SETTING THE TRAP
Just as Bob had remarked, the hard work of the first day of the grand
round-up seemed to be done. The cowboys had taken their wearied mounts
to the corral, and were themselves gathering in little knots, to talk
over the exciting events marking the start of the regular Fall clean-up.
It promised to be a banner year for Circle Ranch. There were half again
as many young cattle to brand with the well known ring, designed to
stamp them as the property of Colonel Haywood. Besides, the main herd
had wintered better the preceding year than for a long time; there had
been less loss through wolves, and the depredations of rustlers; and, to
cap the climax, many unclaimed cows and steers had fallen to the
colonel, after his raid on Lost Valley.
All these things made everybody feel “bully,” as the cow punchers
themselves expressed it. And as Frank and Bob passed group after group
they could see that, tired as the workers must be, this feeling was
constantly cropping out.
“Nobody seems to think of anything like danger right now,” said Bob, in
a low tone, as they passed a bunch of the wild riders, among whom were
several dark-faced Mexicans.
“I should say not,” echoed his chum. “You see they believe our friend
Mendoza is across the border before now, and likely to stay on Mexican
soil for some time, if he knows what’s good for his health.”
“Did you notice that fellow on the outskirts of the bunch; and how he
turned deliberately around to look at us when we rode past?” asked Bob.
“Sure,” came the quick reply, “but if we didn’t know what we did, I
reckon neither of us would have thought it queer for him to do that. If
he’s a stranger here, as seems likely, it would be only natural for him
to look, when one of the others remarked that the colonel’s son was
coming.”
“I agree with you there, Frank; but seeing that we _do_ know
something, don’t you admit that there was something suspicious in the
quick way he turned? For my part, I only gave him one peep as I waved my
hand to the lot; but that seemed to tell me he was frowning to beat the
band. How?”
“Just what he was, Bob.”
“Then you noticed that too, did you?” demanded the Kentucky boy,
eagerly.
“No question about it; and three to one that fellow is no other that the
rustler who’s been such a nuisance around here for several years,” Frank
replied.
Bob whistled, as was his usual fashion when surprised.
“But think of his nerve, would you, Frank?”
“Oh! they say he’s got more than his share of that, all right,” chuckled
his chum, as they headed toward the horse corral, to leave their mounts
in the care of the man who had charge there.
“Some of these punchers must have known him; he used to be on a ranch
once, I’m told,” Bob went on.
“That’s so,” said Frank, slowly, “but it was years ago that he broke
loose, and took to an easier way of getting a herd than raising cattle.
Besides, you must remember we agreed he would shave his face clean, to
start with. That must make a big change in any Mexican. And he can keep
his hat well down over his eyes. Last of all, he relies on the fact that
nobody dreams he would take such risks as to come here right now.”
After leaving their horses, the boys headed straight for the ranch
house, where they asked for Colonel Haywood.
It chanced that he was in his business office, in consultation with the
overseer, which fact pleased Frank; since Bart Heminway would have to be
put in touch with the truth concerning the presence of the notorious
rustler at the Circle Ranch round-up.
The stockman looked up as the lads entered, and smiled.
“Back from your little gallop, eh?” he remarked; for he had seen them
starting forth, and wondered at the powers of endurance shown by both
boys and horses; for they had been pretty busy all that stirring day.
“Yes, Dad, and with some news that will make you sit up and take notice,
I reckon,” replied Frank, after glancing around, to make sure there was
no chance of his being overheard by way of the open window.
Bob had, by arrangement, stepped over, and taken up his position where
he could occasionally thrust his head outside a window and in this way
make sure no listener was crouching near the wall of the building.
“Now you have me guessing, son,” remarked the stockman.
“Three to one it’s something about that Mendoza!” exclaimed the
overseer, who had never ceased to lament the fact that they had allowed
the rustler to escape so easily.
From the fact of Bob laughing at this chance remark, the stockman
realized that Bart had hit pretty close to the line.
“What about him now, Frank?” he asked.
“He didn’t cross the boundary after all, Dad,” said the boy. “Fact is,
he’s come back to this region, bent on getting his revenge for what the
Circle Ranch outfit did to knock his game to flinders.”
“Where did you get this interesting news, son?” asked the other,
frowning; for well he knew that it meant trouble of some sort.
“We happened to run across that old Moqui, Havasupai, when we were
riding just now. He was about tired out, but bent on getting to the
ranch house some time to-night. He told us that after riding off many
miles to the south with his men, Mendoza had slipped away, and headed
back this way.”
“But Frank, how did the Indian know what the rustler had in mind?”
“I think he overheard a talk between Mendoza and one of his men,” the
boy replied. “The rustler was angry at the slick way we shut him up that
day, and walked all his cattle off, as well as our own. He said he was
going to pay you up, if it was the last thing he ever did. And, dad, I
reckon he’s right here now, in the thick of the round-up, ready to
strike before another morning!”
Colonel Haywood and his overseer exchanged glances.
