"He did—yesterday. Hans found him, and such a meeting nobody ever see before. The brother is going to another town and Hans with him. They started to-day."
The knowledge that Hans had found his brother was a great relief to
Tom and Larry, and they lost no time in saying so.
"If you feel that way, then it surely is all right," declared the ranchman. "We're going into the hills for a few days hunting, Ned. If you need me, you'll find me somewhere on the 'Lost Lode' trail."
"With them tenderfeet?" inquired the handy man, eyeing Tom and
Larry doubtfully.
"Don't take them for easy, Ned. They put the laugh on Gus Megget, so I reckon they can take care of themselves in the hills and on the Half-Moon, too," he added with an emphasis which was to act as a warning to be passed along to the cowboys.
"So it's them two I heard 'em talkin' about in Tolopah? Howdy, gents! I sure takes off my bonnet to you," and Ned swept his sombrero good naturedly from his head. "Say, you two are the only topic of conversation in Tolopah about now. Couple of passengers told what you all done, and now everybody's telling everybody else. So it was you kids put the kibosh on Gus Megget. Phew! I hope I don't get you riled up." And clucking to his horses, Ned drove on to the wagon shed.
"When you go into Tolopah, you'll own the town," smiled Mr. Wilder, looking at the brothers. "You see, you are famous already."
But Larry and Tom only laughed, while the latter exclaimed:
"I'd rather find the Lost Lode than fight Megget."
"So my boys have told you about the mine and the ghosts, eh?" And shaking his bridle, the ranchman waved good-by to his wife and cantered away, followed by the others.
For a few minutes they rode without talking, the Wilder boys a trifle envious of the reputation their friends had achieved and the chums trying to get accustomed to riding with a rifle bumping their backs.
They soon got the swing of it, however, and, as the ponies settled into an easy, steady lope, Tom exclaimed:
"Larry, we're in the saddle and on the plains at last."
"Like it, what?" queried Horace.
"It's what we've been dreaming of for months," declared Larry. "Only, I say, Mr. Wilder, let's drop Megget. All we did was to get away from him."
"As you like," smiled the ranchman, "but that's something."
CHAPTER VII
A RACE IN THE MOONLIGHT
Now through waving grass up to their knees, now through stretches of sage brush the hunters rode. Three or four times they caught sight of cattle in the distance, which Horace eagerly declared belonged to the Half-Moon, explaining that the biggest herds were in Long Creek bottoms, about fifty miles southwest, where the cattle could find water as well as good grazing ground.
"Fifty miles, gracious! Do you own so much land?" asked Larry of
Mr. Wilder.
"No. We have a thousand acres, more or less. But my neighbors and
I have leased the rights to graze in Lone Creek."
"Neighbors?" repeated the elder of the brothers in surprise. "Why I can't see any house but yours. In fact, I haven't seen any since we left Tolopah."
"And there isn't any within thirty miles. There are two on the south and more north, even farther away. But we call them neighbors just the same. Anybody within a day's ride is a neighbor," explained the ranchman. And as he noted the look of amusement that appeared on the faces of the brothers, he added: "You won't think so much of distances after you've been out here a while."
At the end of two hours, as they mounted the crest of a great roll in the prairies, the dried-up course of a stream was disclosed.
"If you follow that, it will lead you to Lone Creek," explained
Horace. "Down about ten miles there's a place called the Witches'
Pool, where we go fishing. It's so deep it never dries. We'll go
there some day."
"More ghosts?" inquired Larry as he repeated the name of the pool.
"No, no ghosts," laughed Mr. Wilder, "just the ignis fatuus, or will-o'-the-wisps. All cowboys are very superstitious, you must remember. The land round the pool is swampy and at night you can sometimes see the lights dancing about. I suppose some one saw them, and, finding no person there, immediately decided the pool was a gathering place for witches."
"Pete says it's the bodies of the men who have died of thirst on the plains searching for water," declared Horace in an awed tone.
"That's an ingenious explanation, but it is not the truth, my boy. The lights are caused by certain gases that come from the marshy ground and glow when the atmosphere is in a certain condition. Over in Scotland, on the peat bogs, they call them 'friars' lanterns.'"
"My, but I'd like to see one," sighed Tom.
"Then I'm afraid you'll be obliged to camp by the pool. You might go there a hundred nights and never see a sign of one," returned the ranchman. And then, as the shadows cast by the mountains were reaching farther and farther out onto the prairie, he thought it best to turn the minds of the boys into other channels.
"Shall we camp in the open or would you rather push on to the foothills?" he asked. "It'll be dark by the time we get there."
"I vote to keep going," answered Larry.
"How far is it?" inquired Tom, who was beginning to feel the effects of the many miles in the saddle.
"About fifteen, which means two hours at least, because the darker it gets the slower we'll be obliged to go till you two get more used to riding the plains," responded Bill.
"If we keep on, and I feel stiff in the morning, we'll be there and I shall not be compelled to cover the fifteen miles," mused the younger of the brothers as much to himself as to the others. "I'm for pushing on, too."
Laughing at their guest's discomfort, the others readily acquiesced, and they crossed the stream bottom.
Save the noise made by themselves, the twitter of birds, and the occasional cry of some prairie dog routed out by their approach, the silence of the plains was intense. At first Tom and Larry did not notice it, but as they rode mile after mile they began to feel its depression.
"It often drives men crazy," asserted the ranchman when Larry mentioned his feeling. "That's why we never send a man out alone to herd. Having some one to talk to it a big relief, I can tell you, after you've been a week or so on the prairies with nothing but a bunch of stolid cattle. The very monotony of their grazing and chewing their cuds gets on your nerves."
As darkness came on, however, the awful silence was broken. From all sides came the barking of coyotes, as though they were signaling one another their whereabouts.
"That howling would scare me a great deal quicker than any ghosts or witches," observed Tom. "My, but it's mournful! Do they keep that up all night?"
"Indeed they do," replied Horace, delighted to think one thing had been discovered which the two visitors feared, "only it gets worse the darker it grows. Besides, when they are hungry, they'll follow you and attack you."
