A PARLEY
For a moment the two boys remained motionless and quiet, waiting for
what might develop. But the dying sparks of the rocket--if such it
was--were followed by no other demonstration.
"We'd better call Billee and the others," murmured Bud.
"That's right," agreed Nort in a low voice, though there was no need
for this, as the rocket-senders must have been several miles away.
Billee Dobb awakened at the slightest whisper near his bunk, and in a
few moments Dick, Yellin' Kid and the other cowboys, of whom there were
half a dozen at the "fort," as it was called, were awake. It did not
take them long to hustle into their clothes, and then, draped in
ponchos, for it was still raining hard, they stood out in the darkness,
waiting for what might happen next.
"Couldn't have been a rocket," murmured Old Billee, as the rain pelted
down. "It's too wet for that."
"Must have been some Greasers around a camp fire--though how in the
name of a maverick they got one to burn I don't see," observed Yellin'
Kid, making his voice only a little lower than usual. "Must 'a' been
that one of 'em chucked a brand up in the air."
"It wasn't like a fire brand," declared Nort.
"It was just like a regular rocket," added Bud.
Old Billee was about to say something, probably to the effect that it
was a false alarm, and that they'd all do better to be back in their
warm bunks when the blackness of the night was suddenly dispelled off
to the south by a sliver of flame, followed by a trail of red sparks.
"There she goes again!" cried Bud.
"The same as before," added Nort.
"That's a rocket right enough," admitted Billee.
"Like the time we was after cattle rustlers," said Yellin' Kid,
referring to an occasion, not fully set forth in any of the books,
when, as the Diamond X took after a gang of cattle thieves, rockets
were used as signals by the marauders to communicate with separated
bands.
"What do you reckon it means?" asked Dick, who often dropped into the
vernacular of the plains.
"Well, it _might_ mean almost anything," admitted Old Billee. "Can't
be any of Uncle Sam's soldiers that far south, or we'd 'a' heard about
it. As near as I can figure it there must be some crowd down there
trying to give a signal to some crowd somewhere else."
This was sufficiently vague to have covered almost anything; as sport
writers spread the "dope," in talking about a coming football contest
between Yale and Princeton.
Yellin' Kid must have sensed this, for with a chuckle he said:
"You're bound to be right, Billee, no matter which way the cat jumps.
It sure is _some_ crowd signallin' to _another_ crowd."
"Do you suppose they're trying to signal us?" asked Dick.
"Don't believe so," remarked Bud. "I think it's some of the sheep men
getting ready to rush in here. That rocket is a notice to some of
their friends around here that they're going to start."
"Well, if they come we'll stop 'em!" declared Bud, and the others
murmured their agreement with this sentiment.
They waited a little longer after the sparks of the second rocket had
died away, but the signal--and it seemed positively to be that--was not
repeated.
"No use standing here," murmured Old Billee. "It will soon be morning,
and if anything happens we'll be ready for it. Let's get our rest out.
Is your trick up, Bud?"
"Not quite, Billee."
"Well, Dick and I go on next," remarked Yellin' Kid, "and we might as
well jump in now as long as we're up. Turn in, Bud and Nort."
Our young heroes were glad enough to do this, though they never would
have asked to be relieved before their time. Accordingly, after a few
moments of looking in vain toward where they had seen the rocket, for a
repetition of the signals, Bud and Nort went inside the cabin, and
stretched out for a little rest before day should fully break.
The remainder of the night--really a short period--was without alarm or
any sign that hostile forces were on their way to take possession of
land claimed by the owner of Diamond X.
"Grub's ready!" was the musical call of the cook, and soon those who
were holding the line at Spur Creek were gathered about the table.
"Well, nothing happened, I see, or, rather, I don't see," remarked Bud
to Dick and the Yellin' Kid who had come in off guard duty.
"Nary a thing," answered he of the loud voice. "Didn't hear a peep out
of anybody and they wasn't no more fireworks."
"But we'd better keep pretty closely on the watch to-day," suggested
Dick. "Those rockets meant something."
