Title: The X Bar X boys on Whirlpool River
Author: Ferris, James Cody
Language: English
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THE X BAR X BOYS ON WHIRLPOOL RIVER

[Illustration: THE RUSHING CURRENT SWEPT TEDDY OUT OF REACH OF THE
ROCK.]

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THE X BAR X BOYS ON WHIRLPOOL RIVER

BY

JAMES CODY FERRIS

Author of “The X Bar X Boys on the Ranch,”
“The X Bar X Boys in Thunder Canyon,” etc.

ILLUSTRATED BY

Walter S. Rogers

NEW YORK

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS

Made in the United States of America

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WESTERN STORIES FOR BOYS

By JAMES CODY FERRIS

THE X BAR X BOYS BOOKS

    THE X BAR X BOYS ON THE RANCH
    THE X BAR X BOYS IN THUNDER CANYON
    THE X BAR X BOYS ON WHIRLPOOL RIVER
    THE X BAR X BOYS ON BIG BISON TRAIL
    THE X BAR X BOYS AT THE ROUND-UP

(OTHER VOLUMES IN PREPARATION.)

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

Copyright, 1926, by

GROSSET & DUNLAP

The X Bar X Boys on Whirlpool River

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CONTENTS

        I King of the Forest
       II The Brainy Beastie
      III An Angry Visitor
       IV Joe Marino
        V Guarded Words
       VI To Whirlpool River
      VII Suspicion
     VIII Follow Us
       IX The Water Trail
        X A Figure among the Trees
       XI A Night in the Woods
      XII Voices in the Night
     XIII The Fugitive
      XIV Failure
       XV A Vain Search
      XVI Separated
     XVII Primitive Tactics
    XVIII Afloat Again
      XIX The Whirlpool
       XX Burying the Hatchet
      XXI The Chase
     XXII The Man at the Fire
    XXIII Boss and Bandit
     XXIV Flying Bullets
      XXV Meet the Wife

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THE X BAR X BOYS ON WHIRLPOOL RIVER



CHAPTER I

King Of The Forest


“If there be such in these woods, then such there be,” announced
Teddy Manley, and punctuated this cryptic utterance with a slight
grunt as he bent over the marks in the soft earth.

“No doubt, no doubt,” his brother, Roy, declared dryly. “Speak the
mother tongue, Teddy. What are you staring at, anyhow?”

“Take a look for yourself,” Teddy answered briefly, and stepped
aside. Roy moved closer, gazed curiously at the impressions on the
ground, then gave a low whistle.

“Bear tracks!” he exclaimed excitedly. “Bear tracks, or I’m a shad!”

“You remain as originally intended,” remarked Teddy. “Those are
definite, certain, and never-to-be-doubted bear tracks. Now the
burning question is--” he hitched up his belt and turned his head
from side to side. “Whar am Mister B’ar?”

Roy hunched his shoulders in a gesture expressing entire ignorance
of the subject. The tracks were fairly fresh, but their maker could
be many miles away by this time.

It was early fall, and the two brothers had started out from the X
Bar X Ranch, with the intention of bagging some small game. Teddy
carried a light shotgun, hoping to get a chance at duck. Roy had
brought with him a small-bore rifle. Hardly the weapons with which
to hunt bear.

The boys had picketed their ponies near the foot of the mountain,
knowing that the steep grade above made riding impractical. Thus far
they had not sighted any game worth considering, but now, when they
were near the top, Teddy had come upon the bear tracks.

“Do we follow them?” Teddy, the younger, asked dubiously. He glanced
down at the gun held in the crook of his arm. “This shotgun I have
would only take his picture, Roy, and that pea-shooter of yours
isn’t much better. What’s the verdict?”

Roy looked at his brother and smiled.

“Trying to kid me? After looking for bears in these woods for years,
when we raise one, you want to know things! Huh! Don’t ask! Look me
straight in the eye, brother mine, and say: What would you rather
do, or hunt bear?”

“You’re the doctor,” Teddy responded. “You must be getting reckless
in your old age, Roy.” This last was to nail any idea that Teddy
hesitated to face the adventure. He was slightly chagrined at the
fact that Roy had taken the initiative in suggesting that they
proceed. Usually it was the other way around, the younger lad
proposing, and Roy, with what he was pleased to call his “more
mature judgment,” disposing.

“Far be it from me to dissuade you from entering the lists against a
baby bear,” Teddy went on. “I hope you see him before he sees you.
Those animals are easily scared.”

“Yes, Teddy, my lad,” Roy said with a maddening grin. “We shall not
argue the issue. Come on--let’s go.”

Grumbling half-heartedly to himself, Teddy Manley followed the
tracks. As he proceeded, the injustice that had been done him was
forgotten in the mounting excitement of the chase. The tracks led
diagonally across the mountain, and seemed to get fresher with every
yard. As the boys came to a clearing, Teddy halted.

“Not long since he passed here!” he exclaimed, as he noticed an ant
heap that had been disturbed by the animal. “Look--those ants are
still half crazy with fright--running around every which way.”

It was not by accident that Teddy’s eyes caught this telltale bit of
evidence. Born and brought up in the West, these boys could
interpret the signs of the forest with unerring judgment. Where
another might see merely a broken twig, the young ranchers read a
story.

“He’s close,” Roy returned laconically. He looked to his rifle. The
magazine was full, and he pumped a bullet into the chamber. If they
did come upon the bear, by great good luck Roy might succeed in
placing a shot through the eye into the brain, which was the only
place where the small bullet would be effective. If he missed--well,
several things might happen, and not all of them to the bear.

Teddy gazed intently toward a clump of sage brush just off the
trail. Absently he bent his left knee, and with his hand he
dislodged a piece of dirt that had caught on the heel of his shoe.
This he tossed into the bush carelessly.

There was a sudden deep-throated growl. The bushes stirred, then
parted. Framed in a circlet of brown sage brush, appeared the shaggy
head of a huge black bear.

Neither boy spoke. Silently Roy leveled his rifle. The bear stood as
immobile as a statue, staring fiercely at the intruders, only his
head showing. Then, as the lips drew back in a snarl, showing the
sharp teeth and the red gums, Roy pressed the trigger.

There was a sharp crack. The bear started as though it had been
stung by a hornet, and a crimson spot of blood marked the black fur
just above the left eye.

“Take it on the run!” Teddy cried hoarsely, and fired as he spoke.
He knew the buckshot would have small effect, but he hoped it might
cause the animal to hesitate long enough to give them an opportunity
to make their escape.

As the bear moved forward Roy sprang to one side. With a yell to
Teddy to follow, he bounded to the right, then up, toward a ledge
that jutted out from the mountain over their heads. If they could
gain that, and the bear could not, they had a good chance for their
lives.

Teddy leaped after his brother. The bear, growling in rage at the
pain of his wound, sought to close his teeth in Teddy’s leg. The boy
gave a shout, and releasing his hold on the gun gave all his
attention to the business at hand--beating the bear to the ledge.
Strangely enough, as he scrambled up the incline, Teddy’s thoughts
reverted to the ranch yard, when only yesterday he and Roy had sat
on the corral fence and snickered as Pop Burns told about the time a
bear had tried to make a meal from Nick Looker’s pants, while Nick
was in swimming at Lomley’s Lake. According to Pop, the bear had
struck a fishhook in the back pocket, and out of revenge had chased
Nick all over creation.

“Now I know just how Nick felt,” Teddy panted. “Never--as long as I
live--will I laugh at another bear story! Hey, Roy! Hang on to your
gun! Mine’s gone!”

But even as he spoke, he heard a thud and saw their only remaining
firearm go sliding down the mountain. It hit in the path of the
oncoming beast, and the animal stopped for a moment to see what this
was that tumbled toward him. As the rifle reached him, he put out
his paw, stopped the gun, sniffed at it, then flicked it from him
with a snort, and once more lumbered on.

But at least the rifle had served one good purpose--for in that
small interval of time Roy had reached the ledge. He jumped upward,
careless of consequences, and felt his finger close over the root of
a tree. Straining every muscle, he gradually drew himself
up--higher--higher--and, with a gasp of thankfulness, he sank down
upon the rock.

Then, bracing himself, he stretched his arms over the edge toward
Teddy. The boy seized his brother’s hands, and, grunting with
exertion, succeeded in gaining the shelf just as the bear reached
the spot where he had stood but a moment before.

“Leaping lizards!” Teddy panted. “That was some close! Hey, listen
to that geezer grunt! Golly, I--”

“I’ll tell a maverick it was close!” Roy gasped. “Another second and
you’d have been mince-meat! I told you we shouldn’t have followed
those tracks. If we had had a decent rifle--”

“_You_ told _me_! Well, for the love of Pete! And _you_ were the one
who wanted to do all this bear hunting! Great snakes! How do you get
that way? Wow! Listen to our friend! He won’t be able to talk
to-morrow!”

Below them the bear was uttering dire threats against their safety
and was trying desperately to reach the ledge by jumping. Every time
he sprang the boys heard the “scra-a-a-ape” of his claws over the
rock.

Teddy shook his head.

“Baby,” he remarked, “I sure hope he gets discouraged easily! If he
ever manages to pull himself up here--good-night!”

Cautiously Roy leaned over.

“He’s still at it. Thank goodness this shelf is narrow. But the
point is, how are we going to get down? It’s a cinch we can’t climb
up that cliff.” He motioned with his thumb to the wall back of them,
which rose straight up. “As long as the old boy wants to hang
around, we’re his guests,” he finished grimly.

“Well, if you had frozen to that gun of yours we might have a
chance. But there it is, lying down on the rocks, not doing us a bit
of good. It might just as well be at home as down there. Say--”

Teddy stopped short. Speechless, he seized his brother’s arm and
pointed. Roy looked along the side of the mountain, then staggered
against the wall.

“Jumping catamounts!” he groaned. “We’re cooked! Another one! Start
the slow music, Teddy. This bear’s brought his gang along with him!”

“Oh, cheer up! It’s not a gang--yet! It’s one bear, only one! And
that makes two bears, only two! Golly, if we only had a rifle!”



CHAPTER II

The Brainy Beastie


Scuffling rocks down the slope of the mountain in his haste to join
his comrade, the second bear approached the ledge. Teddy and Roy
knew that the new arrival could not come at them from the side, as
the corners of the shelf tapered into the straight wall.

Yet this fact was paramount in the minds of the boys--that two bears
were one more bear than one bear.

“Come, join the party,” Teddy said bitterly, as he watched the
scrambling approach of the second beast. “The more the merrier. Roy,
just tell François to lay another place, will you?”

Roy did not reply, but once more leaned over the edge of the
projection. The animal they had first encountered had ceased his
ineffectual attempts to reach the shelf, and was calmly awaiting the
arrival of his mate.

“The uninvited guest,” Teddy continued, eyeing the oncoming bear
with a malevolent stare. “Well, there’s always room for one more. We
strive to please.” He raised his voice to a shout. “Hey, _amigo_,
would you mind bringing that rifle with you as you come by? There’s
something in it I want to give you. What? Oh, all right. If you want
to be nasty about it. The next time I--”

“Teddy, put a buck-strap on that lower lip of yours,” Roy
interrupted. “I have an idea.”

“Has it got something to do with us leaving here before winter sets
in? Because if it has, let’s hear it.”

Without speaking, Roy nodded his head, then proceeded to search his
pockets diligently. At length he brought to light a fishline with a
hook attached, imbedded in a small cork. He held the line up with a
triumphant smile.

Teddy looked at it for a moment. Then a grin came over his face.

“Fine!” he cried joyfully. “Just the thing. I haven’t been fishing
for some time, and it’s well nigh on to three weeks since I fished
for bear. I’m kind of out of practice. Let’s see now. What is it you
use for bait? Oh, yes, I remember now. You tie the end of the line
to a tree, put yourself on the hook, and jump overboard. When the
bear nibbles you yell, ‘I’ve got him!’ That is, if you can. Then the
bear laughs and says, ‘Oh, no, quite the contrary, I assure you,’
and by that time--”

“Save it, and write a joke book,” Roy retorted. “Now control your
well known faculty for humor for a moment and pay attention. What’s
that down there?” He pointed, and Teddy stared.

“That? Well, it _looks_ like the rifle you so obligingly dropped. Of
course, I can’t be sure, for we’re not sure of anything in this
world. But I _think_ it is.”

“Strangely enough, you’re right. Now my idea is this: I’ll tie a
weight to this line about a foot below the hook. Make a cast. Catch
the hook in the rifle. Draw up said rifle. Shoot said bear and his
little friend. Then go home and eat.”

Teddy gazed silently at his brother. His mouth opened wide. A fixed
look came into his eyes. Then, gasping for breath, he put out his
hand gropingly, as though to steady himself.

“I’m not well,” he said thickly, “and I want to go home. It must be
those cucumbers we had for lunch. Never again, as long as I live,
will I eat cucumbers. Why, Roy, do you know what I thought you said?
I thought--”

“Suffering tripe, can’t you be serious for a _minute_?” Roy burst
out. “I tell you my scheme will work. It’s the only chance we have.
Look--the other bear has arrived. Hear ’em talking to each other?
Suppose they’re able to boost themselves up here? ’Course I don’t say
they _could_--it’s pretty high, thank goodness. But if they did?
Where would we be then? Now you watch. I’m going to try it. Here she
goes.”

Teddy settled himself in a sitting position on the ledge with his
back to the wall, so that he was out of sight of the bears below. He
waved his hand grandly.

“You may fire when ready, Gridley!” he quoted.

Roy carefully judged the distance from the ledge to the spot where
the gun lay, estimating the length of line he would have to use. By
this time the two bears were in close conference. Deep rumblings of
bear talk came to the boys on the ledge, and finally one
heavy-throated, decisive grunt.

“Period,” said Teddy, and lapsed once more into silence.

Roy took a firm stand upon the ledge. He had already attached the
stone to the line and had removed the cork from the fortunately
large hook. Now he drew back his arm, took careful aim, and threw.
The line whistled out, then sagged as the stone struck the ground.

“Make it?” Teddy asked, not deigning to arise.

“Missed,” was the laconic reply. “Give me time.”

“Certainly. We have weeks at our disposal. I’ve got nothing to do
but sit here, anyway.”

Roy grinned good-naturedly and drew the line in. Once more he cast.

“I’ve got those bears worried, at any rate,” he declared, pulling in
for a third attempt. “Notice how quiet they are?”

Teddy nodded solemnly.

“Sure. They just decided which one was going to have me for lunch.
I’ll bet the first bear won. He likes me. Tried to kiss me on the
way up, but I was bashful, and, anyway, we were in a hurry.”

Once more the line whistled through the air. This time, when it
landed, Roy gave a yell.

“_That’s_ the one! Watch this now, Teddy, and give me credit!”

Teddy, jarred out of his placidity, leaped to his feet. He saw that
the hook had come to rest about five feet below the gun, and in a
direct line with the trigger guard.

“Boy--take it easy!” he breathed. “Pull up slow--slo-o-o-w! A little
more--no--don’t jerk it--gently now--”

“Well, for the love of Pete, will you pipe down for a second?” Roy
exploded, a grin of amusement on his face. “How do you think I can
do this with you yelling in my ear? First you sit back and let me do
all the work, and then, by golly, you want to play director. Hey,
iss diss a system?”

“Pardon,” Teddy replied, mockingly contrite. “You are right. I am at
fault, and I await your pleasure. Henceforth I keep my peace.”

With a smile of satisfaction, Roy returned once more to the business
of catching the hook in the trigger guard. Slowly he drew in. The
hook neared the rifle. Then, with a foot more to go, it caught on
the edge of a stone, and stuck. Carefully Roy twitched the line,
hoping to dislodge it. But the hook resisted all his efforts. Both
boys took a deep breath. Below them the bears started their growling
again, and stones and dirt clattered down the mountain as they
leaped repeatedly up toward the ledge.

“Now may the gods of the hills be with us,” Teddy murmured. “I fear
me those bears have formed a conspiracy against us!”

Roy jerked the line desperately. If it parted, their last hope was
gone. They would have to remain on the ledge until the bears left of
their own accord or until the animals succeeded in their objective.
Roy shuddered slightly as he thought of this last eventuality.
_That_ would not be so pleasant.

“Let’s try it,” Teddy suggested hoarsely, afraid almost that his
voice would cut the line. He took the cord from his brother’s
unresisting hand.

For a moment it seemed that he would have no greater success than
Roy. The hook appeared caught firmly. Then, resolutely, Teddy gave
the line a violent tug.

The hook released its tenacious hold on the stone and snapped
through the air. Teddy gave a gasp of dismay. Then, suddenly, his
face cleared and his eyes lit joyfully. He gave a shout of triumph.

The hook, leaping toward the rifle, had become attached to the
trigger guard!

“Got it!” Teddy yelled. “Don’t know how, but I did! Now, Roy, we’ll
see just how much this plan of yours is worth! Here, gun, gun, gun,
gun, gun! Come to papa! Whoa, baby, not so fast! That’s the stuff!
Nice rifle!”

By fits and starts, the rifle, drawn by the fishline, made its
eccentric way up the mountainside. Gradually it approached a spot
just under the ledge where both bears were waiting, crouched against
the wall, staring frantically at this strange manifestation. Never
before had they seen a stick travel uphill apparently under its own
guidance.

“Golly, I hope they leave it alone,” Roy gasped, peering anxiously
over the edge. “When I yell, Teddy, you give the line a quick pull
up and I’ll grab the gun. Easy now, it’s almost below me.
Careful--careful--get away from there, you varmint. Yay-y-y-y! Woof
woof! Bang bang! Scat! Now, Teddy! Pull! Hey, you! Lookout--”

Teddy, standing above, where he could not see the rifle now that it
was directly below the shelf, had given the cord a quick tug in
obedience to Roy’s shouted command. At this very moment the bears
recovered from their panic. Simultaneously, they made a dive for
that strange thing dangling in front of them. The animal that had
chased the boys succeeded in hitting the barrel with one paw, while
the other paw brushed against the line. The rifle swung around, the
muzzle pressed against the bear’s chest. With a snort of surprise,
the beast hugged it to him.

Bang!

There was a quick report, as though some one had slapped two boards
together. The bear, stung with a pain more violent than any bee
sting, sprang back with a grunt of outraged dignity--sprang back,
and, howling in rage, fled ignominiously down the mountain, with his
astounded companion tumbling after!

There was deep silence on the ledge. Open-mouthed, the boys watched
the lumbering animals disappear in the foliage at the foot of the
incline, and the crackling of the brush and the waving of twigs
testified that their speed was as yet undiminished--they were still
going, and going fast.

Teddy blinked rapidly. Bending over, he felt with his hand of
several places on the rocky floor of the shelf. Finally he found one
to his liking. Then he sank blissfully down, rolled over on his
back, and the next moment the hills echoed with the laughter of two
boys lying on a narrow ledge high up in the mountains.

“The--the poor thing was scared!” Roy spluttered, as soon as he got
his breath. “He tried--oh, golly--he tried to commit suicide! Baby!
I never expect to see a sight like that again! Teddy, if you had
only seen him--seen the expression on his face when the gun went
off! He grabbed the barrel, pointed it at his chest, and pulled the
trigger! Honestly! Then he looked so gosh-blamed surprised and
disappointed, and--and--Hold me, Teddy, or I’ll bust!”

“I saw most of it,” Teddy declared, wiping tears of laughter from
his eyes. “The best part of it all was to see those two hopping down
the mountain like a couple of silly cows--or like rocking horses out
on a spree! Man, that was one sweet show! Say, I’ll bet the one who
shot himself won’t sleep to-night. Or, if he does, he’ll have bad
dreams. Imagine a bear shooting himself! Won’t Pop Burns like to
hear about this!”

“Yes, but will he believe it?” Roy asked dubiously. “Pop likes to
tell ’em, but when it comes to listening--that’s another thing.”

“Well, anyway, this beats his story about the bear eating Nick’s
pants.”

“I’ll tell a maverick it does! And we know this is true, while that
other--well, I have me ‘doots.’ Come on, we’d better go now. We’ve
got to find your gun before we start home. Here--you slide down
first then grab me. I’ll bet Star and Flash are getting restless by
now. Neither one has been ridden much lately. All right--over you
go. There’ll be no bear to welcome you with open arms, either, thank
goodness. The party is over!”

Still chuckling, the two boys, after finding the two guns where they
had been dropped, made their way down the mountain toward the
ponies. Star and Flash whinnied as they came up and pranced about
ecstatically the moment the boys were in the saddle. The love Teddy
and Roy had for their broncos was not unreciprocated.

Talking of their adventure with the bears, the boys rode slowly
home. Teddy was anxious to tell Pop Burns about it, to see what he
would say. But as they neared the ranch yard of the X Bar X, they
heard something that drove these topics from their minds.

From around the corner of the bunk-house came voices, loud in anger.
They listened. One of the speakers was their father!



CHAPTER III

An Angry Visitor


“What do you reckon is up, Teddy?” asked Roy Manley.

“Haven’t the least idea, but we’ll soon find out!”

The two urged their mounts forward anxiously.

Digressing here, for a moment, it will be recalled that these two
youths were first introduced in a book called “The X Bar X Boys on
the Ranch,” the opening volume of this series. Therein was told of
the long and dangerous hunt they, in company with their father and
other members of the outfit, had undertaken to round-up a gang of
rustlers who had stolen Flash, Star, and General, the ponies of
Teddy, Roy, and Mr. Manley.

The boys felt keenly the loss of their ponies, and braved many
dangers before regaining them. The fact that the Manley posse caught
the rustlers when they were about to make a raid on the cattle of X
Bar X added not a little to the excitement.

In the second book, called “The X Bar X Boys in Thunder Canyon,” the
adventures of Teddy and Roy on the trail of kidnappers are related.
These scoundrels, in revenge for a wrong they fancied Mr. Manley had
done them, took Belle Ada, the boys’ sister, and Nell Willis and
Ethel Carew, her friends, to a cavern far up Thunder Canyon. Guarded
there by an old woman and a number of men, the girls had a
terrifying time until Roy and Teddy found them and brought them
safely home after rounding up the kidnappers, who turned out to be
the same gang that had made trouble at the X Bar X Ranch before.

The voice of the man who was quarreling with their father in the
ranch yard was not an unfamiliar one to the Manley boys. Teddy, who
was leading, reined up sharply and jerked his head in the direction
from which the words were coming.

“Jake Trummer,” he said shortly. “Seems to be getting a load off his
chest. Wonder what the row is about.”

“Plenty, from the noise,” Roy answered. “He’s sure laying it into
dad. Let’s investigate.”

As the boys were intimately concerned with the running of the X Bar
X, their decision to learn the cause of the argument was not an
intrusion. They knew their father wished them to know anything that
concerned the ranch. So, chirping gently to their ponies, they rode
around the bunk-house and came in sight of the speaker.

Jake Trummer had his back to them as they trotted up.

“You heard what I said, Bard Manley,” he was thundering. “I ain’t
got no time for foolin’ around. Either you take yore cattle off my
ranges, or, by gosh, I’ll drive ’em off, an’ none too gentle,
either! You hear me!”

“Can’t help it, not bein’ deaf,” Mr. Manley returned. “You make a
noise like a steam calliope, Jake, only not so pleasant. But you use
the same kind of power--hot air. Now listen. Just as fast as I can,
I’ll--hello boys!” their father suddenly broke off. “You’re just in
time. Jake, here, was tellin’ me a nice little story about a bad
wolf; wasn’t it, Jake?”

“We heard some of it,” Roy said, with a grin, and dismounted.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Trummer?”

“Matter enough! And if you think it’s a nice story, you’ll learn
different, Bard Manley! You get yore cattle off my ranges, an’
quick! You know the grass down by Whirlpool River is the best
grazin’ in the state, an’ you know I only got a certain amount of
it. Hardly enough for my own stock. Then you let yore cows go
roamin’ all around creation an’--”

“Do you mean that our cattle are using your grass?” Teddy asked,
sliding from his horse. “If that’s so, we’ll try to get them off as
quickly as possible.” He turned to his father. “I’m sorry about
that, Dad. I had Nick an’ Gus riding this week. They didn’t do their
job very well, I guess. Wait a minute, Mr. Trummer, and we’ll get
the straight of this. Hey, Nick!” The boy raised his voice in a
shout. “Nick around? Come over here--pronto!”

“Take it easy,” Mr. Manley said suddenly. “Never mind it, Nick!” he
called. And as a young puncher appeared from around the bunk-house
the “boss” waved a hand. “Trot back. If we want you we’ll yell
again.”

Nick Looker, with a puzzled look on his face, obeyed slowly. Mr.
Manley turned again to Jake Trummer.

“Listen, Jake. I’ve known you for some years now. We ain’t never had
no argument before. I’m sorry my dogies got over on yore land. But,
leapin’ turtles! that’s no reason to come an’ take my head off about
it! Why’n’t you come up an’ tell me like a man, instead of raisin’
the dust like a cyclone? Hey?”

Jake Trummer’s face grew red. His neck swelled until the veins stood
out like knotted cords. His hands clenched.

“’Cause I didn’t want to, that’s why!” he shouted. “Think you can
run me like you run this here ranch, Bard Manley? Well, you can’t!
When I says a thing I means it! You hear me! Them cattle of yours
been on my grass fer a week now. Every day I figures you’ll come
over an’ take ’em off, but you don’t do nothin’. So finally I has to
come over to you. But it’ll be the last time! You hear me! You get
them cows off Whirlpool River, or, by golly, I’ll drive ’em _in_ the
river! You hear me!”

Turning on his heel, Jake Trummer strode savagely to the corral rail
where he had tied his pony. Releasing her, he vaulted into the
saddle, swung the pinto’s head about, and galloped out of the yard.
Slowly Mr. Manley took a corncob pipe from his pocket, stuck it in
his mouth, applied a match to its already filled bowl, and then
grinned.

“The old boy sure had his fur up, didn’t he?”

“I’ll tell a maverick he did,” Roy responded. Then a frown came to
his face. “What’s the rights of this, dad? When did Jake come over?
Had he been here long?”

“Not five minutes before you came. Teddy, you trot over and ask Nick
an’ Gus Tripp to come over here. I want to ask them some questions.
I didn’t see no sense in lettin’ Jake Trummer have any say in how we
handle our men, so that was the reason I told Nick to go back
before. But to tell the truth--” he exhaled a great cloud of
smoke--“to tell the truth, I thought Jake was foolin’ at first. But
I guess he was sure enough mad.”

“No doubt about that,” Teddy added grimly. “I’ll get Nick for you,
Dad. I’m sorry this happened. Jake has always been a good neighbor,
and I hate to have trouble with him.” Shaking his head, the boy led
his horse to the hitching rail and then made for the other end of
the yard.

“Takes it like a veteran,” Mr. Manley remarked to Roy, as he watched
Teddy walk off. “Roy--” and he placed a hand on his son’s
shoulder--“I never say much to you two, but I guess you know that
I’m pretty well satisfied with who I got for youngsters. When the
time comes for me to take a back seat, I expect you an’ Teddy to
carry on this ranch like I did when I got it from my father--your
grandfather. You never saw him, but Pop Burns did. He’ll tell you
all about him. An’ I tried to do the best I could by him--just like
you an’ Teddy are doin’ for me. You boys are men, now--yep, real
men. It took men to locate those rustlers the time we had our broncs
stole, and to round ’em up. It took men to ride at that cave in
Thunder Canyon to get Belle Ada an’ the rest without knowin’ how
many guns you were goin’ up against. Yep, it took men to do those
jobs--an’ you did ’em. I ain’t kickin’ none. Snakes! what started me
off on that trail? Son, you see any signs of Father Time around
here?” and he squeezed Roy’s shoulder affectionately and laughed a
little.

“Not any, Dad,” Roy responded, and tried to echo his father’s laugh,
but there was a queer lump in his throat that he could not account
for. Never before had his father talked like this. And when Mr.
Manley saw his son’s eyes, he understood. With a yell he grabbed Roy
about the waist and affected to throw him to the ground.

“Could I do it?” he grinned, desisting. “You bet I could! Snakes,
Roy, you’re too blame serious! What chance have you got to see me
take a back seat yet awhile and watch the grasshoppers whizzing by?
In the words of the immortal poet, not any! Where in thunder is
Teddy? Oh, here he comes!”

With the arrival of Nick and Teddy, Roy’s mind turned from its
rather sombre trend to the business of ranching. Roy, but one year
older than Teddy, had a more serious disposition, frequently
considering events more important than they really were. This nature
he inherited from his mother, who, before her marriage to Bardwell
Manley, had been a school teacher in Denver. From her Roy got his
taste for the really worthwhile things in life--poetry, literature,
pictures. But the fact that these tendencies showed early
development occasioned Teddy, who as yet was quite Roy’s opposite,
much amusement.

