CHAPTER VI.—TO STAND BY A CHUM.
“Why, ain’t that your brand, Adrian?” gasped Billie, who was not very quick to catch on to things, as a rule.
“Just what it is,” replied the other, between his set teeth.
“Then this steer belonged to the Bar-S herd, didn’t it?” the fat boy continued, gradually approaching the point of full comprehension about as one might circle around and around in a whirlpool, getting nearer the center all the while.
“No doubt of it, Billie,” Donald took the trouble to say.
“And chances were, that whole drove that was stampeded right under your eyes as it were, must a been the Bar-S herd of cattle. Gee whiz! now what d’ye think of that for a warm reception? Must a been a committee appointed to meet up with Adrian Sherwood, and let him know that things were moving lively up here, all right.”
The idea was so vast that Billie seemed to fall into a reflective mood; just as if he needed time to grasp its full significance.
Donald turned to the other chum.
At least he was not in need of further explanations in order to understand just what that strange panic among the cattle stood for.
“It was a stampede with an object ahead of it, Adrian!” he exclaimed, gritting his teeth savagely together as he spoke.
Adrian simply nodded his head. He seemed almost too full for words; but apparently the other understood his feelings, for he went right on, driving in his points very much as a woodchopper might his wedge when splitting a log.
“Those punchers were not trying to head off the herd, but shouting to keep the long-horns running in a mad bunch,” he said, positively, and getting another affirmative nod from the other he continued: “they had started the stampede themselves, and just had to keep it up until they accomplished their object, which it’s easy to guess had the stealing of the beef as the chief thing.”
“No wonder I’ve been getting such poor returns from the ranch the last year, if this sort of thing has been going on long,” muttered Adrian.
“If it happened down near the Keystone, the ranchers would get together, and soon hunt the rustlers to the end of their trail,” added Donald.
“But this is away up in Wyoming, and seems like they do things differently here,” Billie woke up in time to say, wisely.
“Yes, and only because a lot of bad men have banded together, and held the ranch owners under their thumbs,” Adrian said, bitterly. “Remember what that puncher told us about these Walkers, and how they ran things about as they pleased up around here, getting bolder and bolder all the while. But time was when they would have had my fire-eater of an uncle after them with a hot stick, for he was noted because of his being afraid of nothing—in those good old days before my father died.”
Billie was heard from again at this juncture.
“Huh! that was before he took to himself a wife, and she one of this same Walker breed,” he remarked.
Donald chuckled, while Adrian sighed.
“It’s almost impossible for me to believe such a terrible change has taken place in Uncle Fred,” the latter went on to say, shaking his head sadly; and then as if his anger began to get the better of all other feelings he continued: “but there’s going to be a change take place in other ways too, or else my name isn’t Adrian Sherwood. This wholesale stealing from the Bar-S Ranch has got to stop, even if I have to fire Uncle Fred and his new wife out of the management.”
“It’s my opinion,” remarked Donald, “that these Walkers are taking advantage of the fact that one of their bunch is installed in the ranch house at your place, to just do about as they please. When they run across a fine herd with your brand on the same, they wait around for a certain night to come along, run them off like it was common rustlers doing the job, round them up somewhere, change the brand to one of their own, and inside of forty-eight hours your cattle are feeding on their range with all signs blotted out. And I just about reckon Mrs. Fred is fixing things so her dear hubby don’t dare lift a hand to prevent this robbery! Blood is thicker than water, they say.”
Adrian ground his teeth savagely.
“That’s the bitterest pill I ever had to swallow in all my life!” he declared. “To think of me squatting here and watching those cowardly thieves run off with a big bunch of my best cattle, and not able to lift a hand to prevent the raid! It makes me mad to the core.”
“I should say it might,” Billie asserted. “Why, even my blood is boiling with indignation; and I ain’t near so hot-tempered as you, Adrian. Can’t something be done about it?”
“Oh! what wouldn’t I give to have some of the bully Keystone boys around right now,” said Donald; “suppose we could just run across Si Ketcham, Cooney, Alkali, Magpie, Bunch and the rest, wouldn’t I yell with joy though; and say, what we’d do to these onery rustlers would be a caution.”
“But we’re only three boys after all!” sighed Billie, sadly.
“Three boys though, who have been used to taking care of themselves this long while, don’t forget to add, Billie,” Adrian burst forth; “and right now I’m wondering whether it would be such a very mad scheme for us to trail after those punchers to try and get my cattle back! What d’ye think of that, boys? Have we got the nerve to make a try?”
“Oh! my stars!” ejaculated Billie, rather overwhelmed by the mere thought; but the prairie boy did not seem to be staggered at all.
“Adrian, if you say the word I’m itching to give you my hand on that, and go you!” Donald exclaimed with thrilling emphasis.
“Do you really mean it?” demanded the other, eagerly.
For answer the Mackay boy did thrust out his hand, and it was instantly clasped in a savage clutch, showing how thoroughly aroused both lads were.
“And say, whatever’s doing, don’t you dare forget to count me in,” piped up Billie, who was immediately afraid lest they might set out to arrange plans that would leave him in the lurch, perhaps to ’tend camp while they rode off; and he was determined to rebel against such an ignominious discard.
“Could we overtake the cattle, do you think, Donald?” asked Adrian.
