LAYING PLANS.
"There's one thing I don't understand," remarked Billie, after there had
been a little interval of silence, while every one seemed to be busy
with thoughts of his own.
"Better ease your mind, then, Billie, and let us hear what's bothering
you," said Donald, with a smile; for he was used to the ways of his
cousin, and knew that whenever anything did worry the fat chum he had a
regular bulldog method of keeping everlastingly at the matter until he
had smoothed the tangle out, fairly well at least.
"Yes," added Adrian, "you know we're always willing to oblige you with
whatever information we happen to have ourselves, so don't be bashful,
Billie."
"Well, it's just this," and the other lowered his voice to a hoarse
whisper, as though not wanting to take any chances of the prisoners
catching a single word of what he meant to say, "what are we agoing to
do with that crowd when morning comes along? Somebody give me the
answer, please."
"Why, we don't want to be bothered with the lot any longer than we can
help," Donald told him; "and that being the case we'll decide on how
we'd better turn 'em loose, minus their guns, of course."
"Huh! that might mean you'd let 'em have their ponies, I reckon?"
pursued Billie.
"Well, it's considered a cruelty out here on the plains to take a man's
cayuse away from him," said Donald; "and because they're a pack of
cattle rustlers hadn't ought to make us covet their mounts, I take it.
See here, what's ailing you, Billie; you've sure got a bee in your
bonnet right now? I hope you haven't got an eye on one of their hosses,
that buckskin p'raps, and think it'd about be in your class?"
Billie shook his head slowly.
"You wrong me, Donald, sure you do," he observed, mournfully, as he gave
his cousin a reproachful look; "I was only trying to do the thinking for
the bunch for once. And I'll tell you what occurred to me if you want me
to."
"Of course we do, old fellow, and we'll thank you for doing it, too!"
exclaimed Adrian, warmly.
"Same here, Billie!" echoed the other chum.
"All right," Billie went on to say, still in that low, mysterious way;
"then listen here, fellows. Now, it's going to take us quite some time
to drive this lot of steers and cows back to where they came from, I
take it?"
"Sure thing," remarked Adrian, encouragingly, when Billie stopped his
explanation as though seeking confirmation of his statement.
"Well, supposing then, we turned these rustlers loose about the time we
started, and gave 'em to understand we'd shoot the first fellow we saw
dodging after us, what d'ye s'pose they'd be apt to do in that case?
Why, make a bee-line for where they could find another batch of their
breed, and fetch the whole gang awhooping after us. We might find a
dozen or two tough punchers closing in on us long before we could get to
the Bar-S Ranch buildings. How's that?"
"Say, there's a whole lot in what you say, Billie," admitted Donald,
thoughtfully.
"And it's got to be threshed out while we sit here, too," added Adrian.
"I've a plan in mind right now that might fill the bill."
"Then for goodness' sake let's hear it!" begged Billie, eagerly.
"When we leave here in the morning we won't untie the rustlers at all,
only one fellow, who can accompany us on our ride," pursued the owner of
the ranch from which the cattle in the coulie had been stolen and
stampeded.
"But hold on," remarked tender-hearted Billie, "wouldn't it be kind o'
cruel to leave the lot here, tied hand and foot? What if nobody came
along, and they had to just roll around here all the time? Say, it's
_aw_ful to get hungry, and as for me I wouldn't want my worst enemy to
be kept from his feed for even one whole day. I can't imagine any
suffering so terrible; and you wouldn't think of trying such punishment
even on cattle rustlers, would you, Adrian? They're human after all,
even if they are bad men."
"You didn't let me finish what I was going to say, Billie," observed the
ranch boy, quietly. "Didn't you hear me tell how we'd take one of them
along on his pony, picking out the meekest of the bunch, if there's any
choice about that, so we can make him help drive the cattle, and one of
us could keep close to him all the time."
"Yes, yes, go on, please, Ad, I'm following you," said the fat chum.
"When we had gone far enough, miles and miles from here, so that we knew
we'd soon strike the ranch buildings," continued Adrian, "why, then we
could turn him loose, and let him gallop back here to set his pards
free."
"Oh! I get on to what you mean!" declared Billie, admiringly; "by that
time they just couldn't give us any bother, even if they did hurry away
to find the rest of the ugly Walker crowd! That's a fine scheme of
yours, Adrian. Ain't it funny now, with all my thinking that never came
into my mind? But count on me agreeing with you, Adrian. It couldn't be
bettered, no matter how much I badgered my head over the business. And
Donald here says the same, don't you, old fellow?"