"You're right," said Billee Dobb. "We'll stick right close to our
little old fort to-day, and, boys, be sure your guns are in quick
working order. There may be no shootin' and then, ag'in, there may
be," he drawled.
I suppose I need not tell you that the boy ranchers in their secret
hearts rather hoped there would be shooting. They had been under fire
before, and while they were not foolhardy nor inclined to take risks,
they felt that if there was to be a fight on the part of the sheep men
to get unlawful possession of Diamond X land, the sooner such a fight
took place the better. Suspense was worse than actual conflict.
So after the "chores" had been attended to about the Spur Creek fort
(and there were not many duties), it became a matter of waiting. Spur
Creek made a bend at this part of Mr. Merkel's holdings, and the fort
was situated on what was a sort of triangular peninsula, with the
stream flowing on two sides of it. In this way it was what, during the
World War, was called a "spearhead" into the country to the south, and
it was from this country that the Mexican, Greaser or other sheep
herders might be expected to invade the range long held sacred to
horses and cattle. But this land, by government proclamation, was now
thrown open to all comers.
Because of the peculiar formation of the land it lent itself readily to
defense, and also gave a good post for observation. The "fort" had
been hastily built on the extreme point, as near the creek as was
practical. Back, on either side, extended the banks of the stream, and
when breakfast had been served Old Billee, who was in command, selected
those who were to patrol the banks on each side of the cabin, for a
distance several miles back along the edges of the "spearhead."
The morning passed. The first contingent of scouts had come in to eat
and another body was about to go out to relieve them when Bud, who had
gone down to the edge of the creek, to clean a particularly muddy pair
of shoes, looked across the stream, and uttered a cry of alarm.
Riding up from the southland, Mexico if I may so call it (though the
actual country of the Montezumas was distant many miles), was a lone
horseman. He was coming along, "sweating leather," and was seen by
others of the Diamond X forces almost as soon as observed by Bud.
"Some one's coming!" yelled Bud, and he stood up on the edge of Spur
Creek looking at the approaching horseman until Yellin' Kid shouted:
"Better duck back here, boy. No telling when he may unlimber a gun!"
It was good advice and Bud took it, to the extent of getting back
nearer the cabin fort. On came the rider, seemingly fearless, until he
pulled rein on the other side of the stream and sat there on the back
of his panting horse, a most picturesque figure.
"Mex from hat to stirrups," murmured Snake Purdee.
"An' wicked from outside to inside," added Yellin' Kid in a lower voice
than usual.
The Mexican rider, for such he seemed to be, raised one hand, smiled to
show two rows of very white teeth in the expanse of a very dark face,
took off his broad-brimmed and high crowned hat and said:
"_Parlez, señors?_"
It was in the form of a question, and as such Old Billee answered it.
"Talk?" grunted the veteran cow puncher. "What about?"
"The land," replied the stranger, with another smile evidently intended
to be engaging, but which seemed rather mocking. "I come to ask why
you are here in such force, evidently to stop any who might wish to
cross to feed their stock on open range?"
"Well, it'll save trouble in a way, if you recognize the fact that we
are here to stop you," said Billee. "An' we're goin' to! _Sabe_?"
"But for why?" asked the other, speaking English much better than his
appearance seemed to indicate he might be able to. "It is land open to
all who come, and I have come----"
"Then you may as well go back where you came from!" interrupted Yellin'
Kid, "'cause there's going to be no onery sheep pastured here, an' you
can roll that in your cigaret an' smoke it!" he added, as the stranger
calmly made himself a "smoke" from a wisp of paper and some tobacco he
shook into it from a small cloth bag.
There was no answer to this implied challenge on the part of Yellin'
Kid, hardly even the flicker of an eyelash to show that the stranger
heard and understood.
Yet he must have heard. Yellin' Kid was not one to leave a matter of
that sort in doubt. His tones were always above the average.
And that he has made himself plain was evident to all--even to the
stranger it would appear. For there was that in his air--something
about him--which seemed to say that he had absorbed what the cowboy had
intimated.
Whether he would profit by the remarks--well, that was another
matter--something for the future.
But if he was at all apprehensive it was not manifested by any tremor
of his hands; for not a grain of tobacco was spilled.