“I reckon that wouldn’t take us so very long,” came the reply.
“They would soon tire out,” suggested the young owner of the Bar-S Ranch.
“When they passed here they showed signs of it; and if the punchers had let ’em, they’d soon quiet down. Reckon, Ad, they won’t go many miles further before they just slow up, and then come to a full stop.”
“Mebbe them rustlers was adriving the bunch right at some place where they’re in the habit of changing the brands?” suggested Billie, determined to have some say in the matter, to prove that he was wide-awake, and on the job.
“Sure they must have been, Billie, and that remark shows that you’ve got your wits about you!” declared Donald; and then turning again to the third member of the little group he went on: “if you mean it, Ad, and say the word, why we’ll pull out of these diggings in a rush, and chase after the herd.”
“It wouldn’t be very long before we’d hear the rumble again, if we kept right on the way they were heading when they passed here,” observed Adrian, thoughtfully.
“That’s right,” Donald assured him.
“Then the only question is, could we manage the bad men who are running off the Bar-S stock. At a guess now, Donald, how many of them do you reckon there might have been chasing after the stampeding herd?”
Donald seemed to study for a few seconds.
“I paid particular attention to their yelling,” he presently remarked; “and noticed where the shouts came from. Now, I couldn’t be dead sure, Ad, but as near as I can say I’d put it down as about four punchers.”
“Whee! they made a heap of noise then, for just that many,” remarked Billie.
“That’s right,” agreed Donald, instantly; “but when you come to know punchers as well as I do, Billie, you’ll understand that four lively boys when they’re slapping their chaps with quirts and hats, and howling like mad to frighten stock, can make a racket equal to a dozen other fellows. There may have been one or two more, but still I think four’d cover the bill, Adrian.”
“That settles it!” declared the other, briskly.
“We go, do we?” demanded Billie, all of a quiver with sudden excitement.
“Adrian says so,” Donald told him, just as though they must look to the owner of the Bar-S outfit for guidance on this campaign, since he was in his own country now, and his chums had accompanied him simply to carry out his wishes.
“Well, things are looking brighter already,” remarked Billie; “because there’s the old moon apeeping out, like she wanted to give us a helping hand. Now, I ain’t much on signs and such things, fellows, as you know; but seems to me like that same was a lucky omen.”
“It’ll give us some light to travel by, and that counts a heap,” declared Donald always practical, and not given so much to sentiment as the fat chum, who had been a great reader of Marryatt and Cooper before coming out West, so that he had filled his mind with the romantic side of open air life.
“Then the sooner we get busy the better,” Adrian went on to say; and then turning on Donald he continued: “if you’re dead sure you meant that, when I mentioned wanting to chase after these rascals.”
“Let me tell you that I was just going to say the same thing myself, but thought you ought to have first chance,” the other boy assured him. “You know me from the ground up, Ad. And why shouldn’t I want to lend you a helping hand? Ain’t you my good chum; and tell me, didn’t you and Billie stand by me like bricks down there in the mountains of Arizona when it looked like Calvin Peets, the agent of the combine that was trying to steal the Red Spar Copper Mine away from my dad and his associates, backed up by that anarchist, Laidlaw? Huh! turn about is only fair play, and it’s come my chance now to stand back of my chum. Why, I’m that crazy to go after these rustlers that even if you held back I’d be wanting to take up the job by myself.”
Adrian gave a laugh as though his last lingering doubt had been removed.
“After hearing you talk that way I’d be a silly fool to doubt any longer,” he went on to declare; “and so let’s get back to our camp, start packing our duffel in a big hurry, and then make a start after that runaway herd with the brand of the Bar-S on their flanks!”
With which words he led the way back among the trees to the spot where their blankets, saddles, cooking utensils and other things were lying.
CHAPTER VII.—FOLLOWING THE CATTLE RUSTLERS.
“How about our ponies?” Billie wanted to know. “Will they be able to stand for another dash so soon?”
“Cow ponies are tough little critters,” Donald went on to say, with the utmost confidence; “and they recover from fatigue like magic. Right now I’d wager Wireless or Ten Spot would be good for a twenty mile gallop at full speed.”
“I notice you don’t include my Jupiter,” grumbled Billie, suspiciously; “mebbe now you’re counting on him to play out in short order, when poor Broncho Billie’ll have to be dropped behind, to toddle along the best way he can, while the rest of you are having all the fun.”
“Oh! I wouldn’t worry about that, if I were you, Billie,” Adrian told him; “for you’ll find that Jupiter is as fresh as a daisy by now, and able to carry you right along hour after hour. I’m ready to pin my faith to these cow ponies every time. They’re wonders, that’s what.”
“Yes,” added Donald, who did not like to see the good-natured fat chum worried in any way; “and as we agreed before, since the cattle were already blowing hard when they passed here, chances are they’ll come to a halt before many miles; so after all we won’t have to go so very far.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” mumbled Billie, who was not feeling very much like taking a lengthy gallop, after his late experiences in that line; the saddle chafed him more or less, because of his heft, and he suffered to a greater extent than either of his comrades knew about.
They were hastily getting their things packed. This was not so much of a job to fellows who had done such things a long time. The blankets made a small roll, to be fastened behind their saddles; then the few cooking things were distributed around, each one being responsible for a certain utensil, which he was expected to produce when next it was needed. In this way coffee-pot, frying-pan, tin platters and tin cups were stowed away, and occupied very little space.
