NEWS FROM THE 8 X 8
The next morning Peter Ball sent a car for Nell and Ethel, and,
together with Bug Eye, the girls went back to the 8 X 8. Roy and
Teddy were sorry to see them go, as was Belle Ada, but they consoled
themselves with the thought that they could easily ride over to the
Ball ranch later and see them. It was arranged that Belle should go
on a visit to the 8 X 8 before the summer was over.
The business of ranching was taken up once more at the X Bar X,
although an undercurrent of vigilance seemed to be ever present.
Days of being without Star and Flash did not seem to console the
boys appreciably for their loss. Rather, as each day passed they
realized more and more keenly that Flash and Star had meant a great
deal to them. Mr. Manley, although he did not dwell on the
misfortune of losing General, as did Roy and Teddy over their
ponies, yet wished heartily that he had the bronco back.
Gus Tripp’s arm healed rapidly, and he was in the saddle again
within a week, looking, as he said, whiter than he had since he was
four years old. Otherwise he was little the worse for his
experience. Of course the arm was still bandaged but Gus said that
was only a reminder, “like you’d tie a string around yore finger,
so’s not to fergit somethin’.” When asked what it was that he wanted
to remember, he answered vaguely that it had something to do with
rattlesnakes.
Several times Nick and Pop had ridden into Eagles, watching for
Checkered Shirt, but the man seemed to have left that part of the
country. No one in town had seen him for a week. The barkeeper at
Rimor’s had likewise disappeared for the time being.
One morning Roy and Teddy determined to go fishing. The day was just
right for the sport, cloudy, and they had hopes of bringing home a
mess of mountain trout. By common consent, the boys agreed to ride
to Harver’s Gully and cast along that part of Rock Run River which
flowed by the spot.
Having arrived at the gully, the two boys rode slowly through the
grove of quakermasts where Roy had been held captive. Then they
mounted the hill on the other side and looked sharply about them.
“Don’t see much of importance, do you?” Teddy queried.
“Not much. Guess I was mistaken. But it looked queer, I’ll tell a
maverick! I thought sure we’d find something hereabouts.”
“After all, it was only a hunch,” Teddy stated. “Most of the time
they go wrong. Come on, let’s give the fish a whirl. Pop said
they’re running fine.”
Riding down the incline, the boys came once more to the river. At
this time of year it was a sizable stream, the snow on the
mountains, having melted and run down, had swelled it to almost a
flood stage. The water hissed merrily against the lines as Teddy and
Roy cast.
For some minutes neither got a strike. Then Roy, who was up-stream
from his brother, suddenly saw his line go taut.
“Strike!” he called out, and Teddy, abandoning his own casting, ran
toward Roy.
“Feels like a whale!” the boy sang out. “Hand me that net, Ted!”
There was haste to oblige, and Roy played his fish carefully. The
trout seemed not unused to the ways of anglers, for it did not dash
aimlessly about, but with short, purposeful spurts prevented the
young rancher from taking in much line.
“Looks as if you were in for a fight!” Teddy exclaimed, watching
with interest the contest between his brother and the fish. “He’s no
amateur at this business, that trout! He knows his stuff!”
“I’ll tell a maverick he does!” Roy said, breathing hard. “Golly, he
must weigh a ton! He’s _some_ scrapper!”
Suddenly the line swayed down, hanging loosely.
“Now’s your chance!” Teddy shouted. “Reel in! Reel in!”
Roy needed no such advice, for he was reeling in as fast as he
could. Then, with a slight twang, the line tightened. Roy was still
taking in slack when it happened, and he could not stop in time.
There was a quick jerk, and the frayed end of the cord dangled from
the tip of the rod. The fish had won.
Roy threw the pole down in annoyance.
“Thought I had him, sure!” he declared. “Ever see a fish act like
that before? Wise as they make ’em! He just waited until I started
to reel in, then stopped short and broke the line. Well, he sure
timed it pretty. My respects to a clever fish,” and he removed his
hat and made a mock bow.
“But he’s carrying quite a weight of line,” Teddy said, with a
chuckle. “He’ll have that to remember you by, Roy.”
“Like fun he will!” his brother cried. “He knows his apples, that
fish. He’ll just swim around a stump a few times, tangle the line in
it, give a jerk and he’s free. I know that kind. Some of ’em can
speak Greek and Latin.”