As Nick Looker approached, Mr. Manley’s face took on a frown.

“Hear the news, Nick?” he asked shortly.

“Teddy told me,” Nick returned. An anxious light came into his eyes.
“Was Jake Trummer real sore, boss?”

“He sure was,” Mr. Manley replied tersely. “Where’s Gus?”

“Town. Nat Raymond an’ Jim Casey are ridin’ from to-day on,
accordin’ to Teddy. Gus went in to get some mail--says he’s
expectin’ a letter from some Southern belle he’s got down near the
border. Kind of uneasy about her, I’m thinkin’. Want him, too,
boss?”

“Yes, I want him, too. But there’s a few things I want to say to you
first. Nick, Jake Trummer had a right to be as sore as he liked.
It’s no joke for another man’s cattle to eat up all your best
grazin’ grass, especially when you ain’t got too much of it. Jake
threatened to drive our dogies in the river if we didn’t get ’em out
of there pronto, an’ of course I couldn’t let him get away with
that, so I came back at him. But I knew he was right. Well--speak
up. Got an explanation?”

“Who, me?” Nick’s face expressed hurt surprise. “What have I done,
boss?”

“Well, outside of lettin’ our Durhams wander over on Jake Trummer’s
land and makin’ him come over here fit to be tied, I guess nothin’.
But we all have our own ideas, an’ mine, strange as it may seem, is
that when a man’s set to ridin’ cattle, he’s supposed to ride ’em,
and not let ’em mess up a neighbor’s grazin’ ground.”

“Me? I let ’em loose? Why, boss, I didn’t have nothin’ to do with
it!”

“Weren’t you ridin’ herd?”

“Me? Why, no, boss.”

Mr. Manley turned to Teddy.

“How about that, son? Didn’t you tell me Nick was on herd?”

Teddy looked at Nick, then averted his glance.

“I guess I--” he began.

“Wait!” Nick interrupted. “Teddy did set me out about a week ago!
But the way I understood it, he shifted plans, an’ I’ve been workin’
fence fer six days! I ain’t been near the cattle!”

“What do you mean?” Teddy asked sharply.

“Why, Joe Marino--you know, boss, The Pup--he come to me an’ said
that Teddy, here, told him to tell me he was to take my place, an’ I
was to ride fence. He an’ Gus been on the job all week. I’ve been
workin’ on the fence. An’ believe me, it sure needs fixin’. You mean
to say that The Pup lied, Teddy?”

Teddy nodded his head.

“That’s just what he did, Nick. I guess it’s all my fault. I should
have been more careful and checked up. But what on earth did The Pup
do a thing like that for? It sure beats me!”

“Nick, where’s The Pup?” Mr. Manley demanded sharply.

“You got me, boss,” Nick confessed. His eyes were troubled. Somehow,
this thing that had happened seemed partly his fault, and he found
it a strange experience to be in wrong with the boss.



CHAPTER IV

Joe Marino


Always, as long as Nick Looker had been on the ranch--five years
this coming winter--he had done his work cheerfully and well. The
men on the X Bar X had more than mere employees’ interest in the
ranch. They looked upon it as a home, and, as such, to be well cared
for.

“This here Pup--” Nick observed, “now, I don’t like to say nothin’
against a man when he ain’t here fer a come-back; but--well, boss,
The Pup sure likes his liquor. I don’t mind a man takin’ a nip now
and then, if he’s built that-away. But not during workin’ hours.”

“Do you mean to say Joe Marino has been drunk while he’s on the
job?” Teddy asked quickly.

“Now, maybe we’d better wait till The Pup shows up,” Nick countered,
shifting his shoulders uneasily. “He’ll be around soon. Maybe he’s
rode to town with Gus Tripp. Most likely that’s it.”

Mr. Manley puffed thoughtfully at his pipe. Through half shut eyes
he observed Nick. It was several moments before he spoke.

“Gus hasn’t been doin’ any promiscuous galivantin’, has he, Nick?
But never mind,” he added quickly, as he saw the cowboy move his
head from side to side. “I don’t want you to tell tales out of
school. We’ll wait. Whereabouts were all those breaks in the
fences?”

It was late in the afternoon before Gus Tripp rode in. With him was
The Pup. Roy, who had been seated outside the ranch house on a
bench, mending a broken stirrup, saw them come up. He dropped the
leather and hurried forward.

“Gus,” he called, “dad wants to see you. Tie your pony and come over
to the corral, will you? Joe, you too.”

“He want to see me?” The Pup asked, and Roy noticed that his voice
seemed unduly loud. “Well, I’m all set. Where is he?”

“Over by the corral, as I said. Hurry up. Get your letter Gus?”

“Nope--not any,” Gus answered. As he spoke he swayed slightly in the
saddle. “Funny--I kind of expected she might write. Guess I’m a back
number--ha--that’s funny--me a back number! Can ya imagine that,
Roy? A back number! Like a last year’s calendar! Say, that’s pretty
good. Get that one--that--that one, Roy? A last year’s calendar.
Huh! Pretty good! Made it up all--all by myself, too. Yesser! Pretty
good--pretty good,” and he wagged his head stupidly.

Roy looked at the cowboy sharply. This was unlike Gus. It was plain
to be seen that he had been drinking, probably at Rimor’s in town.
Roy approached, and laid hold of the bridle of Gus’s pony.

“Where have you been all day, Gus?” he asked quietly.

“Who, me?” Exaggerated surprise was on the man’s face. “Why, I--I
been busy. Me an’ The Pup. We both been busy. Awful busy. Ain’t we,
Joe?”

The Pup disdained to answer. An ugly look on his face, he lashed his
horse savagely, and jumped him toward the hitching rail. Then he
dismounted and walked toward Gus.

“Come on,” he snarled. “Don’t sit there talkin’. We got to see the
boss. Ain’t you heard orders?” and he looked at Roy, a sneer on his
face.

Roy flushed. He did not wish to seem above the men, but rather as
working with them. Joe intimated with his glance that Roy’s
authority was given by virtue of his being “the boss’s son,” and not
because he deserved it. Roy opened his mouth to reply, thought
better of it, and walked slowly away. The Pup laughed loudly. Roy
felt his muscles tighten, but he did not turn. He would not argue
with a man who had been drinking.

He was not present at the scene between Mr. Manley and Gus and The
Pup. Teddy told him of it later.

“There’s two we will have no longer with us,” Teddy said that night.
“Dad was feeding General sugar when they came up. Soon as he heard
them he whirled around and he knew in a second that they had been
hitting the bottle. Gus just looked kind of ashamed, but The Pup had
a mean look on his face.

“‘Gus, where you been?’ dad wanted to know. Gus said he’d been to
town, to get a letter that didn’t come. Said he’d been expecting it
for two weeks, and he was kind of disappointed. Say, Roy, I thought
he was sweet on Norine?” Norine was the daughter of Mrs. Moore, who
was the housekeeper on the X Bar X. “How about that?”

“Don’t know,” Roy replied. “Gus told me about the letter, too. I
have an idea that had something to do with his drinking--he never
used to touch it before. But go ahead. What happened next?”

“Well, as I said, dad caught on right away, and he was some sore.
Told ’em both to get out--that he wouldn’t have men on his ranch who
drank during working hours. Then he asked The Pup what was the idea,
lying to Nick and getting him to change places with him, so The Pup
could ride herd. At first Joe wouldn’t tell, but when Gus let out a
few secrets the whole thing came forth. It seems that The Pup wanted
to take the cows so he could slip away to town when he felt like it
and liquor up and no one would know about it. How he ever got Gus to
consent to a thing like that is beyond me unless, as you say, Gus
isn’t himself on account of that letter.”

“What did Gus do when The Pup spilled the beans?”

“Just acted as if he was mighty sorry. Roy, it isn’t like Gus to
pull a stunt like that. He isn’t built that way. Joe Marino, now--I
wouldn’t put it past him. I don’t like that hombre for a cent. When
he came here last month, dad was short a hand, or he never would
have taken him. And now look at the trouble he’s got us in. Jake
Trummer, one of dad’s oldest friends, turned into an enemy. You
know, Roy, I think something happened up on Whirlpool River at
Jake’s ranch besides the mere fact that our cattle wandered there.
That, in itself, wouldn’t cause Jake to raise the row he did. I’ll
bet The Pup said something to Jake that he didn’t want to repeat,
knowing dad as he does. So he took it all out in being sore about
the cattle.”

“Maybe,” Roy said slowly. “So Gus is going to leave, is he?”

“Yep! Fact is, he’s gone now. When dad finished, Gus straightened up
like a man and shook his head to clear it. Then he spoke right out
and admitted he’d been in the wrong--that he’d got it coming to him.
Said it was all his fault about the cows and that dad was perfectly
right to fire him, and that he’s blamed sorry.”

“He did?” Roy’s eyes lighted. “Good for Gus! I knew he was a
straight shooter, even if he did make a mistake. What did The Pup
say then?”

“He looked at Gus with a kind of funny expression on his face. Then
he let a gob of tobacco juice ride at the ground, laughed, and
walked away. Gus took it all. He sure feels pretty low over this.”

At that moment Mrs. Manley came to the door, saw Teddy and Roy
seated on the porch steps, and called to them.

“Boys,” she said, “will you come in a minute? Your father wants to
see you.”

“And so do I,” a girl’s voice added. Belle Ada, the sister of Roy
and Teddy, walked out on the porch. “Where’s that new whip you
promised me, Teddy? Got it?”

“Haven’t had time yet, Belle,” Teddy answered. “Have it to-morrow
sure. I’m going in to town then, and I’ll stop by and pick it up. It
ought to be at the express office by now. I ordered it last week.”

“Oh, you’ll forget it,” Belle declared, and then laughed.

Belle was twelve years old, with dark hair and eyes. In disposition
she was a great deal like Teddy--happy-go-lucky, always ready for
fun.

“You’d better tie a string around your finger. Or, better still,
around your toe. You’re liable to miss it on your finger, and you
stub your toe so often that you can’t miss it there.”

“Aw, take a rest,” and Teddy grinned. “Come on, Roy, we’ll hop in
and see dad. Where is he, Mother?”

“In his room. I think it’s about Gus that he wants to talk to you.
I’m so sorry that happened, boys! I told your father that he should
go more slowly. He was so worked up over Mr. Trummer’s visit that he
wasn’t quite himself. I tried to calm him as much as I could, and
now I think he regrets that he acted so hastily. But you go in and
let him tell you himself.”

Mr. Manley was seated in a chair in his room, with his corncob pipe,
unlit, between his teeth. This was always a sign of mental
uneasiness with him. When smoke came from the pipe, all was well.
When it reposed in his mouth cold and dead, there was usually
something up.

“Want us, Dad?” Teddy asked.

“Yes. Want to make talk. Come in. Shut the door. Either one of you
see Gus?”

“He’s gone, Dad,” Roy answered. “Teddy, you saw him go, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did. He rode away with a bag on his saddle about two hours
ago. He owned his own horse, didn’t he, Dad?”

“Yes! Gus came to me with a pony, saddle, and nothin’ else, three
years ago. Wanted a job. I gave it to him. So he’s gone, eh?”

“Afraid so, Dad. Didn’t you tell him to clear out?”

“I did, and I’m sorry now that I did it. Your mother’s been talkin’
to me, and, as usual, she’s made me see the error of my ways. I was
too fast. Jake Trummer got me all worked up. He used to be my best
friend, next to Pete Ball. Well, it’s too late now, I guess. As for
Joe Marino, I don’t care when he leaves. We never should have taken
him. He didn’t know much about punchin’, and the first day he was
here I kind of got set against him. He’s gone, too, I suppose?”

“No, he hasn’t,” Teddy declared. “I saw him at the bunk-house
talkin’ to Pop Burns a little while ago. Pop didn’t seem to care
much about listening. He said something sharp and turned away. Guess
The Pup must have been beefing about you throwing him out.”

“He won’t get far with Pop,” Mr. Manley chuckled. “Imagine Pop
hearin’ anything against the X Bar X! Not him. Well, I guess that’s
all, boys. I was hopin’ I could catch Gus and explain to him. The
poor geezer must have been worried about something, or he never
would have done a thing like he did.”

“You’re right, Dad,” Teddy declared. “I noticed he hasn’t looked
well for some time. Keeps talking about a letter all the while. Yep,
it’s too bad. But it can’t be helped now.”

“No,” and Mr. Manley sighed. Then he arose.

“We got a job ahead of us to-morrow. Got to get those cows off
Trummer’s land. I don’t want no man but me to feed my cattle. So be
ready to start early. If you see Marino, you can tell him, for me,
that the sooner he leaves the better I’ll like it.” Again Mr. Manley
sighed. “But I sure wish it had been some one else besides Gus,” he
added.



CHAPTER V

Guarded Words


Sadly enough, however, it was Gus Tripp who was the storm center.
This thing had been the only blot on his escutcheon during the three
years he had worked for the X Bar X. Willingly would Mr. Manley have
wiped it clean had Gus given him the opportunity. But the die was
cast. Gus--he of the drawling speech and eyes which were wont to
grow languid while Norine was near--had gone.

No one gave much thought to Joe Marino, “The Pup.” Though he had
worked for Bardwell Manley, somehow he had never become a part of
the ranch, as the rest had. He was a man apart, neither seeking nor
admitting intimate friendship. His fondness for the cup, alleged to
cheer, was early discovered, but Mr. Manley was loath to discharge a
man for a personal defect so long as it did not affect his work. Up
to this time The Pup had been a lone drinker, but now, when it
became necessary to send him forth because he shirked his job, he
dragged one of the most popular boys on the ranch with him.

Pop Burns was loud in his denunciation of the tempter. While the
boys were saddling their broncos the next morning, preparing to head
for Whirlpool River, the old man halted The Pup as he was lurching
past toward the cook house.

“You still eatin’ here?” he wanted to know.

“I am. Anything to you?” The Pup’s eyes, red from the effect of the
last night’s indiscretion, glared evilly. “Want to ask any more
questions?”

“Well, now, maybe jest one or two,” the veteran puncher said slowly.
“First, where’d Gus duck to?”

“How should I know? Think I’m his keeper?”

“Keeper? Not any! I thought you pretended to be his friend, but I
guess I was mistaken. Usually, when a man tells a fellow certain
things, that other man kind of likes to keep track of his buddy.”

“Hey? What do you mean--certain things? I don’t know nothin’ about
Gus. He rode with me a few times, that’s all.” The Pup leered
suggestively. “If you mean the letter he was waitin’ for from that
skirt down Togas way, why--”

Pop Burns’ expression changed. His eyes narrowed, and the lines
about his mouth deepened. His hands clenched until they looked like
solid balls of brown leather.

“Suppose you just forget about that,” he said evenly, an unwonted
dignity coming into the old man’s voice and manner. “Understand? We
ain’t in the habit of talkin’ out in public about another man’s
affairs. Gus was a friend of mine, I ain’t aimin’ to listen to a
coyote like you makin’ fun of him. Get me?”

The Pup started to reply, then took a second look at Pop’s face, and
thought better of it. With an uneasy laugh he turned away and walked
toward the corral, where his pony was tied. Pop motioned to Teddy,
who was filling a can of flour some distance away.

“Hear that?”

Teddy nodded.

“Some of it. I didn’t want to interfere, so I kept quiet. Dad wants
The Pup off the place as soon as possible. He blames him for the
whole affair.”

“Yore dad’s right about that, Teddy. The Pup has got a streak of
orneriness in him a yard wide. He ain’t no good to no one, least of
all himself. Wouldn’t be surprised if we saw some more of him, at
that, one way or another.”

“You mean he’ll make trouble?”

“Well, he ain’t appeared to be a dove of peace so far, has he?” Pop
countered. “An’ he’ll not hang his tail between his laigs an’ run
without one more nip at somebody. You mark my words! I knew them
kind of waddies. Long ago, when yore grandpop was alive--an’ yore
dad was only a shaver then, like you are--we had a cuss by the name
of--” He broke off suddenly. “All right, boss! Comin’!” Pop called
out, and he hurried off in response to Mr. Manley’s call.

Teddy watched him disappear in the direction of the ranch house,
then reflectively continued packing the can with flour. But as he
worked with his hands, a frown came to his face. He was remembering
Pop’s prophecy.

It would be a shame if anything unpleasant happened now. Why, it was
not so long ago that they had rescued Belle and Nell Willis and
Ethel Carew from the kidnappers. How were the girls on the 8 X 8
getting on? Teddy wondered.

He came to a sudden decision to ride over to Peter Ball’s place to
visit them as soon as this business was over.

Clamping the lid tight on the flour can, the boy thought of the
cattle on Whirlpool River and of the absent Gus Tripp.

“Mighty queer that Gus would go to pieces like that,” he muttered to
himself. “There’s a reason behind it all, or I miss my guess. Gus
sure looked downhearted when he rode out.”

Teddy carried the can and the flour bin toward the house. It was now
about eight o’clock, and the bright fall sun brought the landscape
out in bold relief. Teddy paused a moment before he entered the
house and peered toward the mountains to the west, where he and Roy
had lately come to grips with the gang that had run off with his
sister and her two friends. Then his gaze shifted, and he looked
over the rolling prairie toward the spot where they had earlier
captured this same gang of rustlers, though they had later escaped
to make more mischief. A grim smile curved the boy’s lips.

“Did some one say the West was a quiet place to live in?” he
muttered, and laughed shortly. “Seems to me we do nothing but meet
trouble out here! Well, I suppose it’s all in the game. Now we’ve
got a mean job to get the cows off Whirlpool River. However--” He
shrugged his shoulders, replaced the flour bin, while the can he had
filled he carried to the yard and fastened to his saddle. His father
had told them to prepare for a journey of several days, and this
flour, mixed as it was with other ingredients, made fine “pan
bread.”

Roy met him at the corral.

“Can’t leave just yet,” he said. “Dad wants to wait until Nick comes
back. He rode down to see one of the boys from Jake Trummer’s place
who has been in town several days, hanging around. Dad wants to get
all the dope he can on this before he goes ahead, and Nick knows
this puncher pretty well and said he’d find out all he could. Nick
ought to be back in about two hours.”

“As soon as Nick returns we go--that the idea?”

“That’s it. Unless dad wants to start sooner, and I don’t think he
does. Say, is The Pup still around?”

“Yep.” Teddy smiled grimly. “Around, and noisy. He had a session
with Pop not over ten minutes ago. Pop told him where to get off,
too. I heard part of it. Started to gas about Gus and his letter.
But he got shut up quick, let me tell you. Pop wouldn’t stand for
hearing Gus made fun of. Where does this bacon go--on my saddle?”

“Guess so. I’ve got enough to carry. Golly, dad must expect to spend
Christmas on Whirlpool River, from the load we’re packing. Bet when
we get there Jake Trummer will forget his sore-headedness and invite
us to keep our cows there the rest of the year. That’s the kind Jake
is--quick to anger, but he gets over it just as fast. He’s a good
friend of dad’s too. At least he was before this happened. That’s
what made me think there’s more in this than we suspect. However,
we’ll know as soon as we hit the river. Jimminy! what in thunder is
that?”

Roy stopped and gazed up the road that led past the ranch house.
From behind the house came curious sounds--reminiscent of a load of
junk being pulled over cobblestones. Now and then a splutter, like
the gasp of some huge animal, made itself heard over the noise.
Teddy grinned.

“It will arrive in a moment,” he said.

It did. There soon came into sight one of the strangest contraptions
ever seen on four wheels. Once it had been a flivver, but those days
were gone forever. Its body was of shiny red and made to resemble a
boat, with a rudder in the rear, and a propeller. The wheels were
nearly concealed in the “hull.” From its pointed bow, blue smoke
arose.

Within it, on the front seat, sat a cow puncher, his face alight
with the joy of possession. In the rear were two girls, some two or
three years older than Belle Manley, trying in vain to suppress the
laughter that would bubble over.

“Bug Eye!” Teddy yelled. “And Nell and Curly! But what in the name
of seven sledges is that thing they’re riding in?”

“Howdy, boys!” Bug Eye called, waving one arm and reaching toward
the “in’ards” of the machine with the other. With a groan the
contraption subsided. “What do you think of my Fishmobile?”

“Your what?” Roy shouted.

“Fishmobile! P-s-y-c-h-e--Fish. I saw it on a boat once. And this is
a boat and an automobile, so I call it a Fishmobile. Good, hey?”

“Did you two ride in that all the way over from the 8 X 8?” Roy
laughed, walking toward Nell and Ethel, the good-looking nieces of
Peter Ball.

“We certainly did!” Nell answered. “It runs splendidly, doesn’t it,
Ethel?”

“Great!” was the laughing answer. “How are you, boys? We came to
visit Belle, though, as I remember, Nell did say something about
Roy--”

“Oh, hush!” Nell interrupted, blushing. “Teddy, I haven’t seen you
since you and Roy found us in those terrible caves at Thunder
Canyon,” and she shuddered slightly. “But we want to forget
that--although we’ll never forget what you did for us,” and she
looked quickly at Roy. “But where is Belle?”

“Right here!” a voice called from the porch, and Belle Ada ran into
the yard.

Greetings were soon over, and then the young folks gathered around
to inspect Bug Eye’s new creation.

“She goes on land or water,” he explained proudly. “See? Got a
propeller on her and everything. Works on the fly wheel. The boss
give me that old flivver--remember?--an’ said I could do what I
wanted with it. So I done it. Looks great, hey? An’ when I come to a
lake, why all I have to do is throw the propeller in gear, an’ away
we go!”

“Yes! But, Bug Eye,” Teddy broke in, with a look at Roy, “where is
this lake you’re going to sail on?”

A look of amazement spread over the puncher’s face. He snapped his
fingers and frowned.

“Golly!” he exclaimed. “Never thought about that. Well, I’ll be
jiggered! Of course there’s Lomley’s Lake--but that would never do.
Too small. Well, now, that’s too bad.” Then he brightened. “But if I
_do_ find a lake somewheres, I’ll be all set for it!”

A laugh arose, which did not at all disconcert Bug Eye. All but the
proprietor of “Psyche, the Fish,” wandered into the house. Bug Eye
drove toward the bunk-house, there to be the center of a crowd of
sarcastic cowpunchers. The remarks made concerning the Fishmobile
were graphic if not flattering.

Much as Roy and Teddy wanted to talk to the visitors, they knew that
they must continue preparations for the journey to Whirlpool River.
It was nine-thirty now, and Nick had not yet returned. Mr. Manley
was pacing about the yard nervously, anxious to get started.

Roy was currying Star over by the hitching rail at the side of the
cook house. Suddenly he heard a voice that caused him to start. It
came from behind the cooking shack, and Roy made as though to go
forward, then thought again and remained where he was.

It was Gus Tripp talking. At first Roy did not recognize the tones
of his companion, but as the other talked louder, he knew it to be
The Pup. Gus seemed to be strangely insistent over something.

“No, sir,” he was saying. “Not me! Count me out! The boss only gave
me what I deserved. I hit the bottle and got fired. All right. I got
no kick comin’. I’m sorry I did it, but let that go. It’s all over
now, and you can count me out of any scheme like that, Joe. I may be
an idiot, but, by golly, I’m no polecat!”



CHAPTER VI

To Whirlpool River


“Gus Tripp!” Roy muttered to himself. “And The Pup! I wonder if I--”
Coming to a sudden decision, he threw the currying brush on the
ground and stepped forward. It took but a moment to reach the cook
house, and without hesitating he walked around to the side. It was
in his mind to speak to Gus and tell him Mr. Manley would like to
see him. But when he rounded the corner he stopped short. There was
no one in sight! Puzzled, Roy glanced within the shack. The only
person there was Sing Lung, the cook, who grinned widely as he saw
Roy.

“Hungly?” he demanded. “You boy betta’ have plenty eat, you lide
long, yes?”

“Yep, we got a long ride ahead of us,” Roy returned absently. “Say,
Sing, did you hear two men talking outside here?”

“Who men?”

“Well, I think they were Gus Tripp and Joe Marino. I could hear ’em
away over by the hitching rail, so you must have heard ’em too.”

“Me? Nope, I hear nobody. I lun wata--see?” He turned on the kitchen
faucet, and the noise of the stream beating against the tin of the
sink made even thinking difficult, let alone talking.

“All right, shut it off,” Roy yelled. “I understand. But why you
don’t break every dish in the place with that torrent I can’t see.
Guess you didn’t hear anything.” He stepped into the yard again.
Gazing toward the road as it rose into the mountains past Eagles,
the ranch town, Roy discerned two horsemen. The boy nodded.

“There they go--Gus and The Pup. Wish I could have got here sooner,
so I could have talked to Gus. Now I suppose he’s gone for good.
Wonder what he meant by saying he may have been an idiot, but he
wasn’t a polecat? I don’t like that Joe Marino! Chances are he
wanted Gus to go in with him on some shady scheme, and Gus refused.
Good for Gus! Wish he was back with us.” Roy shook his head, and,
seeing Pop Burns walking across the yard, asked him where Teddy was.
He was told the boy was talking with his father over at the corral,
and, intending to tell them that Gus had returned but had ridden
away again, Roy hurried forward.

When he reached the corral he saw that Nick Looker had come back.
What he was saying evidently was of interest, for both Teddy and Mr.
Manley were listening eagerly.

“Roy, I want you to hear this,” the ranch owner called as Roy came
up. “Nick, tell him what you told us.”

“Well, it was just that I had a talk with Bob McKeever--he’s a hand
on the Whirlpool River Ranch. I’ve knowed him for quite a spell. Bob
says The Pup told Jake Trummer that we put our cattle to his grass
on purpose, and that The Pup had orders to let ’em roam as much as
they wanted. And I found out how all those breaks got in the fence,
too--they been cut. I came across a pair of wire pliers down by the
east fence.”

“Marino told Mr. Trummer that we put our cows in his fields on
purpose?” Roy repeated amazed. “What did he ever say a thing like
that for?”

Nick shrugged his shoulders.

“Don’t ask me. I only know what I been told. Guess that’s reason
enough for old man Trummer to go up in the air, hey, boss?”

“It certainly is,” Mr. Manley said slowly. “I wish I had known this
before. Things would have been different. What else did McKeever
say, Nick?”

“Well, he said he heard his boss swear that if them dogies weren’t
off his land by to-morrow, he’d drive ’em into the river. And he
would, too--old man Trummer is some hot-headed.”

“I know he is,” Mr. Manley said. He thought for a moment. “If I
thought it would do any good, I’d phone him. But I’m afraid that
would make things worse. Nope, we got to take our medicine. Drat
that Joe Marino! I should have thrown him off long ago! Now look at
the mess he’s got us in! Snap to it now, boys, we start right soon.
Got no time for delays. Nick, you come with us. Teddy and Roy, I
expect you to take complete charge of the ranch while we’re gone.”

“You mean we’re to stay, Dad?” Teddy asked, a disappointed look
coming over his face. Up to this moment the boy had fully expected
to go with the others to Whirlpool River.

“Afraid so, boys. After what Nick said I can’t afford to leave the
place without some one who can handle things. We’ve got a long ride
ahead of us--might be a week. And I’ve got to know that the ranch is
bein’ taken care of. I didn’t exactly like Marino’s attitude when I
gave him the gate. If he tries any funny stuff, you’ve got to be on
the job.”

“I see, Dad,” Roy answered. “That’s the right thing, I guess. If you
want us to come on later, we can head down the river by boat and get
there almost as soon as you can. Now what are the orders, Dad?”

It was a disappointment for the boys to stay at home, when they had
been counting on riding with their father, but both saw the wisdom
of Mr. Manley’s plan. Their mother would not care to stay any length
of time on the ranch without some one of responsibility near by,
especially in view of what had lately happened. She was not a
nervous woman, but she realized that the presence of a man like Joe
Marino on the ranch was a constant threat.

Then, as Teddy and Roy thought that their two friends from the 8 X 8
were visiting Belle, things began to look brighter. They had no real
reason for expecting trouble from Jake Trummer. As soon as he heard
the straight of the affair he would probably “snap to,” as Teddy
expressed it.

“But if you want us, we’ll be ready,” the boy continued. “You’re
taking five men, aren’t you? That ought to be enough. We haven’t
more than three hundred head in that herd, from the last checking.
Guess five can handle ’em.”