Each boy had a small bag in which he kept a few extras, a fresh flannel shirt and necessities. Billie also lugged along some other things in the way of a jar of marmalade, of which he was especially fond, a strip of breakfast bacon, tea, coffee, and such things. He would not let his chums think of loading themselves down with anything that poor Jupiter could carry on his broad back; and so when he was fully fixed for riding he looked like a nomadic peddler starting out on his trip.
But Billie at least had long ago learned the art of packing his stuff securely. Only for that fact he must surely have left a lot of his packages scattered along the trail at the time Jupiter ran away with him, after the stable boy at the inn had played that mean trick with the poison-tipped sand spurs.
Of course he was only partly packed when both the others announced themselves as ready to move.
“But I hope now, you won’t think of starting out, and leaving me behind, fellows?” Billie voiced his new alarm by saying.
They hastened to reassure him.
“We’re not in such a big hurry as all that, Billie,” said Adrian.
“And here, let me give you a hand,” remarked Donald.
“That’s the stuff!” gurgled the fat chum, who had all along been hoping to have some assistance; for Donald knew how to put things in ship-shape so well; while on the other hand Adrian was the best hand at cinching girths, and tightening up ropes on a pack animal Billie had ever struck.
Between them they soon made things ready; and Billy hastened to climb up into his saddle. That word would appear to be the only one capable of doing justice to his method of attaining a seat; for Billie was very clumsy, it must be remembered; and then those packages were forever getting in the way, so that even an agile fellow like Donald for instance might have found it difficult to leap into his saddle while his animal was thus encumbered.
But they were all ready at last; and Donald led the little bunch of riders out from the timber that grew along the little stream.
It was now bright moonlight. The clouds had drifted past, and the sky seemed to be free from horizon to horizon, which fact pleased the Broncho Rider Boys not a little. There is always more or less danger of a nasty spill when galloping over the prairie in pitch darkness, for no one can tell when a prairie dog village may be encountered; and if a pony sets his foot in one of their burrows the chances are he will go down in a heap, possibly with a broken leg; and his rider may account himself lucky if he escapes a similar fate, or gets his neck broken in addition.
Billie in particular was always worried when circumstances compelled them to ride in the dark. He declared that, not being nimble like his comrades, and spry enough to play the cat act so as to land on his hands and feet, a tumble was apt to go much harder with him; and perhaps there was good reason for this feeling of uneasiness on Billie’s part. At any rate his chums were always willing to cater to his wishes in the matter, when it could be reasonably done.
But now that smiling moon made the fat boy feel quite at his ease.
As soon as they were clear of the trees Donald headed directly southwest, for that was the direction taken by the stampeded herd. Looking down he could easily discover where their hoofs had torn up the soil of the prairie; and as long as the friendly light from above held out, the ranch boy believed that he could follow that plain trail, even though they heard no sound from ahead to give them pointers as to where the cattle had gone.
He and Adrian rode side by side, so that from time to time they could exchange sentences. Billie on the other hand was quite willing to bring up the rear. He was accustomed to “taking other people’s dust,” as he himself frankly admitted, and did not object seriously to such a thing.
So far as he could discover Jupiter was feeling all right again after his rest, and offered no objection to keeping up the swift pace set by the others.
“Of course after we begin to haul up on them,” said Donald, presently, “we’ll cut down the pace more or less, so they won’t get wind of our being around.”
“I wonder what sort of luck we’ll have,” Adrian was saying, showing that he had been trying to figure things out in his mind. “Of course I take it for granted that we’ll come up with the rustlers; but it’s another thing to get them off their guard, so we can make them prisoners, and take the cattle away with us.”
“Yes, that’s so,” assented Donald, “but you never know what you can do till you make a try; and we’ve carried out a few jobs on our own hook, you and me, Adrian, if you stop to think.”
“As big as this one seems to be, for a fact, Donald,” agreed the other, brightening up under the inspiring remarks of his chum, just as Donald supposed would be the case.
“Of course, Ad, we can’t lay any plans till we see how the ground lies,” the other went on to say; “after they’ve got the cattle quieted down I reckon those rustler fellows will take things easy. They’ve run matters with such a free hand up around here so long now, that they just can’t imagine anybody daring to interfere with their business.”
“Yes,” added Adrian, “and perhaps if they were held up and asked to give an account of the cattle they were running off they’d have the nerve to say they’d even bought them from Fred Comstock at the Bar-S Ranch; and refer the questioners to the lady who has taken the whip hand up at my place. Oh! it’s all a mighty clever game, I can see that plain enough; only it’s a case of ‘heads they win, tails I lose.’ I’m on the wrong side of the fence every time. But something told me I ought to be wandering up this way; and say, Donald, it’s lucky now I didn’t write to Uncle Fred, and give him the least hint about my plans?”
“Luck is no name for it!” exclaimed the other; “it was the finest thing ever happened to you, Adrian. And let me tell you, I feel it in my bones right now that we’re going to kick up a dickens of a row up here by coming just when these same Walkers are playing one of their periodical little sneak games.”
“Perhaps you’re right, Donald; I hope so, anyhow.”