"That wouldn't be so bad so long as you had a gun with you," interposed Larry. "I'd like to get a shot at one."
"Then there's your chance, over on the left," exclaimed Mr. Wilder.
Unslinging his rifle, the elder of the Alden boys looked eagerly in the direction indicated. But it was so dark he could see nothing and he said so.
"Can't you see those two little balls of fire right opposite you?
If you can't, say so. I'll stop him myself," returned the ranchman.
Yet even as he spoke the coyote turned and fled.
"It's just as well," added Mr. Wilder after he had announced the fact. "You'll have a chance to shoot at something better than a measely prairie wolf to-morrow, I hope."
"Or perhaps to-night," chimed in Horace. "Maybe a ghost'll attack our camp."
"That will do, youngster. If you talk any more about ghosts, I'll make you ride back to the ranch in the dark. If you keep on, you'll work yourself up so you'll think every sound you hear is a Spaniard from the mine, and there will be no sleep for any of us."
This command had the desired effect, and Horace gave up the attempt of trying to frighten his friends.
For a time the darkness grew more and more intense till it was all the riders could do to make out the forms of one another. But at last the clouds passed over, revealing the stars, and soon the moon rose, full and brilliant, changing the swaying grass into a seeming sea of silver with its light.
In wonder the brothers gazed at the transformation and Larry said:
"I wish the plains could be like this always. They don't seem half so terrible."
But the boys soon had other things to think about. They were so close to the mountains that they could see the great cliffs glistening in the moonlight above the trees from which they rose, sheer.
"I don't wonder they say these mountains are haunted," exclaimed Tom. "I can almost believe I see men moving along the top of that middle cliff."
"Better curb your imagination then," chided Mr. Wilder. "It's a good thing we've got to pitch camp pretty soon or you'd all get the nerves."
At Tom's words the other boys had sought the middle cliff with their eyes and suddenly Bill exclaimed:
"Tom's right, father! There are men moving along the top of the precipice!"
Mr. Wilder had been intent on searching the base of the mountains for a place to camp for the night. But at his elder son's statement he looked up quickly, drawing rein that he might be sure the motion of his horse played no trick on his eyes.
Breathlessly the others waited his decision.
The cliff at which they all were staring so intently was about half way up the mountain and above it rose another wall of rock. And it was against the base of this latter that the objects which attracted Tom's attention were silhouetted.
"By jove! They are men," exclaimed Mr. Wilder excitedly. "I never knew there was a trail along the base of that cliff before."
The boys were tremendously stirred up as they heard this confirmation.
"Perhaps they are the men going to guard the Lost Lode for the night," Horace whispered. "They wouldn't need a trail to walk on, father."
"Steady, boy, steady," returned the ranchman. "Those men are flesh and blood, don't worry about that. Who they are I don't know. Probably some hunters like ourselves."
"That couldn't be the way to the mine, could it?" hazarded Larry, whose eagerness to discover a silver mine had received new impetus. "Can't we go there to-morrow and find out?"
"We'll see when to-morrow comes," declared Mr. Wilder. "But there's no occasion to get excited. The mountains are full of men hunting and prospecting all the time. Come on, we'll camp under that big tree up there to the right. Whoever gets there first will be boss of the camp."
The challenge for a race, with the honor of being in command of the hunt as the prize, served to take the boys' thoughts from the mysterious men on the trail as nothing else could, and quickly they leaped their ponies forward.
The spot selected by the ranchman for their night's bivouac was about a quarter of a mile away and in the opposite direction from the cliffs.
Yelling like young Indians, the boys urged their jaded ponies to greater efforts.
Tom and Horace, being lighter than the others, had not tried their mounts so much, and rapidly they drew ahead.
"We simply must beat them," called Bill to Larry. "If they get in first, they'll make us haul all the water and wash dishes—at least Horace will, if he wins."
Leaning over their ponies' necks and rising in the saddles to lighten their weight as much as possible, the two elder boys set out to overtake their brothers.
With spur and lariat end they belabored their mounts and gamely the horses responded.
Leap by leap they cut down the lead, were soon abreast of the others and then forged ahead, shouting in triumph as they opened clear ground between them.
Only about a hundred yards were the leaders from the tree.
Feeling his pony tiring under him, despite his urging, Horace gasped at Tom:
"Hit Blackhawk with the end of your lasso and then hang on for dear life!"
Instantly Tom obeyed.
As the big black felt the blow he uttered a snort of rage, jerked forward his head and seemed to fly over the ground.
Like a flash he caught Bill and Larry. Frantically they strove to keep up with him, but in a few bounds he had passed them.
"Tom wins!" yelled Horace with glee.
But his delight at the success of his ruse was shortlived.
Blackhawk was not accustomed to being beaten and, though ordinarily he had a good temper, when he was angry he could be very mean. Accordingly, as though reasoning to himself that he had done his share in carrying his rider so many miles, when he felt the sharp cut of the lariat he resented it. And his resentment took the form of a vicious lunge forward of his head, which enabled him to get the bits in his teeth, with which advantage no one could control him.
Despite his greater weight, the ranchman had been close up with the boys and had noted Blackhawk's action.
Realizing that it would be hopeless to try to overtake the runaway, and fearing that some injury might befall Tom, Mr. Wilder shouted:
"Rope the black, Bill! He's got the bit!"
Loosening his lariat as quickly as possible, the elder of the
Wilder boys began to whirl it round his head.
"Throw it! throw it!" roared the ranchman, "Can't you see you're losing ground every second?"
Never before had Bill been called on for so important a cast of his lasso, and for a moment his hand trembled.
"Steady! Let her go now!" counseled his father.
At the word Bill put forth all his strength and the rope shot from his hand, the noose opening perfectly as it sped through the air.
Fascinated, the others watched as it hung a moment in the air and dropped directly over Blackhawk's head.
"Pretty cast!" praised the ranchman. "Now ride along. Don't pull up too soon."
But his words were too late.
The pony which his elder son rode was perfectly trained to rope steers. As it caught the sharp hiss of the lariat the animal had slackened its stride, and the instant it felt the rope tighten had stiffened its legs and braced, almost squatting back on its haunches.