Mr. Manley smiled at his son’s assumption of an old rancher’s
prerogative, but he took care that Teddy did not see the smile. He
wanted his sons to have full confidence in themselves, and to this
end he never hesitated to place responsibility on either Teddy or
Roy.

Before starting, Mr. Manley gave the necessary instructions for the
running of the ranch, then, with complete assurance that they would
be carried out to the letter, he set out. Teddy and Roy watched the
party, led by Mr. Manley, head for the road and toward Whirlpool
River.

“Kind of wish we were going,” Teddy declared, as he waved a hand in
farewell. “But dad knows best. Come on--let’s see what Nell and
Curly are doing.”

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Teddy and Roy, after they
had attended to the immediate business of the ranch, went for an
evening ride with the three girls. Bug Eye and his Fishmobile were
to stay the night, and possibly several days, to look over some
cattle on the north range that Peter Ball, his boss, was thinking of
purchasing to fill out his stock. There had been an epidemic of
blackleg among the cows of the 8 X 8, and Mr. Ball wanted to get
some healthy Durhams in to fill out, as he had lately contracted to
fill a large order from Denver for cattle on the hoof.

On the way back to the ranch, Nell and Ethel, or more popularly,
“Curly,” rode on ahead, while Teddy and Roy talked in low tones of
The Pup. Roy had neglected to tell his father of the conversation he
had heard behind the cook house, but when he informed Teddy, the
younger lad attached little importance to it.

“The Pup probably wanted Gus to go on a spree with him,” Teddy
suggested. “I guess Gus has had enough of that sort of thing. He’s
not built for it. Gus, normally, is a clean liver. He doesn’t take
much to booze and he would never have touched it if he hadn’t been
worried about something. Wonder what he’s going to do now?”

“But what did he mean when he said dad had a right to discharge him
and he wouldn’t hold it against him?” Roy persisted, not answering
his brother’s question. “Doesn’t that sound as though Marino wanted
Gus to go into some scheme to get even with dad?”

“Aw, don’t be so pessimistic! Golly, Roy, you’re up to your old
tricks again, aren’t you? Let it ride! Even if The Pup did have some
such plan in mind, he’ll forget it as soon as he hits Rimor’s and
gets lit up, and I’ll bet money that’s what he’s doing this minute.
I only hope Gus isn’t with him. You say they rode off together?”

“Yes. That’s why I’m worried. But, after all, there’s no use hunting
for trouble. We’ve got enough as it is.”

Darkness had settled over the land when the riders reached home. The
supper table seemed strangely vacant with Mr. Manley absent, but the
girls and Teddy and Roy kept up a running fire of conversation, so
that Mrs. Manley had not time to think long about her husband riding
far out on the trail. They tried to keep her, as much as possible,
from worrying.

Later in the evening Teddy left the porch and walked toward the
bunk-house, to see Nat Raymond about the next day’s work. As he
neared the corral he heard Flash neigh as though he knew Teddy was
near, and the boy turned aside for a moment.

To his surprise he saw a figure dart out from behind a tree, and,
silently, the boy sprang forward. In a moment he had the man in his
grasp.

“Let’s have a look at you!” Teddy demanded. The man did not
struggle. Instead he faced the boy boldly.

“The Pup!” Teddy exclaimed. He released his hold on the man’s arm.
“I thought you had gone to town.”

“Yes, it’s The Pup,” the other sneered. “And what about it? Gonna
kick me off? If you are, you’d better start kickin’ now, ’cause it’s
gonna take you some little time!”



CHAPTER VII

Suspicion


The bright moon made the scene almost as light as day. Teddy could
see the man’s small, close-set eyes and his thin-lipped mouth as The
Pup thrust his face forward belligerently.

“You’re awfully sure about that, aren’t you?” the boy said in a low
voice. Perhaps another youth might disclaim such a quarrel as this,
which seemed purposely thrust upon him. Teddy had no reason to seek
a fight with Marino, nor even meet him half way. It would have been
better, perhaps, had the boy at this moment turned on his heel and
walked away. But Teddy was himself, and no one else. The memory of
Gus’s betrayal rankled within him.

The Pup moved his shoulders slightly, dropping the right one lower
than the left. Teddy settled himself firmly.

“Think yore some baby, don’t you?” the man flashed, and Teddy could
see a dark flush mount to his face. “You an’ that brother of yours!
Pah! Yuh make me sick!” and he spat energetically.

Teddy clenched his fists, but held his peace. He would not let
himself be talked into starting hostilities. If Marino wanted to
fight--well, there were two sides to the story.

Of a sudden The Pup changed his tone. His voice took on a whining,
ingratiating note.

“What are you two always pickin’ on me for?” he demanded. “I didn’t
do nothin’ to yuh. A feller can’t--”

Teddy saw the man’s hand leap to his belt. Like a bundle of coiled
springs the boy leaped forward. His open hand found The Pup’s wrist
and closed upon it, holding it in a firm grip. The other hand
pressed back the man’s chin--pressed it back until Marino was
staring with glassy eyes up into starry night.

“Drop it!” Teddy gasped, and a knife flashed to the ground. Teddy
kicked it to one side, felt about the man’s shirt to see that no
more weapons were concealed, and stepped back.

“A fine snake you are!” Teddy said contemptuously. “Tried to pull a
knife on me, didn’t you? For two cents I’d--”

“Oh, let me alone!” the man burst out. “Yes, I tried to knife you,
an’ I’m sorry I didn’t! I don’t like your kind! When I came out
here--” He stopped, and bit his lip.

Teddy gazed at him in wonder. The man’s Western accent had
disappeared. He carried a knife--a thing no true Westerner ever did
except for working purposes. Mexicans carried them--it was a Greaser
trait. Was this man a Mex? Teddy looked at him closely.

“What you starin’ at?” The Pup asked uneasily, once more reverting
to his former manner. “You got me, didn’t yuh? Well, call it a day!
Yuh got a shootin’ iron there--why don’t yuh use it?”

“I’m not in the habit of shooting men down in cold blood,” Teddy
said deliberately. He stepped closer to the man. “Marino! where are
you from?” he snapped.

Although a cloud dimmed the moon just then, Teddy could have sworn
he saw fear leap into the man’s eyes. Marino started as though he
had stepped on a rattler where he had expected to find a garden
snake, then recovered himself.

“Kind of a funny question to ask a man in these parts, ain’t it?” he
sneered.

“Not to my notion. But if you want to keep it to yourself, that’s
your lookout. The days when a gunman could come West and get a job
on a ranch without any one bothering about him until he let daylight
into some peaceful citizen, are gone forever.”

“An’ who wants a job on your place, anyhow?”

“That’s not the point. You’re on our land, and you were one of the
hands of the X Bar X. As long as you stay here you’ve got to watch
your step. What was the idea of toting that thing around?” Teddy
nodded toward the long knife, gleaming on the ground a few feet
away.

“That’s my business, too.”

“Well, when you try to stick me with it that makes it my business! I
guess it would be better for all concerned if you just moseyed out
of here, Marino!”

Teddy felt himself growing hot under the collar at the consummate
nerve of the man. Standing there arguing a question of ethics just
after having tried to murder him!

“Throwin’ a guy out this time of night, hey?” Marino demanded.

“Yes--I’m throwing you out. Going?”

The Pup looked over toward the corral, then back to Teddy. He
grinned sardonically.

“Not havin’ no more reason for stayin’, I’ll be on my way,” he
declared. “Soon as I--” He made a move toward his knife.

Teddy took a quick step forward, and put his foot on the weapon.

“That stays here,” the boy said grimly. “Where’s your pony?”

Marino motioned with his thumb toward a group of trees on the edge
of the ranch yard.

“Over there. I just rode by to get some duds I left here. But never
mind ’em now,” he added suddenly. “I’ll get ’em later. Hope you
choke.”

With this pleasant farewell, the man walked in the direction he had
said his horse was tied. Teddy watched him go, a fixed look on his
face.

“Cow-puncher, hey?” the boy muttered. “You’re as much a cow-puncher
as I am a Chinaman! Let’s have a look at this toad-sticker.” He bent
over and picked up the knife. Holding it up, he saw that the
initials “J. K.” were burned in the handle. The blade was long and
curved slightly.

“J. K.--the K standing for Marino,” the boy mused. “Some day we’ll
have this little argument out, Mister J. K. Marino. But you won’t
have one of these things in your hand when we do. Lucky for me I saw
you make a dive for it, or I’d be plumb tired of living by now.”

A moment more he gazed at the knife, then absently he stuck it in
his belt. Slowly he continued on his way to the bunk-house, to see
Nat Raymond.

Before they turned in he told Roy of the occurrence. With the door
of their room shut tight, so as not to disturb Mrs. Manley, the boys
talked far into the night. When finally they switched off the light
they had come to no decision except to agree that Marino was not to
be allowed on X Bar X property again. Yet, had they known it, this
was, in effect, locking the stable after the horse had been stolen.

While Teddy and Roy were talking things over in their room, another
conversation, quite relative to theirs, was being carried on within
the doors of the bunk-house. Despite the appeals of a few men to
“can the chatter an’ go to sleep,” Nat Raymond and Pop Burns were
verbally appointing themselves a committee of investigation.

“Me, I’m goin’ to try to find Gus an’ bring him back,” Pop declared,
pulling hard on his pipe. “He’s too good a man to--Jim, take yore
toe outa my eye! He’s too good a man to lose.”

“Well, then go an’ chin somewhere else!” Jim Casey ordered
petulantly. “You guys loaf all day an’ want to stay up all night.
Us, we got to work!”

“Who loafs all day?” Pop asked indignantly. “I do a blamed sight
more work than you do, Jim Casey, young as you are! So fold that
behind the rim of yore derby!”

“Aw, let him rave,” Nat Raymond pleaded. “He only wants to start an
argument. Listen! How you gonna find Gus?”

“Don’t know. But I will somehow as soon as the boss comes back.
He’ll be glad to see the old geezer. The boss hated to fire Gus as
much as Gus hated to be fired, I’ll bet--maybe more. But Bardwell
was all het up over what Jake Trummer said.” Being the oldest man on
the X Bar X, Pop felt privileged to take liberties with the boss’s
name. “You know, Nat,” he continued, “that time Belle Ada and the
others were kidnapped took a lot out of the old boy. He ain’t as
young as he was once--none of us are,” and Pop puffed reminiscently.
“I mark the time that--”

“For the love of seven kinds of gorillas, will you guys pipe down?”
came a voice from one of the upper bunks. “What do you think this
is--a lecture hall?”

Since several others took up their grievances at this point, Pop and
Nat were compelled to desist and turn in. But Pop called across to
Nat that when the boss came back he was “goin’ to ask for a few days
leave an’ hunt Gus up.” Nat added he’d do the same and hunt Marino
down, and the whole room echoed this sentiment. The Pup had
succeeded in making himself uniformly unpopular during his stay at
the X Bar X.

Early the next morning the ranch yard was the scene of a
consultation. Both Teddy and Roy felt it advisable to tell the
others of what had occurred the night before, so that they might be
on their guard and see that Marino kept his distance. Pop grunted
scornfully when Teddy told of the knife, and expressed himself
fluently concerning any one who was yellow enough to try to slip a
sticker into another. After Teddy had concluded his story, heads
were nodded sagely.

Bug Eye, who was still among those present, declared as his opinion
that The Pup was nothing more nor less than a Black Hand.

“With that name an’ carryin’ a dirk,” he demanded, “what else could
he be? I know them kind. Saw one in Frisco one time, an’ again in
Galveston. They’re all alike.”

“Yore quite some traveled, ain’t you?” inquired Rad Sell
sarcastically. “Suppose you went in that Fishmobile of yourn.”

“Naw, he walked,” Nat Raymond interrupted. “Ever see the soles of
his feet? All callous. Ain’t they, Bug Eye?”

“Never mind that,” Roy said, suppressing a smile. “This is more
important. While dad’s away, Teddy and I have got to manage this
place, and we don’t want anything to go wrong. So if any one sees
Marino hanging around, tell him he’s not wanted. We don’t care for
snakes like that on our ranch--they’re likely to bite and poison
some one.”

Teddy nodded in approval.

“And also,” he added, “if you happen to see Gus--though I don’t
suppose you will--tell him to return. All is forgiven!” and the boy
grinned. “In the meantime there’s plenty to do. Nat, as I started to
tell you last night--” and Teddy went on explaining some details of
the day’s work.

The crowd in the yard wandered off to go about their respective
tasks. Teddy and Roy were to ride to Eagles to see about some new
blankets and they turned to the corral to saddle Star and Flash.

As they approached the railing, Teddy said to his brother:

“Remember that horse I broke about a month ago--just before we went
on our little picnic to Thunder Canyon? The one that jumped the
fence with me?”

“Sure, I remember him. Made a fine riding pony. Dad said he wouldn’t
trade him for any horse on the place--except, I imagine, General.”

“Yea! Well, I want you to take a look at his left foreleg. Seems to
have some kind of a sore on it, and it won’t heal. I put ointment on
it last week, but it didn’t seem to help. Wait here, and I’ll get
him.”

The boy opened the gate. At this time of year there were only a few
horses within the enclosure, and no steers, since all these were on
grazing ground. They would not be brought in until the round-up in
the late fall.

Striding up to Flash, Teddy rubbed the pony’s nose with his hand and
gazed about him. Strangely enough, his eye did not catch the mount
he spoke of, and he looked more carefully among the other horses.
Still he could not see the bronco.

“Hey, Roy!” he called. “Can you spot that pinto? Blamed if I can. I
must be getting blind.”

For a long moment both boys swept the corral with their eyes.
Gradually they were beginning to realize the true state of affairs.

“You say it,” Teddy begged. “Go ahead.”

“I will--the pinto’s gone,” Roy declared grimly. “There’s no doubt
about it. He’s not here, and none of the boys have him out. Teddy,
he’s been stolen!”

“An’ I know the waddie that took him!” Teddy burst out. “Last night!
Oh, what a clown I was not to stop The Pup when I had him instead of
letting him get away with a horse like that! Kick me, Roy--I deserve
it!”

“You don’t know for sure,” Roy admonished. “Some one else may have
taken him--though it certainly does look suspicious. If we--”

He was interrupted by his mother’s voice, calling from the front
porch.

“Teddy! Roy!” Mrs. Manley exclaimed. “Come in at once! Something has
happened!”



CHAPTER VIII

Follow Us


With a bound, the boys were out of the corral and running toward the
house. As they came closer they saw a look of anxiety on their
mother’s face.

“What is it?” Roy shouted, not slacking his pace. “Is any one hurt?”

“No, not that! But I just went to your father’s desk to get a
blotter from the drawer, and a large sum of money is missing! It was
taken from his desk last night!”

The explanation of Mrs. Manley’s concern came as a relief, rather
than a shock, to Teddy and Roy. On that short journey from the
corral to the house, their minds had run the gamut of emotions--they
did not know what to expect. Since the true character of The Pup was
known to them, they had almost feared he had attempted to injure
some one within the house.

“How much was it, Mother?” Roy asked, as he reached the porch.

“About four hundred dollars. Your father drew it from the bank the
day before yesterday to pay the men with. He must have forgotten to
tell you about it, though he may have wanted to wait until he
returned before giving the boys their wages. Now it’s gone! The
drawer was forced and the money stolen. Do you think any of the
men--I don’t like to mention it, but--”

“Don’t worry, Mom, none of the boys did it,” Teddy assured her.

“We know who’s got it; but that won’t help much,” Roy said.

“You do?” Mrs. Manley’s eyes expressed her surprise. “How do you
know?”

“Because the money isn’t the only thing that’s missing. That pony
dad liked so well is gone, too.”

“The one Belle’s been riding--the one you broke?” A frown came to
Mrs. Manley’s face. “Your father will be sorry to hear that. Next to
his own horse, he liked that pony better than any on the place. But
tell me--who took him? And who took the money?”

“The Pup,” Roy declared, pressing his lips together.

“Joe Marino! The man Gus rode with!” Mrs. Manley shook her head
sadly. “I’m very sorry. I was afraid he would cause trouble of some
sort after your father discharged him. But are you sure?”

“I am!” Teddy exclaimed decidedly. “He came back last night, Mother.
I met him.” Wisely, the boy did not tell of his fight with the man.
“I told him to stay away from here, and, as I remember now, he was
near the corral when I caught him! He must have sneaked into dad’s
office, taken the money, and then he got the pony out. So-o-o
_that’s_ what he meant when he said his job here was finished!”
Teddy brought a fist down sharply into his open palm. “And I had him
in my hands! If I only had that chance over again, I’d certainly
make the most of it! Wonder how far away he is by now? Maybe we
could--”

“Cool off,” Roy advised. “No use to beef about a thing that’s
already happened. The thing to do is to find Joe Marino.”

“Are you certain it was he?” Mrs. Manley asked.

“We sure are!” came from Teddy. “How about it, Roy? Wouldn’t you bet
your bottom dollar that The Pup did this?”

Both his mother and Teddy waited for the reply. They had confidence
that Roy would not go off “half cocked,” a trait which Teddy had in
full measure. Besides this, with Mr. Manley gone, the mother and
younger brother leaned toward Roy as the natural head of the family.

“Marino,” Roy said slowly, “is the thief, or I’m a ring-tailed
doodle bird.”

“And there’s no two ways about it!” Teddy added. “Come on,
Roy--we’ll go get him! He’s got a payroll and a horse of ours!”

“But, boys--” Mrs. Manley began, when Roy threw an arm
affectionately over her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” he interjected. “Dad told us to stick, and stick
we do until he sends for us, payroll or no payroll. Teddy, you fly
off the handle too fast. You know what the orders were.”

“That’s right, too,” the younger lad said, a bit regretfully. “But
it sure does seem a shame to let a skunk get away so easily!”

“He won’t get away,” Roy asserted. “We’ll telephone in to the
sheriff at Hawley to be on the watch, in case he went that way. Then
maybe we can reach Nick’s friend at Eagles--the puncher he talked to
from the Whirlpool River Ranch. If he’s a friend of Nick’s, he’ll
help us out. Then, when dad comes back, we can start on the hunt.”

“Yea, but when’ll that be?” Teddy half grumbled. “A week, maybe. By
that time The Pup could be half way across the continent. Oh, I know
it’s the only thing to do,” he added quickly, as he saw Roy stare at
him. “But--oh, well, I guess you know how I feel!”

“It wasn’t your fault at all, Teddy,” Mrs. Manley consoled. “How
could you know that Marino was here to steal?”

“Aw, I might have guessed he’d try some stunt like that,” the boy
muttered. “After he--I mean when I saw him sneakin’ around. Well, we
live and learn. Anything else missing, Mother?”

“I don’t believe so, and I certainly hope not,” Mrs. Manley
answered. “A horse and four hundred dollars are quite enough. Do you
think--oh, I can’t think--Gus--”

“Not any!” Teddy exploded forcibly. “And that reminds me, Roy! That
conversation you heard behind the bunk-house! Marino was trying to
get Gus to go into this scheme with him and split the money. That’s
it, as sure as shooting! Nope, Mom, Gus had no finger in this! It
was Marino, all alone. I’ll lay anything on that.”

“You’re probably right, Teddy,” Roy agreed, his face clearing. “At
least it’s an explanation of what I heard. Of course we can’t be
sure of that, though it sounds likely. The Pup may have had another
idea, and just formed the plan to rob our place on the spur of the
moment when he heard dad was away. Come on, let’s take a look at the
desk. That may tell us something.”

When they reached Mr. Manley’s office they saw in a moment that the
drawer of the desk had been pryed open with some sort of knife, and
the lock sprung. There were marks--small cuts--about the woodwork on
the edge of the desk. As Roy saw these, he looked at Teddy
significantly, but said nothing. He did not want his mother to know
of the knife episode.

A raised window on the side indicated how the intruder had gained
entrance. Such was the faith that Mr. Manley had in his men that he
never bothered to lock up at night, and this was the first time in
all the years he had been the owner of the X Bar X that his trust
had been violated. Perhaps it was carrying things to extremes to
allow a large sum of money to remain unprotected, but “the boss” was
ever an unreliable business man. It was this very quality which so
endeared him to his family and to his associates--the quality of his
lovable childishness. Yet there were those who could tell of another
nature which lay buried beneath this exterior--a nature which men of
evil character had learned to fear. When aroused, the boss of the X
Bar X was a “fightin’ fool,” as Pop expressed it.

Realizing that there was nothing more to be learned within the
office, Roy and Teddy returned to the ranch yard and informed the
men of what had occurred. There was a quick rush for “shootin’
irons,” which had to be forcibly quelled. There were many saddened
faces when Roy told them that they could not start in immediate
pursuit of the marauder, but must wait for the return of the boss.

“I hate to hang around here as much as you do,” he finished. “But
dad’ll be back soon, and then we’ll have our inning. There’s a bare
chance that some one else may pick up The Pup. If that happens,
we’ll be saved the trouble--although it would almost be a pleasure,”
and his lips shut tightly.

“An’ we ain’t to do nothin’?” Pop Burns asked wistfully.

“Not yet awhile. We can’t. If dad were only here, we could get up a
gang and go after him. But we’ve got to stay on the place. That was
the order, an’ I aim to see it’s enforced. Of course if when you are
on range you should see The Pup, well--”

“That’s enough, Roy,” Nat interrupted feelingly. “We’ll do the rest.
There ain’t no need for you to elucidate. But aside from that, if
you say we stick on the ranch, stick we do. But I hope the boss gets
back soon. Marino--the polecat! Rustlin’ one of our best horses! The
ole--” and Nat proceeded to lay bare the secrets of The Pup’s life
as he understood them.

The first excitement of the discovery over, the ranch settled down
to its usual workaday tasks. There was much to be done, and the men
were soon absorbed in their labor. There are dull times about a
ranch, but the early fall is not one of them, and thus it was that
when a rider, dusty, hot, and tired, loped into the ranch yard he
found it deserted. The only person in sight was Sing Lung, who sat
in the doorway of the cook house enjoying the morning sun, and
probably dreaming about the pleasanter and more picturesque lands
across the sea. But when he saw the horseman, a grin came to his
face and he waved a hand.

“’Lo, Nick,” he beamed. “Why you come back quick? Cows all fixee,
maybe yes?”

“Maybe no,” Nick answered shortly, “Rustle me some grub, pronto,
Sing. Where’s Roy an’ Teddy?”

“Horse pen, me t’ink. You find?”

With a grateful sigh, Nick slid from his horse and set out for the
corral.

“I been ridin’ most of the night,” he sang out over his shoulder,
“so let that grub be early and plenty.”

He found the boys engaged in replacing one of the corral rails. Roy
held one end of the new bar in place and Teddy was about to raise
the other when he saw the man on foot.

“Nick!” he exclaimed, and dropped the rail. “What in thunder--”

“Left yore dad last night late,” Nick interrupted wearily, “an’ rode
like a fool to get here. I got a message for you.”

He reached in his vest pocket and drew forth a soiled paper. Looking
at it with a glassy stare for a moment, he passed it over to Roy.
Wonderingly, the boy took it, and as Nick flung himself full length
upon the grass he opened it and read:

“Roy and Teddy:

“Got in bad jam. There’s been a slide near Whirlpool River, and the
cattle are in danger. Need your help. Take two men and come down the
river in a canoe, pronto. Follow us. Got to get the cows out of
there. Nick is foreman--he stays. Suggest that Bug Eye, if he’s
still there, come with you, and Pop. Only hurry up.

“Dad.”



CHAPTER IX

The Water Trail


To Teddy’s excited questions, Nick gave only mumbled replies, and
waved his hand protestingly.

When Roy bent down and raised him to a sitting position he declared
he knew nothing more than what was in the letter, except that a
wandering horseman had told of a slide near Whirlpool River, which
threatened to force the cattle into the water, should it reoccur,
and would the boys “please give the bronc some water.” This was
attended to, and the boys got ready to start.

Nick came to life suddenly at Sing Lung’s cry of “come an’ get ’um,”
and started lurchingly for the mess house. After he was stoked with
food and coffee, he aroused himself to an interest in life, and
where he was taciturn before, he was a veritable spring of
information now. The food acted as a stimulant, after his long fast
and hard ride, and he talked willingly.

Teddy and Roy, eager as they were to set out, felt it would be worth
their while to delay long enough to hear Nick’s story, so they
waited for him to light a cigarette, settle himself comfortably on a
bunk, and commence.

“We struck camp about seven last night,” Nick said, blowing out a
swirling cloud of smoke. “The goin’ had been bad, on account of the
rains, an’ we didn’t make such good time, ’cause the boss wanted to
save the broncs. We hit that place on the other side of Harver’s
Gully--forget the name of it--’bout twenty miles west of the gulch.
Then we got set for the night.

“Long about nine o’clock, just when Slim Holiday was startin’ one of
them dirges he calls a song, we hears a noise an’ up rides a hombre
on a pony that looked like it was more use as a hat-rack than a
horse. This waddy tells us something that sure makes us sit up an’
take notice.”

“The slide?” Teddy interrupted.

“Check! He says the whole top of Friendly Mountain has shifted, an’
part of it’s slid down into the valley almost to the edge of
Whirlpool River. Says he saw it happen, an’ the rest of the mountain
is likely to go any day now. Says if it does, it’ll about block up
the river.”

“Just where on the river is this?” Roy asked excitedly. “That river
is some long, runs into Thunder Canyon, I think. The slide may not
be near our cattle.”

“May not, an’ then again it may. That’s the way yore dad feels about
it. Last we heard of that bunch of dogies they was near Friendly
Mountain. They may be there yet, or they may have wandered Pete
knows where. But we can’t take no chances. We got to see that the
cows get out quick. Yore dad says the pick of the whole bunch is in
that herd.”

“They are, too,” Teddy mused. “All our best short-horns. Was dad
worried, Nick?”

“Well, he wasn’t any too easy in his mind. So he roots me out to
ride back--which I done. Yep, which I done.” Nick’s head started to
nod, and Teddy motioned toward the bunk he was sitting on. Gently
the two boys deposited the puncher on the bed, took his still
smoking cigarette from his fingers, and left him to shake the
rafters with healthy snores.

“I don’t like the looks of this at all,” Roy declared, as soon as
they reached the yard. “I kind of hate to leave mother alone with
Marino around. If he should come back--”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Teddy assured him. “Marino isn’t
going to show his face around here for some time to come. And then,
too, Nick will be here. Mother will be all right. She depends on
Nick--and he’s a good man. Now we’ve got to tell her, and find Bug
Eye and Pop. I suppose Bug Eye will want to go in that Fishmobile of
his--but not with me. Suppose you see mother while I find the
others?”

Mrs. Manley took the news calmly. Nell and Ethel were disappointed
that the boys were going to leave, but at Belle’s insistence they
promised to remain until their return.

“Bring back some fish,” Belle suggested. “Some trout, if you can.”

“If we bring back any fish, they’ll be the kind that walk on land,”
Roy declared grimly. His mind flew to The Pup, and he wondered if
there was a chance of meeting him. Then, with a laugh, he dismissed
the thought. “That would be the kind of thing you read about, but
never happens,” he decided. “I reckon we’ll never see him again, nor
our money or horse either.”

Teddy’s idea was to bring the heavy canoe, which lay under a shed in
the rear of the yard, to the water by one of the ranch trucks. Both
the boys had often been on the river before in this canoe, but never
had they been as far as the rapids, which gave the stream its name.
The part that flowed by the ranch was broad and peaceful, and
continued this way for some fifteen miles. Then, like a beast
suddenly released from a cage, it became a roaring, whirling
torrent, barely navigable, and dangerous always. It was down this
stream, and past these rapids, that Roy and Teddy had to go to reach
the cattle.

When Bug Eye and Pop heard the news, they began preparations
immediately. Pop examined the bottom of the canoe with minute care,
he and Bug Eye going over every seam, for this was the boat to which
they were to trust their lives. Bug Eye had received word by phone
from Pete Ball that he was not needed for a time at the 8 X 8, and
that Mr. Manley was welcome to his services. By one o’clock
everything was in order.

Roy, after several attempts, succeeded in awaking Nick for a few
moments, and under the boy’s eyes the puncher wrote his instructions
on a slip of paper, for Roy knew in his tired state he would never
remember them. This over, Nick murmured something that may have been
Chinese, but that sounded faintly like “good luck,” and, turning
over, resumed his interrupted slumbers.

Jim Casey was to drive the truck, containing the canoe, to the
river. All of them were needed to lift it in place on the vehicle,
so heavy was it, but at last it was in and securely lashed to
prevent it from jolting. The rest of the stuff, including food and
blankets, were piled in the front, to be unloaded and put into the
canoe when the river was reached.