“It’s my impression,” continued the other, “that all the ranchers around here need is for some one to take the bit between their teeth and play leader, when they’ll all jump in, and join in the hunt. These Walkers appear to have terrorized the lot so that every man is afraid to have it known he means to take a stand against the hard crowd. That’s the idea I got from what that puncher said to us yesterday afternoon.”
“But my uncle used to be the leading spirit around here; they all looked to him to do things when there was any need,” remonstrated Adrian.
“Oh, shucks!” laughed Donald, “I’ve seen men that were great hands to boast, and even do things when among their kind, knuckle down, and cringe when they heard their wives speak. And your uncle must have caught a Tartar when he married that Walker widow.”
They had already covered several miles, and were going strong at the time these few remarks were exchanged between the chums. Every now and then one of the two who were in the lead would glance over his shoulder to make sure that Billie had not been left far behind; and the fat chum on such occasions would sing out reassuring words, or else wave a hand at his comrade.
As yet they had not caught even the distant sound of the retreating herd. This might be accounted for in any one of several ways; the cattle had possibly gone further than even Donald surmised; or else they had already been brought to a stand by the rustlers, the flight having reached a section of the country suited to their plans, and doubtless often used for the same purposes as were intended at the present time.
When they chanced upon a bit of soft ground where the thud of their ponies’ hoofs was for the time being stilled almost completely, Donald strained his hearing in the hope of catching some indication from ahead that would be encouraging.
And Adrian, hearing him give utterance to an ejaculation, jumped to the conclusion that he had been in a measure successful.
“Get it, Donald?” he called out, eagerly.
“Just what I do,” came the immediate answer, in a tone of triumph; “and from the indications I reckon the cattle are about used up, so far as running goes. If you listen right smart you can hear the rustlers urging them on, which shows they haven’t yet got to where they mean to stop, though it must be close by, I feel sure!”
CHAPTER VIII.—THE CORRAL IN BITTERSWEET COULIE.
“Thank goodness!” Billie was heard to mutter in the rear, which remark plainly proved that he must have caught what his comrades were saying.
“We seem to be overtaking them faster now, Donald,” Adrian spoke up several minutes afterwards, when he could hear the shouts ahead more plainly, as well as the confusion attending the rush of the bunched cattle.
“Yes, because they’ve slackened up, and looks like they might be close to the end of the run. P’raps we’d better draw rein some too, Ad; because it won’t do for us to get too close, you know. I notice that the country changes around here.”
“We’ve run on the rough section, where coulies and ravines can be found,” the owner of the Bar-S Ranch told him. “I remember this place pretty well; because, unless I’m mistaken, I once had something of an adventure near by, when a wild bull suddenly swung on me, upset my pony, and came near giving me a nasty dig with his horns. Only for a swift fling of a rope on the part of a puncher I might have been badly hurt.”
“Well, I wondered if we wouldn’t run across some rough country soon,” Donald remarked; “because it’s always been my experience with these rustlers that whenever they do run off with a bunch of cattle, they want to get away from the open plain, in order to do their dirty work of altering brands. If there’s a big coulie near by, take my word for it that’s where they are heading for right now.”
“Then they’ll pull up inside of ten minutes,” announced Adrian; “because they’ll have reached Bittersweet Coulie by then.”
“You ought to know the place right well; and how would it answer for a hide-out, where they could keep the cattle till they’d given every one the Walker brand?” Donald wanted to know.
“All they’d have to do would be to drive them in, and then hang out around the neck of the bottle; for the coulie is so narrow at the mouth it can be closed as easy as anything,” was the reply Adrian made.
“Then take it from me that’s the place we’re going to bring up at, Ad.”
“The sooner the better,” Adrian told him.
“Ditto!” came in a grunt from the rear; for Billie liked to let people know he was alive, and able to enter into the game, as well as the next one.
Gradually they kept pulling in their ponies, because it was plain to understand that they were drawing up on those whom they pursued. The sound of yells came very distinctly to their ears, and Donald was even able to tell the shouts of one puncher from those of his mates; so that his former impression that there could not be more than a quartette of the rustlers was confirmed.
The two who led the chase were fully aware of the tremendous task they had undertaken. They did not lightly dash into this thing as though it would turn out to be a regular picnic. But Adrian was so filled with anger and indignation, over being made a witness to his own loss of valuable stock, that he was ready to take considerable risk in order to attempt their recapture.
As for Donald, he had all his life been raised in just such an atmosphere of daring, and it was not so remarkable that he should throw himself into this hazard heart and soul.
Whatever they did, Billie was bound to join in also; with such leaders he would have plodded after, no matter what the risk; for he never stopped to count the cost, if only he did not have to be left alone.
“There! it’s come at last!” exclaimed Donald, suddenly; and somehow the very fact of his lowering his voice announced that in his opinion they must begin to exercise due caution.
“They’ve stopped running, for a fact!” echoed his chum, alongside.
“Course they have,” added Billie, just for all the world like a poll parrot.
Donald immediately pulled his pony up sharply.
“Time we called a halt, then, and figured things out,” he announced.
“Oh! joy beyond measure!” murmured a faint voice from the rear—Billie talking to himself, of course.
When they had pulled up they sat there in their saddles with heads bent forward, trying to catch further sounds from ahead that would tell in some measure what the rustlers were doing.
