Chet’s second thought was, naturally, for the horses. If anything
happened to their mounts out here on the plains, they would be in a bad
way indeed. They were all of thirty miles from the Grub Stake trail, and
if that trail were intersected with a line running directly south from
this camp, such intersection would be about midway of the distance
between Silver Run and Grub Stake.
In other words, once back upon the trail the boys would have a choice of
something like a hundred mile ride to either town. And if they had to
walk it!
With his rifle at “ready” Chet stumbled away from the edge of the
water-hole until he could get a free sight of the plain on this side. He
made out the horses almost immediately. They were feeding contentedly
and nothing seemed to have happened to them.
Chet raised his voice again and shouted for his chum. There was no
reply, and the boy became more and more anxious as the moments passed.
Where could Dig have gone?
It was just then that Chet heard a strange sound. It must have been
going on ever since he was aroused; only his senses had been too dulled
with sleep to notice it.
A throbbing sound, that was steadily growing fainter. The boy suddenly
came to a sensible conclusion regarding it, and he dropped to his knees
and put an ear to the ground.
Horses’ hoofs! No doubt of it. The thud of them over the sodded prairies
was rapidly decreasing. The horses were now some miles away from the
water-hole.
What did it mean? Had an attempt been made to raid the camp again, and
had Dig driven the raiders away? Was it he who had fired the shot that
awakened Chet? The latter turned back again with a terrible sinking
feeling at his heart.
Perhaps there had been a fight and his chum was shot!
Chet Havens was much exercised. He ran to and fro in the camp, trying to
find some trace of his chum. There were the saddles—he had used his own
for a pillow; and at this time he did not notice anything else missing.
He shouted again and again, but got no reply. Then he bethought him of
the rifle, and he put the heavy weapon to his shoulder and fired three
times in the air.
There sounded a squeal from the other side of the water-hole. The horses
had snorted, too; but Chet paid them no further attention. He started
around the piece of water, yelling for his chum at the top of his voice.
He heard Dig calling after a minute. Then Chet saw him standing by the
water’s edge and leaning on his gun.
“For goodness’ sake! what’s the matter with you?” gasped Chet, reaching
the other lad. And then he uttered a second startled exclamation. Dig’s
face was bloody.
“What have you been doing?” demanded Chet again.
“That’s this blamed old rifle,” snarled Dig. “See what it did?” and he
removed the handkerchief with which he was swabbing his brow and showed
a deep cut. “That’s what it did to me!”
“How?” gasped Chet.
“Kicked!”
“But for goodness’ sake! did you try to put the butt against your
forehead when you fired?”
“I don’t know what I did. I was excited. I saw that man on horseback
leading the other horse—”
“What man?” interrupted his chum.
“Oh, be still!” exclaimed Dig, with great disgust. “Do you s’pose I
stopped to ask him his name and where he came from? I up with the gun to
fire a shot to warn you—”
“That must have been what woke me,” said Chet.
“And it’s what put me to sleep,” said Dig, grimly. “I don’t know what
happened after this old cannon tried to knock my head off.”
“Tell me what happened before,” urged Chet anxiously.
Dig explained how he had come to start around the pool. He had heard a
noise while on this side and, stooping down, he had seen a horseman
between him and the background of the sky. The rider was leading a
second horse, and was moving quietly toward their encampment.
At first Dig had not known what to do—whether to return and awaken Chet
softly or to keep watch of the man on horseback. And then Dig had seen a
man afoot running up from the camp.
“The scoundrel was carrying something. We’ve been robbed, Chet. Is my
saddle all right?”
“Yes. But he might have taken something—”
He clapped his hand to his breast as he spoke. Dig did not notice his
agitation and went on with his story.
“Then’s when I let go with old Betsy here. And whew! can’t she kick
some? She knocked me cold, and I just woke up.” Then he turned to peer
into Chet’s face, demanding: “Say, boy! what’s the matter with you?”
Chet was absolutely pallid. He lips parted, but were so dry that for a
moment he could not speak. Finally he blurted out:
“They—they’ve got ’em!”
