A NIGHT ATTACK
Instantly the boy ranchers came to a halt, standing there in the
tunnel, beside the running water. They had nearly reached the other
end of the flume, and could dimly see, ahead of them, a faint glow,
which told of daylight to come. Bud, who was carrying the lantern,
made shift to hide it behind the bodies of himself and his cousins, so
that the unknown, approaching, might not have them at a disadvantage,
he being in the dark.
"Who you reckon it is?" asked Nort. He and his brother were rapidly
falling into the custom of using the picturesque if not always elegant
talk of the west. Nort spoke in a whisper, and Bud answered in the
same tone.
"Can't imagine who it may be," spoke the western lad, "but if it's
Hank, Del Pinzo, or any of their gang----"
He did not finish, but a slight movement told that he was freeing his
.45 in its holster, an example quickly followed by Nort and Dick.
Meanwhile the steps continued to approach, echoing loudly in the
vaulted tunnel, as if the maker of them had no design to conceal his
movements. In another few seconds the boys saw, looming in front of
them, as displayed by the gleam of their half-hidden lantern, a bulky
figure. At the same moment the figure seemed to become aware of the
presence in the tunnel of others besides himself.
"Who's there?" came in sharp challenge.
And what a relief it was to the boy ranchers when they heard that voice.
"Slim!" cried Bud. "Slim Degnan!"
"That you, Bud?" called the foreman of Diamond X ranch, as he
recognized the voice of his employer's son, while Bud, in turn, sensed
whom the looming figure was.
"Sure!" Bud joyously answered. "And Nort and Dick are here! Say,
what's the matter with our water? Is there a stoppage at the dam?"
"Nary a stop, but your dad got a telephone from your side-partners at
the valley camp, saying you'd started through the tunnel to see what
caused the shut-off. I happened to be over near Square M, seeing if I
could get on the track of that cattle epidemic, and they relayed your
dad's message on to me. So I hit the trail for here."
"What was dad's message?" Bud wanted to know.
"Why, he said you, and them tenderfeet---- No, I'll take _that_ back!"
Slim hastened to say as he recalled all that Nort and Dick had done.
"Anyhow, he said they shouldn't have allowed you to come in the tunnel
alone, and he asked some of the men, from this end, to go in and see if
they could locate you."
"You found us," said Bud.
"Well," resumed Slim, "I just got here, heard the news and I started
in. Some of the others are coming, but I guess we don't need to make
any search. You're here!"
"And more by good luck than good management," asserted Dick.
"How's that?" asked Slim, as they all started for the opening at the
river end of the tunnel, where daylight dimly showed.
"Why, when we started in at the other side the stream was dry,"
explained Bud. "There wasn't a drop coming through the pipe into the
reservoir, and we left, early this morning, to see what the trouble
was. When we got half way through the stream suddenly began flowing,
and there was a regular flood. Only that we found a ledge to climb up
on, we'd been drowned!"
"As bad as that!" gasped Slim.
"Every bit!" Dick asserted.
"But tell me," went on Bud, "did the water stop at the river end, Slim?
Was there any stoppage at the dam or pipe?"
"Nary a stop, Bud," Slim answered. "They told me, when I started in,
that the water had been flowing all night, as usual, and they didn't
see why you claimed there was none at your end."
"By Zip Foster! But there's something mighty strange here!" cried the
boy rancher.
"You intimated good and plenty that time!" declared Slim as he and the
boys reached the river end of the tunnel, where the intake pipe took
the water from the Pocut stream, delivering it to the tunnel.
"But here's a queer part of it," went on Dick, as they joined the other
cowboys who were preparing to follow Slim in, and search for the
Diamond X lads. "No such body of water, as so nearly overwhelmed us,
ever came through this pipe," and he pointed to the one that tapped the
dammed-up water of the river.
"That's right!" agreed Bud. "This thing gets worse and worse! We'll
never get to the bottom of this mystery!"
"You're right!" declared one of the cowboys. "When you're dealing with
them underground water-courses you never know what you're up against.
The old Indians and Spaniards who lived here hundreds of years ago had
their own troubles, and maybe they wished them same troubles on to you."
"What you mean?" asked Slim. "That's all bosh!"
"Bosh nothin'!" declared another. "You read history an' you'll get
lots of cases where streams showed up, and then vanished under
mountains, more than once."
"A heap sight you know about _hist'ry_!" laughed Slim in good-natured
raillery.
"Well, this is sure queer, anyhow!" declared Bud. "Is there any
history of the stream that waters our valley?" he asked the cowboy who
had made the assertion.
"Not your particular one," was the answer, "but there's lots of just
such cases mentioned--hidden water-courses and all that."
