hear any shooting; did you?"
Dick was forced to admit that he had not, and he reproved himself for
not using his faculties to better advantage. He was beginning to
realize that if he was to be a westerner, an outdoor lad and a rancher,
he must learn to observe, something that Bud had already acquired in
large measure.
"Do they always howl that way?" asked Nort, as he shoved back into his
holster the gun he had half drawn again.
"Not always--lots of times it's worse!" chuckled Bud.
"_Worse!_" cried Dick. "I don't see how it could be. What do they do
it for?" he asked, as, once again, that strange cry welled forth on the
night.
"Oh, just to keep each other company, I reckon," answered Bud. "Same
as dogs bark. This may be a lone coyote calling to his mate; or he may
be summoning the pack to feed on a dead calf, or something like that.
I reckon they always howl pretty free on moonlight nights. We're used
to 'em."
"Don't believe I'd get used to that if I lived here a hundred years,"
commented Dick, as, for the third time, the cry rose and fell, even
louder and more horrible than before.
"The cattle don't mind 'em," said Bud. "In fact it seems to sort of
soothe 'em. Look, some of the steers are lying down."
This was so. In the clearer moonlight which prevailed for a few
moments, the lads from the city saw numbers of the bunch of cattle
resting easily on the grass. They were either tired out from the rapid
pace at which they had been driven, or had concluded that they were to
stay there for the night.
"Come on," suggested Bud, a moment later, as he urged his horse
forward. "Hit it up!"
"Where?" asked Dick.
"We'll ride herd for a few minutes, to make sure none of 'em stray off.
I can't see just how many there are in this bunch, the light is so
uncertain."
Nort and Dick followed their cousin, slowly circling the bunch of
cattle on which an attempt had been made to drive off. There were
about fifty, as Bud roughly estimated, when he and his cousins had
completed the circuit, thus "riding herd," as it is called, to
distinguish it from "riding line," when the cowboys move slowly up and
down along the line of fences that enclose the more modern ranches.
Diamond X ranch consisted of both sorts. Mr. Merkel owned a number of
large expanses of land, completely fenced in, and on these grazed
thousands of cattle.
He also took advantage of the open range, letting some of his animals
mingle on those vast expanses in common with steers and cows from other
ranches. Some of the open range was richer in grass than the fenced-in
portions, but there was a certain amount of additional work attached to
the use of the open range. It meant round-ups twice a year, and the
branding of cattle which were claimed as the property of the different
owners.
In places where there were no fences to keep the animals from straying
it was often necessary to "ride herd." That is, the cowboys, night and
day, rode slowly around the bunch of steers, keeping them from straying
or stampeding. At times they were "hazed," or driven to other feeding
places, or to water, until such time as they were collected and driven
to the railroad to be shipped.
Where stout wire fences held the cattle within bounds the work of the
cowboys was easier, but even here "riding line" was necessary, as one
could never tell when a break might be made in the fence, or when
rustlers might cut the wire, to enable them to drive off a choice herd,
or part of it.
So the boy ranchers rode herd, in a fashion, the two city lads gazing
off through the half darkness, across the rolling prairies where, for
all they knew, Babe might be trailing the rustlers or engaged in a
desperate fight with them.
"Though I reckon he didn't come up to 'em," ventured Bud, after a wait
of half an hour, during which no sign or sound had come from the
assistant foreman.
"Will he come back here?' asked Nort.
"Sure--if he can," answered Bud, significantly.
"How long'll we wait?" asked Dick.
"Can't say--exactly," answered Bud. "But say, I forgot about you
fellows," he went on, quickly. "You've traveled all day, and must be
tired. It isn't far back to the ranch, and I can start you on the
plain trail. I don't mind staying here alone--I've done it before."
"Go back? I guess not!" exclaimed Nort.
"Forget it!" advised Dick. "This is just what we want!"
"Well, if you like it," began Bud, "I s'pose----"
"Like it?" cried the two city lads in unison. "It's just what we came
out for," added Nort.
"Well, morning'll come, sooner or later, though I expect Babe'll be
back long before then," Bud went on. "Those rustlers have probably
given him the slip, and----"
"Hark!" suddenly whispered Nort. "I hear some one coming."
The noise of an approaching horse could be made out. It was
approaching slowly, seeming to stumble now and then. There was an
uneasy movement among the cattle, and the boys peered eagerly forward,
their hands on the butts of their guns in the holsters.
"Is it Babe?" whispered Dick.
"I don't know," answered Bud. "Doesn't ride like him, but----"
A moment later, from out of the shadow cast by the cattle, a solitary
horseman rode, almost stumbling along. At first he could not clearly
be made out but suddenly the haze cleared from the moon, and with
startled eyes the boys recognized the rider.
"The professor!" gasped Bud, and Nort and Dick knew the horseman for
the scientist from the mysterious camp they had recently
left--Professor Hendryx Wright!