Mrs. Manley, Belle, and the two visitors watched the start from the
porch. Affectionately the mother kissed her sons good-bye and
breathed a prayer for their safety. She knew that the journey they
were about to undertake was dangerous in the extreme, yet she never
uttered one word of protest. It was necessary that they go--their
father had called for them. And, as she waved good-bye, she smiled
cheerfully and bravely. These were her sons--they would come back as
they had always done, successful, unharmed. Yet strive as she would,
the mother could not keep a tiny lump from coming into her throat.

The truck containing the five men--Teddy, Roy, Bug Eye, Pop, and
Casey, the driver, reached the river in half an hour. Carefully the
canoe was lifted from the platform and carried to the water’s edge.

“Now!” Roy grunted, and they swung it into the stream. Eagerly they
bent over, watching the bottom with anxious eyes. For a moment they
waited.

“Not a drop!” Teddy exulted. “You did a good job, Pop. Nary a leak.
Hope she stays that way, and I guess she will. It’s a good boat. All
right, Jim. Let’s get the rest of the stuff out. Then you can mosey
back. Let Nick sleep as long as he wants to--he’s had a hard ride.
And tell Belle she’ll have to ride to Eagles herself for that whip I
promised her unless she wants to wait until I get back. It’s at the
express office now. Wait--take that roll of blankets first, and
we’ll stow ’em at the bow where they’ll stay dry.”

The canoe was soon loaded and ready to start. Roy and Bug Eye were
to paddle first, while Teddy and Pop sat in the middle.

“So long!” Jim called. “If you see The Pup tell him we been lookin’
for him!”

“Now why should we see The Pup?” Roy asked of no one in particular,
and dipped his paddle deep into the water. “Although I was thinking
the same thing a while ago. Pipe dreams, I guess. What do you say,
Bug Eye? Let’s hit it up. Hu, hu, hu, hu....”

The boat glided downstream, both paddlers stroking in unison to
Roy’s grunted chanty. The gentle current added to their speed, and
they went along at a good rate. On either side of the river, willows
trailed their drooping branches into the water and afforded a
grateful shade from the midday sun. Roy, seated in the rear of the
craft, steered nearer the edge to take advantage of this protection.

To the left, many miles from the river, but because of its hugeness
seeming almost to border it, rose the highest peak in that part of
the country. Its top was capped with eternal snow and framed in a
wreath of clouds--a picture to make even the most indifferent heart
beat faster. The sparkling water of the stream reflected the sun
like a polished mirror. After half an hour of paddling, Roy stopped
for a moment and shaded his eyes with his hand.

“She curves around here some place, doesn’t she?” he asked. “I don’t
exactly remember--it’s a long time since I’ve been down this far.”

“If by ‘she’ you mean the river, it does,” Bug Eye grinned, turning
around slightly. “It swings to the left, then it’s straight for a
long stretch before the rough water starts. Golly, it’s almost
smooth enough here to try my Fishmobile! Wish we could have brung
it--I mean brought it.”

Some one had lately placed into Bug Eye’s hands a copy of “Correct
English as Used by Gentlemen,” and since then he had laboriously
tried to pattern his speech after the forms advocated by the book.
Thus far he had not had much success, most of the time being too
lazy to retrace his words.

“You know how long that Fishmobile would last?” Teddy laughed.
“About five minutes--if it didn’t fall to pieces before then. Say,
Pop, have you ever shot the rapids below here?”

The veteran puncher nodded solemnly. Seated on the bottom of the
canoe with his long legs curled uncomfortably about the bundle of
blankets and his bald head exposed to the rays of the sun, Pop Burns
presented a strange sight. A canoe is no place for a man who appears
uneasy unless he’s straddling a bronco.

“I bin down twice,” Pop replied. “Once we got spilled--see that
scar?”

He bent over, exposing a white line on the top of his head.

“Where I hit a rock,” he explained laconically. “But we had a small
boat then, and she wasn’t well balanced. With this thing, now, we
got a good chance. She’s heavy, an’ we got lots of weight on the
bottom. But even at that, it ain’t gonna be no picnic.”

“Isn’t,” Bug Eye corrected. “We’ll make it though, Pop. We got to
make it. Yore boss wants to get those cattle out quick. We can land
an’ see can we scare up some broncs. Can’t do a thing on foot. How
long you calcalate it’ll be before yore dad shows up, Roy?”

“Well, we’ll probably hit Trummer’s range sometime to-morrow or the
next day. Dad had a start on us of a day. That ought to bring him
there soon after we arrive. The land route is much longer, on
account of having to skirt the mountains. But dad’s a hard rider,
and so are the men with him. I have a hunch they’ll make it almost
as soon as we shall.”

“You figuring on borrowing broncs from Jake Trummer?” Teddy asked.

“Well, if he wants us to get the cows off his range he’s got to help
us out that much, anyhow. Besides, if that story about the landslide
is true, he’ll have his hands full with his own cattle, although his
herd may not be near the place where the slide occurred. Something
tells me the bird who told that tale exaggerated more than a little.
Still, dad believed him, so there may be something in it. We can’t
afford to take a chance. Say, here’s a peach of a place to stop. How
about eats?”

There was a general assent to this proposition, and Roy steered into
a little cove.

“That was a nice, pleasant ride,” Teddy reflected as he seized a
bundle of foodstuffs. “If it was all like that, I wouldn’t kick. But
wait till to-morrow! If we don’t have our hands full then, I’m a
ring-tailed doodle bird!”



CHAPTER X

A Figure among the Trees


Their meal was rather a sketchy one, for the men all felt that time
was precious and that to delay longer than was absolutely necessary
lessened, by just that much, their chances of saving their cattle.
Nevertheless, they ate heartily, though hurriedly, and when once
more they were in the canoe, with Teddy and Pop paddling, Roy gave a
sigh of relief.

“Feel like a new man,” he murmured. “Now the thing to do is to give
the new man some food, I suppose, but I’ll postpone that for awhile.
Glad you’re doing the paddling, Teddy. I hate to work right after a
meal.”

“You might leave off those last four words and be nearer the truth,”
his brother grinned. “Me, I like it! Helps the food to digest.
Increases the salivary activity, and, by exciting the interior of
the diaphragm, it adds to--”

“Chuck it,” Roy interrupted calmly. “You’re talking Chocktaw. Here’s
that bend you spoke of, Bug Eye.”

Before them the river curved gently, sweeping through a broad lane
of grasses and trees. The current was swifter here, and Pop, who was
in the rear, and hence occupied the position of steerer, trailed his
paddle in the water and found that the boat sped along as fast as
though he were paddling.

“A taste of what’s comin’,” he declared. “The banks are a little
narrower below here, an’ that’s what makes the current faster. But
that don’t mean we won’t have no more work, Teddy,” as he saw that
the boy had followed his example and allowed the stream to carry the
boat. “It broadens out pretty soon, an’ then we hit it up again.”

“Don’t worry--I know that,” Teddy returned. “Roy and I have both
been down this far, but not for a long time. But this curve is
familiar. Golly, it sure is pretty around here!”

Silently the boy gazed ahead, resting his paddle across the canoe.
The scene was truly magnificent. The sun, past its zenith now, threw
flecks of gold on the water as it shone through the trees. Fleecy
clouds drifted slowly overhead. The willows nodded sleepily, as a
soft breeze stirred them.

“I could enjoy this if we weren’t in such a hurry,” Teddy sighed.
Then he turned to Roy and grinned. “This is soft for you, hey, Roy?
Kind of beats a sunset, doesn’t it?”

“Kind of,” Roy answered absently. His eyes were dreamy, and as Teddy
saw them he winked at Bug Eye.

“‘This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the
hemlocks,’” he began to quote softly, then suddenly gave a yell.
“Hey! It’s morning! Wake up!”

“What?” Roy stared at his brother stupidly. Then a sheepish grin
came over his face. “All right, you Indian! I’ll get you for that.
But I sure was day-dreaming. Guess it was that meal.”

“Uh-huh,” Teddy grunted, expressing his contempt of such subterfuge.

As the boat shot downstream, Pop Burns cast an appraising eye
shoreward. The foliage was especially thick at this point, almost
concealing the hint of mountains which rose back of the pebbly beach
line. The puncher thought that if a man wanted to make a getaway
after a crime, he would surely take this route. Unless by some
chance the pursuers stumbled on the fugitive, there would be very
little chance of finding him.

“If he hugged the river, he could travel for miles without bein’
seen,” Pop muttered to himself, and squinted again toward the bank.
“But I suppose he wouldn’t have sense enough to do that. More than
likely, if a rustler wanted to dig out for another country, he’d
take an overland route and have to ride like all get-out to keep
ahead. An’ if he wanted to, he could mosey along this bank an’ take
his time. Then, when he got to where he wanted, he could cut for it.
Seems that when a man takes to stealin’ an’ such like he loses what
little brains he ever had.”

Strangely enough, thoughts of this same nature were revolving in
Teddy’s mind as his paddle dipped into the water. But they were more
definite and were centered about a certain man. That man was The
Pup. When they had received word that they were to leave the ranch
and follow their father, the boy had been nervous for fear Marino
might return and, out of revenge, try to do some damage to the place
or its occupants. Yet Roy had said there was not much danger of
this--that The Pup was miles away by this time. Surely if Roy--he of
the careful, “mature” judgment--was satisfied that the home folks
were safe, then Teddy had no cause for worry. Nick knew about
Marino, and knew he was a character to be watched. Nick would see to
it that Marino had his fangs drawn if ever he ventured to show his
face at the X Bar X again.

Teddy recalled the long knife with which Marino had attacked him,
and the boy could not repress an involuntary shudder. Suppose The
Pup, fired with liquor, should return some night and seek entrance
to the ranch house? The men would be some three hundred yards away
in their own sleeping shack. Could they--could Nick--hear a call?

Unconsciously the boy’s muscles tightened and he drove his paddle in
more forcibly, sending a shower of spray over his brother, who was
seated on the bottom of the canoe behind him.

“Hey, take it easy!” Roy yelled. He brushed the water from the back
of his neck and demanded: “Why so strong all of a sudden, Teddy?”

“Just thinking,” Teddy murmured. Roy got a side view of his
brother’s face as the boy turned his body at the end of the stroke,
and the older lad frowned. Was Teddy getting the “willies” now?
There must have been some reason for those set lines around the
mouth and those tiny knots of muscle just above the jaw bone. Roy
knew his brother well enough to be sure that the younger lad’s
thoughts were reflected in his face as though it were a mirror.

“What’s on your mind, boy?” Roy asked softly.

“Nothing--yes there is, too!” Teddy burst out. He ceased from his
labor and rested the dripping paddle on the bow of the canoe. “I’m
worried about mother and Belle and the others. Where do you suppose
The Pup is now?”

“Headin’ for the Border, an’ goin’ strong!” Bug Eye interrupted.
“That waddy won’t let no grass grow under his feet. He’s afraid he
might be pushin’ it up a little later if he does. Yore dad ain’t got
much use fer sneak thieves an’ rustlers.”

“You mean he wouldn’t stay in this part of the country?” Teddy asked
eagerly.

“Not a chance,” Roy answered. “Is there, Pop? Don’t you think The
Pup will head south and try to make the Border?”

“That’s my idea of it,” the veteran said decidedly. He mopped the
top of his shiny head with a huge red handkerchief. “This is some
hot work! Yep, I reckon Marino is pretty scarce around here now.
Why, Teddy? Why was you askin’? Hopin’ to run acrost him?”

“Not any,” the boy said shortly, resuming his paddling. “But--well,
you know how I got this.” He drew from his belt the knife he had
forced from The Pup’s hand when he had met him near the corral. At
the last moment, impelled by a motive he himself could not explain,
the boy had brought the weapon with him. Now he turned it over and
gazed at the initials burned in the handle. “The man who carries one
of these is the kind you need eyes in the back of your head to
watch. And I was afraid he might come back to the ranch some night,
loaded and sore. Nick might not be handy. I wish--”

“Teddy, believe me, there’s not a chance in the world of that,” Roy
said earnestly. He sat up straighter, and twisted around so he could
see his brother. “You know how I feel about those things. In fact, I
guess you’ve laughed at me plenty for being an old maid. But in this
instance, I’m not worried. There are five men left to take care of
the place. I told Nick to let the work ride till we came back, and
to stick close to the ranch house. I told him if Belle or Ethel or
Nell go riding, to be sure to have a man or two trail along. There’s
to be a guard awake through the night, wandering around the place.
He’ll sleep in the day time. Didn’t know all that, did you?” and Roy
laughed.

“Well, to tell the truth,” he went on, “I didn’t want to be kidded
about it, so I kept it quiet. But now that I see you’ve got the
fever yourself,” and Roy grinned again, “I’ll relieve your mind.”

“And believe me, you have!” Teddy exclaimed fervently. “Roy, if ever
I kid you again about being too careful, just remind me of this!
Baby! You know, as I was paddling along there, it struck me all of a
sudden. Like a cold shower! I started to think, what if The Pup
comes back and all the boys are out of reach? And golly, I began to
get the fidgets! I didn’t want to tell you, because I know when you
start to worry you sure do a good job of it. But, by jingo, you did
your worrying ahead of time, which is the right way. Woosh! I feel
better. Funny how you get nervous all of a sudden like that, isn’t
it? All right, Pop, let’s go! Now we can consider the cattle--and
we’ll have plenty to think about there, let me tell you! Come on,
Pop! Hit it up! _One_, two, three, four! _One_, two, three, four!
Yay! Look at her travel!”

The shore slid by rapidly, and the water started to boil under the
bow of the canoe. Pop, in the stern, wrinkled his face into a grin.
Did this youngster think he could turn the boat on him? The old
puncher dug his paddle deep into the water, and his shoulders moved
rhythmically. Teddy was hard pushed to keep up with the old man, so
powerful were the veteran’s strokes, and as the current was swifter
here, the boat seemed fairly to skim over the water, heavy as it
was.

“All right, men!” Roy called out. “You’re doing fine! We’re creeping
up. Another mile to go now. We’ve left Yale behind, and we’re
passing Harvard.” He began to sway his body back and forward, in the
manner of a coxswain of a racing shell. “Yo, yo, yo, yo--”

Suddenly he stopped. He had been facing the shore, and now he
reached forward and seized Teddy’s right arm. The boy yelled,
floundered, and the boat swung around.

“Roy, you big--” he began, then hesitated as he saw his brother’s
face.

Roy’s eyes had narrowed to two hazel slits. His forehead was creased
with a frown. His underjaw shot forward ever so slightly. He pointed
silently. His grip on Teddy’s arm tightened.

The boy gazed at the shore, puzzled as to the reason of his
brother’s queer actions. For a moment he could make out nothing
except the dense trees and brush bordering the bank.

Then, suddenly, he started. His face grew white. Unconsciously his
hand slid to his belt and seized the butt of his gun.

“The Pup!” Teddy gasped. “The Pup, or I’m a ring-tailed doodle bird!
And he’s got our pony with him! Come on, Roy! Let’s get him!”



CHAPTER XI

A Night in the Woods


“To the shore, Pop!” Roy yelled, realizing that The Pup had seen
them and it would be useless to hope to catch him unawares. “Wait,
Teddy--” He saw that the boy had drawn his gun and that his eyes
were blazing. “Don’t shoot! You may hit the horse! And, anyway, we
don’t want to kill the skunk! We want to capture him, if we can.”

Unfortunately their craft was almost directly in the middle of the
stream, some two hundred feet from the shore. The figure on
horseback had disappeared, but Roy hoped that, due to the tangle of
brush, Marino might not be able to retreat before they could land.
Pop set his teeth and leaned on his paddle, and Teddy did the same.
But they were not working together, and the boat started to swing
crazily.

“Wait till I get in with you, Pop!” Teddy gasped. “This blame
current! It sure is strong!”

Gradually the canoe neared the shore. But by that time all four
realized that their attempt was doomed to failure. The Pup had
surely seen them and had got away.

“I guess we lose,” Roy sighed, while he mopped his face with his
handkerchief, for Teddy’s efforts had splashed him considerably.
“Let up, boys. No use to land now. Besides, those rocks would make
hash of the boat.” He pointed to some sharp-edged boulders along the
bank. “No soap. What a fine time to be in the middle of a river! Bet
The Pup is snickering up his sleeve by this time. It’s a wonder he
didn’t wave good-bye at us,” and Roy laughed bitterly.

“Merry Christmas!” Bug Eye remarked, and looked about him comically.
“I am still among those present. Now, if it ain’t too much trouble,
will you kindly explain this muddle to a poor man what ain’t got his
right health?”

“Do you mean to say you didn’t see him?” Teddy asked in amazement.

“Who? The Pup? I seen nobody, an’ very little of him. I was sittin’
here peaceful-like, maybe dozin’ a bit, as boys will do, when all of
a sudden I hears a yell, gets a free shower bath, an’ wakes up to
see Teddy an’ Pop paddlin’ like a couple of crazy men. Then I hears
some one say ‘The Pup,’ an’ I looks, but don’t see a soul. Now, I
ask you: what happened?”

“Why, we saw Joe Marino!” Roy exclaimed excitedly. “And he was on
the horse he stole from our corral! I spotted him first, and tipped
off Teddy. We tried to make the shore, but the current was too
swift. So I guess he’s plenty far by this time. What a break!”

“Yo’re sure it was him?” Bug Eye asked curiously.

“Positive!” Teddy declared. “I saw him as plain as I see you now. He
was on our bronc, facing the river. Probably just watered the horse.
Then, when he saw us he turned and beat it--disappeared like a
shadow. Pop, you saw him, didn’t you?”

The old puncher nodded forcibly.

“Sure did,” he agreed. “But I was too blame busy to say anything. I
had all I could do to try an’ keep this fool boat straight, an’ I
didn’t make out so well at that. We’re a bunch of dubs, I reckon,”
he admitted reluctantly.

“Well, if yo’re sure you saw him, why don’t you land an’ have a
look?” Bug Eye inquired eagerly.

Teddy snorted.

“What for? Just to see the scenery? Marino is gone by now. We
haven’t as much of a chance as a fish on a desert of finding him.”

“Let’s see! Ain’t that what some one said a while ago?” came from
Bug Eye. “Seems to me I heard a voice say he would try fer the
Border, an’ that this part of the country would see him no more,”
and he looked quizzically at Pop.

“Dry up,” Pop said succinctly. “We all make mistakes. But if you
want to, Roy, we’ll land an’ take a look. Think it would do any
good?”

“Not a bit,” Roy decided. “We’d only waste our time. I wonder if
that waddy could have been following us?”

“Hardly, if he didn’t know we were here,” Teddy replied. “And it’s a
cinch we surprised him, because he ducked like a scared rabbit.
Nope, we just happened to run across him, that’s all. If we had only
been on land!”

“If the cow hadn’t stopped to chase a fly off her back, the train
wouldn’t have hit her,” Roy retorted facetiously. “Suppose we had
caught The Pup? What would we have done with him?”

“Plenty,” Teddy answered. “Gotten some of dad’s four hundred
smackies back, anyway. He can’t have spent it all this soon. Chances
are, he’s got most of it with him.”

“What he ain’t spent fer booze,” Bug Eye interjected contemptuously.
“The Pup ain’t worth the powder to blow him up, though I’d chip in
my little bit to stand part of the expense if any one wanted to try
it,” he chuckled. “Well, I guess you can kiss the money goodbye,
Roy. An’ the bronc too. Whatever you say about The Pup, he sure can
ride, an’ he’ll be ridin’ fer election by now. You boys tired
paddlin’? I’ll spell one of yuh, if yuh wants me to.”

Pop accepted his offer, and once more the canoe slid on toward the
rapids, still many miles downstream. There was much talk of the
possibility of seeing The Pup again, and Teddy was in favor of
unlimbering one of the rifles that lay in the bottom of the boat on
the chance. But Roy vetoed this idea, saying it was very necessary
that they keep the guns dry and clean.

“Those rifles are our dinner-checks, you know,” he added. “When we
land, we’ve got to look lively and do a bit of hunting if we want to
eat. Sun’s almost down. We ought to make camp shortly. Soon as you
see a likely spot, Bug Eye, head for it.”

There was a run of some fifteen minutes while not a word was spoken.
The only sound was the regular dip, dip, dip of the paddles,
propelling the canoe onward. Pop, the extremist, was either so
talkative that he’d “gab the ear off a brass monkey,” to use Nick
Looker’s expression, or else he kept strict silence. Bug Eye was
content to dream of the possibilities of his Fishmobile, and Teddy
was wondering how his father was making out.

“They ought to be about in a line with us,” the boy thought, “though
far back behind those mountains. Hope they reach the cattle about
the time we get there. If that herd has done much wandering--” He
shook his head dubiously.

If they had traveled that far off their own range, there was no
telling how much farther they would go. Teddy hoped they would
travel beyond the danger of the landslide the stranger had told
about.

Roy’s thoughts were in a rather chaotic condition. The discovery of
The Pup had bothered him more than he cared to admit. Why was it he
was headed toward the Whirlpool River Ranch--Jake Trummer’s place?
Of course, it might be that he took that route because it offered
the greatest protection. Unconsciously Roy echoed Pop Burns’
thoughts, and decided that the heavy brush along the river would
certainly be ideal for the concealment of a fugitive.

Presently his cogitations were interrupted by Bug Eye, who called
out:

“How about this place ahead? Me, I’m gettin’ hungry! All right,
Roy?”

“Sure, I guess so.” Roy gazed at the small cove, then nodded. “Fine,
Bug Eye. Get her up close, and I’ll hop out and pull the canoe up.
Steady--”

He leaped to the bank and grasped the bow of the craft. This he held
while the others stood up and tossed the blankets, food, and rifles
on the shore. Then the canoe was drawn up until it was nearly out of
water.

“She stood up well,” Teddy remarked, looking down at the boat.
“To-morrow will tell. We’ll hit the rapids then, and give the ole
raft a good try-out. Oh, baby, I’m stiff!” He stretched high and
wide. “I’d hate to live in a canoe.”

“I’d hate to live in a suitcase, too, but why worry about things
like that?” Roy laughed. “Here, you navigator, see what you find.”
He handed his brother a rifle. “If you catch anything less than
three inches, throw ’em back.”

“Now, by golly, that’s an idea!” Teddy exclaimed. “Fishing with a
rifle. I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never seen it done. I’d like to
try it.”

“How do you mean?” Pop asked interestedly, ceasing from his labors
of untying the blanket roll.

“Why, shoot the fish!”

The old man cackled sarcastically.

“You heard of it, hey? Well, I’ve heard of a willyloo bird, too, but
I never seen any. But go right ahead. Have yore fun.”

“Just to show you it _can_ be done, I will!” Teddy declared, and
strode resolutely to the water’s edge. “What would you like, trout
or pickerel?”

“Chocolate.” Bug Eye responded, with a grin. “Let ’er ride, Teddy.”

The boy peered keenly down at the stream. The others grouped
themselves eagerly around Teddy, while the sun, almost at the
horizon, threw a cloth of gold upon the water.

Suddenly Teddy saw a silver flash about five feet out. He brought
the gun to his shoulder and took careful aim.

Crack!

“Get him?” Pop asked excitedly, forgetting his former declaration of
unbelief.

“Wait a minute,” Teddy grinned. “Give me time. There--what’s that?”

He pointed toward a spot a little out from where they were standing.
Bug Eye gave a yell.

“A fish, sure as shootin’! An’ dead! Teddy, yo’re a wonder! I’ll get
that one for you!” Shoes and all, he waded into the stream and
seized the trout that floated on the surface of the river.

“Boy, it’s a wonder!” Pop exclaimed, as Bug Eye held the fish up for
inspection. The veteran rancher gazed at Teddy and shook his head.
“One too many for me,” he muttered. “You win, Teddy!”

“Golly, it did work, didn’t it?” the young lad marveled, touching
his prize. “What do you think of that, Roy?”

“I think you’re the luckiest boy in seven counties,” his brother
laughed. “But, anyway, we’ve got our supper, and we’ll give you
credit, Ted. Hail to the chief!” and he bowed low. “May he continue
to have much success in his chosen career.”

“It’s the concussion,” Teddy remarked, apropos of nothing. “The
bullet hits the water, and the shock stuns the fish. At least that’s
the technical explanation of the phenomenon,” and he pretended to
choke over the long words. “But I suppose it’s useless to tell you
birds that. Come on, let’s eat.”

Had it not been for the fact that the mission before them was of
such a weighty nature, the memory of that supper underneath the sky
on the banks of the river would have remained in the minds of Teddy
and Roy as one of the happiest they had ever enjoyed. But they could
not entirely throw off the responsibility that burdened them, and
behind all the jests that enlivened the meal was a feeling that this
was superficial, and, at most, a respite. Still, worry does not sit
long on young shoulders, and the occasion was a jolly one.

Supper over, they saw to it that the boat was safe from possible
attacks by the turbulent river. Then, wrapping themselves tightly in
their blankets, the four cast themselves down upon nature’s bed. The
light from their dying campfire flickered eerily, casting strange
shadows. Above them the wind caressed the tree tops, humming or
whistling as trees will.

And far down the stream, under these same stars, rode a man with a
haunted look on his face--a man on a stolen pony and with four
hundred dollars in bills in his pocket.

He heard no whispering winds, saw no stars; the river to him was no
friend, nor could he find comfort in the prospect of a camp by the
side of a stream.

But he soon must stop, for even he must rest and give respite to the
wearily lagging pony.



CHAPTER XII

Voices in the Night


During the night, Roy tossed about restlessly, and once he sat up,
under the impression that some one had come upon them. He peered
about him and listened intently, but could not place the sound which
had awakened him. Finally, with a grunt of contempt at his own
nervousness, he rolled over and closed his eyes, at once sinking
into a more restful slumber, which lasted until the sun was again
warming the languid world. This time, when he awoke, he sprang to
his feet and threw the blanket from him quickly.

There was a method in this. The insect tribes of the woods find a
blanket, inhabited by a sleeping human, a cosy place to spend the
night, and frequently a camper will discover a strange collection of
crawling things sharing his covering. Thus, having little fondness
for snakes or spiders, Roy tossed the blanket to the ground with
some haste, lest the guest intrude further and stay for breakfast.
He bent over the cloth to see what he had gathered, but found
nothing more than a few beetles and a single, undersized scorpion.
He shook himself well, tossed the blanket on a tree limb to air, and
called the others.

Teddy, arousing himself gradually, “to avoid sudden shock,” as he
explained with a grin, walked toward the canoe.

“Francois, my orange juice,” he muttered sleepily, and, reaching
under the seat, pulled forth a can of beans. This was opened with
the aid of a revolver barrel, and the contents were soon being
heated in a pan held over the fire by two green sticks. The four
made a most satisfying breakfast, and, after piling their belongings
once more into the craft, set off again down the river.

“Hear anything last night?” Roy, who, together with Teddy, was
paddling, asked casually.

“Not me,” Teddy answered forcibly, if not grammatically. “This baby
slept like the well known rock. Why?”

“Oh, nothing--only I thought I did. I woke up with a start, some
time in the night, and sat up. But I may have been dreaming. Anyway,
if it was some one sneaking around, he didn’t disturb us.”

“It would have taken a cannon to wake me up,” Bug Eye declared,
yawning and dipping his hand into the water. “Boy, when I sleeps, I
sleeps, an’ no mistake. Who did you think it was, Roy, The Pup?”

“Had no idea,” Roy answered. “I dropped off again right afterwards.
Pop, do we reach the rapids to-day?”

“We should,” the puncher replied. “If nothin’ happens, I expect to
see Whirlpool River Ranch by night. Then the thing to do is to find
those locoed steers, that Gus--er, I mean that The Pup--chased.” By
common consent the subject of Gus’s disappearance had not been
discussed. It was a painful subject for all of them, since they all
liked the young cowboy. Each hoped sincerely that, somehow, Gus
would some day return and take his place with them once more.

“What do you mean, unless something happens?” Bug Eye questioned,
more to relieve the uncomfortable silence induced by the mention of
Gus’s name than anything else. “Ain’t gettin’ pessimistic or
nothin’, are yuh?”

“Well, yuh can’t tell,” Pop said philosophically. “This river is
treacherous. I’ve seen her when it looked like she wouldn’t drown a
cat, then it started to rain, an’ in ten minutes she was bubblin’
like a wash-boiler over a furnace--sweepin’ over the bank, raisin’
Cain generally. But I reckon the weather’ll stay clear fer a while.”
He squinted up at the sky. “Yep, we won’t get no rain to-day.”