And the next moment Blackhawk was jerked from his feet, measuring his length on the ground, while Tom went sailing through the air, alighting about twenty feet away.
"Hold as you are!" ordered Mr. Wilder of Bill and then dashed for the kicking black, with Larry and Horace at his heels.
"Tom! Tom! are you hurt?" called his brother.
For a second there was no reply, and then their anxiety was relieved by seeing Tom stand up.
"Any bones broken?" asked Mr. Wilder, who had reached the black and was dismounting.
"No. I'm all right, thanks to the prairie grass," replied the younger of the brothers. "Is Blackhawk hurt?"
"I don't think so. Ease up, Bill. I've got him by the bridle."
Quickly the elder of the Wilder boys rode forward, and as the prostrate pony felt the rope loosen he bounded to his feet.
With skilled eye the ranchman looked him over and there was a world of relief in his voice as he said:
"We got out of that scrape mighty luckily. There isn't a scratch on Blackhawk, and if Tom's——"
"There's no scratch on me either," returned the boy. "But what about the race, do I win or not?"
"Considering you flew from Blackhawk's back almost to the tree, I reckon you do," declared Mr. Wilder.
And looking up, Tom noticed that he was, indeed, standing under the branches of the tree that marked the goal.
CHAPTER VIII
HORACE IN DANGER
As the others reached the tree they dismounted, unbuckled the saddle bags and removed the saddles.
"Well, commander, do you wish me to select a place to hobble the ponies?" asked Mr. Wilder, addressing Tom.
"Yes, sir. I never was in charge of a camp before, so you must tell me what to do."
"Oh, make me your lieutenant and I'll tell you," pleaded Horace.
"I know all about it."
"You can give orders all right," grunted Bill, "there's no doubt about that. I see myself lugging wood."
All laughed heartily at this reference to Horace's fondness for commanding, and the younger of the comrades replied;
"All right, Horace, you may be my lieutenant. Only you must tell me what there is to be done, and I will give the orders."
Although by this arrangement the youngest of the party would be deprived of most of his powers, he readily agreed, saying:
"Wood must be collected for the fire, the food and dishes must be unpacked, supper cooked and water located."
"Better put me on the job of getting water, because I shall picket the horses where they can get a drink," declared the ranchman.
"Then, Larry, you and Bill build the fire and get supper ready. Horace, I'll put you in charge and you must arrange the place for us to sleep. I can see some pine trees yonder. Break off some limbs and spread them on the ground. Then put the blankets over them. I'm going with Mr. Wilder to bring the water and to learn how to hobble the horses."
"You're a fine commander to be lieutenant for—not," declared Horace. "Gave me the meanest job of all." Yet he lost no time in obeying.
Quickly each one set about the work assigned to him, for the sight of the doughnuts and other good things to eat, after their long ride, made them hungry.
"Get the coffee pot and then sling the reins of Lightning and Buster on your arm and come with me, Tom," said Mr. Wilder. "I'll take Blackhawk, because he's still cranky, and the other two."
The ranchman, however, let the ponies lead him more than he led them, for he knew their instinct would take them to the nearest water.
Yet there was no need of their guidance, for in a few minutes the ears of the hunters caught the sound of running water.
"That's a brook," declared Mr. Wilder, and quickly he led the way to a spot where they found a fair-sized pool formed by a stream coming from the hills.
The coffee pot was a monster, holding all of two gallons, and this the ranchman directed Tom to fill before allowing the ponies to satisfy their thirst.
As the animals were drinking Mr. Wilder took the lariats he had brought and tied an end around the left ankle of each pony, making another noose round the hind ankle on the same side at such a distance that there was about three feet of the rope between the hoofs.
"Such a short line makes it impossible for them to run or even walk very well," he explained, "so they will just stay here and browse,
"Now we'll remove the bridles. Always remember to hobble your pony before unbridling."
"But the rope ends?" asked Tom.
"In a place like this, where there are no rocks between which they can get bound, you can let them drag. When it is rocky, you can wind the rope loosely round their necks."
Before the task was finished they heard Horace calling.
"Hey, you! Hurry with that coffee pot!" he shouted. "We want to start it boiling."
"Then come and get it," replied his father.
But Tom had already picked it up and was carrying it toward the camp fire, which was blazing cheerily beneath the big tree. Taking the bridles, Mr. Wilder soon followed.
Larry had spread a blanket on the ground for a tablecloth and arranged the plates, knives and forks. In the middle he had made a pile of doughnuts and around them set three pies.
To Bill had fallen the task of cooking, and he was busy frying eggs and bacon in a long-handled pan, which he rested on a bed of coals.
At the sight of Tom and the coffee pot, he called:
"Tell Horace to pour some water into the drinking cups, put the coffee in the pot and set it in the fire. Supper'll be ready before the coffee unless you hurry."
But Tom was not a boy to shirk work, and directing his brother to bring the cups, he sent his aide for the coffee while he prepared a good hot bed of coals.
The odor from the sputtering bacon whetted their appetites, and all but Bill devoted their energies to hurrying the coffee and to such good purpose that they disproved the old saying, "A watched pot never boils."
At last all was ready, and the hunters squatted tailor fashion on the ground, each before his plate of eggs and bacon and a steaming cup of coffee.
"My, but this tastes better than anything I ever ate before," declared Larry.
"Because the ride has given you a keen appetite," said the ranchman with a smile.
The others were too busy eating to offer any comment, and the meal progressed in silence till almost the last bit of food had disappeared.
"Hop Joy certainly can cook," complimented Tom as he reached for another doughnut from the fast vanishing pile.
"That's what I told you," returned Horace. "From the way they are going, it's a good thing I went back and put in an extra supply when Hop wasn't looking."
"He'll fix you when we get back!" cried Bill. "Tom, who does the dishes? For your benefit and before my young brother gets a chance to speak, I'll tell you that the cook never washes the dishes."
"Oh, what a whopper!" cried Horace. "Tom, the cook always washes them. That's all he does, wash dishes and cook."
"Well, we'll all help," declared the youthful commander of the camp.
