A NIGHT OF WAITING
"The old rascal!" Nort exclaimed after Bud had finished. "So that's
what they were doing at the water hole? If we had known that we would
have taken a chance and rushed them."
"Just as well you didn't," Bud declared. "Wouldn't have gained
anything by it. And anyway, we don't want to upset their plans for
to-morrow night. The Kid, here, thinks they'll go through with the
idea."
"Don't be too sure," warned Dick. "It may never come off, since they
know Bud overheard them planning."
"Yes, but don't you see they can't get word to the others in time?" the
Kid insisted. "They can't call it off. The other end of the smuggling
line has already made plans that they can't break, so this end has to
go through with their scheme. At least that's the way I look at it."
"Seems reasonable," Dick agreed. "But just the same I think it's
better to be prepared."
"Naturally. What did you find out about the sheep-man, Dick?"
The latter spoke of one tentatively engaged and told the Kid his new
horse would be sent over in a day or so.
The remainder of the day went quickly. When evening came the boys were
excitedly making plans for the following night. After "chuck" they
gathered around the table in the sitting room and discussed ways and
means. The Kid was in favor of drastic action.
"No, we've got to go slowly," Dick cautioned. "This isn't strictly our
affair, you know. The government is interested in it. And it's
anything but a joking matter. The other adventures we had--at Spur
Creek and in the desert--were our own concern entirely. This is
different. Hawkins hasn't said so, but I think it means a lot to him
if we aid in capturing the smugglers."
"Thought you were out here to herd sheep?" Billee Dobb put in.
"We were--at first. But there's no use trying to dodge the issue--from
now on until this business is finished, we have one job on hand--to
help stop Chink smuggling. The sheep can wait."
"That's the stuff!" Yellin' Kid burst out. "I was waitin' to hear you
say that, Dick. Might as well look things in the face! We've gotten
too deep into this to drag freight now!"
"You're right, Kid," approved Bud. "And truth to tell, I'm not a bit
sorry. I don't care for Delton a-tall. We'll go through with this,
and finish it up right."
"And get my ole bronc back," the Kid said loudly.
"We might do that, too," Dick laughed. "Well, let's hit the hay.
Plenty to do to-morrow."
The night passed quietly. The punchers were up with the sun, all eager
for the task on hand. Directly breakfast was over, Dick and Bud rode
to town in order to see Hawkins. All thought it best that the deputy
should learn, as soon as possible, of the new development, for he might
want to change his plans in accordance. The boys found him in his
office.
"Come in, boys!" he invited when Dick and Bud stood in the doorway.
"How's everything? Any more cyclones?"
"Not yet," answered Bud with a laugh. "The weather is quiet, but
that's the only thing that is."
"What do you mean?" the deputy asked quickly.
Without any preliminaries Bud told the story of his capture and escape.
The deputy listened carefully, now and then asking a question. When
Bud had finished he sat silent for a moment, drumming his desk with his
fingers. Suddenly he brought his fist down with a bang and looked up.
"That settles it!" he cried in a decided tone of voice. "Delton is
finished! From now on we go after him tooth and nail! And I want you
boys to know something. I can rely on you, of course, to keep it a
secret." Strangely the deputy's western accent seemed to leave him,
and he assumed a more cultured tone of voice. He held a shiny piece of
metal out toward Bud. "I'm from Washington--Secret Service--here's my
badge."
Bud took it silently. It was, indeed, the badge of a federal official.
"I took this job as an ordinary deputy to disarm suspicion," Hawkins
went on. "I knew if I came to Roaring River as a stranger I'd be
investigated, and perhaps have to give myself away. So I just got
myself appointed a deputy, and then I could work openly. No one would
suspect a western deputy of being a federal man--there's too many of
them. Now you know why I'm so interested in this smuggling. We've
simply _got_ to stop it--somehow! Even the Chinese who are in this
country legitimately don't like to see their countrymen come in by the
back door. And what good are immigration laws if we can't enforce
them? I'm just telling you this to impress upon you the seriousness of
the project."
"It is certainly no joking matter," Bud agreed, handing back the badge.
"So you're a federal man! I should think if you wanted to trace the
smugglers secretly you'd take another position than deputy."
"You'll see how it will work out," Hawkins said. "It's sometimes best
to seem almost what you are, to avoid seeming what you really are.