“Oh! he’s ekal to it, Colonel,” declared Bart. “When I think of the bold
games that fellar has engineered through all these years, and the way he
gave us the merry laugh every time we hunted him, I’m ready to admit
he’d be ready to drop in whar fifty enemies was gathered, and make
b’lieve he was one of ’em. And thar’s sure several Mexican ropers along
I never set eyes on before. Just as like as not one of ’em might be
Mendoza.”
“Did the Moqui know what sort of revenge this fellow expected to take,
Frank?” the stockman continued, uneasily.
“I don’t know whether he was only guessing, or knew about it,” replied
the boy; “but he said something about his poisoning the spring-hole
where most of our cattle drink; or else burning the building, while all
of us were sleeping!”
“Either one would be bad enough,” declared the stockman; “but now that
we have been forewarned it’ll have to be a clever man who can accomplish
such a game.”
“What will you do, dad?” asked Frank, eagerly.
“First of all, put a guard over the spring, who will remain in hiding,
with orders to shoot down any man seen to be tampering with the water,
especially if he looks like a Mexican,” replied the rancher, firmly.
“And about burning the buildings?” continued Frank.
“I’ll make sure to be ready for him here,” the stockman continued. “It
would please me first class to catch the house-burner in the act. Of
course, now that we believe Mendoza is here for some evil purpose, we
could jump on him without warning. That might suit most people; but it’s
always been my plan to let a rascal go the length of his rope before
nabbing him.”
“I told Bob that, Dad,” remarked Frank. “But will you let all the boys
in on the game?”
“Not at all, Frank. I might tell several who can be trusted to keep a
still tongue in their heads; for we shall need a certain amount of help
here to watch the house on all sides, and get the fellow just as he
strikes his match. Old Hank Coombs came in just before you did, and is
around. Of course I shall count on him, as well as on Ted Conway, Scotty
and Jeff Davis.”
“But you will let us sit up with the bunch, Dad; after bringing in the
news you wouldn’t shut us off, would you?” Frank asked.
“It wouldn’t seem right, I admit, after all the good work you two boys
have done,” remarked the stockman; “though you’ll have to promise to
hold back, and let some of the husky men do the actual hard work. I
can’t afford to take the chances of my boys getting hurt by such a
desperate rascal.”
Of course both of them readily promised, and after some further
conversation Frank and his chum hurried out. The coming of Old Hank
Coombs to the ranch was an event that greatly pleased Frank. Much that
he knew about life in the open had come through the kindly instruction
of the veteran cow puncher and hunter; and the boy could look back to
many a happy night spent with old Hank beside a fire somewhere out on
the plains, or in the mountains.
Circle Ranch was a bustling hive just then. Scores of strangers were apt
to visit the place during the several days that the drive and the
round-up were on, interested in the great event. Men representing big
papers and magazines in the East had come to see how these things were
conducted; for the stock raising business in the Southwest was soon
going into a decline, because farms were being taken up everywhere,
under the wonderful new system of irrigation that was being put into
practice in many localities.
After supper there was heard the sound of merry music. Some of the boys
played the mandolin or banjo; others sang; and a few even tried to dance
with their customary vigor, though weariness compelled them to speedily
abandon this form of hilarity.
Colonel Haywood had carried out all his quickly-laid plans for the
campaign, looking to the arrest of the rustler. He had sent a reliable
man to the spring-hole where the cattle drank, with strict orders as to
what he should do if anyone came and acted suspiciously during the
night. No mercy was to be shown a man who would descend to such a pass
as to try and poison an entire herd of cattle, just to have revenge on
the man who had broken up his unlawful trade.
Bart Heminway talked to the four cowboys wanted at the house, and they
had managed to slip indoors. They were now waiting to be placed on their
several stations by the stockman, who exhibited some of the qualities of
a general in managing his affairs.
The saddle boys had taken up their position in a spot close to Ted
Conway and Old Hank. In figuring out just where the intended attack
might come, this particular place had been deemed first choice. The
direction of the night wind convinced Colonel Haywood that a shrewd man
who wished to fire the buildings would be apt to select it as his
starting point.
It was a dark night, too, despite the fact that there was supposed to be
a moon back of the heavy clouds which covered the heavens.
Once having taken up their position, Frank and Bob knew that they must
remain as still as a cat watching for a mouse to show at a hole in the
flooring. There was no telling when the enemy might appear. After having
started the blaze, if that proved the intention of the rustler, he would
have his plans laid to gallop madly away on the freshest horse in the
corral, and thus laugh at pursuit.
Tired after the labors of that wonderful day, the cowboys had sought
their bunks sooner than usual. By ten o’clock all had become silent
around the place. Here and there a fire smouldered, past which an
occasional figure might be seen to shuffle; or it might be a dog
wandering around, looking for bones.
Frank and Bob lay close, never moving a muscle, though to the latter it
was indeed hard work. An hour, two of them, had crept along, and nothing
happened. Bob even began to wonder whether after all there might not be
some mistake; or whether the rustler’s nerve had failed him in the
pinch.
Then he felt a slight nudge in the region of his ribs, that came from
Frank’s elbow. This warned him that his keen-eared chum had caught some
suspicious movement close by. Perhaps the rustler was coming, bent on
carrying out his scheme of firing the buildings belonging to Circle
Ranch! Bob held his breath, and waited to see what would speedily
happen.