This arrangement met with laughing approval, and because of the many hands, the task was soon finished.
"And now, as we must be up with the dawn if we are going to get a shot at any deer, I suggest that we turn in," remarked Mr. Wilder.
"Where did you put the pine boughs, Horace? I don't see them."
"I left them over by the tree," replied the lieutenant, grinning. "I didn't know how many each of you would want, so I thought the best way was to let you pick out all you pleased."
"Lazy bones! Lazy bones!" shouted the other boys, and Tom cried:
"That trick won't work this time. Now, hurry and tote the boughs over."
Making a face at his superior, Horace Jumped tip and soon came back, dragging a monster pile of fragrant pine branches, which he quickly separated into five heaps.
"Does the honored general wish me to wrap and tuck each one in his bed or will they do that themselves?" he asked, bowing in mock deference.
"The honored general sentences you to do the dishes in the morning for that," returned Tom with assumed dignity, and in rare good humor they quickly placed their saddles as pillows and unrolled their blankets.
Fixing the fire so that it could not spread and cause any harm, Mr.
Wilder bade the boys turn in, and soon they were sound asleep.
Exhausted from the excitement of their arrival and the long ride, Tom and Larry were so deep in slumber that though Mr. Wilder called them when he himself got up, they did not wake.
His own sons, however, heard his call and quickly crawled from their blankets.
"Come on, we'll get breakfast. Let Tom and Larry sleep," exclaimed their father. "Remember, they are not so accustomed to riding as you two are."
This caution was uttered just in time, for Horace was in the very act of yanking the youthful commander by the foot when his father spoke.
Not long did it take to prepare the food, and Bill was just pouring the coffee when Mr. Wilder aroused his guests.
"Wh—what is it?" gasped Larry, sitting up and staring about him dazedly.
"It's breakfast, that's all," said Horace. "Hey, Mr. Commander, you'll be court-martialed if you miss grub." And he proceeded to drag Tom from his bed of boughs by the heels.
Chagrined to think they had not helped with the meal, Tom and Larry quickly arose and ran to the brook to wash.
As they stood at the pool they forgot their ablutions in the beauty of the scene before them.
The grass of the prairie was heavy with dew and in the rose glow of the sky the particles of moisture sparkled and glistened like countless crystals.
"Seems like fairyland," whispered Tom, as though afraid if he spoke out loud the scene would vanish.
A call from Horace, however, roused them to action, and in a few minutes they were, eating heartily.
"What sort of a brook is that?" asked Larry. "I didn't see any outlet, yet water keeps running into the pool all the time."
"There must be some underground stream into which it empties," replied the ranchman. "There are two such subterranean rivers in these hills, and, I suppose this pool connects with one of them."
Discussion of such phenomena was prevented by his continuing:
"Hurry now and pack up. I'll bring up the ponies while you are getting ready."
Eager to begin the ascent of the hills, the boys worked rapidly, and by the time Mr. Wilder appeared with the horses everything was in the saddle bags, though Horace had dispensed with the formality of wiping the dishes.
It was the task of but a few minutes to make fast the saddle bags and blankets, and just as the sun flooded the plains with its golden light the hunters swung into their saddles.
Riding southward, Mr. Wilder followed the base of the hills for a good mile till he came to a well-worn trail.
"We'll follow this run for a while," said he. "Bill, you and Larry can ride at the rear. I'll keep Horace and Tom with me, so they won't be tempted to spoil our sport by shooting at the first deer they see, no matter how far out of range it is. For the benefit of you two," he added, addressing the brothers, "I will say that when you are riding a trail, and especially a mountain trail, always let your pony have plenty of rein. It's easier for him. He won't be so likely to stumble and fall, and a pony can generally keep a trail better than a man."
These instructions delivered, Mr. Wilder turned his pony into the run and the others followed in Indian file, the two elder boys bringing up the procession.
For an hour they rode, now with their ponies scrambling over rocks, now up such steep ascents that the comrades feared the animals would fall over onto them.
But by leaning far forward at such times, they had no mishaps and at last rode out onto a plateau from which they looked down into a vale some two hundred yards below.
A mist hovered over the basin, rendering it impossible for them to see the bottom.
The boys were disappointed and said so.
"On the contrary, it is lucky," declared Mr. Wilder. "There is a brook down there and it is a favorite drinking ground for deer. Under the cover of the mist we shall be able to go down, and it will act as a blanket to keep our scent from the sensitive-nosed beauties."
"Going to ride down?" queried Tom, looking about for some trail.
"No, we'll leave the ponies here. Lively now and hobble them and don't talk."
The plateau was some hundred yards long by half as many wide, and quickly the hunters rode their horses to where the mountain again rose, turning the horses loose in some delicious grass.
"Be very careful, very careful in descending," cautioned the ranchman. "The ground is wet and the rocks are slippery, and if you once start to fall, there's no knowing where you will land."
All the boys had hunted enough to know that the safest way to carry a loaded gun is with the muzzle pointed to the ground, the butt resting against the back of the right shoulder, with the arm akimbo, thus forming a rest for the barrel.
And in this fashion they set out.
After a few minutes' search Mr. Wilder exclaimed:
"Here's the run the deer use. Steady now. Mind your feet. Don't make a sound."
With almost no noise, the party descended. Now and then one of the lads slipped, but there was always a rock or a sapling at hand which they could grasp to steady themselves and no one fell.
As he reached the edge of the mist, Mr. Wilder held up his hand as a signal to halt.
Turning his head, he listened intently for some sound that might give him an inkling as to the whereabouts of the deer.
In his eagerness to locate them, Horace moved away from the trail to the left and then stopped.
Barely had he halted when a loud sneeze rang out from directly in front of him.
So sudden and so near was it that Horace cried out in fright.
At the same moment the antlers of a big buck appeared from the mist and then vanished as quickly, only to reappear a moment later, followed by its head and shoulders.
Whether the buck or the hunters were more surprised it would be hard to say. For several seconds they stared at one another.