The shouts still continued but had changed more or less. Both ranch boys could tell that the punchers must be driving the stock steadily ahead of them now, and in all probability into the gaping jaws of the big ravine known throughout that section as Bittersweet Coulie. If this proved to be true then Donald’s guess had been along correct lines. This little fact seemed like a good omen to begin with. Now, if it turned out that this further prediction regarding the limited number of the rustlers also came to pass, and they could only catch them off their guard before dawn arrived, it would not be strange if they turned the trick, daring as their plans might appear.
“Now, first of all we’ve got to muffle our ponies’ heads so they can’t betray us by neighing,” announced Donald.
“A good idea, I say,” Adrian went on to remark, approvingly. “I’ve known the best trained cayuse going to let out a neigh when it scented some of its own kind near by. That’s a thing they just can’t help, seems like. So, the sooner we get their muzzles tied up the better.”
“You’ll have to show me how,” said Billie; “because that’s where my education’s been sorter neglected, so to speak. But I want to know, just stick a pin in that, please.”
He soon learned just how this could be accomplished by the aid of their blankets. The horses objected to such treatment, but had to submit in the end. And when the job had been completed they were so muzzled that they could not have whinnied, no matter how hard they tried.
Mounting them again the three boys moved cautiously ahead. It was their purpose to cover a certain distance, and then again dismount, after which they would arrange to leave their steeds while they crept up toward the mouth of the coulie.
“That’s fine!” Donald suddenly said in a low tone.
“They’ve started a fire, seems like,” whispered Billie; “and I reckon now that’s what you meant, Donald?”
“Yes, because it shows that they’ve got to the end of their run, and mean to take things easy for a spell. Couldn’t suit us better, fellows, could it?”
“I only hope they feel like making merry over the grand success of their little raid, and take so many nips from their old bottles that they’ll be dropping over in a sound sleep before long,” Billie suggested.
“So say we all of us, Billie,” Adrian assured him; “that would make things easy for our plans, you know.”
“Ain’t I glad I brought my reliable Marlin along,” sighed Billie. “It got me that ferocious old grizzly down in that spur of the Rockies, you remember; and every time it’s done the business. All I have to do is to aim straight, and pull the trigger, and it does the rest. And whenever I think of them rustlers getting away with the pick of Adrian’s herds it kinder riles me, so that I feel as if I’d like to do something terrible—pink one of the same in the leg, mebbe, and make him sorry he ever embarked in such a measly game.”
“Less mumbling, Billie; it won’t do to talk after this, unless you’ve got something worth while to say.”
“Huh!” grunted Billie, sorely perplexed as to what Donald might mean by these words; but at the same time falling into his wishes; for he feared that if he gave any trouble by being noisy or clumsy, his chums might take a notion to tell him to stand by and watch the ponies, a job Billie had no liking for at all.
At another time he might have taken exception to that remark about his “having something worth while to say,” but just now he must swallow his indignation, and do whatever they told him, if he wanted to be in the hunt.
“How much closer had we better go mounted?” asked Adrian, speaking in a whisper of course.
“I’m hoping to run across a likely spot where we can leave the ponies,” Donald told him; “something that is marked, so we can find it again later on without any trouble. And here it is right now. There’s a tree growing alongside this rock that lies here on the open prairie, you note, Ad.”
“Yes, and seems to me I remember that same rock too; fact is, it was right here that bull knocked my pony over, and wanted to impale me on his horns,” Adrian told him.
They dismounted again, and made the animals secure by using their ropes, which could be readily fastened to the tree; and possibly Donald may have had some such idea in his mind when he persisted in looking for a landmark.
Being now free from their ponies, which could not betray them by any shrill neigh, the three boys could advance toward the spot where the fire flickered amidst the brushwood at the mouth of the big coulie.
Each of them gripped his rifle, and was filled with a grim resolution to use this weapon should necessity compel such tactics. At the same time Billie was wishing that they could overpower the rustlers while they slept, making it a bloodless victory; and this in spite of his bold threat made a short time back, too.
The nearer they drew to where the fire had been started the more convinced both ranch boys became that they had guessed the truth when figuring that the cattle thieves must have hurried the stolen herd into the coulie, and intended remaining there near the mouth of the ravine until daylight allowed them to get to work altering the brand of the Bar-S to that of the Walker ranches.
While Donald had expressed his vain wish that some of the husky punchers belonging to the Keytone ranch away down in Arizona could be with them, to make matters more interesting, Adrian on his part was also sorry they could not have the assistance of those three stout cowboys whom they had met and exchanged greetings with on the previous afternoon; and whose knowledge of the country, as well as ability to handle cattle, would be a strong factor in carrying out their game.
But this could not be, and as things now looked the three Broncho Rider Boys must depend entirely upon themselves for balking the evil designs of this Walker crowd of rustlers.
CHAPTER IX.—READY TO ACT.
The cattle had apparently quieted down, now that they were no longer pestered with the shouts of the galloping punchers, coupled with the snap of the cruel quirts. They had run far enough to be in a sweat, and were doubtless glad of the chance to lie down in the coulie, to find the rest they craved. Outside of an occasional “boo,” or possibly a crash of horns, there could be heard nothing that would indicate the presence near by of a pretty large bunch of steers.