Figure that one out. What I mean is, if I openly assume the aspect of
a man of the law, no one will look further than that. Understand?"
"I do," responded Dick. "And now let's decide on our plan of action.
Do you think what happened to Bud will change any of the details, Mr.
Hawkins?"
"Don't see why it should. In fact I think it makes our scheme all the
more advisable. Personally, I believe the run will go through
to-night. There's no doubt but that's what you heard referred to, Bud,
for I had a tip concerning the same thing. They will depend on the
element of surprise and the superiority in number to succeed. We'll
have our hands full, at any rate."
"Somehow this doesn't seem real," mused Bud. "Here we are planning to
capture a gang of smugglers who _know_ we're after them, yet they go
right ahead and play into our hands."
"My dear boy," said Hawkins grimly, "you don't quite understand.
Delton is far from playing into our hands. In fact, if truth be told,
our chances are rather slim that we'll ever see Delton. He's no baby.
But I think we've got him beaten in one way--the gang across the border
doesn't know what we know. Now here's the situation." Dick and Bud
came closer. "A shipload of Chinks have just landed in Mexico. Never
mind how I know, but I do. These Chinese have got to be smuggled over
the border within three days, to make room for another bunch. All
right. This gang in Mexico corresponded with Delton last week, telling
him that he was to receive the Chinks on a certain night.
"There's one thing we want to make sure of--and that is to avoid
frightening them off. Has there been much action around your ranch?"
"None at all. We've kept things pretty quiet."
"That's good. Tell you--I think it would be best if you fellows would
stay as close to the ranch house as possible, until this thing is over.
You see the smugglers might send out a one man auto patrol, some time
to-day or this evening, to look over the lay of the land, and if he
sees anything suspicious the chances are that he'll choose another
route to ship the Chinks over the border by. But I don't think they'll
go far from Roaring River. They got away with it so easy last time,
that they'll probably try it again. Well--" Hawkins tightened his lips
grimly--"they won't work it twice."
"Any more instructions?" Dick asked.
"No--I'll be over to the Shooting Star sometime this afternoon. May
bring a friend with me--Larry O'Connor--one sweet shot with a revolver.
That is if I think we need him."
"Well, we've got five men all told," Dick declared. "And all of us are
fairly used to handling guns. Target practice at tin cans keeps your
eye in, and we do lots of that."
"Good idea, if you can afford the money for ammunition. Never know
when you'll need to rely on a well-placed shot."
"Are you just going to ride over to the ranch openly?" Bud asked.
"Won't someone see you?"
"Even if they do, they won't suspect anything. But to make sure I'll
wait until after dark. Guess that would be best. No attempt will be
made until well on into the night, and we'll have plenty of time to get
set for them."
"Then we'll see you to-night?" inquired Dick as he arose.
"Sure thing! Oh, by the way--keep an eye on that Mex cook of yours,
will you? I want him where I can grab him quick if I need him."
"We will. Good-bye until to-night, Mr. Hawkins."
"So-long, boys."
Bud and Dick rode back to the Shooting Star. As soon as possible they
told the others of their talk with Hawkins, and of his being a secret
service official. Billee Dobb said he "opined as much long ago."
The day dragged on. The boys were all slightly nervous, though they
wouldn't admit it. Several times one would catch the other fingering
his gun unconsciously. But evening finally came, and while they were
eating supper Joe Hawkins arrived. He was alone.
"Thought you were going to bring someone with you?" Bud said when the
greetings were over.
"Decided it wasn't necessary. We've got plenty here. Now, boys, are
you all set?"
"All set!" the Kid said loudly. "Bring 'em on!"
"They'll come without us bringing them," Hawkins declared a trifle
grimly. "Turn that lamp low, Dick, and let's get out of here."
"What about the Mex?" inquired the Kid.
"Bring him along," the agent declared. "Want him where I can keep an
eye on him."
In spite of his wordless protests, the cook was dragged out of the
kitchen and made to accompany the punchers to a place near the side of
the house. And there the six men watched, each with his hand on his
gun and with ears strained for the sound of a car. There was a road
which ran past the ranch and into the town. It was over this road that
the watching men expected the smugglers to come.
And now all settled down to a night of waiting.