Larry, Tom and Horace were trembling like leaves, victims of "buck fever," a species of stage fright which makes it impossible for any one to hold a gun steady, and Bill was in such a position behind the others that he could not aim his rifle unless he put it between the heads of the others.
The ranchman alone was where he could bring down the buck, and he hesitated, unwilling to risk a chance to get several other deer by dropping the one in front of him.
It was the buck himself that put an end to the remarkable situation. Of a sudden, with a snort of rage, he lowered his sharp pronged antlers and charged at Horace.
With a yell of terror the boy turned to flee and stumbled.
In an instant the scene had changed from one of comedy to one of possible tragedy should the infuriated beast reach his victim.
But Mr. Wilder was equal to the occasion. Throwing his rifle to his shoulder, he fired.
True was his aim and the buck threw up his head, staggered and then toppled over.
The sound of the shot had galvanized Tom and Larry into action, and with a lightning movement they both stooped, seized their friend and pulled him to them just as the body of the buck struck the ground.
So unnerved were they all by the narrowness of the escape that for several moments no one spoke.
Then Mr. Wilder rallied them by exclaiming:
"See! see! The mist has lifted. There go three more deer up the valley. Come on! Let's see who can bring one down."
The chance for a shot brought even Horace out of his fright, and in a thrice the boys had sighted their rifles and fired. But no deer dropped.
"I hit one, I know I did!" declared Bill. "Let's follow."
"No, shoot again," returned his father. "We have the advantage here from being above."
Again the rifles cracked, and this time one of the deer gave a bound in the air and dropped flat.
"Hooray! We've got another!" cried the lads,
"Don't fire any more. The others are out of range," declared the ranchman.
"Please, just one more," begged Horace.
But his father refused, telling him that a good hunter never shot when there was no hope of bringing down his game.
"Never mind, we've got two," said Larry. "I call that pretty good luck."
And speculating as to whom the credit of hitting the second belonged, they all hastened to where it lay.
CHAPTER IX
THE MESSAGE FROM CROSS-EYED PETE
The shells shot by the rifles belonging to the two chums were .44-.50, while those of the Wilder boys were .30, so that it would only be possible to tell whether the boys from Ohio had proved better marksmen than the Westerners. Yet the boys were eager to settle the question.
Chaffing each other good naturedly, they tramped along, and when they saw the size of the antlers and body of the second buck they forgot all rivalry.
"He's a beauty!" cried Horace. "I'm glad it wasn't he that made a jump for me. His prongs stick out a yard."
Though this was an exaggeration, the branches of the antlers were, indeed, surprisingly long.
"And there are fourteen of the prongs," ejaculated Tom, who had been counting the sharp points.
"Which makes him fifteen years old," asserted Bill. "Just look at their spread; they must be all of four feet."
"Easily," said his father. "He's the biggest buck I ever saw. Ah, here's the bullet-hole, right back of the shoulder. It certainly was a splendid shot." And as he bent closer to examine it, the others awaited his decision as to which party the trophy belonged.
"Ohio wins!" he declared at last.
"Then Tom probably got him. He's a better marksman that I am," asserted Larry.
Though the Wilder boys were naturally disappointed, they made the best of it, and Bill exclaimed:
"Come on, Larry. Let's go into the woods and search. I'm positive
I hit a deer the first time I fired. Can we go, father?"
"Surely, only don't get lost. It will take me some time to dress the two bucks. If you are not back by the time I am finished, come to the plateau. We'll wait for you there."
Promising not to wander far, the elder boys entered the woods while the others assisted in dressing the monster buck.
After skinning the animal, the ranchman cut out the most savory parts and placed them in the pelt.
"Shall we take the antlers?" asked Horace.
"They'd be fine to have mounted, but they'll be awfully in the way while we're hunting. What do you think, Mr. Wilder?" And Tom appealed to him as to their proper disposal.
"They will be awkward to carry, that's a fact," assented the ranchman. "If you want them very much, though, we can leave them here and then stop on our way home. They'll be safe enough till we get back."
Readily Tom agreed, and he and Horace were just stooping to pick up one end of the hide, containing the deer meat, when Horace let out a cry.
"Oh, what's that thing up by my buck?"
"It looks like a tiger," exclaimed Tom, and then added: "But you don't have tigers out here, do you?"
"No. That's a mountain lion, which is almost the same thing, though," answered Mr. Wilder. "Now's your chance to show your marksmanship, Horace. Take a good aim and see if you can't knock him over."
No urging did his son need. Raising his rifle to position, the lad squinted along the barrel carefully and then fired.
Above the report of the shot rang out an ear-splitting howl, and the mountain Hon turned to face the direction of the sound.
"Give him another, son. You hit him, but not in a vital spot," said his father.
Again Horace aimed and fired, this time with better success, for the lion dropped in its tracks.
"Good work," praised Tom heartily. "That was a mighty long shot to make. Now if Bill and Larry only get something, we'll have bagged a trophy."
Elated at his success, Horace was starting toward his prize when his father called him back to help carry the pelt.
"My, but he's a beauty!" declared the younger of the chums when they reached the carcass. "I should hate to come across one suddenly."
"They are not pleasant customers to meet," smiled Mr. Wilder. "I'm glad this fellow didn't visit us last night. Though why he passed the horses by I don't know. Mountain lions are great ones for horse or cattle flesh. While I am dressing the buck you boys had better climb up to the plateau and see that our ponies are all right. Take some of the meat with you and then we won't be obliged to make so many trips."
With a piece of meat in one hand and a rifle in the other, the lads started up the trail and, though they went bravely enough, each in his heart was a bit frightened.
"Pete says mountain lions usually travel in pairs, so keep your eyes peeled," advised Horace.
But though they imagined several times they heard the purr of one of the prowlers, they reached the plateau without adventure.
The ponies were huddled together, tails to the rocks, and were sniffing the air in obvious uneasiness.
"Steady, boys, steady," called Horace soothingly. And setting down his meat, he patted each reassuringly.
The presence of the boys was an evident relief to the ponies, and after a few minutes they began to champ grass again.