"Well, there's something wrong," agreed Bud, "and I believe there must
be some place along the tunnel where our water shunts itself off at
times, and turns itself on again. We were looking for just such a
place."
"And you didn't find it?" asked Slim.
"Nary a find!" asserted Bud.
"But we aren't going to give up, just on that account!" said Nort.
"Bet you not!" added his brother. "We'll try it again, and take a
canoe with us, so if the dry water-course suddenly turns wet, we can
paddle along it."
"Well, it seems to be all right now," spoke Slim. "And you'd better
'phone your father that you're all right, Bud. He'll be anxious to
hear."
And after Mr. Merkel had been assured, over the wire, of the safe
transit of his son and nephews through the tunnel, the boys' camp was
called up, to let Old Billee and the others know that no accident had
happened.
"Gosh! I'm glad to hear that!" said the veteran cowboy over the wire.
"When we see that there water come gushin' out, we thought sure you was
goners, Bud!"
"Then the water is running again?" Bud asked.
"Absolutely!" declared Billee. "You comin' back here?"
"Sure! But _over_ the mountain--not _under_ it."
Bud and his boy rancher chums remained that night at the store
settlement near the dam, getting beds in what passed for a hotel. It
was too late to secure horses and ride over Snake Mountain trail back
to Flume Valley.
While thus having a night of leisure, and seeing such sights as were to
be viewed in the little town, Bud and his chums discussed the queer
situation of the mysteriously disappearing and reappearing water. But,
talk as they did, and venture opinions as they and their cowboy friends
did, no one could hit on a solution.
"We'll just have to make another and more careful inspection," declared
Nort.
"That's what!" agreed Bud.
They learned from Slim that the situation regarding the cattle epidemic
at Square M ranch was not much better. All stock which had not been
exposed to the infection had been removed, either to Diamond X,
Triangle B or Flume Valley, and the infected steers remaining there
were being treated by a veterinarian whom Mr. Merkel had engaged.
"But they're slowly dying off," Slim reported. "And I don't believe
Square M ranch will ever be safe to use again."
"Why not?" asked Bud.
"Because there must be some infection in the grass there to have made
so many of the cattle sicken and die."
"Maybe it was something else," suggested Nort.
"Well, maybe," assented the foreman. "It's about as mysterious as that
underground river of yours. Had any more warnings, Bud?"
"No, I guess they're done with. And I believe it's a natural cause,
and not due to any work of enemies, that accounts for the queer way our
flume acts."
"Um!" spoke Slim musingly, and that was all he would say.
Borrowing horses from their friends, the boy ranchers next day made the
trip over Snake Mountain and returned to camp, finding matters there in
good shape. There was an abundance of water in the reservoir, and the
pipe was flowing freely.
For more than a week nothing happened. The cattle at Flume Valley,
including those of the boy ranchers, and the herd transferred from
Square M to save it from the epidemic, were doing well, abundant grass
and water being their portions.
There was no lack of hard work for the boys and their cowboy
assistants, for it was not all easy sailing. Occasionally bunches of
steers would stray, and have to be driven back by hard riding. There
were night watches to be carried on, and another bunch of cattle was
shipped away.
Bud, Dick and Nort hazed them over to the railroad, and on the trip a
small-sized stampede gave them all they wanted to handle. But they
were true sons of the west, and did not complain.
"Whew! That was hot, while it lasted!" exclaimed Bud, as he and
cousins managed to get the stampeding animals quieted, after they had
tried so hard to run off by themselves, in varying directions.
"Yes, a thing like that gives you an appetite," remarked Dick.
"As if _you_ ever needed any stimulant!" laughed Nort. "I never saw
the time yet when you had to be offered an inducement to sit up to
grub!"
"You either!" retorted the stout lad. "But, speaking of grub, when do
we eat, Bud?"
"Might as well make it right soon," was the answer. "Now that we have
the steers quieted they'll be glad enough to take it easy. I planned
to water 'em at the next stopping place, and that will give us a chance
to see what Buck Tooth put up for us."
"Stay there all night; will we?" asked Nort.
"Might as well," assented his cousin. "No use running all the fat off
our stock. We want 'em to weigh as heavy as possible."
This was good business tact on the part of the boy ranchers. For
cattle are generally sold by weight, either "on the hoof," which means
alive and as they stand in the stock yards, or by weight after being
slaughtered. In the case of ranchers "on the hoof" is generally
understood.
And driving a bunch of steers at too great a speed from the ranch to
the railroad would make them thin, "running off their fat," so to
speak, thus losing all the advantages of the rich fodder to which they
had had access. And when it is considered that it is not at all
difficult to cause a steer to lose from ten to fifteen pounds by means
of poor driving, and when to this statement is added the fact that this
loss is multiplied in hundreds of steers, Bud's state of mind can
easily be imagined.
