THE WARNING
"Will it be safe to leave our camp alone, like this?" asked Nort, as he
and his companions rode off, leaving behind them the white tents,
gleaming in the wondrous light of a full moon.
"Why not?" inquired Bud. "It won't walk away."
"No, but some one might come in and take everything."
"There isn't much worth taking. You brought your old stuff with you,
we have our ponies, so all they could snibby would be the camp dishes,
and they aren't worth the risk."
"Could they drive off any of your cattle?" asked Dick.
"Why don't you say _our_ cattle?" asked Bud with a smile, which was
plainly to be seen in the brilliant moonlight. "You fellows are in
this venture with me, you know."
"We haven't yet gotten used to thinking of it that way," remarked Nort,
as he rode beside Buck Tooth. The old Zuni Indian managed to keep pace
beside the boys without ever urging his pony forward, a trick of riding
which even Bud envied.
"Well, you'd _better_ get used to it," was the laughing retort. "Your
dad staked you to part of the expenses of this deal, same as mine did
me, and of course you'll share in the profits--if there are any," Bud
added rather dubiously. "And if we don't get that water back there
won't be enough to make you need a hat to carry 'em off."
"As bad as that?" inquired Nort.
"Oh, I'm not saying it's bad--_yet_!" exclaimed Bud. "There may be
just a stoppage in the pipe, which can easily be cleaned out. Or, it
may be--something else."
But what else it might be he did not say, and Nort and Dick were not
sufficiently familiar with irrigation and flume lines to hazard a
guess. But they knew enough about their cousin to tell that he was
worried.
"What do you plan to do?" asked Dick, as the four rode on, their ponies
occasionally stumbling as they mounted the rocky trail that led over
Snake Mountain. "Look for that man--the one you----"
"The one I _didn't_ shoot!" interrupted Bud. "I'm as sure I didn't hit
him as I am that we four are here this minute. I know I fired too
high!"
"Unless the bullet hit a rock and glanced down," suggested Nort.
"Well, yes, that may have happened," admitted Bud. "But if he was
badly hurt he couldn't get away, as he did."
"Could he have fallen into any hole or gully?" asked Dick. "We didn't
look for that."
"He might have," admitted the western lad. "But what I'm looking for,
now, isn't that fellow, who may or may not be shot, but for the break
in my flume--that's what I want to locate. Once I get the water so
it's running back in my reservoir I'll feel better. For if there's a
permanent shut-off we might as well move out of Flume Valley," he went
on. "The cattle would just naturally die of thirst!"
"Isn't there any water at all?" asked Nort, as he pulled his pony up
sharply when the animal stumbled.
"Not enough to water all the stock I aim to raise," answered Bud. "At
the far end of the valley--away from our camp--the grass grows pretty
well, for some rain does fall there once in a while. But there isn't a
water-hole worth the name, and you know what happens to cattle when
they can't get a drink!"
"I should say so!" commented Nort, for he and his brother had seen some
of the terrible suffering caused by animals having to be driven long
distances without any water being available. "Then the pipe line is
your only hope?"
"That, and the ancient underground watercourse it connects with to
bring water from the Pocut River," replied Bud. "You see, there's a
sort of natural tunnel under the mountain, and this was once an old
river bed. I suppose, or at least Professor Wright has told us, that
once this tunnel was full-up with water. But there was a change in the
direction of the old stream, and the water tunnel dried up. However,
it didn't cave in, except in a few places, and we now use it to bring
water to Flume Valley. There is really only a comparatively short
length of pipe at either end, one end being where the water from the
Pocut River enters, and the other where the pipe delivers the water to
our reservoir."
"How are you going to find the break?" asked Dick.
"Or stoppage?" suggested Nort.
"Well, I aim to ride over the mountain tonight," answered Bud, "and see
if all is clear at the river intake end of the line. If it is, I'll
know there must be a stoppage, or break, somewhere inside the old water
tunnel."
"How you going to find that?" inquired Nort.
