THE ALARM
Gathered in front of their "fort," as it laughingly had been
christened, the boy ranchers and their cow puncher comrades watched the
approach of the lone horseman. He had come up through the valley--the
pass that, like the neck of a bag tied about the middle with a string,
connected two great lands--Mexico and the United States. But one land
represented law and order to a degree, while the other was woefully
lacking in these essentials to progress.
For a time the stranger rode on at the fast pace Yellin' Kid had at
first observed, and the atmosphere was so clear that his progress was
easily noticed without glasses, though Bud brought out a pair after a
moment or two.
Then, suddenly, the approaching horseman seemed to become aware, for
the first time, of the new structure at Spur Creek--the "fort" of
Diamond X.
For he began to slacken his pace and when a quarter of a mile from the
place where Mr. Merkel had determined to make a stand, the horseman
pulled up his steed. Then he sat in the saddle and gazed long and
earnestly at the shack and those who stood grouped in front of it.
"Look out!" suddenly cried Bud, who was watching the horseman through
the glasses. "He's going to draw!"
This meant gun play, and the cowboys realized this, for they lost no
time in "ducking" behind shelter. Bud, too, was taking no chances, but
as he continued to look, from a vantage point, he said:
"I made a mistake. He's only using glasses, same as I am. He didn't
pull a gun."
"Who is he?" asked Nort.
"Anybody we know?" Dick inquired.
"Never saw him before, to my knowledge," remarked Bud. "He's a Mexican
or a Greaser, I take it." These terms were almost synonymous, except
that a Mexican was a little higher class than a Greaser half-breed, as
the term, was sometimes applied.
"Let me take a look," suggested Yellin' Kid. "I know most of the class
on the other side of the Rio Grande."
Long and earnestly the cowboy gazed through the glasses at the lone
figure on the other side of Spur Creek--a gaze that was returned with
interest, so to speak.
"He's Mex all right," said Yellin' Kid, handing the glasses to Billee,
"but what his game is I don't know."
"Looks like he just came to size us up," observed Billee, after an
observation, at the conclusion of which the stranger turned his horse
and rode slowly off in the direction whence he had come.
"That's right," assented Bud.
"Do you think he's a sheep herder?" asked Nort.
"Might be. Looks mean enough," said Yellin' Kid. The cattle men could
say nothing too strong against this despised class of breeders and
their innocent charges. Sheep herders were the scum of the earth to
the ranchmen, and to say that a man has "gone in for sheep" was to
utter the last word against him, though he might be a decent member of
society for all that, and with as kind and human instincts as his more
affluent neighbor raising cattle or horses.
"Well, he knows we're here and on the job, at any rate," commented Bud
as the horseman slowly disappeared from sight in the distance.
"Yes, and he'll very likely tell his band and we'll have them buzzing
about our ears before we know it," remarked Billee.
"Then we'll fight!" cried Bud.
"That's right!" chimed in Nort and Dick.
"I wish my leg was in better shape," complained Yellin' Kid. "But I
can make a shift to ride if I have to."
However, the next two days passed with no signs of any activities on
the part of the enemy. No sheep were sighted being driven up through
the pass to the lands that were now, by government proclamation, open
to whoever wanted to claim them, barring only those already having
large holdings of grazing range.
"But this is only the calm before the storm," declared Bud, when he and
his chums talked it over. "We'll have a fight yet."
And it was very likely that this would happen. While waiting, though,
every opportunity was taken to better fortify that part of Spur Creek
where Mr. Merkel's land began.
The shack was made more comfortable, a telephone line was strung to it
from the main ranch at Diamond X, and it was well stocked with
provisions.
"And we'd better run in a pipe line so we can pump water directly from
the creek into the shack," said Billee when certain improvements were
being talked over.
"Why that?" asked Nort.
"Well, it's terrible thing in this hot weather to be cut off from your
water supply," said the old frontiersman. "And it might happen that
the Greasers and sheep men would get between our fort and the stream.
Then we couldn't get out for water without losing our scalps, so to
speak. But if we have a pump in here, and the pipe line concealed so
the scoundrels can't locate it, we can be assured of a never-ending
supply of water."
"It's good advice," decided Mr. Merkel when it was told to him, and,
accordingly the pump was installed. During this time no more was seen
of the solitary horseman, or, indeed, of any visitors or spies on the
Mexican side of Spur Creek. I say the Mexican side, though, as a
matter of fact the Mexican border was some miles away, and I merely
mention that country to identify the two sections, one on one side and
one on the other of the stream, which was wholly within the United
States.
Meanwhile Sheriff Hank Fowler had endeavored to trace the thieves who
had robbed Mr. Merkel's safe, but there had been no results. Professor
Wright and his men were busily engaged in further search for fossil
bones, and they were considered out of suspicion.
Mr. Merkel had engaged the services of a lawyer to take up with the
authorities in Washington the matter of his stolen deeds in an effort
to hold to his land. There were rumors that a number of the new
government claims had been taken up on the land that was once the
property of the Indians, and among them some of the claim holders were
sheep herders, it was said.
"Well, they'd better keep away from Spur Creek--that's all I got to
say!" cried Yellin' Kid in his usual loud tones.
So far, however, there had been no advent of the hated "woollies" as
they were sometimes called. But the boy ranchers and their friends did
not relax their vigilance. The sheep and their human owners might
drift in across the creek at any hour, day or night, so a constant
guard was maintained.
It was one rainy, disagreeable night that the alarm came. It was the
turn of Bud and Nort to stand watch, and they were keeping wary eyes
turned toward the creek boundary through the mist of rain.
"This is no fun," mused Nort as he wrapped his poncho closer about him.
"I've seen more jolly times," agreed Bud with a laugh. "But it can't
last forever. Wonder what time it is, anyhow?"
Before Nort could answer there suddenly flashed in the southern sky a
glare of fire.
"Lightning!" exclaimed Nort.
"A rocket!" cried Bud, all excited. "It means something, Nort! Maybe
the sheep herders are coming!"