“Now I’ll bet it’ll pour,” Bug Eye jeered. “Pop, I hearn you
prophesy before. Yo’re not so hot. Just before we had that
cloudburst last spring, you said we was in fer a drought.”

Scorning a reply to such calumny, the veteran puncher pulled out his
pipe and lit it. Then, puffing contentedly, he watched the shore
line slip by.

Whether the gods of the storm had heard Pop’s boast and decided to
put him in his place or not, the fact is that it did rain--and rain
hard. Along about three o’clock the clouds started to gather, and by
four the first drops fell. Within a few minutes the peaceful scene
was changed to a furious tempest, with wind, lightning, and finally
hail scourging the earth.

As soon as white-caps appeared on the surface of the water the boys
headed for shore, and succeeded in getting their craft to a point of
safety on the bank before the real deluge started.

They turned the canoe over and piled branches at its sides, thus
keeping the blankets and rifles dry, while they stood shivering
under the partial shelter of a tree. They felt that they were as
secure there as any place, though the lightning flashed almost
continuously. One bolt struck a quakermast not a hundred feet from
where they were standing, but it did no more damage than searing off
the bark. The thunder, following the flash, was deafening.

When the rain had abated somewhat, they ran toward the river. Pop’s
description of it after a storm had not been exaggerated. The
current had increased tenfold, and it fairly roared as it dashed
over the rocks. Yellow foam was tossed high upon the shore.

“That queers our plan of reaching Jake Trummer’s place to-night,”
Teddy said grimly. “No one but a fool would launch a boat in that.”
He watched a huge tree limb go floating by. “Are the rapids worse
than this, Pop? Do you think this storm will make them much more
dangerous? Will--”

“Take it easy, son,” Pop chuckled. “I’m no bureau of information.
You’ve seen those rapids, haven’t you, Teddy?”

“Yes; but it was a long time ago. I forget just how swift they are.”

“Well, they’re bad enough, but not quite this bad. It is possible to
shoot ’em in a heavy canoe like we got. Now what else was it you
asked?”

“Do you think this rain will make ’em worse?”

“It might. There’s no tellin’. But we won’t take a chance on ’em
to-night, at any rate. We’ve got to wait till morning. Now let’s
have a look at the stuff that was placed under the boat.”

The rain had ceased by this time, and now the sun came forth in all
its glory for a farewell flash before night settled down. The boys
turned the canoe over carefully and discovered that the rifles and
blankets were as dry as before the storm. This lightened their
spirits somewhat, for it meant that they could at least spend a
fairly comfortable night.

They fretted a good deal at the delay, but there was no help for it,
and they set about making camp. It took them some time to get a fire
going, for they had hard work to find dry wood, but finally picked
up enough to start a small blaze, sufficient to warm them.

“Guess we won’t be at the grazing ground much before dad, at this
rate,” Roy declared, munching on some bacon and bread. “Golly! I
hope those Durhams stick around a while longer.”

“Say! I wonder if that storm could have started another slide?” Bug
Eye questioned suddenly.

“Snakes, I never thought about that!” replied Roy. “Suffering tripe,
what a break it would be to get there and find the cows all in the
river, drowned! And if that waddy Nick told us about spoke the
truth, that may have happened. That will hit dad hard. Our best cows
are in that bunch.”

“Aw, forget it,” Teddy returned. “I can’t believe that, Roy. It
doesn’t stand to reason. Cows wander all over the lot, and there’s
not one chance in a thousand that they’d wait for a landslide to
fall on ’em. They may have been in danger when that stranger came
through, but that was three or four days ago. They’re just as likely
to be a mile away by this time.”

“Hope you’re right,” Roy mused. “And when you look at it that way, I
guess you are. The story does sound fishy. Golly! I wish those
blamed trees would stop dripping cold water down my neck.”

With a last parting glow, the sun sank out of sight and darkness
followed fast. The boys had established themselves some distance
back from the river, but its roaring song could be plainly heard
through the black night. Like all good campers, they had brought
with them a small spade, and now found a use for it. They dug up the
soft earth in a trench about their camp until a layer of dry sand
made a comfortable sleeping place for them. But all were rather
restless, and none of them wished to turn in immediately.

Gradually the voice of the river grew fainter. The torrent was
subsiding. Bug Eye and Pop had seated themselves on a log near the
fire, and were puffing away on pipes, waiting for sleepiness to come
upon them. Roy fed the blaze until he got it going to his
satisfaction, then called to Teddy:

“What say we have one more look at the stream before we turn in? I
want to see that the canoe is pulled up far enough. Want to come
along?”

Teddy stretched himself, and yawned.

“Sure. Might as well. She seems to have gone down quite a bit--you
can hardly hear it now. Let’s go.”

Together the two brothers walked through the woods. Neither had a
light, but the clouds were nearly dispelled and the moon shone
through a faint haze. When they reached the water’s edge Teddy
remarked:

“I’ll say it’s gone down. We could almost start now, if we wanted
to. I think we could make it all right. But I suppose there wouldn’t
be much sense in it.”

“Not much,” Roy laughed. “Golly, it’s lonely here! Listen! Doesn’t
the river sound queer? Almost as if it were talking to us.”

“Poetical Roy,” Teddy chuckled. “Ask it if it’s going to be a nice
day to-morrow, will you? Or maybe it doesn’t talk English? Maybe--”

He stopped, and a puzzled look came over his face. He grasped his
brother’s arm.

“By golly, it _is_ talking!” he whispered tensely. “Listen!”

To their ears came a sound of voices--men’s voices! And they came
from the surface of the river!



CHAPTER XIII

The Fugitive


Long, weary miles stretched out behind The Pup as he wheeled his
tired pony through the brush bordering the stream and allowed him to
dip his nose in the cool water, drinking in noisy mouthfuls. Long,
weary miles behind--and what before? Would the miles be any shorter,
the road less wearisome? Would the midday sun be more merciful, or
the nights more friendly?

As his horse drank, The Pup shifted uneasily in the saddle, and,
turning his head, peered quickly behind him. This gesture had become
almost automatic in these last few days. Always, whenever he halted,
his eyes would seek for some hidden enemy, and at the slightest
sound his hand would twitch down to the gun at his side. But how
guard against one enemy when the very woods themselves seemed
hostile and the song of the birds sounded a note of continual
warning? The man shivered apprehensively.

Savagely The Pup pulled his pony’s head up, causing the animal to
whinny in pain at the suddenness of it.

“Gonna drink all day?” the man muttered, then shivered slightly. It
was long since he had tasted food. Perhaps the memory of his last
meal caused him to regret his cruelty to the bronco, for he allowed
him to continue his drinking until fully satisfied.

He was about to dismount and quench his own thirst when a sound of
voices and the splash of paddles pulled him up short, froze the
blood in his veins. Panic-stricken, he gazed frantically out from
the small bower of brush in which he was encased. As the splash of
paddles grew nearer, The Pup’s heart kept time with their beat,
almost choking him with its fierce throbbing. Men! On his trail! He
_must_ move--_must_ force his muscles to act! Yet he sat there, his
face a sickly grey, his breath coming in short gasps.

Now the bow of the canoe slid into his line of vision. In another
second--a fifth of a second--those in the craft would see him. Who
were they? Did they know him? Could they be--

His lips pressed together suddenly, forcing back the cry of fear
that strove for utterance. They were! Roy and Teddy Manley! And two
others! The men he had robbed! There, before him, looking at him!

With a sob he threw off the coils of terror that held him rooted to
the spot and jerked his pony around desperately, sinking spurs deep
into the animal’s sides. A single, frantic bound took him through
the brush and out of sight of those on the river. Then, trembling
violently, he gave the pain-maddened brute his head and clung
fiercely to the saddle as the horse bore him swiftly over the uneven
ground--back, far back from that dangerous stream.

Gradually his mind resumed more normal action, realizing that, for
the present at least, he was safe from pursuit. Teddy and Roy were
in a boat. He was on horseback, and miles from them now. Safe--he
was safe! The Pup drew a wavering sigh of relief.

Slowly, stolidly, he continued his onward ride, once more parallel
with the river, but at some distance from it. He had not gotten his
drink after all, and thirst clutched his throat with hot, feverish
fingers. Would he dare to return to the stream, to brave his
pursuers, to shout--“Come an’ take me! But I’m thirsty, I tell
you--thirsty!”

The very thought set him to trembling again. He must not think of
such things. Of what use now was the roll of bills in his pocket?
The whole sum could not buy him a single drink. He took them out and
gazed at the greenbacks dully. Then, shrugging his shoulders, he
replaced them and ran his tongue over his parched lips. Part of the
money was gone--spent for whiskey that had proved a traitor, that
burned him now, as it had soothed before.

He had to go on--always on. Mexico was ahead--Mexico and safety,
Mexico and long, cooling drinks in tall glasses. The Pup grinned to
himself. Togas, the town of his birth, lay just across the Border.
They had thought his name was Marino! Well, that name was as good as
any other. If he had given his real name, old Manley would never
have hired him, for it was a name that still lingered in the minds
of some of the vaqueros of the South. Marino--or, to give him his
right name, Jules Kolto--was born a Mexican, although early in life
he had recognized the value of concealing the place of his birth
from his companions. A Mexican was not respected in his line of
business--a business carried on at the muzzle of a revolver or at
the point of a knife. For Jules Kolto had been a highwayman.

It was seven years since he had robbed any one. There was a girl in
Togas--his sister--who had decided the matter for him. He had
supported her and his mother out of the fruits of his profession,
and neither of them knew what that profession was until one day his
sister met him at the door of their home and led him gently within.
His mother lay on a couch, her face waxen. In her hand she grasped a
paper--a paper with his picture on it and “Five Hundred Dollars
Reward” printed below. He had killed his own mother.

Then his sister made him promise to go straight. He had, too--until
now. But the temptation had been too great. Rimor’s, with its
whiskey, had been too convenient, and riding cattle was dusty work.
So he had fallen into the old ways again, after seven years of
peacefulness. And what was more natural than that the whiskey should
remind him of those other days when money was to be had for the
taking!

Mr. Manley’s departure had given him his chance. Like a rattler he
had struck and glided away. Now he regretted it. Not remorse--Jules
Kolto remorseful? But anger, anger at his own foolishness. The hill
he had climbed up from evil had been hard and steep. Now, with a
single jump, he was just where he had started from!

Jules shook his head bitterly. He had been happy before--well,
fairly happy. At least he had known what it was to face a man, then,
without fear, turn one’s back and walk away. That was all gone now.
He was a fugitive--hunted, trailed by other men.

If he could make Mexico, he would be safe. He would seek his sister.
She would understand, would shelter him and help him to come back
again. Togas--why, that was the town where Gus had his girl, the
girl who hadn’t written, and who had sent Gus to seek forgetfulness
in alcohol! Gus--poor, deluded Gus! To worry over a girl! Funny
Jules hadn’t recalled that Gus had told him that she lived in Togas.
But perhaps it was just as well. He might have given himself away.

How far was it to the Border? A good eight days’ ride, at least.
He’d have to leave the river soon. It was too dangerous, anyway,
with Teddy and Roy Manley around. But they wouldn’t catch him!
Never--never!

Then a sudden thought came to the man. Why, they might not have been
chasing him at all! Those cattle--those cows that had wandered on
Jake Trummer’s place while he and Gus were in town, drinking! Of
course Mr. Manley had gone on ahead to round them up! He had known
that. Then the boys followed, to help. That’s what had happened!
Jules felt great relief surge through him. They were not chasing
him!

He rode forward with a lighter heart. There was some chance for him
after all. If he could reach Togas and find his sister, all would be
well. He would buy an interest in a small store with his four
hundred dollars, then, when he had earned more money, he might send
the amount he had stolen back to the X Bar X, just to square things.
The horse--well, he’d see about that. It was a fine bronc.

Later that day it rained. The wind beat upon him and the lightning
blinded him and the storm left him wet and shivering. He tried to
start a fire, but could find no dry wood. He put his hand to his
belt for his knife, that he might cut some, then remembered. Teddy
Manley had the knife now. He had not really meant to harm the young
fellow, just to scare him. But the boy was too quick. Jules grinned
faintly. If Teddy had known it, he was the first man ever to get the
best of Jules Kolto in a knife fight. The kid sure had nerve!

Well, he would have to do without his fire. But now he could move
more openly and with less fear of detection, for night was closing
in. Having slaked his thirst, he pulled his belt in another notch,
to lessen the pangs of hunger, and rode on. Togas was ahead--Togas
and his sister and an easy chair in their tiny patio. Worth living
for!

If he reached it with his money still intact, his troubles would be
over. He would have enough to start a small business and live the
rest of his life in contentment, fearing no man. He would return the
four hundred--as soon as he made that much--and send it back to
Bardwell Manley. He would start square.

He knew that the region he was now in was a favorite place for
bandits. Many gangs had made the banks of Whirlpool River their
stronghold in days gone by, and rumor had it that one still
flourished--the Denver Smith gang. A lone rider, like Jules, with a
roll of bills in his pocket, would be meat for them. He had better
stop and camp for the night before he ran across any highwaymen.
Jules dismounted. He picketed his horse nearby. Then the former
bandit drew his coat about him and lay down to rest, fearful that if
he proceeded through these dark woods the money he had stolen would
be stolen from him.



CHAPTER XIV

Failure


A moment, a breathless, hushed moment, Teddy and Roy stood beneath
trees which still dripped from the recent rain, the drops falling in
a patter whenever the light breeze stirred the branches. Through the
darkness came those low, tense tones. As the boys listened, words
separated themselves from the mumble of sound.

“... just heard about it,” some one was saying. The speaker had a
high, nervous voice which he apparently kept softened by an effort.
“Stay out from that shore, Bunk! Wanta have those fools on our
necks?”

“Aw, yo’re too touchy, Denver,” another whined, and the boys heard
the swirl of a paddle being held in the water, evidently to swing
the boat around. The craft was probably drifting with the current
now, for the listeners could not detect the dip of blades forcing it
onward. “They ain’t near here,” the speaker went on. “Go ahead.
Let’s have the dope.”

Roy leaned closer to Teddy and spoke with his mouth close to his
brother’s ear.

“We’ll follow,” Roy whispered, and Teddy nodded to show that he
understood. Carefully the two boys picked their way along the bank,
hoping to hear more before the canoe drifted out of range.

“How many times do I have to repeat this?” the one called Denver
snarled. “Now listen, you guys. Manley, up on the X Bar X, let a
herd of his cattle wander off his ground on to the grazin’ field of
Jake Trummer, of Whirlpool River Ranch.”

Teddy started, and nudged Roy. His brother did not respond. He was
listening intently.

“Now I happen to know--never mind how--that old man Trummer went to
Manley an’ told him if the dogies weren’t off there soon he’d drive
’em into the river. That was two or three days ago. Manley started
out to round ’em up. But he went overland, so he’ll be some time
gettin’ there. That’s where we come in.”

“And so do we!” Teddy whispered. “Roy, get this!”

“We’ll keep goin’ now,” Denver continued, “an’ take a little rest in
the morning just before we hit the rapids. Then we take our time
with the cows. Mike said he’d have ponies waitin’ for us. We drive
the cows off Trummer’s range, hide ’em somewhere, an’ when Manley
comes up, his Durhams are gone, an’ he says Trummer drove ’em into
the river, like he said he would! What could be simpler?”

“You sure got it down pat, Denver,” said a third voice. “Lucky for
us that storm came up. All we have to do is to sit back an’ drift
along--make good time, too.”

“You allus was a great feller fer work, Porky,” Denver said
contemptuously. “How you ever--”

The voice died away. Bunk had evidently steered the canoe further
from the shore, and the murmur of the still turbulent waters drowned
out the words that followed.

Teddy turned excitedly to Roy.

“Did you hear that?” he whispered. “Come on! Let’s get the gang!
Rustlers, that’s what they are! After our cattle! And they’ll beat
us to it, unless we can nab ’em!”

Roy had already turned and was running toward their camp.

“See to the canoe!” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll get the
others. Take out all the stuff except the rifles. We’ll get those
waddies yet!”

Realizing that haste was imperative, Teddy stumbled toward the
canoe. Frantically he started to unload. Heedless of consequences,
he threw the articles right and left, concentrating on the job of
emptying the craft as soon as possible. Every moment the rustlers
were getting farther and farther away.

“This is our chance to save the cattle,” the boy panted, as he
tossed out the last can of foodstuff. “The dirty rustlers! Trying to
frame Trummer, too. If I could only--”

Seizing hold of the boat, he sought to pull it to the water’s edge,
but the task was too much for him. Gasping, he finally desisted, and
at that moment Roy, Bug Eye and Pop Burns appeared.

“All right, boys!” Roy exclaimed. “In she goes--ho! Teddy, take the
front! Grab this paddle! I’ll stay in the stern! Bug Eye, you and
Pop keep those rifles loaded--we may need ’em!”

The canoe was in the water now, and swung about madly. The current
was stronger than they had imagined.

“With luck, we’ll catch up to them soon!” Teddy panted. “If we can
get close enough before they know we’re comin’--”

Roy did not reply, needing all his energy to keep the boat straight.
The larger craft received the full force of the stream, and also it
was much less heavily weighted than it had been.

“Want me to--” Bug Eye began. But when he saw, by the moonlight, the
lines of intense effort in Roy’s face he stopped. This was no time
for talk.

“Can you--hear ’em?” Teddy gasped, digging his paddle in deeper.

“Nope!” Pop answered laconically. He, alone, seemed to accept the
situation calmly, staring straight ahead as he sat rigidly in the
bottom of the canoe. Perhaps he feared the chase would be futile, or
perhaps he realized that their best chance of success lay in going
about the affair in a businesslike manner. His rifle, loaded, lay
across his knees.

As the canoe shot downstream, Teddy, in the front, strained his ears
for some indication of the boat they were following. But it seemed
to have been swallowed up by the river. Surely they were going much
faster than the other craft and should have caught them by this
time. Unless--and Teddy frowned at the thought--unless they knew
they were being pursued and made for the shore, pulling their
lighter boat up out of sight.

Now the river seemed to take their canoe in a powerful grip and
shake it. Roy paddled desperately, and succeeded in steadying it.

“Close!” he gasped. “Thought we were over then!”

“If I had my Fishmobile--” Bug Eye muttered, then closed his mouth
tightly. The shore seemed far away at this moment.

“Better head in,” Pop suggested quietly. “Afraid they got away,
boys. I don’t like the sound of this river.”

“Hate to give up,” Roy responded, but even he was beginning to see
the wisdom of Pop’s advice. Somehow, the roar of the stream seemed
to have increased in volume. Whether it was because the banks were
closer together here, thus adding to the force of the current, the
boys could not tell. At all events, both Teddy and Roy decided that
they had best attempt to land.

“Take the left side for a minute,” Roy called. The sweat was running
off the paddlers in small rivulets and their breaths were coming in
short gasps. “We’ll have to--get together. With me, now!
Ho--ho--ho--ho--” Slowly the craft turned her nose to the bank. The
shoreline was barely distinguishable, and the boys had no means of
estimating their speed. But they knew that they were going fast
enough to sink, surely, if they hit anything.

“Make it?” Bug Eye asked anxiously. He was holding on to the sides
of the boat with both hands, his rifle, forgotten now, lying in the
bottom. Indeed, all thought of their quarry had vanished from the
minds of both Teddy and Roy. All they knew was that they were out in
the middle of a river which was trying its best to whirl them onward
to destruction.

Even Pop Burns was startled out of his complacency. He turned and
looked sharply at Roy.

“Mebby--mebby not,” he said enigmatically, and began to peel off his
vest. “Yo’re gettin’ near, though. A little more, boys. I’d help if
I could, but if I tried to shift we’d go over sure.”

“Stick--to it,” Teddy panted. “Roy, you take the left--we’re gaining
now--she’s swingin’ closer--”

Teddy had a wild idea that if they came near enough, he could tumble
overboard and swim with the canoe to land. But he dismissed the
thought as soon as it came to him, for the craft was much too heavy
for any such plan as that to work. Besides, there were huge, sharp
rocks along here, and if his head struck one he would be lost.

“Got--to stick--to the ship,” the boy murmured, as he strained at
the paddle.

Suddenly Roy gave a yell. The boat lurched, and swung about in a
circle.

“Paddle’s gone!” he cried. “Broke! We’ll have to swim for it!”

“Take this!” Teddy shouted, and thrust his own paddle back. Bug Eye,
who was behind him, seized it and passed it to Roy. “Never mind
trying to make shore now! Keep her straight!”

Desperately Roy tried to do this. There was a sickening moment when
the river seemed to fall from beneath them and for an instant they
hung in space.

A wave slapped them broadside.

“Here--she--” Bug Eye yelled, and that was all. A rock, huge and
black, loomed up before them. A crash, then a crunching sound. Water
poured over the side.

Then all four were struggling for their lives in a current that
sought to draw them into the depths!



CHAPTER XV

A Vain Search


When Teddy felt the dark waters close over his head, his first
thought was that now, after their long journey, they were to fail.
He did not fear for his own safety, unless it was that his absence
would cause his father and mother worry. The rushing current swept
him out of reach of the rock which had been their Scylla, and, in
one vivid flash, Teddy saw Roy clinging to its ebony sides with arms
that seemed almost lifeless.

“Hang on, Roy!” Teddy gasped, and then he was borne out of hearing.
Weighted down as he was by heavy clothes, Teddy had hard work
keeping his head above the water long enough to take a full breath
before being forced below the surface again. Luckily, there were no
sharp-pointed rocks in his path.

With desperation, Teddy struck out for the shore he saw looming in
front of him. But it was impossible to make much headway against the
fierce current that pulled him onward and tumbled him over like a
basket in a waterfall. Finally, exhausted by his struggles, he
contented himself with keeping afloat, and was promptly spilled upon
the bank.

So surprising was the transition from water to land that, for a
moment, the boy could not realize it. One second he had been
floating down a darkened, turbulent stream and the next he was
tossed upon the shore, his breath almost driven from his body by the
suddenness of it.

“The--ole river--is full of tricks!” he gasped, and sat up.
“Good-bye, canoe! I’ll bet there’s a hole in her big enough to drive
a steer through!” He cleared the water from his eyes, pulled himself
farther from the edge, and peered into the night.

“Roy!” he yelled. “Where are you? Hey, Roy!”

For a long moment he waited, then fear stole darkly upon him.
Breathing quickly, he shouted once more.

When there was no answer to this hail, he sprang to his feet and
started to run back along the bank, calling as he ran. He saw that
he had landed on the same shore they had put out from, and hoped
that his brother might have done the same and perhaps have started
back for their camp. But this hope was dispelled when Teddy came
upon two bedraggled and forlorn wanderers--Bug Eye and Pop. They
were staggering around aimlessly, now and then letting out a weak
call for Teddy and Roy.

“Did you see Roy?” Teddy asked them anxiously, as he ran up,
breathless.

“Teddy!” Pop gasped. “Yo’re safe! Boy, I was afraid! Where’s Roy?”

“I don’t know!” Teddy answered frantically. “I thought he might have
come ashore with you! Didn’t you see him?”

“Not--not me!” Bug Eye stuttered, shivering and resting one hand
against a tree to steady himself. “I thought--”

“Never mind about that!” Teddy cried tensely, fully aroused now to
the dangers of the situation. “We’ve got to hunt for him! Bug Eye,
you go downstream! Pop, you come with me!”

“I seen him hanging on to that rock we hit,” Pop declared, craning
his neck forward and seeking to pierce the blackness. To add to
their troubles the moon had disappeared behind clouds and the night
was as dark as pitch.

“I saw that, too!” Teddy exclaimed, opening and closing his hands.
“You two--for heaven’s sake don’t stand there gaping! Roy is
lost--maybe--”

“Now, maybe nothin’,” Pop Burns interrupted. “If you want to help
him most, Teddy, just take it easy an’ don’t waste none of yore
energy in boilin’ over. We’ll find Roy all right. He just came
ashore at another place.”

“I sure hope so!” Teddy breathed. “It’s so blamed dark here! The
moon is gone--we haven’t a dog’s chance of seeing him. But we can
yell.” He raised his voice once more in a shout. “Roy! Yay-y-y,
Roy!”

“That won’t do no good,” Pop said gently. “We got to hunt. He may be
hurt, an’ lyin’ on the shore somewheres. We’ll get him, sure, when
daylight comes.”

“We’ll get him before that!” Teddy said determinedly, and started to
run along the bank.

“You go the other way,” Pop directed in a low voice to Bug Eye.
“I’ll follow Teddy--I don’t like the way he’s talkin’. Roy may be
pretty badly hurt after all, an’ Teddy feels it. I seen Roy go
head-on to that rock, but I wouldn’t tell Ted that. We’ll meet you
at camp. If you find Roy, give a good loud yell--that is, if
he’s--not hurt too bad.” And Pop swallowed quickly. Then he turned
and followed Teddy.

The boy was a good distance ahead, and Pop had to hurry to catch
him. He located him by the crashing of the bushes as Teddy ran
along, almost blindly, calling Roy every five yards.

“Son, son,” the veteran puncher admonished, laying a hand on Teddy’s
shoulder, “don’t take it so hard. We’ll find Roy, sure as shootin’!
Yuh can’t down him with a little spill in the river! Like as not
he’s laughin’ over it now an’ bettin’ he could have made the shore
with the one paddle if we hadn’t hit that rock. Shake yore stumps,
Teddy, an’ get a hold on yore liver. Roy ain’t hurt!”

Teddy took a deep breath and slowed down to a walk.

“Can’t tell, Pop,” he declared gloomily. “I’m afraid of--I don’t
know what. Why didn’t Roy come right ashore if he could?”

“But great snakes, boy, he may be on the other side, or he may have
been washed far downstream!” Pop exploded. “Just because he ain’t
here, don’t say he’s still sittin’ out there on that bloomin’ rock!”

“That’s right, too!” Teddy agreed, and brightened. “I’ll bet he’s
across from us! If we only had that canoe now, we could--”

“Oh, no we couldn’t,” Pop interrupted grimly. “That current is too
blame strong. I reckon we can find the canoe all right, come
mornin’. She’ll probably need patchin’, but I can fix her if she
ain’t too bad.”

It was just this sort of talk that Teddy needed, and when he spoke
again his voice was stronger and more spirited.

“Do you really think we can mend the canoe, Pop?”

“Sure we can! Won’t be nothin’ to it. Now, Teddy, we better give up
lookin’ for Roy until she gets light. We’re only wastin’ time this
way, an’ I got an idea he’s over on the other bank. If that’s so, we
got to find the boat first an’ go get him. Let’s hit for camp,
Teddy.”

For a moment the boy hesitated, and Pop feared he was going to
insist on continuing. But at last the boy sighed, and turned.

“You’re the doctor,” he said dully. “Camp it is.”

Had Teddy known the real reason for Pop’s insistence upon returning,
he would have slept little that night. The fact is that the veteran
rancher feared the worst. He had seen Roy dashed head foremost upon
the rock, then go limp. At that moment the moon was blotted out, and
he lost sight of the boy. But he had seen enough to feel that there
was little hope for Roy.

There had never been for a moment the question of rescue. It had all
happened too quickly--the rock, then the crash, and then that
horrible drop. They had been swept apart in a flash, and were not
near enough to offer each other assistance. Pop knew that ordinarily
Roy would have made the shore safely. But injured, perhaps
unconscious--The old man shook his head sadly and was thankful for
the darkness that hid the tragedy even for a little.

Their fire was still going well when they reached camp, and half
heartedly they set about drying themselves. None of them talked
much. Their hearts were too heavy. Pop made an effort at
conversation, but did not meet with much success, and at last
decided that it would be best to leave Teddy alone with his
thoughts. Perhaps the boy might find inward comfort as the night
wore on. Pop hoped so, fervently.

The hours passed slowly, as none of the three even attempted to
sleep.

As soon as the gray dawn lightened into brightness, Teddy sprang to
his feet.

“Now,” he said sharply, “we can start. We won’t stop--” his eyes
narrowed and he clenched his fists. “We’ll find Roy if we have to
stay here a week! Come on!”

“No breakfast, son?” Pop expostulated questioningly, thinking that
unless Teddy kept up his strength he might collapse when he learned
the truth. For Pop was firmly convinced that they would see Roy
alive no more. Yet, even with this weight on his heart, he presented
to Teddy a face that had nothing in it but hope.

“Eat?” Teddy asked contemptuously. “Not me! I’ve eaten my last meal
until Roy comes back and eats with me!”

“Keep yore nerve, kid,” Pop muttered. “I’m afraid this day’s gonna
be a tough one. Poor Roy!” and with leaden steps he followed Teddy.



