INTO SMUGGLERS' GLEN
"Hop to it, boys!" cried Nort, as he dug his spurs lightly against the
sides of his pony. The spurs were blunt ones, for Mr. Merkel insisted
that his men treat their horses kindly, and the spurs were such in name
only. However, even these gentle ticklers indicated to Nort's animal
the need of haste and it leaped ahead.
"Come on!" echoed Dick, following his brother's example and guiding his
animal toward those silent forms on the grassy hillside.
Bud, however, held his animal back and shouted to his cousins:
"Hold on a minute! Don't be rash! Hold on!"
Nort pulled his pony back so suddenly that the creature reared high in
the air. Some time ago Nort would have been unseated by such a trick,
but now he stuck to the saddle like a burr to a cow's tail.
"What's the matter?" Nort shot back over his shoulder.
"Don't you want to find out what killed those cattle?" asked Dick,
riding back to join his cousin.
"Sure!" Bud replied. "But I don't want to keel over myself. There
must be something there that killed those cows, that is if they're
dead. And what killed them may kill us, if we go too close, just as it
has killed others and nearly did for Sam."
"Those cows are dead all right," declared Nort who, now that his pony
was quiet, had taken a pair of field glasses from the case slung at his
shoulder and was examining the silent forms. "They're as dead as a
last year's sunflower."
"But maybe Bud's right about wanting to be careful before we go any
closer," suggested Dick. "You know Uncle Henry warned us not to run
our necks in any noose."
"But we got to find out what killed these cows, so we'll know how to
guard the others against the same danger," declared Nort. "And if it
was poison water they drank, or maybe poison grass they ate, why, we
don't want our other animals to do the same thing, or get any poison
water ourselves."
"No," agreed Bud, who, having taken the glasses from his cousin, was
now making a careful observation, "we don't want to drink any poison
water or have cattle eat any poison grass, if there are such things on
the ranch. But we can stop a bullet just as easy as a cow can and with
just the same bad results for us."
"Bullet?" questioned Nort, wonderingly.
"Do you think those cows were shot?" asked Dick.
"They might have been."
"Who'd do such a thing?" demanded Nort.
"If it was done at all--which I'm not saying for a fact--it probably
was done by the same man, or men, who have been doing the other
killings in Death Valley."
"But what in the world for?" exclaimed Dick.
"Search me!" answered Bud.
"The other cows weren't shot!" asserted Nort. "Sam's horse that died
wasn't shot, and no bullet nipped him or even creased him."
"No," agreed Bud. "I guess I'm out when it comes to guessing those
cows were shot. But let's wait a bit before we go any closer. We
can't do those dead cows any good and it may save our lives."
Though their curiosity made them eager and anxious, the boy ranchers
held themselves in check and while riding slowly around on their ponies
kept a keen watch of the territory surrounding the grazing herd and the
motionless forms of the dead cows.
But when nearly half an hour had passed, and there was no sign of any
human enemy, and when nothing suspicious had been observed, Bud gave
the signal to ride on to come closer to the scene of the mystery.
During the wait the living members of the herd had exhibited no signs
of uneasiness. They wandered around, grazed, ambled here and there,
some coming close to look at the boy riders. They behaved like any
normal herd of cows. Some of the calves showed their playfulness in
kicking up their heels and darting hither and yon, while some of the
young bulls engaged in head-butting contests.
"Whatever happened," said Bud as he and his cousins rode nearer,
"didn't scare the whole herd. Death must have come silently, and in
the night."
"Silently, I grant you, but not necessarily in the night," spoke Dick.
"It could happen any time, as it did to Sam. That was in the daytime."
"You're right," Bud admitted. "It sure is mighty queer. But maybe we
can find out, now that it has happened almost under our noses as you
might say."
This section of Dot and Dash ranch consisted of diversified country.
There was a wooded portion, with a small stream running through it, and
in the distance were rolling hills and dales. It was ideal cow country
and the herbage was succulent and rich.
Near the place where the five dead cows were stretched out was the
beginning of a long, narrow defile, or gorge which ran back into the
hills. Some of these hills were quite high and were covered with a
growth of timber. Others consisted of big rocks piled in fantastic
fashion as though there had been a volcanic eruption some time when the
world was young. Between the hills were small valleys here and there,
which made fine, sheltered places for the grazing of cows.