"Why, we'll get lanterns and ride through," replied Bud. "That's easy!"
"Ride through an underground river!" cried Dick. "You can't!"
"No, we couldn't if the old underground river course was _full_,"
agreed Bud, "but it _isn't_. There's only a comparatively small amount
of water flowing through the old course, which is wide enough for two
of us to ride or walk abreast, and twice as high as you need. I've
ridden through more than once. It's like a long, natural tunnel under
the mountain, with water flowing in the center depression, so to speak."
"Must be rather spooky inside there," suggested Nort.
"It is a little; and it's nearly an all-day's ride. But it's the only
way to find the trouble. Professor Wright said that some day the water
might work through, and go off on a new course, and in that case I'd be
dished until I could stop up the break."
"Well, we'll help all we can," offered Nort.
"Sure thing!" echoed his brother.
"We'd better take it a bit easy now," spoke Bud, as the ascent of the
mountain became more steep. "We don't want to wind the ponies, and we
may have a hard day ahead of us to-morrow."
"It _is_ quite a climb," admitted Nort. "Are we going to ride all
night?"
"No, we'll turn in about midnight," said Bud. "But this will give us a
start so we can get to the Pocut River end of the flume by morning. We
can stop any time you fellows want to."
"Oh, we aren't tired!" Dick hastened to say, a sentiment with which his
brother agreed. "This is as much fun as riding herd, and driving off
the cattle rustlers."
"Glad you like it," commented Bud. "And the rustlers might as well
drive off our stock, if we don't soon get this water to running again.
Old Billee said I'd have bad luck when that black rabbit crossed my
path, and it sure is coming!"
"What black rabbit was that?" asked Nort, curiously.
"One that gave me a tumble when I was riding to meet you," answered
Bud. "I never saw one before, and I don't want to again. Not that I'm
superstitious, but there sure is something queer about _this_! I don't
like it for a cent!"
The boy ranchers and the Zuni Indian rode on, mounting higher and
higher along the mountain trail, heading for the summit. And when they
reached it, and Bud, by a glance at his watch, announced that it was
midnight, he followed with the suggestion that they camp there for the
remainder of the night.
"We can make the rest of the trip in a couple of hours, for it's down
hill," he said.
"Camp suits me," murmured Nort, and soon, after a bite to eat, they
rolled themselves in their blankets, having tied the ponies to scrub
bushes, and went to sleep. The riding of the boys, coupled with the
pure air they had breathed, brought them slumber almost at once, and
even Buck Tooth, alert as he usually was, neither saw nor heard
anything of the sinister visitor who came softly upon the sleeping ones
during the night hours.
For there did come a visitor in the night, as evidenced by a scrawled
warning, on a dirty piece of paper, fastened to a stubby tree by a
long, sharp thorn.
It was this fluttering bit of paper that caught Dick's eye when he
awakened, rather lame and stiff, and stretched himself in his blanket
as the sun shone in his eyes next morning.
"Hello!" he cried, taking a hasty look around to see if Bud had,
perchance, ridden away without awakening his companions, and had left
this note to tell them so. "What's the idea?" and then Dick noticed
that all three of his companions were stretched out near him, and the
four ponies were standing together not far away.
"What idea?" asked Bud, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
"That special delivery letter," and Dick pointed to it. "Wasn't here
last night," he went on, "for I tied Blackie to that tree before I
staked him out. What is it?"
Bud rolled out of his blanket, and took the piece of paper from the
tree.
"It's a warning!" he announced.
"A warning?" cried Nort and Dick, while Buck Tooth began making a fire.
"Yes," went on the boy rancher. "Here's what it says:
"'Don't take no more watter frum Pocut River if you want to stay
healthy!'"
"Whew!" whistled Dick. "What does that mean?"
"Just what I'd like to know," said Bud, and then all three boys
started, and looked toward the upward slope of the mountain, down which
they had partly descended. For there came rolling toward them a mass
of dirt and stones, indicating the approach of some one.