A SHOT IN THE NIGHT
Wheeling his pony, Old Billee rode back with the boy ranchers, until
they reached the bottom of the reservoir wall. Then, dismounting, Bud,
Nort and Dick scrambled up the earth slope on one side until they could
look into the storage tank, and at the pipe which, connecting with the
old underground water-course, kept the reservoir filled.
"She isn't spouting!" said Bud, in blank disappointment.
"Just a dribble," added Nort, mournfully.
"And if it does as it did before that'll stop in a little while,"
remarked Dick.
"When did it start to stop?" asked Bud, unconscious of the double
meaning of his words.
"About an hour ago," Old Billee answered. "I happened t' notice it
when I come up here t' try for a fish."
"Fish!" cried Nort. "Can you get any fish _here_?"
"Sartin sure!" asserted the old cowboy. "They come in from th' river,
under th' mountain, though how they like the dark I can't say, an' they
come out of this pipe. I've caught many a good one."
The eastern lads looked to Bud for confirmation, and their cousin,
nodded, rather gloomily, though.
"Yes," said Bud, "fish do come through the pipe. But if we don't get
any more water they'll all die off soon."
"Maybe the water will come back--as it did before," asserted Dick.
Bud did not answer. He appeared to be figuring out something on the
back of an old envelope with the stub of a pencil.
"We'll have enough for a week, I think," finally announced the boy
rancher. "Then, if the water doesn't come back, we'll have to drive
all the stock over to Diamond X. Can't take a chance letting 'em die
of thirst here, even if they didn't stampede, which they'd be sure to
do."
Two things are vitally necessary on a ranch--grass and water for the
stock. Of grass there was plenty in Flume Valley, and, had the stream
continued to come through the pipe, there would have been a goodly
supply of water, even for the extra stock added from Square M.
But when no fluid spurted from the mouth of the black pipe, the other
end being hidden in the opening of the natural water course, it spelled
ruin for Diamond X Second.
"I wonder--I just wonder--if this has anything to do with the threat we
received?" mused Bud, as he and his cousins went down the slope to the
little table of land where the tents were pitched.
"Granting that it has, who sent the warning?" asked Nort.
"Who else but the man who doesn't want to see any water diverted from
Pocut River?" asked Bud, in turn. "I mean Hank Fisher, and the gang he
trails along with! If anyone stopped this water, he did!"
"But how?" asked Yellin' Kid, who had strolled up to take part in the
general conversation. "He couldn't do it at th' river end of th' pipe,
without bein' found out, and he hasn't been around _here_, I'll gamble
on that--not since we started keepin' watch at night."
"No, he hasn't been here," admitted Bud, slowly. "It sure is a puzzle.
Well, let's have grub, and talk about it later. It may come back. If
it doesn't we have enough for a week--maybe longer."
It was drinking water for the cattle that was mostly needed, since the
occasional, slight rainfall was now sufficient to provide for the
grass, though some water was used to irrigate certain sections that
would be called "meadows" in the east. This drinking water was
conducted to distant troughs by pipes running from the reservoir, the
pipes being controlled by means of valves, or water gates.
Had there been natural water-holes in Flume Valley it would, long ago,
have been used as a place to raise cattle. But it was the absence of
drinking places that caused it to be passed by, until, by artificial
means, tapping the river through the underground course, Mr. Merkel had
enabled his son and nephews to become boy ranchers in earnest.
As Bud had stated, there was about a week's supply on reserve in the
concrete reservoir. When that was exhausted, unless the water again
started flowing through the pipe, the cattle would suffer from thirst.
"Well, she isn't spouting any," mournfully remarked Nort, as, with his
brother and Bud, he ascended the slope, standing on the edge of the
reservoir.
"No," agreed Bud. "She's as dry as an old buffalo skull now. I don't
know what to do!"
The shadows of dusk were falling, and the boys felt that the night was
coming with its gloom to match their own feelings. Failure seemed to
stare them in the face.
"But I don't see how anyone--granting that somebody like Hank Fisher or
Del Pinzo has it in for us--can shut off the water without operating at
either end of the flume!" exclaimed Nort.
"That is queer," agreed Bud. "I wonder what's inside that tunnel where
the old watercourse runs? I've been through it, but couldn't see much
of anything. I've a good notion----"
He broke off his remarks to gaze intently ahead. There was a movement
in the gloom, and a figure walked away.
"Who's there?" asked Bud sharply, his hand slipping to his .45.
"It's me," came quickly, if not grammatically, from Pocut Pete, whose
voice the boys recognized. "I just moseyed up here t' see if she was
runnin'."
"Well, she isn't," spoke Bud, a bit shortly.
"So I see," came the drawling answer, and it was followed by a faint
tinkling of glass.
Bud started, and tried to pierce the night shadows. But all he saw was
the figure of the strange cowboy becoming more and more indistinct.
Bud was just going to say something when he was halted by the voice of
Nort.
"I have an idea!" exclaimed the eastern lad.
"What is it?" asked his brother. "Anything to do with this?" and he
waved toward the reservoir which was strangely still, now that the
water no longer bubbled into it from the pipe.
"Yes," went on Nort. "Why not investigate and see where the stoppage
is, Bud?"
"Investigate what?"
"The pipe line--the old underground water-course."
"You mean go through the tunnel?" Bud asked.
"Sure! Why not? You say it's big enough all the way through, and the
water itself doesn't occupy much of the bottom. We could walk it in a
day, easy!"
"Yes," agreed Bud, "it isn't more than five miles, though we'd have to
carry lanterns, and we might get lost in some side passage."
"That's just what I want to find out about!" cried Nort. "If there
_is_ a branch passage maybe that's where the water goes! Come on, Bud,
let's go through the tunnel!"
"I'm with you!" said Dick.
For a moment Bud hesitated and then, as he was about to reply, there
came the sudden sound of a shot, which shattered the night with a
sliver of flame, plainly visible to the boys.
Instantly a band of coyotes set up their weird howling, and the
startled steers lowed and bellowed as they rushed about.