That ravine would afford the finest sort of a corral, with its narrow neck, in which the fire had been built, around which the tired rustlers were now grouped, taking things easy, and filled with exultation no doubt because of their fine success in running off the herd without a single shot having been fired, because Mr. Comstock dared not give orders for his men to pursue, with that virago under his roof holding him in check.
After a bit the boys dropped down on all fours, and started to crawl along, since in the bright moonlight it was growing risky to stand erect. Billie had some difficulty in flattening himself as much as he thought necessary; indeed, it seemed to his excited fancy that he must be towering there in a most discouraging way; and he feared that one of the others in glancing back would notice it, and tell him he must diminish his size or else drop out.
But as the ground was broken, and growing rougher every rod or so, neither Donald nor Adrian thought anything of this; and Billie was certainly making a good job of his “creep,” they could see, all things considered.
Of course the two would have preferred attempting the business by themselves; but they knew that the fat chum would object to being left out, and in fact absolutely refuse to play so unimportant a part in the proceedings.
And if it did come to a showing of hands they might be glad to have a third member of the party along, so as to overawe the foe by sheer force of numbers. Besides, Billie carried a rifle, and knew how to use it too; he had demonstrated that fact to the satisfaction of his chums more than once; so that he could not be wholly ignored on such grounds.
They were by now close enough to the fire to be able to see the figures around the blaze. Of course it was only natural for Donald to give Adrian a sly punch in the side, and putting his lips close to the other’s ear whisper triumphantly the one word:
“Four!”
And Adrian on his part understood, for he must surely remember that the other had taken the pains to declare it to be his opinion that the rustler crowd could not number more than that many.
Still four husky men would seem like a pretty steep proposition for three half-grown boys to attempt to subdue; and such indeed would have been the case had it been the intention of Adrian and his chums to boldly face the rustlers, and put the decision to a test of sheer muscle, or the ability to shoot straight.
But Donald and his comrades believed they knew a way whereby the odds were apt to turn in their favor. Strategy must take the place of brute force. They would remain there in hiding until it was to be seen how things were going to turn; and if the rustlers either drank heavily, or else allowed sleep to overpower them.
In either case the plan of the boys was to creep noiselessly into their camp, and in some way overpower them. Perhaps they could impress it upon the minds of the astounded cattle thieves, when the critical moment came, that the bushes near by were fairly bristling with guns held in the hands of angry punchers; who would open fire, and riddle them like sieves, unless they held up their hands and yielded themselves prisoner.
Once this was accomplished neither Donald nor Adrian had any fear but what they would be able to manage things. They knew all about driving cattle; and before leaving the desperadoes they could disarm them, thus rendering them harmless, so far as doing any immediate injury was concerned.
That this would only be the beginning of the war they could easily guess. If the Walkers were as strongly entrenched as people said, they would not be apt to give over their evil practices just because three boys had come up from the Southwest, no matter if one of them did happen to be the owner of the Bar-S Ranch, which for a year and more past they had been systematically despoiling, because the hands of the unfortunate manager were tied by his domestic difficulties.
Such resolute lads as these, however, were not apt to hold back once they had embarked on a course, simply because there might be trouble ahead. Both Adrian and Donald believed in meeting difficulties as they came along, and trying to master them. They saw their duty, and tried to do it, regardless of what might follow.
And Billie was one of the kind to say “me too,” whenever the stronger natures with which his fortunes were connected took a decided stand.
Having finally advanced, as far as seemed wise, the three boys lay there and tried to figure out what was going on by the fire.
One of the rustlers must have been something like Billie, and always had his appetite on tap, for he seemed to be busily engaged in cooking something in the way of meat.
It chanced that the night air was setting toward them, a fact Donald had noticed with more or less satisfaction, since it lessened the chances of any slight sound that one of them might make being heard.
This current of air brought the odor of cooking to their nostrils, and Billie was heard to give several vigorous sniffs that called for a warning kick on the part of Donald, just ahead of the fat boy; whereupon Billie subsided, shaking his head as though he thought it pretty hard lines when a fellow had to lie there, taking in all that delicious fragrance, and not getting even a single bite of the fare.
When it was seen that the other three rustlers were passing a suspicious black bottle around, and taking frequent potations, the boys began to have strong hopes that things might be made easy for them after all; because they knew that when alcohol once gets a firm grip on a man’s brain he is hardly apt to bother himself about what is taking place around him until the effect of his potations wears away.
If only those three men would be so accommodating as to stupefy themselves in quick order, while thus celebrating their successful raid, Donald thought they surely could manage to get the upper hand of the remaining fellow. By that time perhaps he might have eaten so much cooked meat as to be drowsy, and fall a victim almost as easily as the other three.
The minutes passed, and nothing occurred by that fire unnoticed by the sharp eyes of the trio of hidden lads. Billie was forever poking up his head to look, and then quickly drawing it down again in sudden alarm because he fancied he saw one of the rustlers staring in his direction. But of course that was pure imagination, because they lay far away and among the shadows of the trees, so that even the keenest vision possible was not apt to discover their hiding-place.