Having satisfied themselves that there was no lurking enemy waiting to
attack them, the three young men rode up to the cows. The ponies
showed no signs of fear on approaching the dead bodies, as some Eastern
horses might have done. A cow pony has no nerves. He gets used to so
many queer sights and happenings that even an auto rearing up on its
front wheels and running backward while a cow turned somersaults on the
fender would not cause a pony to turn his head.
The boys dismounted, pulled the reins of their animals over their heads
as an intimation to the creatures not to stray and then made their way
toward the cows.
"They're sure dead all right," remarked Bud, prodding the one nearest
him with his foot.
"Have you just found it out?" asked Nort.
"No, but I remember what happened to Sam, and I was thinking maybe they
might be only stunned, or something like that. But they're dead."
"And not long, either," added Dick, noting the fresh and limp condition
of the bodies. "This didn't happen later than last night or early this
morning."
"Guess you're right," admitted Bud. "Yes, they're dead sure enough."
"And a total loss," came from Dick. "Can't even sell the fresh beef in
Los Pompan. We wouldn't dare, not knowing whether the cows died from
poison or not."
"No," agreed Bud. "And it can't be anything but poison of some sort,
for I'm sure they weren't struck by lightning."
"There was no storm last night," declared Nort.
As Dick had said, the cows were a total loss, or nearly so, for it
would hardly pay to have a skinner come out to flay off the hides of
such a small number. Often when a cow or steer is killed by accident
the carcass is fit to eat and there is fresh beef on the ranch or the
carcass may be sold to the nearest butcher. But in this case it would
have been dangerous and foolish to use this cow meat for food.
"Nothing to do but bury 'em and forget it, I guess," sighed Dick. "But
it's quite a loss."
"It sure is," remarked Bud. "But we're not going to bury 'em right
away--at least not all of 'em, and we're not going to forget it."
"No, I didn't mean just that," went on Dick. "We've got to get to the
bottom of this. But why not bury the bodies, Bud?"
"Oh, that will have to be done, of course. But I mean to have some
sort of a doctor come out here and look at these cows, or at one of
them. Maybe he can tell what killed 'em."
"Good idea," said Nort. "There may be a horse doctor in town."
"I think there is," spoke Bud. "And we'll see if he can tell us
anything about what that Life Elixer is composed of. I'd like to have
that analyzed."
"Do you think that, or the queer old man, had anything to do with the
death of these cows?" Dick wanted to know.
"There's no telling. I'm not going to pass up anything until I find
out there's nothing in it!" retorted Bud. "Dot and Dash isn't going to
ruin if I can help it!"
"That's the idea!" echoed his cousins.
They rode about the place but could discover nothing wrong. The cows
seemed to have dropped in their tracks, dying without a struggle,
though the ground around them was considerably cut up by their hooves,
as though the animals had "milled" restlessly before death overtook
them.
The remaining and live members of the herd showed no uneasiness and no
signs of having been injured or disturbed as far as the boys could see
by riding among them.
They rode over to the stream, which the ponies showed an anxious desire
to drink from, but as Dick was riding his horse toward the clear water,
evidently to let the animal plunge its nose in, Bud cried:
"Do you think it's safe?"
"Why not?" Dick asked, momentarily pulling his pony back, and it was
not easy, for the creature was thirsty.
"Maybe this is the poison water the cows drank."
"Running water like this couldn't very well be poisoned," declared
Dick. "A stagnant pool or a water hole might be, but not this. And
horses won't touch bad water. Watch mine."
The pony fairly got beyond control, now, in its mad desire to quench
its thirst and was soon drinking greedily, an example followed by the
other two.
"Yes, I guess this water's all right," Bud finally admitted. "As you
say, a horse won't touch bad water. I'm going to sample some myself."
This he did, and he and his cousins found the stream sweet and
refreshing. There was no taint to it and they drank their fill as did
their ponies.
"Well, what next?" asked Nort, as he sat easily in the saddle, while he
watched the water dribbling from the champing jaws of his steed.
"Shall we go back and get that horse doctor, and then bury the dead
cows?"
"Not yet," answered Bud. "I want to ride up that defile and see what's
at the other end." He indicated a long, narrow valley leading up into
the wooded and rocky hills.
"What's the idea?" asked Dick.
"Oh, just a notion," Bud replied. "That would make a good hiding place
for rustlers," he added.
"It's dark, and silent and secret enough," agreed Dick as they turned
their horses into the defile. "Regular smugglers' glen!" and he
chuckled at his suggestion.
"We can call it that," assented Bud. "Come on, then, let's see what
we'll find in Smugglers' Glen."
They rode on into the narrow, sinister valley, all unaware what they
would discover there.