DOUBLING UP
Nort and Dick looked at each other as Bud slipped into the tent where
the telephone had been installed. Snake Purdee strode over to the
water pail, and took a long drink.
"That's good stuff!" he remarked with a sigh of satisfaction, and then
he led his pony to the trough, into which the thirsty animal dipped his
muzzle deeply. "Mighty good water!"
"An' I hope nothing happens to it," voiced Old Billee.
"Happens! What d'yo' mean?" questioned the bearer of bad tidings.
"The water's here, ain't it?"
"But no tellin' how long it'll run," added the veteran cowpuncher. "A
black rabbit run across Bud's path the day he was ridin' to meet Nort
and Dick, and ever since then----"
"Do you mean t' tell me you still believe in that old superstition?"
laughed Snake Purdee, who had acquired this name because of his
exceeding fear of rattlers and other reptiles. He had been bitten
once, he declared, and had nearly died.
"There's more'n superstition!" declared Old Billee. "Look at that!"
and he brought out the board warning, and related the incident of the
mysterious disappearance of the water, and its equally strange
reappearance.
"Oh, it's just one of those freaks of the old, underground river
course," said Snake. "Of course I wouldn't put much past Hank Fisher
and Del Pinzo, but if either of them sent these warnings it was t' play
a joke, an' scare our boy ranchers. Guess Hank's jealous!" laughed
Snake.
"But what has happened over at Square M?" asked Dick.
"Has Hank or Del Pinzo anything to do with that?" Nort wanted to know.
"I don't see how they could," spoke Snake. "It's just that----"
But at this moment Bud came out of the tent, having finished his
telephonic talk with his father.
"There's an epidemic of disease at dad's Square M ranch," Bud explained
to his cousins and the others. "It's so bad that a lot of the steers
have already died, and dad is going to take off the rest of the stock
before they catch the trouble. Some he's going to put at Triangle B,
some at Diamond X and some he's going to haze over to us. We'll have
to double up, fellows," he told Nort and Dick. "I guess dad is glad
he's got Flume Valley now. It may save him a lot of money that
otherwise he'd lose."
"Got t' double up, eh?" murmured Old Billee Dobb. "How many head's he
goin' t' send here, Bud?"
"About five hundred he told me. They'll be stock that hasn't been near
the infected cattle," he went on, "so there won't be any danger to our
herds."
"Can we look after five hundred more steers?" asked Nort.
"Oh, I'm comin' to help you," offered Snake. "I forgot t' say that I
was going t' move into one of your _flats_," and he waved his hand
toward where the white tents made an attractive camp. "Didn't bring my
duffle bag," he added, "but one of th' boys is going t' ride over this
evening with his 'n' mine."
"Is some one else coming?" Bud wanted to know. "If we double up too
much we'll need more grub."
"Your dad told me t' tell you he'd send some," went on Snake. "Yep, a
new ranch hand is due t' arrive this evenin'. He's a wonder with th'
gun an' rope, t' hear him tell it!" chuckled Snake.
"One of them fly boys?" asked Old Billee, mildly, with a gleam of light
in his eyes, however. "Will his heels need clippin', Snake?"
"Might," was the brief answer. "But now you know th' worst. There's
trouble at Square M, an' you'll have to double up with cow punchers an'
stock, Bud."
"I don't mind," said the boy rancher. "Dad says he'll split the
profits with me, and that's what we're looking for--to make a success
of Flume Valley ranch. We'll do it, too!" he asserted confidently.
"If th' water holds out, an' no more black rabbits don't throw you,"
murmured Old Billee Dobb.
"Shucks!" laughed Bud, but the day was to come when he recalled the old
cowboy's ominous warning.
"It's queer, though," said Bud that evening, when they were gathered
around the camp fire, discussing the coming of the cattle from Square
M, which were to arrive the following day, or the one after that.
"It's queer what made that disease break out so suddenly among dad's
steers. There aren't any cases of it at Double Z; are there?" he asked
Snake. "And Fisher's place is the next one nearest ours."
"No, I don't recall hearin' that Hank's stock is sufferin' any," the
cowboy admitted. "But Square M is hard hit. It's a disease the
government experts are tryin' t' find a remedy for. Been experimentin'
with all sorts of serums, germs an' th' like, I understand."
"Is it a germ disease?" asked Nort.
"That's what they call it," the cowboy asserted. "It can be given
easy, from one steer to another, just by rubbin' horns, so t' speak.
Or the trouble may break out sudden in a herd, if th' germ gets loose
in 'em."
"That's all bosh!" declared Pocut Pete, the new cowboy who had arrived
just about grub time, with his own outfit and that of Snake Purdee, who
had ridden over "light."
"What's bosh?" asked Old Billee.
"The idea that this disease is spread by germs, or 'bugs,' as some
folks call 'em. I think the cattle get poisoned by eating some weed,
same as lots of 'em get locoed."
"Well, maybe," agreed Bud. "Anyhow, we got good feed here, and plenty
of water for dad's cattle, as well as ours. We can double up as well
as not. Now I wonder if we have blankets enough for you two?" and he
looked at Snake and Pocut, who said his name had been given him as he
had "punched" cows so long in the vicinity of the Pocut River.
"Oh, we'll make out," asserted Snake, who was easily suited.
But Bud, being the nominal head of the camp, would leave nothing to
chance. While some of the others were still about the flickering camp
fire, talking of the trouble at Square M, the strange disappearance of
the water and kindred topics, the boy rancher went to inspect the tent
where the older cowboys were to pass the night.
It was fitted with cots enough, and one to spare, but Bud wanted to
make sure of the blankets. For it gets cold at night on the western
plains on even very hot days.
As Bud entered the tent he saw, in the dim light of a turned-down
lantern, a figure sitting on one of the cots.
"That you, Snake?" Bud asked.
"No, it's me," answered the voice of the new cowboy, Pocut Pete.
"Oh," remarked the lad, and as the other arose Bud caught the tinkle of
glass. For a moment an ugly suspicion entered Bud's mind, but when his
nostrils did not catch the smell of liquor, which was strictly
forbidden on all Mr. Merkel's ranches, Bud felt a sense of relief.
Pocut Pete passed out, after Bud had assured himself that there were
blankets enough, and as the boy rancher was leaving the tent, he trod
on something that broke, with a grating sound, under his foot.