After half an hour of this sort of thing Billie felt like hugging himself, for he saw the three fellows who had been drinking so heavily giving positive signs of wanting to roll over and go to sleep. Billie would have liked ever so much to communicate his feeling of satisfaction to one of his companions, because it was always a punishment for him to be kept from talking in some fashion; but whenever he gave the least sign of wanting to whisper Donald would give him a cruel kick, and in this way warn him that silence was golden just then. So the poor fellow had to take it out in telling himself what he thought, and how he hoped now they could soon be making a move looking to the capture of the rustler gang.
Two of the punchers seemed to have succumbed. They lay there just as they had fallen over, and were oblivious to all that was going on.
The third man, who seemed to be something of a leader among them, probably realizing that his own condition was not all that it should be, was shaking his finger in front of the face of the fellow who was still eating, as though giving him to understand that the safety of the camp was going to depend on him.
Billie hoped that he too would lie down and go to sleep. Unless a move took place very soon now he feared that it would be too late for him to get even a bite of that cooked meat which had been tantalizing him for some time; because there did not seem to be any end to that horrible glutton’s appetite; and there was only one more piece left right then.
Still, he realized that his chums were not likely to hurry things just to oblige his desire, when they might be running unnecessary risks in so doing. Patience was something Billie had to cultivate; he told himself that a dozen times, and in spite of it was just as eagerly watching the motions of that perpetual eater by the fire as before, still hoping for the best.
He knew that the other two boys were whispering together, and hoped it might be with regard to making an advance. True, the time that must be consumed in this movement would like as not enable that greedy fellow to make away with the very last piece of cooked meat; but at any rate it would be some satisfaction to be able to jump on him, and give him the scare of his life. If he could not secure the plunder he would take it out some other way; for Billie seemed to have cultivated a most unusual dislike to that particular fellow.
Yes, Donald was twisting his head around right now, and beckoning with his hand, which must surely mean that they were going to raid the camp.
Billie felt a thrill of excitement pass through him. He imagined that this was the fighting spirit that some of his ancestors had shown on battlefields both during the Revolution and the Civil War. He hoped that the Winkle honor was safe in his hands, and that he would not turn out to have coward blood in his veins, for he was very proud of his family.
The three boys crept along, gradually closing in on the fire that still burned cheerily. But Billie shut his teeth hard whenever he looked up and discovered that the sentry was still munching steadily away. He believed that if the supply only held out the man would be able to sit there for hours and hours, constantly decreasing the visible supply of provisions. But thank goodness! his time had almost come. The “Avengers” were on the track, Billie told himself, and that terrible appetite of his was fated to be soon cut short.
Creeping along in this fashion the three boys found themselves close behind the sentry who was paying far more attention to his task of finishing up the meat he had cooked than he was to guarding the camp.
Finally Donald arose to his feet, still crouching, and gave the signal.
CHAPTER X.—CLEVER WORK.
Donald had brought his lariat along, under the belief that it might come in handy one way or another. As he thus stood up, just a little way back of the sentry who was sitting there, he had this rope in his hands, Adrian holding both rifles meanwhile.
Billie saw this and drew a long breath, while his glittering eyes were fixed upon the man with the enormous appetite. It was just as though he might be saying bitterly to himself; “now see what you get for hogging it all; and serve you just about right, too!”
Donald was a clever hand with the lariat. He had learned all the ordinary cow-puncher tricks in making use of a rope; and often bewildered Billie with some of his astonishing throws, back-handed, side ways, and with the queer little jerking movement that adepts can make to serve their purpose without coiling the lariat again.
This was as easy a job as ever came his way; and indeed, Billie himself would have thought it no difficult feat to toss that well-balanced loop directly over the head of the unconscious sentry.
It was done like a flash. The man instinctively knew he was a prisoner the very instant he felt the touch of the descending rope; indeed, he must have heard the whistle of it through the air, for Billie saw him plainly try to duck his head as though he hoped to dodge the cast; but he was too late.
All punchers understand that their only chance when “roped” is to instantly start toward the point from which the loop springs. In this way they may get a slack line, and be able to throw off the noose before it is too late.
As he was instantly jerked over, the sentry had no chance to run or even crawl; but he proved that he knew his business by trying to roll toward Donald, who was taking in the slack rope hand over hand.
When the proper second came he leaped forward and threw himself on the prostrate sentry, whipping the rope around him several times so as to render him helpless.
All this happened in what Billie afterwards described as “three shakes of a lamb’s tail.” Up to that time the man who had been so taken by surprise had not thought to give a shout; he had followed out the instinct a cowboy always has actuating him; but now that he was in the toils beyond any possibility of freeing himself through his own exertions the fellow remembered that he had companions.
He let out a whoop that would have awakened men in even a more drunken stupor than those who lay there.
Adrian had not been idle, however, during these few seconds of time. Having mapped out his little plan of campaign beforehand he knew what was expected of him. Jumping across the space that separated him from the fire he pounced upon one of the rustlers, and snatched his gun the first thing. That rendered a second fellow next to helpless, for a bad man without his gun is never very dangerous.
Adrian threw the rifle forward, and covered the next man as he was trying to get to his knees.
“Lie down, you, or it’ll be the worst job you ever tackled!” he cried out; and the swing of that rifle convinced the rustler that he had better do as he was told; so he flattened himself out on his face, and remained there motionless, possibly trying to collect his muddled wits and reason it all out.