"That lion must have come quite near, to scare 'em so," asserted the young rancher. "Pete says ponies are almost as good as dogs for watching, and I believe him. They can smell things, oh, way off." And sitting down, Horace entertained his companion with stories of the keen scent of horses, which lost none of their color because of his lively imagination. Indeed, he succeeded in getting them both so worked up that when Mr. Wilder's hat appeared above the edge of the plateau each boy seized his rifle and aimed at it.
"What are you going to do, hold me up?" laughed the ranchman as he saw the barrels leveled at him, and then, as he noted the alarm on their faces, he added: "Steady! Put your guns down carefully."
Laughing nervously, the boys obeyed.
"You are a fine lot, you are," he chided, "to leave me to bring up all the meat alone. Why didn't you come back?"
In explanation Horace told how they had found the ponies and said they had stayed to quiet them.
"And I'll wager you've been relating some wonderful yarns for Tom's benefit, judging from the way you received me. Now, boys," he continued seriously, "when you are in the mountains you must never talk about things that will excite you. There are so many things that can happen. A man always needs to be cool and collected, so that if emergency does arise he can think quickly and well."
This bit of advice made a deep impression on the lads and they promised to remember it.
The sun was high in the heavens and its heat was becoming terrific.
"Fetch the horses and come into the woods," commanded Mr. Wilder. "We'll get dinner ready and wait for Bill and Larry where it's cool."
"Why it's a quarter of twelve," said Tom, looking at his watch. "I had no idea it was so late."
"Time flies when you are hunting," returned the ranchman, "a fact that you should remember, and with it that darkness falls quickly in the mountains."
The ponies were nothing loath to move from the broiling plateau to the cooler woods and stood contentedly, now and then nibbling the leaves and tender twigs from the trees near them.
Lighting a fire, Mr. Wilder soon had a choice slice of venison broiling In the saucepan, and the aroma was so good that the boys could hardly wait to taste the meat.
At last it was ready, and they ate it ravenously. "How much better it tastes when you've shot it yourself," declared Tom. "I've had venison before, but it wasn't nearly so good as this."
"A keen appetite and the mountain air certainly do give a zest to your food," smiled the ranchman.
"I reckon I'll put another slice on the fire so it will be ready for the boys when they come."
But it was fully an hour later before they heard the others hail.
"Up here in the woods," called back Tom and Horace, running to the edge of the forest to guide them to the camp.
It was several minutes before Larry and Bill came in sight, and before they did the others had learned that they had found the deer Bill thought he had hit.
"I ran across it," explained Larry. "It's hind leg was broken and it was lying down when I came upon it. The poor thing tried to jump up, but it couldn't very well."
"But I didn't hear any shot," interrupted Tom. "I've been listening, too."
"Good reason why, because it was way over in another basin," answered his brother. "It must have been all of three miles from here, don't you think so, Bill?"
"Easily."
"Then how did you follow it?" demanded Horace.
"By its blood and where its leg dragged."
"Well, I'm glad you found the poor creature and put it out of misery," declared his father. "That's the only objection I have to deer hunting—the animals have such wonderful vitality that they travel miles and miles after being crippled and then drop from exhaustion, like this one. As a usual thing, I don't allow any one to fire at a deer unless at short range. I made an exception this morning, but I never will again."
"We didn't bring much of the meat back, it was too long a haul," said Bill after he had partially satisfied his hunger.
"We have plenty," returned his father. "In fact, we have so much that we won't fire at any more deer."
"Then what can we hunt?" protested Horace.
"Bear," returned his father.
"Oh, goody! and mountain lions! Say, you deer slayers, you may have knocked over some bucks, but it took me to stop a mountain lion."
"So you were the one who got him, eh?" asked Bill. "He must have been asleep. You can't hit a deer, and yet you got a mountain lion, which is smaller."
"He wasn't asleep, and I made a dandy long shot. Tom said so," declared his brother hotly.
"You certainly did well, son," interposed his father.
"Then we've all bagged something, if you can call my getting the deer Bill wounded a hit," said Larry. "This is sure Jim dandy hunting. Back home you can tramp all day without even seeing a woodchuck."
Heartily the others laughed at this statement of the difference in hunting grounds, and for an hour or so they talked and joked.
"Are we going to camp here for the night?" inquired Horace at last of his father.
"No. I reckon we'll go farther into the mountains. We'll have a better chance for bear there. This is a little too near the plains."
Well rested, the boys were eager to be on the move and gladly they made ready to advance.
In and out among the hills the trail wound, and sundown found them entering a basin similar to that where they had captured their deer. On two sides walls of rocks towered and dense forests formed the others.
Lonesome, indeed, was the spot, and this effect was heightened by the rapidly descending darkness.
"Commander, I think we'll hobble the horses right here," said Mr. Wilder, dismounting in the center of the vale. "It would also be a good idea to have our camp fire close beside them. Then, if any prowler smells the deer meat or the horses, it can't reach either without our knowing it. And, because we must keep a fire all night, we shall need a lot of wood."
Recalled to the fact that he was in charge of the camp, Tom said:
"You fellows come with me and get the wood. I guess Mr. Wilder will attend to the horses, and we four can gather enough before it gets real dark."
Quickly the boys dismounted and ran to get dry limbs and branches, making a monster pile.
"I reckon that's enough, commander," said the ranchman at last, "and, besides, supper is ready or will be when the coffee is poured."
"Coffee! Where did you get the water to boil it?" queried Larry.
"From the canteens. I filled them this morning."
"And here I've been wondering where we could look for water. I was surprised you didn't tell Tom to send some of us."
Being less tired than the night before, the boys sat round the camp fire after supper, talking and listening to the stories the ranchman told about his life as a soldier.
When at length they were ready to turn in, they rolled themselves up in their blankets and formed a circle about the fire.
Without adventure they passed the night, sleeping till long after sunrise, there being no occasion for getting an early start.
Indeed as they ate breakfast they were debating whether to push on or stay where they were and set a bear trap when they were surprised to hear Mr. Wilder's name called.
Shouting in return, they jumped to their feet, trying to see who had hailed them.
"It's some one on horseback. I can hear the click of horseshoes on the stones," declared Larry.