"Yes, we'll get 'em quieted down, and take it easy ourselves,"
suggested the Western lad. And, a little later when some of the steers
broke into a run, Nort exclaimed:
"Are they stampeding again?"
"No. I reckon they just smell water," Bud answered.
This proved to be true, and this contagion spread all through the herd,
though with no ill effects, for the water hole was not far off and,
reaching it, the animals stopped to drink.
There was some confusion and excitement because so many thirsty cattle
all wanted to drink at once, but it did not last long, and Bud, Nort
and Dick were glad when they could slip from their saddles, tossing the
reins over their ponies' heads as an intimation to the animals not to
stray.
"Oh boy! But I'm tired!" exclaimed Nort, sighing.
"Add hungry to that and I'm with you," said his brother. For there had
been days of long and difficult work in preparing this bunch of cattle
for shipment.
"Getting tired of the game?" asked Bud, as he rustled up some sticks of
greasewood to make a fire over which they might boil coffee and fry
bacon.
"Not on your life!" laughed Nort. "We're in the game to stick!"
"Sure thing!" asserted Dick.
They made a simple but ample meal over the camp fire and then, as
evening settled down over the vast prairies, and quiet enfolded them
like some soft mantle, they lay on their blankets and gazed at the
feeding cattle.
The steers were very quiet now, evidently feeling quite satisfied with
the manner in which they had been treated, and having, of course, no
intimation of the fate in store for them. They had food and water and
that is all they required. Overhead was the cloudless sky, in which
sparkling stars were beginning to stud themselves.
"I hope the market is well up in price when we get to the yards,"
observed Bud, idly chewing on a spear of grass.
"Yes, it would be dandy to get a big price for this stock," agreed Nort.
The boy ranchers were rapidly becoming interested in the business end
of their venture, as they had been, for some time, in the more
picturesque side. The difference of a fraction of a cent in the price
of cattle on the hoof meant the difference of several hundred of
dollars where there were many tons of meat to be considered.
"Well, we'd better ride herd a little while, to make sure they get
bedded down quietly," suggested Bud, as it began to get darker. "Then
we'll roll up and snooze ourselves."
This "bedding down" of the cattle, meaning thereby inducing them to get
quiet enough so they would lie down contentedly chewing their cuds, was
part of the routine of a cowboy's life.
"Some of 'em have already started in," observed Nort, as he went up to
his pony, which, with the other two animals, had been contentedly
grazing. "Looks like they'd lived here all their lives."
He indicated a score or more of the steer's that were stretched out on
the rich grass which at once formed their food and their bed.
"Yes, I reckon we'll have a quiet night," observed Bud.
The three chums slowly rode around the bunch of cattle, the lads
occasionally breaking into the chorus of some song.
The cattle seemed to like this singing--not that this is to be
considered a compliment to the voices of Nort, Dick and Bud, though
their tones were far from unmusical. But the fact is that animals of
most sorts are fond of music in any form, and nothing so seems to
soothe and quiet a bunch of cattle, especially at night, as the singing
of the herders.
Perhaps it is due to this fact that we have so many cowboy songs with
an interminable number of verses, in which there is little sense or
sequence--a mere jumble of words, often repeated. The cattle seem to
care more for the tune than for the sentiment.
At any rate the bunch from Flume Valley grew more quiet as the night
became darker, and when the remains of their camp fire gleamed dully in
the blackness, as they made their way back to it, Bud and his cousins
considered their work done for the day.
"We won't stand any regular watch," Bud said. "I think they'll be all
right. But if we should hear a disturbance--I mean any one of us--he
can awaken the others, and we'll do whatever we have to."
"And if we have any luck we won't have to roll out," observed Nort, as
he spread out his blankets and tarpaulin, which last was to keep the
dampness of the ground away.
"Then I'm going to cross my fingers for luck," observed Dick.
Save for the occasional distant howl of a coyote, or the uneasy
movement of an occasional steer, with, now and then, the clashing of
the horns of some of the beasts, there was silence in the camp. Bud
was the first to fall asleep, because he was more accustomed to this
sort of life than were his cousins. But they were rapidly falling in
with the ways of the west, which teaches a wayfarer to consider home
wherever he hangs up his hat, and his bed any place he can throw his
blanket and saddle.
But finally Nort and Dick dropped off into slumber, which became
sounder as the hours of night passed. All three of the boy ranchers
were tired and they were in the most healthful state imaginable,
brought about by their life in the open.
"What hour it was Dick had no idea, but he was suddenly awakened by
sensing some movement near him--too near for comfort considering his
exposed sleeping position. For he felt something cold and clammy at
the back of his neck, as though a chunk of ice, or a hand dipped in
cold water, had touched him.