“Got what?” gasped Dig. “Who’s got ’em?”
“The deeds.”
“Are you crazy, Chet? Nobody’s got those deeds. They’re in your
pocket—”
“No!” cried Chet wildly. “They’re gone!”
“Nonsense!”
Chet had drawn open his shirt and turned it so that Dig could easily
feel the empty pocket inside. He could only mutter:
“Whew! what bad luck! what _bad_ luck! Don’t you think mebbe you’ve lost
’em, Chet? Dropped ’em out, maybe?”
“I am afraid not,” returned his chum, getting control of himself again.
“If you saw one of those men coming from the direction of our camp—”
“Well, he had something besides papers in his hands,” grunted Dig. “Come
on! let’s go back and see just how bad things are.”
“No matter what other damage they did,” Chet declared, “the loss of the
deeds father entrusted to my care is the only really serious loss. I
feel dreadfully, Dig. He trusted us, and I let ’em get away from me. And
after having had one warning, too!
“Yes! two warnings. Amoshee—John Peep—told me they were on the trail
after us.”
“Who were after us? What are you talking about?” demanded the puzzled
Digby.
Chet told him as they hastened around the pool to the camp and the
horses.
“Well! of all the stingy guys!” exclaimed Dig. “By all the hoptoads that
were chased out of Ireland! you’re the meanest fellow, to keep this all
to yourself. Hadn’t the first idea that we were being trailed by two
villains. Cricky!”
“You talk as if it were fun,” said Chet in disgust. “What shall I say to
father? He’ll blame me—but that doesn’t so much matter. I tell you,
Dig, I’ve got to get those deeds back. This fellow is after the old
Crayton claim and he’ll get the deeds changed, somehow, and get Mr.
Morrisy to sign them, and then father will lose what he’s already
invested in the claim. I tell you, I must get them back!” he repeated,
almost in tears.
“Huh!” grunted Digby, “you’ve got it wrong.”
“Have what wrong?” asked Chet, surprised.
“You say you have to get the papers back. Wrong. We have to get ’em
back. I’m with you, Chet, no matter how big the job is.”
“Oh, thank you, Dig! I know you’ll stand by me,” Chet declared. “We’ll
have to start as soon as possible after these thieves. We must pick up
their trail and chase them.”
The boys reached the camp at this moment. There were a few live coals in
the bed of the fire, and Dig stirred them with his foot and then threw
on some light fuel. Soon the blaze sprang up and the light flickered
over the spot.
Their saddles had not been touched. Chet had already made sure of that.
His own blanket was on the ground where he had flung it off when he
arose, awakened by the rifle shot; but Dig’s had disappeared.
“By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ireland!” yelled Dig. “The
dirty rascals have swiped my blanket—And the skillet! Holy mackerel,
Chet! they’ve taken the coffee-pot, too, and all the tinware. That would
be just like that Tony Traddles! The great, hulking, no-account brute!”
“No use calling him names,” said Chet grimly. “They’ve pretty well
cleaned us out. But the worst is the deeds,” and he sighed.
“I wonder they didn’t take the horses,” exclaimed Dig.
“Your seeing them and firing the gun probably saved our mounts for us,”
his chum said.
“But if I’d stayed in the camp they wouldn’t have cleaned us out,” said
Dig thoughtfully.
“Not so sure. They might have crept up on you and knocked you on the
head.”
“Instead of which that old Betsy gun had to knock me over. Just as bad.
It knocked me out for the time being, and those scoundrels got away.”
“They must have been close in, watching you and me, when you started
around the pond,” Chet explained. “We know what Tony is—a bad man. The
fellow with him is probably worse. They wouldn’t think anything of
knocking us both out if they hadn’t got what they wanted without.”
“Well, what’s done is done,” Dig said mournfully. “Now what shall we
do?”
“We can’t do much till daylight. It’s no fun following a horse trail in
the night—and those horses started on the gallop. They will be tiring
their mounts out while ours are resting. We’ll lose nothing by waiting
till dawn,” Chet said, with confidence.