"Some one from the ranch probably," asserted Mr. Wilder, and the next moment his opinion was confirmed by Horace, who had run to the trail and was returning, yelling:
"It's Nails! It's Nails!"
"He's one of our boys," explained Bill to the chums. "What do you suppose he can want, father?"
"Wait till he tells us. There are so many possibilities, it's no use trying to guess."
Their suspense was short-lived, for in a few moments the cowboy called Nails dashed into the basin, his pony in a lather.
Realizing from this condition of his mount that something serious was amiss, Mr. Wilder asked:
"What's wrong, Nails?"
"Cattle thieves!" gasped the cowboy. "Cross-eyed Pete said to get everybody you could and meet him at the Witches' Pool to-morrow morning. He's driving up the herds from the Long Creek bottoms."
CHAPTER X
THE RETURN TO THE RANCH
The knowledge that his herds had again been raided by cattle thieves made Mr. Wilder very angry.
"This makes the third time some of my cattle have been stolen. The thieves will find it is three times and out. I'll take their trail this time and stick to it till I round them all up."
Never had Bill and Horace seen their father so wrought up, and they wisely held their peace while the cowboy who had brought the news of the raid busied himself removing the saddle and bridle and wiping the lather from his pony.
Before Nails had finished the task, however, the ranchman had regained control of himself.
"I am glad Pete is driving the cattle home," he said quietly. "They will graze about the Witches' Pool without watching, so I can take all the boys with me, and the more there are of us the less trouble we will have. Sit down and eat breakfast, Nails, and then tell me about the raid."
No urging did the cowboy need, for he had not tasted a mouthful since he had left the herd, twenty-four hours before. He had expected to find the ranchman at his home, and when he learned Mr. Wilder had gone on a hunting trip he only stopped long enough to change ponies and then started again to find him.
Attentively the boys waited on him, impatient to hear his story.
"It was night before last it happened," said Nails, after having eaten more than it seemed possible for one man. "All during the day the cattle had been restless and we boys were kept on the jump holding 'em together. But with the darkness they quieted down and we all turned in.
"When morning came, nary a steer was in sight. It didn't take us long to get after 'em, and in about an hour we found them. But the short-horned Durhams were missing."
"The best cattle in the herd," interrupted Mr. Wilder.
"Just what Pete said, but not in the same words," grinned Nails.
"But how do you know they were stolen?" asked Bill. "Perhaps they only wandered off. You said the herd had been restless."
"A hundred head don't all go together," replied the cowboy. "Besides, after looking around, we found the hoofprints of seven ponies."
"Which way did they drive?" demanded the ranchman.
"Toward old Mex. But I reckon that's only a bluff. It's my idea the headquarters of this gang are right in these mountains, somewhere. Pete thinks so, too. That's why he set the pool as the meeting place. There's an old trail he knows and he wants to strike it, you agreeing of course," he added, looking toward the ranchman.
"We'll decide about that later. But if Pete suggested it, he has some good reason. Still, I can't see the necessity of getting any of the neighbors. It will only take time, and we can save twenty-four hours by riding straight to the pool from here."
"The reason for getting others is because the Half-Moon isn't the only herd that's been raided."
At this statement the Wilders were amazed.
"By the tracks from the direction of the Three Stars there must have been two hundred, at least, lifted from them."
"Then Jim Snider and his outfit are on the trail by this time," declared the ranchman.
"No, they aren't. I saw Sandy the other day, and he said they were all going up to Tolopah to bring down a herd Snider brought from Montana, It's my idea the thieves knew this and planned a wholesale raid."
"H—m. That sounds likely," commented Mr. Wilder. "Who do you think is at the head of it, Nails?"
"Gus Megget. He's the only one with the nerve to pull it off."
At the mention of the ruffian cow-puncher the boys looked at one another and then at their father, who said:
"That can't be, Nails. Megget tried some of his funny business with these two boys, Larry and Tom Alden, up in Oklahoma the other day."
"And they made a monkey of him," interposed Horace gleefully.
"What, them two?" returned the cowboy, looking at the brothers with keen interest.
"They certainly did," smiled the ranchman. "So I reckon we can't blame Megget for this raid."
"But he could have come by train, the short line, you know."
"We'll find out in time. There's no use arguing, Nails," said the ranchman. "Bill, bring up Buster and Blackhawk. Tom, you will have to take Nails' pony. We must get back to the ranch as soon as possible and that other horse is too played out.
"You boys can pack up and follow as fast as you can. Be at the house by the middle of the afternoon, at the latest. Mind now, I have enough to think of without worrying about you."
Nails was helping Bill with the ponies, and almost as soon as Mr.
Wilder had finished his instructions the animals were ready.
Vaulting into the saddle, the ranchman again cautioned the boys to be careful, shook out his reins and rode from the basin at a gallop, the cowboy close behind.
With a will the four comrades went to work packing the saddle bags, and less than an hour after the others had left were following them.
The raid, the pursuit, wonder if they would be allowed to go on the man-hunt and speculation as to whether the thieves would be captured formed topics for endless conversation as they rode.
"Do you suppose those men I saw on the cliff are part of the gang?" hazarded Tom.
"They may be. I never thought of them," declared Bill. "I must remember to speak about them to father. Still, I hardly think they could have had a hand in it. It is all of thirty miles from where we saw them to the Long Creek bottoms, and no sizeable herd of cattle could be driven through the hills that far in a day. Twenty miles on the prairies is a stiff hike and half that far would be a good drive in the mountains."
When they were obliged to ride Indian file over the trail much talking was not attempted, and each boy busied himself with his own thoughts.
Because of his knowledge of the route, Bill led and Larry brought up the rear. Their advance was slow, however, as they wished to give the pony Tom rode as much chance to rest as possible before they reached the plains.
With eyes and ears alert, they proceeded, and without mishap finally rode out onto the prairie.
[Illustration: "With eyes and ears alert, they proceeded."]
"Let's eat now," suggested Horace. "That will give Whitefoot more rest, and by the time we have finished he'll be as good as new. He's a tough one and can stand sixty miles, day in and day out."