"Hi! Who's doing that?" yelled Dick, for he had a sudden dream that he
was back at school, and some one was playing a trick on him. "Cut it
out!"
No sooner had he spoken than he realized that he had awakened Nort and
Bud, for by the flickering light of the embers of the fire he could see
them sitting up and staring over at him.
"What's the matter?" demanded Bud.
"Something tickled the back of my neck," declared Dick. "I guess a
coyote must have been picking up scraps of food, and smelled of me.
Hope he didn't take me for a dead one!"
"Coyote!" exclaimed Bud. "I don't believe you could get one to come
near you, not as long as you breathed. It must have been a----"
"Snake!" broke in Nort, without thinking of what the word might mean.
"Wow! Don't say that!" cried Dick, and he leaped up, scattering his
blanket and tarpaulin each in a different direction.
"Shut up!" commanded Bud, laughing. "Do you want to start the cattle
off again? If it was a snake it won't hurt you, and it was probably
more scared than you, Dick."
"Yes--maybe!" said the other. He lighted a stick of greasewood at the
fire, and looked about his part of the sleeping ground. But he found
nothing in the animal line.
"Guess you dreamed it!" said Nort.
"I certainly did not!" emphatically declared his brother.
"Well, go to sleep again," advised Bud. "If you feel it a second time
call me!"
"Huh! I'll do that all right!" declared Dick. He carefully shifted
his sleeping place, making a searching examination of the ground before
spreading out his tarpaulin. And he was some little time in dropping
off to slumber again.
But there was no further disturbance in the night, and in the morning
Bud looked for marks on the ground, declaring the visitor had been a
prairie dog, which Dick declared his unbelief in, sticking to the snake
theory as being more sensational.
After breakfast they started to drive the cattle again, reaching the
railroad yards and successfully transacting the business of selling
their stock.
It was the night that Bud and his cousins returned from having driven
the steers to the railroad yard that something happened which again
brought to the front all their worries and anxieties.
They were all seated about the camp fire, and Pocut Pete had just
arisen, remarking that he would get ready for his turn at night-riding,
when there was a sort of hissing in the air over the heads of those
gathered about the blaze, and something hit the ground in the midst of
the circle.
"What's that?" exclaimed Nort
"An arrow!" answered Bud, and so it proved. An Indian arrow--of the
sort used by the Redmen years ago, and hard to pick up now, even as
relics--quivered in the ground near the blaze. And by the flickering
flames it was seen that a paper was rolled about it.
In an instant Bud had leaped to his feet, plucked the arrow from the
ground, and torn off the paper. By the light of the fire he read it.
"Another warning!" cried Bud.
"What does it say?" demanded Dick.
Bud read:
"Two wasn't enough. This is the third and last! Leave Flume Valley!"
There was silence for a moment, and then Bud, crushing the scrawled
warning in his hand, cried:
"I'd like to see 'em drive me out!"
"That's th' way to talk!" shouted Yellin' Kid. "We'll stick!"
They gathered about, discussing the sinister warning that had been sent
to them in such a sensational manner. There was no clue to tell where
it had come from, for no one had noticed the direction whence the arrow
had been shot. The message itself was written, or, rather, printed on
a piece torn from a paper bag, and the writing was in pencil. The
paper was common enough in those parts, and the use of printing, in
place of handwriting, would, it seemed, preclude any tracing.
"We'd better keep a double watch to-night," suggested Bud, when a hasty
inspection in the vicinity of the camp had revealed no one.
"We shore will!" asserted Old Billee.
The night hours passed, a double guard watching with keen eyes for any
sign of strangers approaching the reservoir or the cattle. But, in
spite of all precautions, the half-expected happened.
It was toward morning, when Nort and Dick had turned out of warm beds
to relieve Pocut Pete and Snake Purdee that a confused noise at the
extreme end of the valley gave notice that something was wrong.
"What's that?" asked Bud, who had ridden into camp at the conclusion of
his tour of duty.
As if in answer came distant shots, the howls of coyotes and the
snorting of cattle, mingled with a rush which told its own story.
"Stampede!" yelled Bud. "They're trying to stampede our herd and drive
'em off! Come on, fellows!"
And all within the sound of his voice rallied to repel the night
attack, for such it proved to be.
Leaping into their saddles, Nort and Dick followed Bud toward the scene
of the disturbance. They saw the cattle running to and fro, and in the
slivers of light that leaped from the muzzles of guns which were shot
off at intervals, they descried figures swiftly riding backward and
forward, evidently trying to cut out bunches of cattle.
Action had followed rapidly on the heels of the sinister arrow warning.