CHAPTER XVI

Separated


Slowly, as though awaking from a drugged sleep, Roy Manley came to
himself. His eyes stared upward through a screen of green foliage
tangled above him. He twitched his shoulders and felt the hard earth
beneath them. Weakly, he turned his head from side to side, trying
vainly to force his sluggish brain into activity by impressing upon
it some familiar sight, so that he might recall his situation. Of
course he knew where he was. It was just that he was tired and
couldn’t think well. In a moment it would come to him. He would lie
here a bit longer until those confounded trees stopped whirling
around, then he’d get up.

Let’s see, now. He was in the woods, that was certain. And that
murmuring in the distance--or was the whirr within his own head?
Cautiously Roy raised his hand, passed it gently over his disheveled
hair. Snakes, what a lump! How did he get that? Dully he rubbed the
spot where the bruise was and found the hair matted.

“Must have gotten a terrific sock,” he muttered. “That’s blood.
Funny it doesn’t ache. Golly, it’s cold! Better build a fire.”

He sat up uncertainly. Then he made a stupendous discovery.

“Why, I’m all wet!” he exclaimed in amazement. He fingered his soggy
vest and stared stupidly down at his soaked shoes. “How did that
happen? No wonder I’m cold! And I guess I won’t build a fire,
either, for if I’m wet the matches will be wet; that is, if I have
any. And if the matches are wet I’ll be wet--I mean the opposite--”
He snapped his fingers and shook his head impatiently. Talking to
himself like a little child! The thing to do was to find out where
he was and how he arrived here. Perhaps if he got out in the sun and
away from the shade of this tree he might be warmer. Automatically
he struggled to his feet.

A moan of pain escaped him, and he sat down suddenly, his hand
twitching to his right ankle. Broken? He moved the foot carefully,
and, although the effort was agony, he found that it was just a
little sprained. Well, he’d have to take it easy. A sprain was bad
while it lasted, but it would mend itself. There was no need of
setting it, like a fracture.

Again he arose, gently this time, and it was a relief to discover
that by favoring the injured ankle he could move about slowly.
Without knowing exactly where he was going, except that it was
warmer in the sun, he limped forward. The liquid murmur he had heard
before grew louder as he moved toward it, and presently he came in
sight of a river. It recalled nothing to him beyond the fact that he
was very thirsty, and, making his way to the bank, he threw himself
face downward and drank. Refreshed, he arose once more and looked
about him.

The opposite side of the stream was about four hundred yards away,
with no sign of help there. Turning to the left, he limped along the
shore, and found that the river broadened greatly just below him.
Following the shore line he made another discovery--that he was on
an island!

As his eye followed the rim of land he saw that it swept about in a
half circle, the other half of the ring being behind him. Again he
put his hand to his head, this time in wondering amazement. An
island! How did he get here? The river! Undoubtedly that was the
cause of his saturated clothing. But why had he gone in the water
with his clothes on? Desperately he tried to concentrate, to
remember. He closed his eyes and lashed his memory cruelly. Think!
Think! A black shape in front. Darkness. A flash of fire, blinding
in its intensity. His fingers reaching out for that black shape,
seeking to cling to it, to draw him up. Water roaring in his ears.
The rock!

Now it was coming. He must not break the thread. He must follow it
to the end. The rock. A cry, in some well-remembered voice, calling
to him to “hang on.” His arms straining to retain their hold. Then
oblivion.

But what had gone before? Had he been in a boat and fallen
overboard? That was it! The canoe! Teddy! Pop! Now memory came to
him in a flood, sweeping over him, leaving him weak and gasping for
breath. He recalled the launching of the craft in the night and the
effort to catch the rustlers they had heard planning to steal their
cattle. Then the current had seized them and his paddle had broken.
Then the rock, and after that--nothing. Now this--the island, and
he, wet and shivering, with his head cut and his ankle sprained,
limping about aimlessly!

Where were the others? A great fear struck at him, catching him by
the throat. If they had drowned! If Teddy was gone--floating face
downward on the surface of the water, silent, inert, dead! A quick
shiver passed over Roy’s frame, then he gritted his teeth. He
_would_ not think of that! Teddy had surely escaped, as he himself
had. Perhaps he had swum ashore and was even now looking for Roy.
Teddy was a strong swimmer. And when the canoe had crashed, Teddy
was in the far end. He probably had not touched the rock, but had
swum directly for shore.

Could he, too, be on this island? Hopefully, Roy threw back his head
and called loudly Teddy’s name. There was no answer. A second time,
then a third time he called. No welcome sound came back in return.
But suppose his brother had been washed ashore as he had! Clenching
his fists tightly, to withstand the pain of his injured ankle, Roy
started a circuit of the island, for he must make a search.

The island was not large, so the search was soon concluded. Roy was
alone. If Teddy had gotten ashore, he must be on the mainland; but
on which side? Their camp of the night before had been on the left
bank. If Teddy had kept his bearings, he would, of course, head for
that. As Roy remembered, the canoe had been about in the center of
the river when it foundered, so that Teddy and the others might
possibly be on the right shore.

The pain in Roy’s ankle was still great, and the boy sat down and
removed his shoe and sock. He saw that the limb was swollen, and,
hopping to the water’s edge, he soaked his already damp sock in the
stream and bound it tightly about the ankle. This should help reduce
the swelling and lessen the irritating pain. The cut on his head was
a small matter, he decided, and so gave it no attention other than
to bathe it with his wet handkerchief.

Now that the first sensation of uneasy wonderment had worn off, Roy
began to realize that he was hungry. His firearms had gone down with
the boat, so that even if there was game on the island he would have
no means of capturing it. He searched his pockets, and thankfully
his fingers closed upon his jackknife. This might be of some use.
The knife was a heavy one and the blade long. Roy balanced it in the
palm of his hand. Then, experimentally, he raised his hand over his
head and threw. The blade bit into a tree some ten feet distant.

“Haven’t lost the old eye,” he chuckled, then limped over and drew
the knife out. “Haven’t done this since Teddy and I were kids.
Golly, I’m glad I remember how to throw. Wonder if I’ve got any
string in my pocket?”

But this time his search was in vain. All he found besides the knife
were two handkerchiefs and a buffalo nickel. He looked at the coin
musingly.

“You’re not much help out here,” he muttered, with a grin. “Can’t
even buy a stamp with you. Well, maybe you’ll bring me luck. I sure
need it. Back you go,” and he replaced the five-cent piece in his
soggy pocket.

Suddenly an idea struck him. He took one of the handkerchiefs, the
one he had wet in the river, and cut the hem off with his knife.
This he tested by pulling it.

“Feels strong,” he declared to himself. “We’ll take a shot at it,
anyhow. Can’t any more than fail.”

He looked about him until he found a stick and a small dry log.

“Now, Mr. Scout, do your stuff,” he chuckled, and arranged his
implements. The strip of handkerchief he wound about the stick in
such a manner that, when made the string of a bow and sawed back and
forth, the stick spun rapidly around. Then he whittled one end of
the stick to a point, found a flat grooved rock to hold the other
end with, and bent to his task.

“Handkerchief, stay with me!” he breathed, and he started the stick
whirling in a small hole cut in his log. He had piled some fine, dry
bark shavings close to this hole, and now he watched them anxiously.
Faster and faster he twirled the stick. If the strip of cloth held,
he might-- Ah! There it was! The shavings were smoking! A little
more now!

He blew gently on his fuel and was rewarded by seeing a thready
spiral of smoke ascend. Then he cast the stick aside and fed the
tiny flame with dry leaves. Within five minutes he had a respectable
blaze going, actually a fire started! Did a wood fire ever before
send out such welcome incense? Not for Roy Manley--nor for many
another boy, perhaps, situated as he was just then.

“The boy firemaker!” he laughed, and strutted about until he came
down too hard on his sore leg. But the warmth of the flame was
grateful, for the day was cool and his wet clothes anything but
comfortable. Presently Roy removed his outer garments and spread
them around the fire. Standing near the blaze, he dried his
underthings and, after a time, dressed again with considerable
ceremony. Dry clothes are real clothes, he decided, while wet
clothes are worse than fetters. He felt better; much better.

“The next thing to do is to eat,” he told himself. Building a wall
of dirt around the fire so it could not spread, he went in search of
food, holding his knife in readiness in case an opportunity to use
it should present itself. He saw several rabbits and some squirrels,
but none of them was near enough to bring down. But at last he
espied a porcupine slowly crossing a log in front of him. Discarding
the knife in favor of a heavy stick he picked up, Roy rushed upon
the quilled animal. With one sharp blow on the head he killed it.

“That was luck!” he chuckled, looking over the queer thing that lay
there.

“We saw your brother about a month ago,” he mused, while he carried
his game back to the fire and soon prepared the beast for cooking.
“But there was no need of killing him. Teddy wanted to cart him back
and show him to Pop,” Roy ruminated. At the thought of Teddy, a
frown of anxiety crossed Roy’s face, but he quickly dismissed it.
Worrying was worse than useless. Besides, Teddy must be some place.

“Yep,” he went on absently, “ole porky sure did help me out.” Like a
great many men, he was talking to himself when alone in the woods.
And now, with the smell of meat cooking, for he was hungry and
wasted no time in preliminaries, his situation assumed a more normal
aspect. Somehow, he felt that this would turn out all right, black
as things seemed just now. When a person’s hunger is satisfied, he
looks at the world with a clearer, more optimistic vision, and the
eating of “porky” worked that sort of miracle for Roy.

When his makeshift meal was over, he breathed a sigh of relief,
yawned, and stretched lazily. The reaction from the strain he had
been under came with a rush, and now, scarcely able to keep his eyes
open, the boy threw himself full length on the ground by the river’s
edge.

For a moment he lay there, his head on his arms, thinking drowsily
that he must arouse himself and hunt Teddy. He must keep going, he
must not give in.

“Can’t let him get lost like that,” Roy muttered, forgetting that
he, too, was in trouble. “Good ole Teddy--have to find him.”

He pushed himself up with his hands and shook his head wearily,
determined to fight off fatigue. But he was so tired--so tired. If
he could only sleep--

Above him sounded a rush of wings. A shrill scream sounded almost in
his ear, and he felt a fierce, slashing wind surround him. Roy’s
heart leaped into his throat, and he awoke now with a terrific jolt,
his pulses hammering. Once more the scream sounded.

With an effort Roy rolled over. Then, swift as light, he threw up an
arm to protect his face.

Directly over him hovered a huge eagle, talons outstretched, beak
open, eyes glaring fiercely, ready for attack!



CHAPTER XVII

Primitive Tactics


When Roy Manley saw the great bird above him, poised and hovering,
ready to strike, something in the lad suddenly jerked him to his
feet in prompt alertness.

Oblivious of everything save that he was confronted by a creature
intent upon attacking him, the savage, primitive man was aroused in
the young rancher. He realized that he must, in this emergency,
depend for defense upon his hands alone--as must have an ancient
dweller in a cave of the stone age.

As the bird, with a savage scream, swooped down at him, Roy lashed
out with his bare fists. One blow caught the eagle full upon its
feathered breast, knocking him aside. A wild yell burst from the
boy’s lips, rivaling the bird’s screech in its intensity. He
shouted. He called out meaningless phrases. He was a savage,
battling for his life against an ancient enemy.

As the eagle, knocked from its course, fluttered to the ground,
Roy’s eyes lit with a strange, fierce gleam. He sprang for the bird
and sought to grasp the creature, but, to his surprise, the great
dweller of the upper regions was not there. With a single beat of
its powerful wings it had gained the air once more.

Sobbing in rage, Roy leaped to his feet, his injured ankle
forgotten. Some ten feet above the ground the bird wheeled,
screamed, and returned to the attack. This time it was more wary,
and did not plunge directly for the boy, but shot down a little to
one side, then, spreading its pinions wide, glided in. Roy, his lips
drawn back in a snarl, met it fully. The beak stabbed once, as quick
as a rattler striking, and Roy felt a searing pain in his right
shoulder. A dark stain spread over his shirt. At the same time the
boy was able to seize one of the wings in both hands, and he hung on
desperately, twisting it with all his strength. Another quick stab
of the powerful beak, and Roy released his hold, blood now streaming
from his left arm.

The eagle, realizing now that his adversary was no weakling, but
able to strike him down with one blow, retreated for the moment to
consider matters. This gave Roy the chance he needed, and he quickly
drew the knife from his pocket and opened it.

“Now, come on!” he yelled, taking a step forward toward the bird
that was resting on the ground, reassembling his ruffled plumage.
“Start something, you buzzard!” It is not to be wondered at that the
boy in his excitement had mistaken his huge antagonist. “Buzzard”
was the first thought that had come to his mind, and he shouted it
out.

The bird held off, considering. His wing had been cruelly twisted by
this strange-looking foe before him. Some one should suffer for
that. And then, with a scream of defiance, the eagle arose again in
the air.

Roy stood tense, waiting, his knife held in readiness. The moment’s
respite had given the boy time to realize his danger. This was no
buzzard, but an eagle that seemed bent upon the boy’s destruction.
Tales of strong men being killed by this species of bird flashed
through Roy’s mind, and he clenched the knife more firmly. If he was
to die, he would put up a good fight first!

The bird was diving again. The pain in his wing had rendered the
eagle careless of consequences, as he must punish this impudent
being, and now he swooped directly at Roy. The boy drew back his
arm. The sun glittered on the open blade as he held the knife poised
for action. A harsh cry from the bird--a grunt of fierce effort from
the boy--and the eagle, a long jagged rip in his side, lay gasping
upon the ground!

Roy sprang forward, his hand red from blood that was not all his
own. He knew that he must finish this now, before the bird had a
chance to recover. Again the knife sank deep in feathers and flesh,
and this time Roy knew his work was well done. The eagle sounded a
single cry that floated upward and wavered to silence in the blue
regions of its element, the body of the bird gave a convulsive
shudder--then the tremulous breathing stopped, the head sank down,
and the wings folded themselves quietly to rest.

There, on the shore of Whirlpool River, Roy Manley looked down upon
his kill--looked down with eyes from which all anger, all blood-lust
had fled, and which held only pity for the death of such a splendid
creature.

Silently he wiped his knife clean, shut the blade, and replaced it
in his pocket. Then, for the first time, he saw the long cut on his
arm, and felt the stiffening of his shoulder where the eagle had
struck. Stumbling, he made his way to the water’s edge, and, ripping
the remnants of his shirt from him, bathed the wounds. Strange that
he felt no pain, but instead a growing wonder that he, and not the
bird, had been the conqueror in that mighty battle. He had a queer
inclination to kneel for a moment and do homage to a worthy fighter,
but the feeling passed and the reaction slowly set in. He felt
himself grow faint, and he staggered from the water. A growing
blackness encompassed him, as though night were coming. A horrible
nausea seized him, close to the dead bird, and he sank upon the
earth, already all but unconscious.

The sun was at its zenith when Roy once more opened his eyes. This
time there was no wonderment in them. He knew definitely and with
certainty what had happened. And if he needed proof that it was not
all a dream--and indeed, somehow it did create in his mind a
sensation akin to a nightmare--there was the bird lying at his side.
Yes, it had actually occurred--he, practically weaponless, had
fought an eagle and won.

He sat up, moving his arms gingerly. Everything appeared to be in
working order. He examined the cuts, and saw that they had been but
superficial and had already stopped bleeding.

Then he grinned.

“Bids are open for the moving picture rights,” he chuckled. “First I
get in a scrap with a bear and then an eagle! But the boy, here,
nothing daunted, immediately enters the cave of the lion. Isn’t
there a lion somewhere around?”

Slowly he got to his feet. Then he noticed the wet sock tied about
his ankle. Except for this, he would have forgotten that the limb
had ever been hurt.

“The pain must have been scared out of me,” he said aloud, and
laughed again. His laughter was not hysterical. It was the wholesome
amusement of a boy who had a sense of humor, and the reaction from
his late suspense.

Then his mind leaped to thoughts of Teddy and the others.

“They’ll be worried stiff,” he declared. “They’ll think I’m drowned,
sure. I’d better find some way of getting back to them.” Never an
idea that his brother and Pop and Bug Eye might have failed to reach
the shore--might have been caught in the current, and killed. These
sombre thoughts had gone from him completely.

He retraced his steps to the water’s edge. The river was once more a
placidly flowing stream, its surface harmless and innocent of
treachery.

“You’re a hypocrite,” Roy said. “You are a two-faced fraud. However,
I’ll try you once more.”

It came to him that if he was to reach the mainland he must swim for
it. He breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the keen air.

“My powers of recuperation are extraordinary, to say the least,” he
laughed. “Good thing I found that porcupine! All right--camera
ready? The boy hero will attempt to swim the terrible rapids--only
they’re more like a lake now. But we’ll call ’em rapids to make it
look harder.”

He removed his outer clothing and waded in. The opposite shore
seemed much nearer now, probably because the water had receded. At
all events, he struck out with a will and arrived on the bank not at
all exhausted. As he left the water he thought of the spectacle he
must present, with the wounds on his shoulder and arm still showing
plainly and dressed in a soggy suit of underwear. He burst into a
loud laugh.

“Come, take a snapshot!” he exclaimed. “Having a wonderful time!
Wish you were here! The bathing is great!”

“Roy!”

He turned his face alight with expectation.

“Roy! Oh, golly, it’s Roy!”

From the bushes leaped three figures--three happy, excited, capering
figures.

“Teddy! And Pop and Bug Eye! The reception committee! The lost
mariners! Well, you old marmadukes!”

Tears stood in Teddy’s eyes as he clasped his brother’s hand. Frank,
honest tears, and Teddy was not ashamed of them.

“Roy--” he said brokenly, “we thought you were--”

“We thought you was lost!” Bug Eye finished, with a side glance at
Pop. “Snakes, we been lookin’ all over creation for yuh!”

“Son,” Pop said simply, holding out his hand, “I’m glad to see yuh.
Mighty glad. We been worried.”

“You’re hurt, Roy!” Teddy exclaimed, as he noticed for the first
time the cuts on the boy’s arm and shoulder. “How did you get
those?”

“It’s a long story, me lad,” Roy answered, smiling. He threw his arm
about his brother’s shoulders. “But first, if you don’t mind, I’ll
eat! The last meal I had was roast porcupine!”



CHAPTER XVIII

Afloat Again


Back to camp tramped these two brothers, the one in a torn suit of
underwear, the other fully dressed, but both wearing wide grins.

They were both happy--recklessly so. All things dwindled into
insignificance except the fact that they were together
again--together, after a night of terror. The cattle of Whirlpool
River Ranch--The Pup--the reported landslide--all these were for the
moment forgotten. They would return later, with their
responsibilities. But now, for Teddy and Roy, there was happiness
where they had feared to find sorrow.

Their tremendous relief was not the sort that is communicated by
words. A firm handclasp, an arm thrown carelessly around the
shoulders, speaks louder than any well-turned sentence. Thus it was
that on that journey back to their camp there was little said
besides Pop’s interminable: “Snakes!” and Roy’s: “I’ll tell a
maverick!” whenever Teddy made a statement.

Roy’s story was soon told. Pop marveled much and examined the boy’s
wounds with care, treating them with the antiseptic they had brought
along. When Roy’s tale was finished, Teddy sprang his bit of news.

“We found the canoe!”

Roy’s eyes opened wide.

“You mean to say there is anything left of it?”

“Sure, there is!” Bug Eye exclaimed. “We can fix her up in no time!
She’s got quite a hole in her, but Pop can mend that. Hey, Pop?”

“Betcher boots,” the veteran rancher replied, as he grinned. “I am
one grand little fixer. Let’s take another look at it.”

Roy, clothed “in assembled finery,” as Bug Eye said, was delighted
when he saw that the craft was not irreparably damaged. It had been
washed ashore a short distance below the rock, and, aside from the
hole in the stern, it was as good as ever.

“Guess dad’ll be at Jake Trummer’s by now,” Teddy declared. “But
we’ll soon have the old boat on the way. Give your orders, Pop! You
can be the boss carpenter. What do we do first?”

“Get out that strip of canvas,” Pop suggested. “Where’s yore knife,
Roy? Snakes, you ain’t washed it yet!” He took it from the boy and
looked at it silently. Darkening the blades was dried blood--the
blood of the eagle. Sticking to the blade were a few tiny, grey
feathers. Pop held it in the palm of his hand and nodded his head
slowly.

“There’s not many knives that can say they killed an eagle,” he said
musingly. “This’ll make a great token, Roy.” Then his voice took on
a businesslike tone again. The incident was over. The chapter
closed. Pop bent down, inserted the blade in the canvas, and drew it
along with a ripping sound.

Soon all four were deep in their task. The hole had to be well
mended, as the rapids were still ahead of them and the rocks would
search hungrily for a weak spot on which to fasten their needle-like
fingers. Pop went about the job slowly and deliberately, and it was
afternoon before it was finished to his satisfaction.

“Might as well eat,” Bug Eye said as he straightened up and threw
his shoulders back to get the kinks out. “Somehow I never did get
over that there habit. So you had roast porcupine this morning, Roy?
Well, we can’t promise you that, but we have got some pork an’ beans
left unless Pop eat ’em all. You feel all right now, Roy?”

“Sure I do!” The boy flexed his muscles. “Those cuts have stiffened
up a little, but they’ll soon work out. Yea, Bug Eye, I feel great!
I’m mighty hungry, though.”

“You can do the paddlin’,” Teddy remarked with a grin. “And if you
see a rock, duck!”

Unconsciously the boy’s healthy mind was bringing to the fore the
events of that fear-ridden night just passed, and instead of hiding
them deep in the recesses of the subconscious, later to emerge as
tangled emotions, Teddy was baring them and destroying their power
to haunt. Of course he did not realize all this. He knew only that
an unpleasant experience cannot be forcibly forgotten--that it must
be aired, shaken, and dry-cleaned.

But now, his eyes seemed still to hold some of the terror of last
night when he had thought that his brother was killed. Roy had had
other emotions to occupy his mind--pain, amazement, and
self-preservation. Teddy had had nothing--nothing but an
overpowering dread that increased hourly until, when dawn had come,
it seemed to permeate his whole being, sickening him.

When he had seen Roy wading ashore, happiness caught him a sudden
blow, and he had staggered for a moment. Then he had rushed forward,
unable to do more than cry: “Roy--Roy!” in a voice that was a hoarse
whisper. His brother had returned. The world had lurched, hesitated,
and then had gone on spinning merrily. They were together again.

Now the repairs on the canoe were finished. Pop yawned, stretched,
and pulled out his pipe. Then he followed Bug Eye to camp and spent
the next fifteen minutes in disputing Teddy’s mastery over
bean-eating. At length their appetites were satisfied. The pans were
washed by the simple method of rubbing sand on them and rinsing them
in the river. Blankets were folded. Then, having carried their
possessions to the craft, they were ready to start once more.

“Remember those old books in our school library?” Teddy asked Roy,
as he stood with his hand on the stern, ready to launch the canoe.
“The Amazon Adventurers, or something like that. Where the heroes
always come bobbing up from tornadoes, volcanoes, or what have you,
with a smile on their faces ready to stop a revolution single
handed. Remember the verse Spike Murphy wrote--you know, he played
tackle our second year at Hopper. Like this, I think:

    “‘The Amazon Adventurers are always to the mus-tard.
    They cut an elephant in half as if he was a cus-tard!’

“And a lot more, but I forget the rest. Spike used to walk around
the campus singing it. Well, the point of this is that that’s the
way I feel now. It’s a good thing there aren’t any elephants around.
But something tells me I’ll have my work-out yet. There is still
much to be done, as the cook said, turning the whale steak he was
roasting. I’ll bet--”

“You’ll bet nothing!” Roy interrupted, with a laugh. “What is this,
a political speech? You’ve been talking an hour by the clock. Grab
hold, and shove. Ready, Pop and Bug Eye? Then let’s go!”

All four bent down and seized the gunwales. There was a straining of
backs, and the canoe slid noiselessly into the river with scarcely a
splash.

“No leakee!” Teddy shouted, capering around the bank. “No leakee, no
shirtee! Watch it, boys. I’ll bet two bits she don’t leak!”

“Doesn’t,” Bug Eye corrected, a certain page of his English book
before his mind. “A plural predicate takes the nominative singular.
Or something. Anyway, ‘don’t’ ain’t nowheres near right.”

“Did you say singular?” Teddy asked, grinning. “It is that, at
least! But tell me, boys--I’m afraid to look. Does she leak?”

“Nary leak!” Pop exclaimed, leaning close. “Guess I qualify for an
expert boat-maker, don’t I? All right, Teddy, stop yore solo an’ hop
in.”

“_Après vous, m’sieu_,” Teddy smirked, and bowed low. “I assure you
I crave to see you get wet first.”

“Don’t mind him, Pop,” Roy laughed. “That’s French, and not what you
think it means. He just said: ‘after you!’ so don’t get sore. Come
on, Teddy, you tomato! Get in there before I toss you in!”

“_Now_ you said something!” the boy ejaculated. “I obey with
pleasure--but I’ll be back--oh, I’ll be ba-a-a-a-ak!” and he waved a
hand vigorously as he settled himself in the bottom of the canoe.

“You’ll be back before you’re gone,” Roy remarked. “You paddle, my
young gentleman of leisure. Oh, yes, there’s more than one. Bug Eye
found the one that wasn’t broken, and this stick will do for the bow
paddle. Here. On your horse, cowboy!”

Teddy took the flat board Roy held out to him and looked at it
wonderingly.

“I am to paddle with _this_?” he said in a shocked voice. “Roy, my
social position! I could never forgive myself--paddling Whirlpool
River with a flat board! Dear, dear, what will Mrs. Percy Van Pelt
say when she hears about this? I shall never, _never_ hear the last
of it!”

“We’ll try to keep it out of the papers,” Roy replied, laughing
loudly. “Pipe down now, and go to work. Just forget Mrs. Percy Van
Pelt and remember me sitting back of you here with a strong paddle
and a good reach.”

“I desire an objection noted,” Teddy murmured, as he took the stick
and shifted to the bow seat. “I obey, but under protest. All right,
cap’in, whenever you say! I’m all set.”

“Everything in?” Roy asked, looking about him. “Rifles in the
bottom? Yep. We’re off, boys. The Amazon Adventurers!”

The canoe shot for the middle of the river, propelled by Teddy and
Roy. The stream was again placid, as it had been before the storm. A
gentle current bore them along.

As they left their camping site, Roy turned his head and looked
back. Many things had happened in the space of twenty-four hours,
since they had first lit their fire. They had heard thieves planning
to rustle the cattle on the Whirlpool River range. Then the pursuit
and the rock ahead. The crash, and the roaring flood. Then his life
had hung in the balance. How close it had come to being taken, he
probably would never know. How had he gotten ashore? Why hadn’t he
been drowned? Why--

Roy shook his head slowly.

“Mother must have been on the job then,” he said to himself, and
smiled. “She said she’d put in a good word, and I guess she did!
Surely, something besides me kept my head above water!”

Then another thought came to him. They were approaching the rapids
with a mended canoe. The cattle were beyond, and rustlers were bent
on taking them, if they had not already done so. There was the
possible landslide that the stranger had reported.

“There’s plenty to worry about yet, I reckon,” Roy thought grimly.
“But what good is worry? Answer--none! We’ll get those cattle, and
we won’t come back till we do! Hey, Teddy!” he exclaimed aloud.
“Snap to it! All right, boy--ho, ho ho, ho! _Stick_ in there!”



CHAPTER XIX

The Whirlpool


Yes, there was still plenty to worry about, if one was in a worrying
mood. The Manley boys and their companions were faced with the
prospect of having their whole journey, with its dangers and
hardships, go for nothing, if the rustlers reached the cattle first.
There was a bare chance that Mr. Manley and his party had gotten to
the Whirlpool River range in time to prevent the theft; but even
Teddy admitted that this chance was a slim one. The overland route
was long and tedious, and could not be accomplished in less than
four days at the minimum.

“Guess we’d better resign ourselves to a long chase after those
rustlers,” Roy said regretfully. “That is if they go through with
their plan, and I don’t see why they shouldn’t. It sounded
fool-proof to me. Certainly if the cattle were gone when dad got
there, he would naturally suspect Jake Trummer of carrying out his
threat and driving them into the river. Suppose we hadn’t heard the
thieves talking that night? We would have gone on and probably
backed dad up in saying Trummer had drowned the cows. When you think
of it, we were pretty lucky after all.”

“But what good is our luck going to do us if we get there after the
cattle are stolen?” Teddy asked, as he shifted his “paddle” to get a
better grip on it.