The boys fished with fair luck for an hour or so longer, Teddy
landing two large ones and Roy three smaller trout. The “whopper”
that had struck Roy’s line did not return, though the ranch lad had
coaxed him with all the brightly colored flies in his packet.
“Getting sort of late,” Teddy remarked, as he stood on the bank
adjusting a hook. “What say we cut for home? We’ve got quite a ride
ahead of us, you know. Let’s get started.”
Roy nodded.
“I just want to make one more cast. Something tells me that the big
fellow I hooked first is still hanging around. If he is, and wants
some more fun, I’ll give it to him! Just once more, Teddy.”
The boy drew back his rod for a cast. His arm still bent back, Teddy
caught his wrist. Roy looked up in surprise.
“What--” he began. Then he saw the look on his brother’s face and
stopped.
“Keep quiet!” Teddy whispered. “Through the bushes there! See? A man
on horseback!”
Roy stared intently. But he did not get a good view of the intruder,
for the sound of a pony breaking trail came to the ears of the boys
at that moment, and the horse and rider disappeared.
“Roy, I’ll bet anything that was Froud!” Teddy exclaimed excitedly.
“And he was on Flash, too! I’d know that horse among a million!
Golly, that settles it! Froud is the thief!”
“Are you sure it _was_ Froud?” Roy asked. “I didn’t get a good look
at him--but what I saw didn’t look a great deal like Scar Face!”
“He did to me!” Teddy insisted. Then the boy stepped from the side
of the stream into the woods. He parted the bushes, and glanced
about.
“Not a sign of him,” he said regretfully. “Let’s get our broncs,
Roy, and ride around here! There may be something to that theory of
yours about the gang’s headquarters.”
The boys ran quickly to where they had left the horses. Teddy half
expected to find them gone, but they were not, and, in a moment, the
two young ranchers were mounted, having taken their rods apart and
slipped them into a case as they ran.
They rode toward the place they had seen the figure and examined the
earth for hoofprints. These they easily discovered.
“He went this way,” Roy declared, pointing. “We can ride along and
see what we can find. It’s toward home, anyway.”
“I’ll bet anything that was Froud on Flash!” Teddy remarked, almost
to himself. “When he saw us he beat it. Let’s follow up these
tracks, Roy.”
The boys cantered along, eyes upon the ground, easily tracing the
marks in the soft earth near the side of the stream. For about a
mile they rode. Then they were halted. The tracks led directly down
into the stream.
“That stops us,” Roy declared, in a disappointed tone. “He may have
gone any place from here. Most likely he doubled back and crossed to
the other side. Well, that’s that! Another failure!”
“But I’m sure it was Flash he was on!” Teddy said in a positive
voice. “I couldn’t be mistaken there. We’ll hurry back and tell dad.
Maybe he’ll want to go after the skunk.”
The day was drawing to a close, and the two boys started homeward.
Roy had not forgotten the fish, and these hung from the pommel of
the saddle, giving the horse many uneasy moments trying to figure
what those cold things were that kept tapping him on the side.
Teddy was really disappointed that they had not succeeded in
catching the lone horseman, but Roy still had his doubts about the
fellow being Froud. Little was said concerning the incident,
however, until the boys reached the ranch yard of the X Bar X.
There all was confusion. Punchers were rushing about, catching their
ponies and throwing saddles on with almost indecent haste. The
corral was nearly empty of horses. Mr. Manley stood in the center of
the yard issuing orders.
As the brothers rode up they eyed this strange scene with puzzled
frowns.
“For Pete’s sake, what’s all the shooting for?” Teddy inquired.
“Blamed if I know!” Roy answered. “Looks as if everybody was going
some place! Hey, Dad, what’s the trouble? Why all the fuss?”
“Didn’t you hear?” Mr. Manley called out. “Where’ve you been-- Oh,
that’s right, you’ve been fishin’. Well, we got some bad news from
the 8 X 8.”
“What do you mean?” came from Teddy quickly. “Have they been raided
again?”
“That’s just what happened!” the boys’ father declared. “Rustlers
got away with a hundred head of their cattle last night, an’ plugged
two of their men! We’re ridin’ out after the thieves--the whole 8 X
8 outfit an’ us! This time we stay ridin’ till we round up that
gang, too.”
Teddy and Roy looked at each other. Had the figure they had seen at
Harver’s Gully anything to do with this new outrage?