"I sure do that same," Donald was quick to say; "and I think that our
chum has covered the ground the best ever."
"There's another thing I've decided on," Adrian went on to remark,
encouraged by the success of his first proposition.
"Let's have it then," Billie begged him; "might as well hear all these
bully ideas in a heap while we're ready to take a shock; and you do beat
the world on thinking up things, Adrian, that's right."
"The very first chance I get I mean to send word to the sheriff of this
county as the owner of Bar-S Ranch, and demand that he come to my place
instanter with a posse behind him, ready to break up this rustler
business. Those cowboys told us a new sheriff had just taken office, and
they kind of hoped he wouldn't be like the last one, right under the
thumb of these terrible Walkers. Fact is, they seemed to have an idea he
stood ready to do his duty the first time any ranchman got nerve enough
to call on him to break the gang up. And I'm going to be that rancher to
take the bull by the horns!"
He did not say this boastingly, nor was his voice elevated so that the
listening prisoners might hear his words; but as he spoke there was a
determined look on Adrian's face that told Donald, who knew him so well,
he had never been more earnest in all his life than when he made this
bold assertion looking to throwing down the glove of defiance to the
Walkers.
"A great scheme, Adrian," Donald remarked, and his manner told even more
than his few words.
"Don't talk louder than we are now," said Billie just then; "because I
saw one of them fellows bob his head up like he was mighty curious to
know what we had our heads together for."
The three Broncho Rider Boys continued to confer for some time longer.
Billie was holding out manfully, but every now and then he would stretch
his mouth in a dreadful way, as the irresistible impulse to yawn came
upon him.
"Better lie down in your blanket, Billie," remarked Adrian, taking pity
on the stout chum; because he knew Billie's failings, and sleeping was
one of them.
"Yes," added Donald, who would rather see the other snuggled in the
folds of his blanket than sitting there with his hands embracing his
knees, thinking up a host of questions between yawns; "we'll do all
that's necessary to keep things going; and if we have any need of your
help, why we promise to call on you."
"Well," said Billie, "in that case p'raps I might take a few winks of
sleep, because that gallop did kind of knock me up. But remember, I
depend on your word of honor to give me a punch if I'm needed."
After that they heard nothing further from Billie, save an occasional
heavy sigh resembling a snore, whenever he chanced to lie on his back.
He was dead to the world in three minutes after lying down, with his
warm blanket wrapped around his ample proportions, much after the manner
in which he had seen Indians do at the quaint Zuni cliff dwellers'
village in Arizona, visited by the three boys before coming up to
Wyoming.
About half an hour after this Adrian thought they would do well to
examine their prisoners, in order to make sure that their bonds were
holding out securely. They did not profess to have had a great deal of
experience in fastening up fellows, and during the time that had elapsed
possibly one of the men might have succeeded in gnawing his bonds partly
through, or working them loose.
So Donald and Adrian took the flashlight torch, and went over each of
the prisoners' bonds. They found them just as secure as when first
triced up, which was to the credit of the young captors, to be sure.
The man whom they had decided must be the leader of the quartette, was
staring hard at Adrian all the time the boys hovered over their
prisoners. Evidently he must have begun to entertain certain suspicions
with regard to the other.
"Say, hain't I seen ye before now, younker?" he finally asked,
pointedly.
"I don't know," replied Adrian, "but I can't remember of ever meeting
you, up to now."
"Might your name be Sherwood?" the other insisted; "and hain't ye the
kid that years ago used ter ride 'round hyah on a calico pony, when the
ole man was alive, an' ran Bar-S Ranch? I heard 'em call yuh Adreen a
while ago, an' 'pears tuh me as how thet same war the name o' thet
lively boy. Air you him?"
Adrian did not see fit to answer. He could not deny the accusation, and
there would be no good end served in acknowledging it; though of course
the man would construe his silence to mean assent, and understand things
accordingly. But perhaps it might be as well that the Walkers knew the
true owner of Bar-S Ranch had come to town to take possession of his
own, and clear up this strange tangle that seemed to have possession of
his property, under Uncle Fred Comstock, who had taken to himself a
wife, and she connected with the Walker tribe.
The boys went back to the dwindling fire, to sit the night out. They did
not try to keep up much of a blaze, lest it serve to draw enemies to the
spot; but sitting in the shadows, they held their rifles in readiness,
and occasionally exchanged a few words as the minutes dragged slowly by.
Finally in the far east appeared the first faint streaks that told of
coming day and the pair of weary watchers welcomed their arrival with
positive relief, for it would mean a change, and action.