“Seems to me I heered tell of a couple of fellers chasin’ some
rustlers an’ makin’ out pretty well,” Pop drawled. “Could it have
been you an’ Roy, Teddy?”

“Oh, that was different,” Teddy objected. “We got right on their
trail then and rounded them up before they had a chance to escape.
But now we won’t even know which way to start. They may take the
cattle any place.”

“Can’t take ’em in the river an’ get much good out of ’em,” Bug Eye
snickered. “They won’t drive ’em back toward X Bar X, ’cause you
said they knew about yore dad comin’ along that trail. And as I
remember it, there’s mountains back of Whirlpool River range that
’ud make travelin’ with a herd of dogies pretty risky--especially if
the dirt on them hills is tearin’ loose. So it looks like there’s
only one way they could go, Teddy--an’ that’s straight ahead.”

“That’s one way too many,” Pop remarked, bending over to see if the
patch he had put in place was still firm. It was, and he leaned back
again. “There’s a straight trail through to the Border, branchin’
left from the river,” he continued. “They’ll head for that, sure as
shootin’. Course I ain’t sayin’ they’ll make it, but they’ll try
to.”

“No such word as ‘ain’t,’” Bug Eye said absently. “But Pop, how far
is it to the Border? Good eight days’ ride, ain’t it--isn’t it?”

“All of that. But what’s eight days? I been in saddle longer than
that many a time. I remember, back in ’97--stop that splashin’, Bug
Eye! I had my bath!”

“Back in ’97?” Bug Eye grinned.

Pop became absorbed in the shore line and refused to answer. Bug Eye
winked, and, resting his head on his arm, started to snore loudly. A
sharp dig in the ribs from Pop convinced him of the error of his
ways, and he sat up, an innocent look on his face.

“Me, I’m tired!” he proclaimed. “When do we hit those rapids you
been talkin’ so much about, Pop? Last time I came over here they was
nothin’ but a few waves. I craves excitement, I do.”

“You’ll get it,” Pop said laconically. “They’ll be more than a few
waves this time. An’ that reminds me. Roy, you an’ Teddy been
workin’ long enough. What say you give me an’ Bug Eye a crack at it?
The rapids are just below here, an’ I want to do the steerin’ as we
hit ’em. I been over ’em many times, an’ I think I can put us
through all right.”

“Yo’re a great thinker,” Bug Eye murmured, as he changed places with
Teddy and received the board he was to use as a paddle. “Pop, what
am I supposed to do with this here barrel stave, or whatever it is?
Cheer you, or somethin’?”

“When I say left, you paddle on the left. When I say right, you
shift. That’s all.”

“An’ when you say ‘here she goes,’ I take my little bath,” Bug Eye
snickered. “All right, Pop. O.K.! Me an’ my flat board is ready.”

“Are ready,” grinned Pop. “Yuh forget yore plural nominative, Bug
Eye. Well, let’s see you work now!”

Roy, who had given up his place and paddle to Pop and was seated in
the bottom facing front, saw ahead of him that the banks of the
stream were coming together--closing in. It had been long since he
and Teddy had come over this route, and the landmarks were
unfamiliar. But he knew that just below the point where the shores
converged were the rapids.

The river seemed to take on new strength now. The soft purr was
developing into a roar, and Teddy, remembering the last time they
had heard that, hunched his shoulders. But this sound was different,
somehow, from the boiling of the stream after the storm. That had
been an unwholesome noise, as though the river had suddenly taken
upon itself an evil accomplishment, whereas the deep thunder that
came to Teddy’s ears from the rapids below was the voice of a giant
who is proud of his strength and who gives fair warning to any one
who contests his supremacy.

“Feel it pull?” Pop Burns asked excitedly, as they came nearer and
nearer the rapids. “Wait till we hit the worst part! You’ll know
yo’re in somethin’ then, let me tell yuh!”

Teddy and Roy were too absorbed in the spectacle to answer. Directly
before them a curtain of spray arose like a white cloud, pierced now
and then by a jet of water that leaped upward like a silver fish. A
cold haze hung over the boat--penetrating, knife-like--that sent the
blood tingling through the veins. All four were leaning forward now,
waiting, ready.

“Left!” Pop yelled, and Bug Eye shifted his paddle swiftly.
“Steady--steady--_Take it!_”

The canoe plunged into the maelstrom. About them the waters tumbled
and tossed in an agony of movement. The craft shot forward like an
arrow from a bow.

“Yay!” Teddy yelled, his eyes alight with a fierce joy. “Let’s go!”

Roy was too fascinated to exclaim. He sat perfectly still, gripping
the sides of the boat, his head thrown back, his lips smiling.
_This_ was life!

A deep whirlpool lay directly in their path. Teddy saw that it was
spinning with incredible rapidity, and thought that if they hit it
destruction was certain. He turned to Pop to sound a warning.

But the veteran had seen it. Not an inch did he swerve from his
course. For a moment the boat hung on the edge, poised for a dive.
Then it leaped.

Straight into the heart of that silver-lined, foaming vortex it
shot.

“Right” Pop yelled, and Bug Eye shifted again.

There was a space of time, seemingly interminable, when the boat
appeared to stand still while the waters whirled beneath it. Then a
quick lurch--and the whirlpool was left behind.

Stunned by the suddenness of it, Teddy jerked his head around. The
whirlpool was far in the rear. They had been in and out in less than
a second.

“Pop!” the boy called above the roaring, “what happened?”

“Nothin’ much,” Pop chuckled. “We just took it at the right time,
that’s all. It tossed us out. Like it?”

“Certainly did!” Teddy cried enthusiastically. “Hit ’em again, Pop!”

They came now to a place where the stream undulated like a huge
white snake. There were hills and valleys of water; smooth, shining
water. It seemed that the rocks over which the river was flowing
were just beneath the surface--that they must surely crush them to
pieces. Teddy saw that Pop’s face lost none of its calmness, so he
settled himself once more with an attempt at serenity which deceived
no one. Just what in thunder _was_ keeping them from all going to
the bottom?

The craft was tossing like a ship on the ocean. First the bow would
almost bury itself in a smother of foam, then it would lift until it
seemed that it must turn over backward. Bug Eye wrapped his legs
firmly about the seat.

“Roller coaster!” he shouted, and went down again, nearly out of
sight.

“My Fishmobile--” he began when once more he rose straight in the
air, but at that moment they came to an especially deep pool and the
words froze on his lips. Teddy watched him with amusement and saw
that when he was level again Bug Eye had a wild look about him.

“I’ll stick to crazy steers after this!” the cowboy yelled. “They
stay on the ground, anyway!”

But the worst of it was over. The water resumed a more normal flow
and the banks widened. They still shot downstream at an alarming
rate, but the canoe kept on a fairly level keel.

Bug Eye drew a breath of relief and rested his paddle across the
gunwales.

“I’m cured,” he declared solemnly. “I wanted to be a sailor when I
was young. But never again! That was some circus! What made it like
that, Pop? I’ve been over here before. But snakes, that was a
millpond compared to to-day. What happened?”

“The storm,” Pop grinned. “I kinda thought it would be pretty bad.
But we’re through now. And Jake Trummer’s place is just ahead. One
more bend and we’re there.”

Eagerly the boys waited until they should come in sight of Whirlpool
River Ranch. The end of their trip was at hand. Would they find
their cattle grazing peacefully, waiting to be driven home? Would
their father be there yet? They sat tense, leaning forward.

They rounded the bend. A broad vista of land lay before them, green,
rolling range land. Back of the grazing fields mountains rose
sublimely, fleecy clouds capping their summits. The late afternoon
sun turned the scene into a picture of pastoral beauty.

But on the range was not a hair, hide, or hoof of a single
shorthorn.



CHAPTER XX

Burying the Hatchet


There was tender grass to be munched. There was warm sun to bask in.
There was the placid river to drink from. Yet of cattle there was
none, nor any sign of them.

“Just in time to be late!” Bug Eye groaned, and rested on his
paddle.

“They may be further on,” Teddy remarked hopefully. “Beyond the
rise, there.”

“Much beyond,” Roy said bitterly. “If they were there, some would
wander off to this range. Yet we’ll look.”

Once more the canoe went forward, this time slowly, dispiritedly.
Their journey had been in vain. Their cattle were gone.

As Roy had feared, once past the rise in the land, they saw that
surely the herd had departed. Pop said nothing, but sat and smoked
in silence, his paddle dragging. Bug Eye made a few remarks under
his breath.

“We’ll have to land and find Jake Trummer,” Teddy declared. “That
gang we heard on the river at night has been here before us.”

“They rustled ’em, hey?” Bug Eye asked inanely.

“Exactly,” Teddy replied. “How far away they’ve gotten with them,
there’s no telling. We’re worse than useless without broncs. We’ll
have to wait for dad.”

“You’ll not have to do much waitin’,” Pop remarked suddenly. “I seen
General just over that hill.”

“With dad on him?” Teddy questioned eagerly.

“Nope. Guess he’s up at the ranch house talkin’ to Trummer.
General’s been turned out to grass. We’ll beach, an’ walk over.”

“How far?” Bug Eye wanted to know.

“Four miles. Do you good. We can leave the stuff here. Be all right.
Trummer is the only man I know who’s got his range in his back
yard.”

The canoe was driven ashore, and Teddy leaped out.

“If we hadn’t hit that rock,” he said bitterly, “we could have been
here before the rustlers and saved the cows.”

“Mebby,” Pop said laconically. “There’s lots of things to be
considered. We’ll see yore dad first, an’ talk later.”

The four set off across country, after having pulled the canoe up
out of reach of the water. As they walked, they turned frequently,
as though they expected to find the missing cattle. The way was
long, but evening brought coolness, and they were not tired when
they came in sight of the ranch house.

Jake Trummer’s place was like a hundred others in the state. The
low, broad building where the “boss” and his family lived, the
high-fenced corral; the bunk-house; and, separated a little from it,
the cook house. A few horses were in the corral, and among them
Teddy recognized the bronc Nat Raymond usually rode.

“All here but General,” Roy murmured. “You said you saw him out on
the range, Pop. Then dad must be inside.”

Coming nearer the ranch house, a mutter of voices reached them. Loud
above the others, sounded Jake Trummer’s, with his repeated:

“You hear me, now--you hear me!”

“Hot times,” Bug Eye remarked.

Then they reached the side steps, and another speaker interrupted.
The voice was low, but vibrant.

“That’s dad,” Roy said tensely. “He’s good and mad about something.”

“Jake Trummer,” Mr. Manley was saying, “I’ve known you for a long
time. An’ I never thought you’d pull a low-down trick like this.”

“Bardwell Manley, you go careful! I kin only stand so much! You’re
at my house, my guest, an’ as such I respect you. But you hear me
when I tell you I didn’t touch your dogies, an’ I mean it. An’ if
you’re wantin’ to call me a liar to my face, start now!”

“But, Jake you tole me you’d drive ’em into the river, an’ when I
get here they’re gone! What would you say in a case like that? Don’t
it _look_ as if you’d done it?”

“But I tell you I didn’t! They was there last night. To-day they was
gone. That’s all I know about ’em.”

“Well--” Mr. Manley shook his head, and at that moment Roy bounded
up the steps.

“Dad! We’re here at last. Had a tough time of it.”

“Roy! Teddy! Glad to see you, boys. I was beginnin’ to worry, but I
figured you might have been delayed on account of the storm. And now
you’re here--” he spread his hands expressively--“we might as well
turn around an’ go home. The cows are gone. Trummer--”

“Wait, Dad,” Teddy said quickly. “You’re wrong. Mr. Trummer had
nothing to do with the cattle being stolen.”

“Stolen! How do you know that? Who stole ’em? Jake Trummer--”

“Give the boy a chance, Bardwell!” Mr. Trummer interrupted testily.
“He knows more about it than you do. Let him speak.”

“It’s just this,” Teddy went on, with a look at the others. “Two
nights ago we camped by the stream, because the storm came up, and
we couldn’t see our way clear to taking a chance on keeping afloat.
Late at night--at least it seemed late--Roy and I walked down to the
river, leavin’ Pop an’ Bug Eye by the fire. That right, Pop?”

The veteran nodded.

“Yuh tell it, Teddy. Yuh know more about it than what I do.”

“We headed for the river,” the boy went on, “and when we got there
we heard some men talking. They were in a boat on the stream. Some
one they called Denver--”

“Denver!” Jake Trummer broke in. “That’s--But go ahead, son. I’ll
have my say later,” he added, with a glance at Mr. Manley.

“This Denver had a plan to rustle our cattle that had strayed over
here, an’ he aimed to let you think Mr. Trummer did as he had
threatened,” Teddy went on swiftly. “They’d found out, somehow,
about the whole business; maybe from The Pup, though he didn’t
appear to be with them. They were going to drive the cows off at
night, and, by golly, that’s what they did!”

For a moment there was silence. Mr. Manley looked at Jake Trummer,
his face a deep red. Then he threw back his head and thrust out his
hand.

“Jake,” he said falteringly, “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ now. I’ve done
all my talkin’--a sight too much, I reckon. I’ll stay dumb for the
rest of my life. But if you can forgive an old fool--”

With a grin, Jake Trummer clasped the hand offered him, and gripped
hard.

“We all make mistakes,” he said softly. “I made the first one. All
the forgivin’ to be done ain’t on my side. I come to you like a bag
o’ wind an’ shot my mouth off when I shouldn’t. Some hand of yourn
told one of my men that the orders were to let the cattle stray as
far as they wanted, on my range if possible, because the grazin’ was
good an’ they needed fattenin’. I was a fool to believe it.”

“The Pup!” Teddy and Roy exclaimed in the same breath.

“Was he tall, Mr. Trummer?” Teddy asked. “Dark?”

“Never saw him,” Mr. Trummer answered, releasing Mr. Manley’s hand.
“He told one of my men. Well, Bardwell, we’ll forget it. We were
both wrong, I, mebby, more than you. Now let’s get this thing
straight. First I want to ask yore boy: Did that man you said they
called Denver have a high-pitched, cracked voice?”

“I’ll tell a maverick he did!” Roy replied excitedly. “High as a
girl’s, almost. Why?”

“That was Denver Smith,” Mr. Trummer declared. “They’re the last of
the old gangs, an’ the sooner they go the better. They make their
headquarters on the banks of Whirlpool River an’ try to pick up tips
they can use in their business, which is everything from
high-jackin’ to rustlin’. I pity the man that rides that river road
alone an’ with money in his pocket. They’d get him sure. Yep, boys,
it was Denver Smith an’ his bunch fer a sure bet. What did they say,
again?”

“They were planning to steal our cattle and let you take the blame,”
Roy replied. “They knew you’d had an argument with dad up on our
ranch, though I don’t know how.”

“It’ll be the last one we’ll have, eh, Bardwell?” Mr. Trummer said,
and grinned. “As fer them findin’ out, they have ways an’ means. But
that’s not the point. Yore cattle’s gone, Bardwell. What you aimin’
to do?”

“Get ’em back!” Mr. Manley said grimly. “I hate to ask it, Jake; but
if you can spare a few horses for the boys, here--”

“Spare a few horses?” Mr. Trummer ejaculated. “What kind of a game
is this, Bardwell?”

“I’m sorry,” Mr. Manley muttered, and turned away. “I kind of
thought--”

“Spare a few _horses_! By cripes, you got nerve! An’ what about me?
Think I’ll stay here? We’ll ride together, like we done before,
Bardwell! You can have all the horses yuh want; but yuh got to take
me with ’em! We’ll get them rustlers, an’ every one of yore cows!
Spare a few _horses_! Huh! I’ll spare more than that! You hear me?”

Mr. Manley grinned. He clapped his friend on the back, and then
laughed.

“For a minute yuh had me scared, Jake. But I might o’ known--I might
o’ known. We ride together, then. Tell yore cook to throw some
victuals together. Boys, I’m sure glad you showed up! We’ll clean up
Denver Smith an’ his gang--an’ dry-clean ’em at that! Saddle what
broncs Jake wants to give you, an’ we’ll eat an’ get!”



CHAPTER XXI

The Chase


The meal was soon concluded, and Roy and Teddy told of their
adventures on the river.

Inwardly Mr. Manley was much concerned over their mishaps, but he
only nodded and smiled. He wanted to let his boys know that he
expected nothing less from them.

At the same time his face flushed with a glow of pride when Roy
told, modestly enough, of his fight with the eagle. He looked at the
knife with which his son had slain the bird, and silently put the
weapon in his pocket. By this the boy knew he was really affected by
the story. The knife would remain a relic, a proof of his son’s
bravery. With the exception of Roy, Pop was the only one who
realized this. The others thought he had absent-mindedly put it in
his own pocket instead of returning it to Roy.

For a while Roy hesitated to tell his father of the payroll robbery
and Teddy knew he was holding off purposely, so he said nothing. But
when they were walking toward the corral, Roy decided it would be
best for his father to know the whole story, even if it did add to
his worry, so he told him.

Mr. Manley took it silently, only shaking his head sorrowfully. The
loss of the money affected him not so much as realizing that The Pup
was a thief. He had never liked the man, but a horse-thief and
payroll bandit--that was different from “plain orneriness.”

“Guess I made a mistake in Marino,” he declared. “Got in the house
an’ stole my four hundred, did he! Well, maybe it was partly my
fault for lettin’ it lay around like that, so open. But none of the
boys I ever had would steal a cent. Gus, now--” he stopped, and bit
his lip. Gus was a topic that bothered him. “You don’t think Gus--”

“No, Dad, Gus had nothing to do with it,” Teddy said positively.
“I’m sure of that, Dad!”

“That’s good,” Mr. Manley sighed. “I didn’t think Gus was that kind.
Pshaw, I knew he wasn’t! Wonder if we’ll see him again? Well--” and
he shrugged his shoulders. “But this is no time for wonderin’. We
got to be on our way. So The Pup stole--right from the house! Stole
my payroll!” He shook his head again, slowly, and walked off
muttering.

“Dad would rather have that money taken twice than to think Gus was
mixed up in it,” Teddy said to Roy in a low voice. “He’s sorry The
Pup did it, too. He may have disliked Marino, as I guess we all did,
but dad hates to think any one is a thief.”

The horses, saddled and ready, were waiting for them. Those who had
come with Mr. Manley had, of course, their own broncos, and Jake
Trummer supplied Teddy, Roy, Pop Burns and Bug Eye with other
mounts. They took with them food, and each saddle packed a rifle and
a blanket. The chase, even if it was successful, might take several
days to conclude. They had one big advantage--the rustlers did not
know they were being trailed. Thus they would take their time, and
Mr. Manley counted largely on this.

“Guess we’re all set,” the boss of the X Bar X stated, as he looked
about him. The men were mounted, waiting for the word to start.

“Whenever you say, Bardwell,” Jake Trummer suggested.

“Then let’s go!”

The riders filed out of the yard and headed once more for the river.
Mr. Trummer had left word with one of his men on the ranch that the
canoe and its contents were to be taken care of, so there was no
need to return to the place where they had left it. Instead, the
riders cut diagonally across the range and headed away from the
direction the boys had come.

“Dad, what about that landslide?” Roy remarked, spurring his mount
up closer to his father. “Nick arrived all fagged out and told us a
stranger gave you a wild tale about an avalanche.”

“It _was_ a wild tale,” Mr. Manley declared. “Jake said no such
thing occurred. Didn’t you, Jake? But it had me worried, all the
same. By golly, if it’s not one thing it’s another!”

“I’ll tell a maverick,” Roy muttered, and then rode forward
silently. He was thinking of The Pup and Gus. Where had The Pup fled
to? They had seen him at the edge of the stream on the horse he had
stolen. Did he follow the river? Or did he branch out? Was there a
chance of catching him, as well as the cattle rustlers?

“Pipe dreams,” the boy muttered. “We’ve seen all we ever shall of
Joe Marino.”

“Roy, quit that mumbling and speak up!” Teddy exclaimed. “What’s on
your mind?”

“The Pup, for one thing,” Roy answered grimly. “He’s got a horse of
ours, and four hundred dollars. I hate to let him get away with a
raw thing like that without an effort to catch him.”

“We’ll make more than an effort, Roy, when we get this cattle
business finished,” Mr. Manley called back. “We’ll have every
sheriff in the state on his trail, and maybe we’ll take a hand in it
ourselves. He was the man who put Gus on the bum. I can’t forget
that.”

“There’s another little item that sticks in my mind,” Teddy remarked
in a low voice. “It happened near the corral the night the horse and
the money were stolen. Guess you know what I mean, Roy. Though I’d
rather have it sticking in my mind than in my chest,” he added
significantly.

“The knife with J. K. on it,” Roy returned. “Sure, I know, Teddy.
But the sooner we forget The Pup the better. He’s gone. If we catch
him, fine! If not--well, charge it up to profit and loss.”

“That’s the right idea, Roy,” Mr. Manley agreed. “We’ve got enough
on our hands now. If we get our cattle back I’ll be satisfied.”

“I suppose I ought to be--and maybe I’ll have to be; but it sure
sticks in my craw to let a thing like that get by me!” muttered
Teddy.

The gloom of evening was at hand, and the men rode in close
formation, talking in subdued tones. Pop and Bug Eye were ahead,
leading. Roy and Teddy brought up the rear, their father riding just
ahead of them. They had planned to cover as much distance as
possible before dark, so that when morning came they would be near
enough to the rustlers to seize them before they had a chance to
escape.

They soon came to the lowlands just beyond the range of Whirlpool
River Ranch. The air here was damp and chill, due to the moisture
from the river which had settled in the depressions. To add to this,
the night promised to be cloudy, with no moon showing. Already the
dull, gray canopy was curtaining the evening sky, cutting off, in
the fullness of its glory, the western sunset.

“This is the first real touch of fall we’ve had,” Roy remarked,
buttoning his shirt collar higher. Then, raising his voice: “Where
are you figuring to stop, Dad? Going to ride part of the night?”

Mr. Manley, the better to reply, wheeled his pony and circled back
toward his son.

“Nope,” he answered. “Soon as we top this rise ahead we’ll call a
halt. We sure don’t want to camp in this place. Golly, it’s damp!”
and he shivered slightly.

The leaders of the column quickened their pace, so that they might
leave the lowlands as quickly as possible. Pop, like most old
ranchmen, had his pet superstitions, and one of them was that it was
unlucky to stay long in such a place.

“Things happen,” he declared vaguely. “The mountains are all
right--don’t care how high they are. Open range is all right. But
every time I ride through land that sets low, I get a feelin’ that
somethin’ is goin’ to turn up. Don’t know why, but I do.”

“Ever hear that dampness was bad for rheumatism?” Teddy chuckled.
“That might have something to do with it, Pop.”

“No sir,” and Pop shook his head obstinately. “It’s got nothin’ to
do with rheumatism. Even Nat Raymond’s pony knows what I mean. Look
at the way he’s actin’.”

In truth, the bronco Nat rode, which had come from the home ranch
with him, was acting queerly. The pony would come to a dead stop,
lift its head, whinny, and proceed. This performance was repeated
several times.

Mr. Manley observed the horse with interest.

“What makes him do that, Nat?” he asked. “You pullin’ him up?”

“Not any, boss.” Nat answered sincerely. “He’s doin’ it himself.
Like Pop said, I guess, he don’t like lowlands.”

“Seems to me as though he sensed a stranger around,” Teddy said to
Roy in a low tone. “I’ve seen Nat’s bronco do that before, when a
new man came into the yard of the X Bar X. It’s got nothing to do
with the place we’re in now.”

“Well, there’s enough men with us he never saw before,” Roy
countered. He motioned toward Jake Trummer and his followers. “Think
they’re the reason, Teddy?”

“No, I don’t and I’ll tell you why. Because I noticed that it’s only
a man that comes alone who effects the bronc like that. Nat,” he
called, “did you ever see your horse act like that before?”

“Well, he does get kind of nervous when a stranger comes around,”
Nat admitted. “But usually it’s only if the stranger rides alone. I
can’t figure why the bronc should do it here unless Pop’s right
about him bein’ leary of lowlands.”

Teddy shook his head, but said nothing in reply.

Darkness was nearly upon them, and Mr. Manley held up his hand for a
halt.

“Stick close now, men,” he ordered. “Jake, you want to show us the
way out of here? Guess you know it better than I do. We want to camp
as soon as possible.”

“Right, Bardwell!” Jake agreed. “All set, men? Follow me. Don’t get
too far apart. We don’t want no stragglers.”

He rode forward again, and the others strung along behind him. Just
as he reached a knoll, which marked the end of the lowland, those
following heard him give an exclamation of surprise. Mr. Manley
spurred his horse forward.

“What is it, Jake?” he asked.

“Look!” Jake answered shortly. “There’s a horse without a rider.
Maybe that’s why Nat’s bronc was actin’ up. He’s got a saddle on,
too.”

Ahead of them, half concealed by the settling dusk, stood a pinto.
On his back was a saddle, but no rider. When the animal saw the
group in front of him, it ran toward them.

“Jimminy!” Teddy breathed. “His right foreleg is hurt. Notice how
he’s limping? What does he remind you of, Roy?”

“He doesn’t _remind_ me of anything; he _is_!” Roy answered
forcibly. The horse came closer. “Teddy, that’s the pony The Pup
stole, or I’m a ring-tailed doodle bird!”



CHAPTER XXII

The Man at the Fire


“Our pony!”

Mr. Manley almost shouted it.

“Do you mean to say that’s the bronc that Marino stole?”

“Look at him yourself, Dad!” Teddy cried excitedly. “Wait, I’ll see
if I can get him. He knows me--I broke him. Stay here.”

The boy rode rapidly forward. The horse did not turn and run, but
stood, waiting. In a moment Teddy had hold of his bridle rein and
was leading him back.

“See? Isn’t he?”

Mr. Manley looked closer.

“He certainly is, Teddy! Well, for the love of Pete! how’d _he_ get
here--an’ where’s The Pup?”

“Can’t tell you that, Dad,” Teddy replied. He turned to Roy. “Now
are you so sure that we’ll never see Marino again? He’s around here
somewhere, I’ll bet a plugged nickel! Maybe he got thrown. If it
wasn’t so dark we could have a look for him.”

“By golly, it’s the pinto!” Pop exclaimed, riding up. “Where’d he
come from, Teddy? I saw that horse out yonder, but I didn’t pay no
attention to him. Thought he had a man with him. The pinto! The Pup
must have followed up the river from the time we saw him! Snakes!
wonder if he’s around?”

“That bronc of yours is a good watch dog,” Roy declared to Nat. “It
was this horse he sensed, and the lowlands had nothin’ to do with
it. Pop, you’re all twisted. Nat’s pony was calling in this pinto.”

“Meybe,” Pop agreed doubtfully. “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’. Well, boss,
do we camp? We can picket this hoss and come back for him later.
He’ll stand, I reckon.”

“Won’t do much wanderin’ with his leg like that,” Bug Eye remarked.
It was practically the first sentence he had uttered since they had
left Jake Trummer’s place. “He’s got a sore there that seems as if
it might have been made some time ago.”

“It was,” Teddy remarked laconically. “I brought Roy in to look at
it the night he was stolen. That’s how I found he was gone. Wherever
The Pup is, he’s on foot. Unless he got thrown, and is lying hurt
somewhere.”

“And alone,” added Roy, with a note of pity in his voice.

The uselessness of attempting to find Marino in the dark was
apparent to all, and, leaving the knoll on which he stood, Mr.
Manley rode forward until he and Jake Trummer came to a spot which
bordered on a group of trees.

“We can pitch camp here,” Mr. Trummer suggested. “There’s a spring
in them trees, good an’ cold. In the mornin’ we can start at sun-up,
and then, by golly, we’ll run them rustlers to earth. They don’t
know we’re comin’, but they’ll learn soon enough. Tryin’ to lay the
blame on me fer the cattle bein’ gone! Huh, I’m kinda anxious to
meet Denver Smith an’ his gang!”

The horses were picketed some distance from the camping spot, a fire
was built and blankets were unrolled. The night was cold, and the
men huddled as closely as possible to the blaze, wrapped tightly in
their thick coverings. The heavens were entirely obscured by clouds,
and beyond the fire a blackness, like heavy velvet, covered the
land.

Supper was soon concluded, for the party was “traveling light.” But
three men had been told to carry rations, and, consequently, there
was hardly enough from which to make a feast. But beans and bacon
are filling, and no one went actually hungry.

There was little talk after supper. The finding of The Pup’s pony
was commented upon, and guesses were hazarded concerning the
whereabouts of Marino, but that was all. The men were tired, and
tired men waste no time in idle talk. Definitely and directly they
go to sleep.