"Which is about half as much as he'll get this time," added Bill. "Still I think Whitefoot's good for it, especially as he hadn't been ridden for a week till Nails took him last night."
The halt was made and the boys ate as heartily as though they had not breakfasted only three hours before.
When they were ready to start again Larry said:
"So long as Whitefoot is tired and Horace is the lightest, don't you think he'd better ride him instead of Tom?"
"Good idea," acquiesced Bill, and the shift in mounts was made, after which the boys headed for the ranch house.
As they were starting on the long forty-mile ride, Mr. Wilder and Nails were ending it. Though forced to ride carefully so long as they were on the mountain trail, when the latter reached the plains they had "cut loose." Both were expert horsemen and the ponies under them were mettlesome. Indeed, Blackhawk had not entirely recovered his temper since his roping and it was he that set the pace. Yet the riders did not allow the ponies to run themselves out in the first few miles, holding them down to a long, steady lope that covered the ground rapidly.
"Where do you suppose we are the most likely to strike the outfit from the Three Stars, at home or in Tolopah?" asked Mr. Wilder after a time.
"At home. They were to get the cattle day before yesterday, and Sandy told me they planned to stay at the ranch to-day to pack grub so as to save a trip of the wagon."
"Then we ought to find the whole crew at home."
"That's just what Pete and I were banking on," returned Nails.
This point settled, the ranchman refused further conversation, to the disappointment of his companion, occupying himself with mapping out his campaign.
After a time the ponies began to slacken their stride, but the vigorous rowelling they received from the spurs of the men on their backs told them they were bound on pressing business, and they responded gamely.
"I hope Ned is at home," Mr. Wilder exclaimed suddenly. "If he isn't, there won't be any but slow ponies in the corral. And that means it will take me the whole afternoon to get to the Three Stars."
"No, it don't," asserted Nails. "I kinder thought you might be off somewhere, so I cut out three ponies from the bunch and brought them up with me. When they told me you were hunting with the kids, I naturally knew you wouldn't go far into the mountains, so I left the best ones at the Half-Moon."
This foresight of his cowboy pleased the ranchman, and he commended him heartily.
"You seem to have a pretty level head, Nails. What do you make of these raids on my herd? This makes the third. It rather seems to me as though the thieves had marked me for their particular victim."
"That's my idea exactly," declared the cowboy. "And that's what makes me so sure Gus Megget had a hand in the raid."
"But what grudge has Megget against me?" asked Mr. Wilder in surprise.
"You are the one who leased the Long Creek bottoms, aren't you?" returned Nails, answering the question, Yankee fashion, by another.
"To be sure. But what has that to do with it?"
"Everything. Megget's been rustling cattle for years, and the Long Creek bottoms were where he used to drive the cattle he'd lifted. If any one jumped him, he could either cross the line into old Mex or strike out for the mountains. Maybe you don't know it, but there's a greaser just across the line—they call him Don Vasquez—who makes a fat living buying stolen cattle. He's got some old Indian remedy for making hair grow, and he cuts out the old brands, makes hair grow out and then burns in his three crosses."
"And so my leasing the bottoms has spoiled this criminal dealing?"
"That's what. I heard a greaser down in El Paso last winter boasting you'd sell your ranch inside of two years."
"Why didn't you tell me?" demanded Mr. Wilder severely.
"Didn't think it was necessary. Fatty and I fixed him so he wouldn't brag any more."
Deeming it unwise to inquire Into the means taken for silencing the Mexican, the ranchman lapsed into silence for a few minutes and then declared:
"No cattle thieves can drive me out of business, Nails. I have the right on my side, and right always triumphs."
"We boys are with you, Mr. Wilder. You've always played more than fair with us, which is more than we can say of some folks, and we appreciate it. Cowboys have feelings same as other people, though there seem to be a lot of folks who don't think so. And I'm speaking for the other boys of the Half-Moon as well as myself. We talked it all over before Pete sent me to the ranch. But when you join 'em at the pool, don't say anything about what I've told you. Sentiment and hunting cattle thieves don't mix."
This expression of the esteem in which his men held him, crude though it was, moved Mr. Wilder deeply, and reaching over, he seized the cowboy's hand and shook it warmly, an action that delighted Nails greatly.
The statement about Megget gave the ranchman a new train of thought. He realized for the first time that he was engaged in a cattle war which would only end with his ruin or the capture of the entire band of thieves. And being a man who could not be frightened, the owner of the Half-Moon Ranch vowed to accomplish the latter alternative.
The hard ride was tiring the ponies, wiry though they were, and the men on their backs were obliged to resort to almost continual use of their spurs. But at last the buildings of the ranch home came into view, and soon Mr. Wilder and Nails were at the corral.
"Saddle the best of the bunch for me," ordered the ranchman as he dismounted. "I'll go to the house for a bite and then start for the Three Stars."
"What about me?" inquired the cowboy, disappointment in his voice at the thought of being left behind.
"I want you to ride into Tolopah. Don't say anything about the raid. Just listen round and see if you can learn anything." And turning on his heel, Mr. Wilder started for the house.
"Where are the boys? You didn't let them stay to hunt, did you?" inquired his wife anxiously as he sat down at the table and ordered Hop Joy to bring him something to eat.
"No. They'll be here during the afternoon. I'm going to get Jim Snider and his outfit. Nails says they are at home." And briefly he told her of the information he had received from his cowboy.
No longer than necessary did the ranchman linger at the table, and when he had finished a hasty meal went out, mounted the pony Nails held waiting and galloped away in the direction of the Three Stars Ranch, which lay to the east.
Having far less to go, the cowboy ate leisurely and then rode toward Tolopah.
In the meantime the four boys were making the best time they could, but before they had covered half the distance Whitefoot gave out completely.
For a time they proceeded, with Horace riding now with one boy and now with another. But it was slow work, and at last Bill suggested that he ride on ahead, get fresh horses and return. After some argument, this plan was agreed upon.
As she saw her elder son ride up alone, Mrs. Wilder was greatly alarmed, but he quickly reassured her, and with Ned's help caught two ponies, saddled them and went back to meet the others, all reaching the house a little later.