Within an hour the only sounds to be heard were the uneasy neighings
of the horses and the crackling of the fire as it burned brightly
and then sank down again. Each man had his rifle by his side, in
case he was awakened by a curious beast sniffing at his ear, but no
one actually anticipated having to use the firearm.

Certainly they expected no human visitor. The rustlers, even if they
were in the neighborhood, would avoid them studiously. True, each
man there hoped that the ground they had covered brought them nearer
their quarry, for a herd of cattle moves slowly. The only direction
the thieves could have taken was the one in which they were
traveling. Sooner or later they would come upon the missing cows,
and, they hoped, also the beasts’ self-constituted guards.

The rustlers had certainly hoped to gain a long start on possible
pursuers, because of the delay occasioned by reason of Jake
Trummer’s being blamed for the disappearance of the Durhams. But
their plans had miscarried, and this they did not know. Their
conversation on the river had betrayed them.

Teddy’s sleep was troubled with dreams--dreams of cattle and huge
bales of money and long knives with queer initials burned in the
handle. Then he saw Gus, alone, weary, staggering over the prairie,
shouting his name. So vivid was the impression that some one was
calling him that he sat suddenly upright, with the word “Teddy!”
still ringing clearly in his ears.

Then, as one aroused from a sleep gradually realizes the true state
of affairs, the boy grinned, and once more lay down on the soft
earth and pulled his blanket about him. Dreams are funny things, he
thought. Sometimes they’re so real the rest of life seems unreal,
and a dream itself.

“Getting poetical,” he muttered, and composed himself to rest, “just
like old Roy.” The fire was still going, the embers glowing
brightly.

Try as he would, Teddy could not sink again into slumber. He shut
his eyes tightly and counted innumerable sheep, but sheep reminded
him of cattle, and cattle brought a host of thoughts that were most
disturbing. At last the boy sat up and threw his blanket from him.

“Guess I’ll chuck a few pieces of wood on the fire,” he said to
himself. His mind formed clear sentences before him, describing his
every movement, as is often the case of one who finds himself the
victim of insomnia. As the boy made his way carefully from between
the sleeping forms lying near, he murmured:

“Easy, now--mustn’t wake the others. Golly, it’s dark--cold, too!
Glad the fire’s not out. I’m hungry. Listen to those horses whinny!
Why don’t they go to sleep? I wonder where Gus is to-night? Funny
how we came across The Pup’s horse and not The Pup. Here’s a stick
that’ll do fine.” He threw it on the fire. “There, that’s better.
Warmer! That Pop snoring? Must be. Sounds like a saw mill. Funny old
geezer, Pop. Wish I could sleep like that.”

Small, unconnected thoughts kept buzzing through his brain. He
walked around the fire, then seated himself near it, his knees drawn
up, his chin resting on his hands. His dream came back to him, and
he recalled that he had awakened with his own name ringing in his
ears.

“Sure sounded as though some one was calling me,” he muttered,
kicking a piece of wood further in to the heart of the flames.
“Wonder what time it is? Must be after midnight. Snakes, there’s not
a star out!”

He raised his head and stared vacantly up into the blackness. For a
long moment he stayed in this position, then closed his eyes. He
came to himself with a start.

“Well!” and he grinned. “Almost went to sleep sitting up. Guess I’ll
seek my downy bed once more.”

He arose, and stretched. He stood there, his arms outstretched,
staring at a dark form looming up on the opposite side of the
fire--a strange, staggering form.

Teddy’s right hand leaped down to his belt and closed over the butt
of his gun. But he did not draw, for at that moment the form of a
man pitched headlong at his feet and lay still!



CHAPTER XXIII

Boss and Bandit


Teddy, hand resting on the gun, eyes wide, stared at the prostrate
intruder. Something about the man seemed familiar. As he lay there,
his arms thrown wide, head turned to one side, he appeared to have
been dropped from a great height and pressed into the earth from the
force of descent. The fingers weakly opened and closed, but aside
from that the figure was motionless, silent.

Teddy dropped on one knee, and laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. A
shudder ran through the body.

“Here!” Teddy said sharply. “What’s the matter? Can you speak?”

“Tired,” the man mumbled. “Hungry. Let me be.”

Roy, who was lying near by, awoke and sat up, blinking. When he saw
his brother bending over the man he thought at first that Teddy was
trying to rouse one of the sleepers.

“Shake him, Teddy,” he advised in a drowsy voice. “What’s the
matter--did he steal your blanket?”

“Roy, come here,” Teddy said quickly. “I think this is some one you
know.”

“Some one I--” Then the meaning of Teddy’s sentence penetrated his
brother’s half-awakened mind, and he struggled to his feet. By this
time the others were stirring, asking questions in sleepy tones and
rolling about to see the cause of the disturbance.

Roy hastened to his brother’s side. Together, the two boys turned
the man over, so that he faced the fire. As the glare of the newly
fed flames glinted in his face, he made a feeble gesture of protest
and covered his eyes with his hand. Then letting the arm drop like a
dead thing, he sighed painfully.

Teddy, seeing the face, started back.

“The Pup!” he exclaimed, and turned at a touch on his shoulder. His
father was peering down at their visitor.

“It’s Marino, all right,” Mr. Manley agreed grimly, staring at the
dust-streaked face. “Is he hurt? What’s the matter?”

Teddy shook the man gently.

“Are you hurt, Joe?” the boy asked loudly. “Can’t you talk?”

“Talk all right--too tired,” The Pup mumbled. “Not
hurt--tired--hungry.” Then for the first time he seemed to realize
that he was surrounded by a ring of inquiring, puzzled faces. He
pulled himself together and glared haggardly at Teddy, then shifted
his gaze to Roy, and finally to Mr. Manley. Suddenly the light of
fear came into his eyes, and he leaped to his feet, trembling.

“Don’t--don’t shoot me,” he begged piteously. “I’ll go! But don’t
shoot me!”

“No one’s going to shoot you,” Mr. Manley said soothingly. “Here,
sit down. Take this blanket. Man, you’re shiverin’ like a leaf. Get
closer to the fire--that’s it! Pop rustle up some beans for this
feller, will you? He looks half starved.”

“Half starved!” the man gasped, querulously, and sank within
himself. “Worse’n that. Three days without food--lost--horse gone--”

Pop Burns brought some cold beans to him, and, hungrily, ravenously,
the man reached for them. They watched him while he ate, more like a
wild beast than a human being, and later Pop brought him a cup of
steaming coffee. When he had finished this he sighed with relief and
wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice, when again he
spoke, was stronger.

“Boss,” he said, turning to Mr. Manley, “I don’t deserve this. By
rights you should have thrown me out on my neck. Instead you--” he
hesitated, and waved his arm in an expressive gesture--“you treat me
like a man instead of like a--a mangy dog.” He gulped, and his
listeners shifted uneasily. “I ain’t worth it. I’m a thief--a hoss
thief an’ a common robber. Once I-- But we’ll let that go. I ain’t
got yore money, boss,” he said suddenly, and looked up appealingly.
“I ain’t got a cent of it left.”

“You spent it?” Mr. Manley asked sharply.

“I been robbed,” The Pup continued, and gulped again. “Been robbed
of everything I had except the hoss, an’ he ran away. For three days
I been walkin’--tryin’ to find some one--any one--tryin’ to find
food--”

“Who robbed you?”

“Denver Smith an’ his bunch.”

“Denver Smith!” Jake Trummer ejaculated, and bent over The Pup.
“When did yuh see them? Where are they? Have they got--”

“Give the man a chance, Jake,” Mr. Manley advised gently. “He’s all
in. Listen Marino,” he said in a louder tone, “do you know where
Denver Smith is now?”

“Said he was goin’ to rustle your cattle an’ follow the river to the
Border,” The Pup whispered weakly. “Wanted me to go in it with him,
but I figured I’d done enough to you. Then Denver hit me--hit me
with somethin’--” stupidly he put his hand to his head. “Hit me, an’
took the four hundred dollars, an’ when I woke up my hoss was gone
an’ I was lyin’ near some trees. The four hundred bucks--I was
hopin’ to make Togas an’ find my sister--an’ I was goin’ to
work--buy a store, maybe--an’ send the money back to you,
boss--honest I was--every cent--”

“And buy a few more knives with some one else’s initials burned in
the handle,” Teddy interrupted bitterly. “The story listens fine,
Marino!”

“I ain’t lyin’!” Marino almost screamed. “It’s the truth! I wanted
to start clean! I been a long time livin’ down--what I used to be.
Then, that night--I must have been crazy, I guess. I’d been drinkin’
too much an’ I thought I could turn a trick just once more an’ go
back home an’ live straight. My mother--I killed her, I guess,
’cause she died when she found out what I was. It was then I
promised my sister I’d give up--that stuff. Oh, you might as well
know it all,” he burst out, his words tumbling over one another as
if in agony to escape before being called back. “I was a
bandit--that knife was marked with my initials, Teddy. My real
name’s Jules Kolto--”

“You--Jules Kolto?” Pop cried incredulously. “I heard lots about you
years ago! Then yuh are a Mex, after all!”

“Yep, I’m Mex,” Kolto went on bitterly. “A Mex, a hoss thief, an’ a
bandit. Now you know. If yuh want to string me up, go ahead!” he
exclaimed defiantly. “I ain’t any good to nobody, least of all to
myself! So do what you want with me--an’ I won’t do no cryin’,
neither!” He took a deep breath, then a sudden tremor shook his
frame.

“Take it easy, son,” Mr. Manley said kindly. “You ain’t in no fit
condition to be hung. What you want is rest an’ food. Hangin’
wouldn’t make you feel a bit better. Guess you’ve learned yore
lesson. Jules Kolto! Well, well! And you been straight for so many
years only to backslide an’ have the money you stole taken from you
by another thief! The longer we live the queerer things we see,” and
Mr. Manley smiled grimly. “Yore hoss--or, rather, the one you
stole--is picketed over yonder. We found him. You took a mighty poor
way to start straight. No good ever comes of stolen money. An’ while
I ain’t a preacher, I’m preachin’ now.

“You wanted to get to Mexico an’ see yore sister, maybe live there
the rest of yore life, an’ to do that you undid all the work of ten
years in one grand spree. Suppose you had gotten away with it? What
would yore sister have said to you? Think she’d have anything to do
with stolen money when she’d made you promise to quit? An’ what else
was that you said--that yore mother died when she found out that you
was a bandit? Then you went ahead and stole again! Humans are funny
animals,” and Mr. Manley shook his head. “I can’t figure ’em.

“Now listen, Jules Kolto. I’ll give you another chance. You help us
find Denver Smith an’ his gang an’ get our cattle back. Then you
come home with me an’ work--work until that four hundred is paid.
Then you can find yore sister an’ she won’t be ashamed to see you.
Jules Kolto, I’m offerin’ you a chance to go straight. Will yuh take
it?”

Jules stood up. He threw back his head and the gleam from the fire
shone on the face of a man with his jaw set firmly and with the
light of a new purpose in his eyes.

“Boss,” he said huskily, “I’m for you! I can’t say much,--but I’ll
do whatever you want me to--barrin’ nothin’. I’ll trail Denver Smith
till we get the cattle back if I drop in my tracks doin’ it. I’ll
work my fingers off for you. Boss--will you shake?”

There was a tense silence, broken only by the crackle of the fire,
as the hands of boss and bandit met in a firm clasp.



CHAPTER XXIV

Flying Bullets


A rosy dawn broke over the prairie. It shone on a group of men
moving quickly about. Near them the smoke from a campfire arose. A
few pans, containing the remains of a range breakfast, lay near it
on the ground. Horses were being saddled, blankets rolled, rifles
were being wiped dry from the morning dew. But there was an
orderliness about this activity, a purpose in every movement of the
figures. Every man knew exactly what he had to do, and was doing it,
swiftly and definitely.

Teddy was tightening a cinch-strap, and he looked up as Roy called
to him:

“Need any help? I’m all set.”

“No thanks, Roy. I’ll make it.” The strap was quickly adjusted, and
Teddy vaulted into the saddle.

The others were mounting now, and the party soon started to move
forward. Mr. Manley and Jake Trummer were leading, while Teddy, Roy
and Jules Kolto, the latter seeming like a new man after his sleep,
followed directly behind. The rest rode along in the rear. Kolto was
astride the pinto he had stolen, but now he sat with his head held
firmly and his chin thrust forward. He was a hunted thief no longer,
but a man.

Down toward the river the line of riders swept. They came fast and
silently. In the crook of each right arm rested a rifle. On every
face was a look of fixed determination.

The sun was high when the leaders held up cautioning hands, and the
column of horsemen stopped suddenly.

“There’s a bunch of cows just ahead,” Mr. Manley said tensely.
“Can’t tell yet if they’re ours, but I think they are. Now ride slow
an’ easy. We’ll come up careful an’ have a look.”

Once more the riders started forward, this time spread further
apart, so that they came upon the cattle from different directions.
Pop was the first to single out a cow and look at her brand. Then he
rode swiftly toward Teddy and Roy, who were nearest.

“They’re ours, boys!” he yelled. “I spotted the ole X Bar X brand in
a minute! When I invented that, long ago, I figgered it would be
easy to see at a distance! Yep, boys, they’re here!”

“Tell dad!” Roy called. “Teddy, we’ll ride around them and see where
his dis-honor, Denver Smith, is!”

Spurring their ponies forward, the two boys flashed over the ground,
making a wide circle around the milling cattle.

“Looks like the cows are all safe!” Teddy yelled as he sped along.
“Now for Denver Smith!”

Behind Teddy and Roy came Bug Eye and Nat Raymond, bending low in
their saddles, holding their rifles in readiness. Their pistols were
loose in the holsters, should close range fighting hamper the use of
the longer barreled rifles.

The four punchers dashed over the ground. Now they came to the head
of the cattle herd.

“They ought to be near here!” Teddy shouted, referring to the
rustlers, “unless they got scared an’ beat it!”

But he saw almost immediately that this latter was not so. From the
opposite side of the herd four men came riding, their guns out,
their horses in a lather of foam.

“Spread!” Roy yelled. “Get apart! And fire low--they’ll kill us if
they can!”

As the approaching rustlers came closer, their guns began to bark.
Bullets whined overhead, and Teddy answered with a shot from his
rifle. But this weapon was useless on the back of a rearing bronco.
The boy thrust it into his saddle holster and drew his six-gun.

The four rustlers were bunched together and coming like a flying
wedge. Teddy realized the wisdom of Roy’s shouted advice to “spread”
when he took quick aim at the group and fired. One of the rustlers
gave a wild yell and clapped his hand to his side.

“Hope that was Denver,” Teddy said to himself grimly. “Let ’em have
it, Roy!” he yelled. “Pepper ’em!”

Roy was doing that very thing. The bullets of the rustlers were
coming uncomfortably close, and when they swept past, Roy saw one of
them take deliberate aim at Pop Burns and pull the trigger. The
veteran lurched, recovered himself, and, wheeling his pony about,
followed the outlaws.

“Hurt bad, Pop?” Roy called, his face white.

“Nope! Shoulder--left!” Pop shouted back. “All right. Go get ’em!”

Greatly relieved at Pop’s answer, Roy sped onward. He thought that
the rustlers would seek to escape, but this did not now appear to be
their plan. They had worked hard to drive the cattle thus far, and
were not going to give them up without a struggle.

However, they changed their minds when Mr. Manley, Jake Trummer, and
the others came into sight from beyond a rise.

The boss of the X Bar X had ridden in from the south side, trying to
see if the cattle were indeed his, but the two men and their
companions had whirled about as soon as they heard the firing. Now,
with guns out, they rode for the rustlers.

Leading the attackers who were in the reserves, was Jules Kolto. The
pinto he was on had outdistanced the others, and, before he knew it,
he was face to face with the four cattle thieves.

“Denver!” Teddy heard Kolto yell, “I want you!”

There was a reply from the group of thieves, but it was
unintelligible to Teddy. Then a single shot snapped and Kolto swayed
in the saddle. Releasing his hold, he fell heavily to the ground,
while his pony, mad with fright, raced on without him.

Teddy and Roy reached his side at the same instant and leaped from
their horses. The rustlers were in full flight now, so there was no
danger that they would attack the boys on foot.

As Roy leaned over the former bandit, Kolto grinned faintly.

“Got me--at last,” he gasped. “Denver--shot me. That’s poetical
justice--or somethin’--ain’t it? One bandit shoots another!”

“Where did you get it?” Teddy asked quickly.

“Chest--” and Kolto went into a fit of coughing. When it subsided he
asked:

“Where’s Denver?”

Roy pointed silently, and, pushing himself up on one elbow, Kolto
stared over the prairie. In the distance four horsemen were burning
up the ground. They were beaten--they had failed. Two of them had
bullet holes in their skins. The score was even.

“Good riddance,” Kolto whispered. “Say, where’s yore dad?”

Mr. Manley rode up at the moment. He had ordered the chase
discontinued, as useless. They had got their cattle back. What good
would it do to kill the rustlers?

Mr. Manley had seen Kolto fall, but he knew Teddy and Roy were
nearer than he, so he had continued to gallop after Denver Smith.
But now the fight was over. Mr. Manley rode up to where Jules Kolto
lay and quickly dismounted.

“What’s the trouble, son?” he asked solicitously. He bent over and
ripped Kolto’s shirt open. There was a small wound in the right
shoulder. He turned the man over gently, and found a corresponding
hole at the back. The bullet had passed completely through.

“Whoever used a bullet like that is a mighty poor judge of
firearms,” Mr. Manley said grimly. “You’re lucky, Kolto. Not a
chance of your passin’ out. The bullet hit your collar bone and
knocked you off your horse. You got a nice hole in you--but that’s
all it’ll amount to.”

“I--I won’t die?” Kolto asked, sitting up and looking uncertainly
about.

“Nary die! You got to work fer me, young feller! No, don’t get up
yet. We’ll bandage you first to stop the bleedin’. Where’s that
other cripple? Pop, come over here! What do you mean ridin’ around
with a forty-five bullet bouncin’ around inside you? Get off that
bronc--an’ quick! You bald-headed ole hoss-wrangler!”



CHAPTER XXV

Meet the Wife


Into the ranch yard of the X Bar X rode ten men--ten tired, dusty,
but triumphant men. Their job had been done. Every Durham had been
driven all the way from Whirlpool River Ranch to their own range,
and once more safely enclosed within their own fences. The long
journey was completed. They were home again.

The whole ranch turned out to welcome them. Mrs. Manley, her eyes
shining with happiness, walked down the steps of the porch. A moment
later the front door opened again, and Belle Ada, Ethel and Nell
came rushing out.

“Hello, Dad!” Belle called shrilly. “Hello, Roy! Climb down off that
bronco and give your sister a kiss, Teddy!”

“I’ll think it over,” Teddy laughed, and slid off his pony. “Hello,
Mother! Back again as good as new!”

Ethel Carew and Nell Willis were frankly delighted to see the boys
again. They demanded the story of the trip “with complete details,”
as Ethel said, and sat with wide-eyed fascination as the story was
related.

Teddy insisted on telling of Roy’s fight with the eagle, though he
had not seen it, because he said “Roy was too modest.” It lost none
of its excitement by his recital.

Mrs. Manley was anxious to learn if any one was injured, but her
husband, with a wink at the boys, asked her if she ever heard of any
one getting hurt at a picnic.

“Of course, sometimes they fall into the brook an’ get wet,” he
added, with a grin, “so Teddy an’ Roy had to do that, too. But we’re
all home now, an’ hungry. Think we can stop this gab-fest long
enough to eat?”

It was then three o’clock in the afternoon, so Mrs. Manley decided
to have an early supper. She went to help Mrs. Moore, the
housekeeper, and her daughter Norine prepare the meal, while Teddy
and Roy continued the tale of their adventures at the urgent request
of Nell and of Curly.

By five o’clock all was in readiness for the adventurers’ first meal
since their arrival home. When they entered the long dining room,
they saw that the table had been enlarged by the addition of many
leaves and that there were places set for every one of the punchers.

“Celebration,” Mrs. Manley said, as she smiled. “Teddy, go and tell
the boys to come in. And don’t forget Sing Lung. We want everybody!
Tell every man on the place to come!”

“You bet I will, Mom!” Teddy shouted, and made for the door. In a
few minutes he was back, followed by a crowd of grinning, jostling
cowboys. Jules Kolto had recovered sufficiently to return with them,
and he, of course, was included in the invitation, although he
protested that “he wasn’t fit to eat with honest folks.”

Pop Burns was there, with his shoulder conspicuously bandaged. He
was accorded the place of honor--next to the boss. Sing Lung,
chatting like a parrot, was placed near Jules. Teddy and Roy sat on
either side of their mother, while Belle, Ethel, and Nell were
distributed about “to keep the boys from scrappin’ over the
chicken,” Mr. Manley laughingly insisted.

The punchers were a bit bashful at first to be eating in “the big
house,” but this soon wore off. There are few punchers who stay
bashful in the presence of roast chicken and cranberry sauce. There
was but one fly in the ointment. Gus Tripp was not there. Holding in
his hand a glass of water, Mr. Manley arose.

“Boys,” he said, “I want to propose a toast--that right, Mother?--I
want to propose a toast to an absent member. Fellers, here’s to Gus
Tripp--may he some day come back to us!”

Nick Looker, who was sitting next to Teddy, jumped to his feet.

“Wait, boss!” he exclaimed. “Don’t drink it yet! I been waitin’ fer
this! Hang on to yore seats a minute!” and he ran out of the door
toward the yard. Roy and Teddy looked at each other with surprised
faces. What was Nick up to, for Pete’s sake?

They saw in a moment. The door flew open, and on the threshold stood
Gus, not alone, but holding by the hand a blushing girl!

“Boss,” he said, “meet the wife!”

Jules Kolto started. He staggered to his feet, trembling.

“Sister!” he cried, and opened his arms to the girl.

“Jules!” She rushed to him, sobbing and laughing at the same time.
“Jules! You here? Oh, Jules, I thought I’d never see you again!”

Gus stood as though turned to stone.

“What--what--” he stammered.

“Oh, Gus, this is my brother!” the blushing young wife cried, and
running to him pulled him forward by the hand. “My brother, Gus!
Don’t you understand?”

“Well, not very good--” Gus muttered, then his face cleared and he
thrust out his hand. “Joe,” he said, “I don’t know what this is all
about, but if she’s yore sister, shake! We’re brother-in-laws.”

“Brothers-in-law,” Bug Eye corrected. “The plural here takes the
possessive case.”

“Gus,” Mr. Manley said haltingly, “so yore back? Son, I’m glad! Put
’er there! I’m sorry I--”

“Boss!” Gus interrupted, “you needn’t be sorry for nothin’. It was
all my fault--the whole blame thing. But, boss, see what it got
me--ain’t she a beauty?” And he looked at his wife proudly.

“She sure is, Gus! Now let’s get this thing straight. Nick
Looker--where is that bowlegged wild man? Where’d you find Gus,
Nick?”

“He wandered back two days after Teddy an’ Roy left,” Nick chuckled.
“He’d been all the way to Togas, Mexico, an’ got married--You tell
it, Gus!”

“Well, boss, it was this way,” Gus began, as he gripped an arm of
Teddy and Roy affectionately. “You know I was worried about not
gettin’ no letters from the lady here--I mean my wife,” and he
blushed. “You know, Teddy--I told you about it. Gee, ain’t it funny
to have a wife? Well, she didn’t write for a long time, so I got
worried, an’ started to--do some things I shouldn’t. I thought she’d
threw me down.”

“But, Gus, I did write, every day!” his wife interrupted.

“Sure she did!” Nick burst out. “Gus, that dumb postmaster down at
Eagles mislaid the letters! I got ’em now in my bunk--a whole raft
of ’em!”

“You have? Well, I’m a ring-tailed doodle bird!” Gus said slowly,
and sat down. “An’ I went an’ got sick, almost, with worry, an’ let
the cattle stray ’cause I went to town an’ got drunk, an’ all this
happened because the postmaster lost my letters!
Can--you--beat--that?”

“Golly, Teddy, he’s right!” Roy exclaimed. “Snakes, it’s just like a
story! We went up Whirlpool River--got tipped over--found The
Pup--had the fight with the rustlers--everything--all on account of
some missing letters! Golly, that’s funny! If Gus had gotten those
letters he never would have neglected the cattle, would you, Gus?”

“Nope, not me! I hardly knew what I was doin’, I was so worried. I
thought you was dead, or somethin’,” and he felt bashfully for his
wife’s hand. When he caught it, after not much trouble, he went on:

“An’ that’s the way it was. So I heads fer Togas, after the boss
lets me out, an’ goes straight fer the little girl here. So we gets
hitched an’ come home!”

“You did come _home_, Gus,” Mr. Manley murmured. “This is your home
from now on!”

“Oh, Dad, isn’t this too romantic for words!” Belle Ada burst out.
“And all this happened because the letters Mrs. Tripp sent were
mislaid! But, Gus, didn’t you know your wife was Joe Marino’s
sister?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Nope! That’s one too many for me, even now. His name’s Marino, an’
hers is--I mean was--Kolto. I don’t see--”

“Gus, if you do any more thinkin’ you’ll get a headache!” Mr. Manley
exclaimed, laughing loudly. Then he clapped his re-engaged cowboy on
the back. “Pull up that chair an’ dive into this here roast chicken!
Now, boys, I’ll drink that toast I started--here’s to Mr. and Mrs.
Tripp. May they live long an’ happy an’ never have more than one
scrap a day!”

“Bardwell!” Mrs. Manley chided, and smiled. “I’m sure Gus and his
wife won’t have one single dispute as long as they’re married!”

“Well, I don’t reckon we will either; hey, honey?” Gus exclaimed,
and glanced at his wife lovingly. “Boss, you ought to see this
little girl ride. I want to match her with Teddy some day. Honestly,
boss, she--”

“Gus, sit down!” his wife, her face pink, pulled his arm. “They
don’t want to hear all that.”

“Sure we do!” Roy declared. “Jules, you sit over next to your
sister. I guess Sing Lung won’t mind if you leave him. Will you,
Sing?”

“Me no min’ anyt’ing! Me happy--Me likee loast chickee velly, velly
much! You glandflather--him do too,” and he proceeded to test the
capacity of his mouth.

“He means so does your old man--an’ he’s right, at that!” Mr. Manley
laughed. “Sing Lung, you’re not gettin’ ahead of the boss at chicken
eatin’!”

Jules Kolto, a happy smile on his face, took the place Roy had
indicated. He had forgotten entirely about his wound, and with good
reason. This was his sister--the girl he had stolen for--the girl he
had traveled many weary, long miles for, only to have the money, for
which he had sacrificed so much, taken from him and himself left to
wander three days without food, until he had found Mr. Manley. This
was the girl--here, sitting beside him! No wonder he held his head
high, no wonder his eyes sparkled!

Gus, pulling his chair close to his wife, obeyed the instruction of
the boss to “dive in.” But his eating ability was somewhat hampered
by the fact that he used only one hand. The other was elsewhere
engaged--as was his wife’s.

All these friends we shall meet again in the next volume, to be
called “The X Bar X Boys on Big Bison Trail.”

Of course Teddy and Roy will be there--in fact, very much in
evidence. But now watch them at the table, surrounded by the boys
who had been their companions in many adventures. Teddy is holding
up a drum-stick from which the meat has been cleanly picked and
waving it around his head.

“As our friend Shakespeare said,” he exclaimed, “the world is a
stage--an’ I’m glad I got a ring-side seat!”

“_I’ve_ got,” came from Bug Eye. “The plural takes the possessive
case.”

“Sink him! He’s got that Fishmobile of his on the brain, an’ he’s
seein’ double!” Pop Burns called out. “Roy, you get him to race his
Fishmobile against Star--an’ I’ll bet your bronc wins; hey?”

Roy looked around at him and grinned. Then he took a deep breath,
reached for a chicken wing, and said:

“I’ll tell a maverick!”

                            THE END

--------------------------------------------------------------------

                        This Isn’t All!

Would you like to know what became of the good friends you have
made in this book?

Would you like to read other stories continuing their adventures
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On the _reverse side_ of the wrapper which comes with this book,
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                 Don’t throw away the Wrapper

Use it as a handy catalog of the books you want some day to have.
But in case you do mislay it, write to the Publishers for a
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By VICTOR APPLETON

Individual Colored Wrappers and Text

Illustrations by WALTER S. ROGERS

Every Volume Complete in Itself

In company with his uncles, one a mighty hunter and the other a
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