There was still one more, but Billie had looked out for him. Making threatening motions with his extended rifle as he pushed forward the fat boy confronted this rustler, still sitting there on the ground, and blinking like an owl might on being thrust into an electric glow.
When he saw that it was a boy in front of him, a fat good-natured lad at that, the puncher made as if to reach for his weapon, whereupon Billie thrust out his rifle still closer and shouted:
“Don’t you dare touch it, do you hear! I’ll pull this trigger as sure as my name’s Broncho Billie, and whiff you go into the next world! Hold up both hands before you’re riddled! Want me to give the signal for a dozen guns to blaze away all around you? Don’t you know you’re surrounded by an army? Hold ’em up, higher than that, mister, if you know what’s good for you.”
Donald put an end to the anxiety by suddenly darting forward and whipping the gun out of the rustler’s holster. He had already secured the weapon belonging to the fellow whom Adrian had subdued, so that the enemy was now powerless to do them any immediate injury.
Billie gave a screech in order to relieve his overwrought nerves.
“Victory! We came, we saw, we conquered! Bully for the Broncho Rider Boys; they’re a whole team and a dog under the wagon. Told you we could do ’em, fellows! Why, it was as easy as falling off a log. Hope you’re going to hog-tie the lot, Donald, now that we’ve got ’em, so we won’t have to be sitting up to keep the same from vamosing the ranch; because there might be some other things more pleasant we’d like to be at.”
Donald had prepared for just such an emergency beforehand, so that he had plenty of stout cords in his pocket, with which to make the rustlers secure.
He started in to do this. The men had recovered their wits enough by now to display considerable ugly temper. They may even have begun to dimly suspect that they had not been made prisoners by a large company of punchers after all, but that this trio of lively lads represented the sum total of their adversaries.
Donald knew that when they came to understand this humiliating fact they might become so desperate that they would go to any lengths in the endeavor to turn the tables again. That was one reason why he made such haste in getting bonds on the prisoners, with his two chums standing there, guns in hand and constantly on guard, lest one of the others leap upon Donald.
After the last man had been secured, and they were beginning to growl and swear in a horrible way, Billie thought he might claim a little of his own time in order to carry out some idea he was hugging to his heart.
But when he knelt down where that enormous feeder had been sitting it was only to give a grunt of disgust, for the very last bite of cooked meat had vanished. They had played their hand just a little too late to please Billie, who had such a stubborn way of trying to carry out any scheme he may have conceived, no matter how foolish it might be.
Adrian looked at Donald, and then the two of them shook hands. If ever they experienced the delight of having accomplished something worth while it was then and there, when they found that the four cattle rustlers were in their power, and the way stood open to recover the stampeded herd belonging to Bar-S Ranch.
Billie was not to be left out when the congratulations were going around; and accordingly he insisted on also shaking hands with his chums.
“We got ’em, didn’t we, fellows? If they’d been a dozen ’stead of four we could have done the little trick just as easy. Ain’t they a sorry bunch, though; and now I wonder if they happen to have any more of that fresh meat along with ’em; because I’m a bit peaked for a bite, and time’s apt to hang heavy on our hands between this and daylight, when we can get busy, and pull out of here.”
Sure enough he did find that there was still a small portion of meat uncooked. After learning this Billie was inclined to allow his chums to do all the planning and figuring while he busied himself by the fire; the four men glaring at him, and in turn reviling and entreating him to let them loose, as they had only been playing a practical joke on Colonel Morrison, since the cattle had been bought the day before and they thought to give him a scare.
But Billie paid no attention to either threats or blandishments, but went steadily about his self-appointed task of preparing a midnight supper for himself and companions, a congenial task it was too, as any one who knew Billie’s weakness would easily understand. There was to be no sleep for the boys on this night, after the little they had enjoyed. They could not guess what the plans of the rustlers might be, and that in itself gave them cause for anxiety. If another lot of the Walkers should turn up before morning, and catch them napping, things would go hard with the youngsters. And then again, with prisoners of that type on their hands Donald and Adrian dared not relax their vigilance a particle lest one of the men manage to get loose, and freeing his mates, pounce upon their late captors.
Donald was used to sizing up cow-punchers, and could see good in most any chap who followed that profession; but he had to admit that these four were about as hard looking specimens as he had run across for a long while. If they ever found a chance to turn the tables on the Broncho Rider Boys it was easy to guess how they would act. The thought did not afford Adrian any pleasure; but it did make him the more determined that he would neglect no precaution in order to make such a possibility less likely to happen.
Well, Billie finally called the others to sit down and have a bite of late supper; and more to oblige him than because they were really hungry they did eat a little. That satisfied the cook, however, and if his chums chose to partake so lightly of the fare, that only left the larger portion for him to make way with.
“What is the time?” asked Donald, when things had sort of simmered down to a condition of quiet, the prisoners ceasing to talk because they had come to realize that it was a useless expenditure of breath.
“Going on two now,” was the answer.
“That means about four hours of it before us,” said Donald; “well, we’ve got heaps to talk about, and can pass the time away all right. Then we must keep a lookout for signs of trouble, or the coming of any more rustlers, as well as watch this tough bunch.”
“And,” added the other, “if we have any extra time we could put it in looking to see how the cattle are coming on close by here. If all’s well in the morning we’ll take the greatest pleasure in starting back for the ranch house, driving this lot of long-horns that carry the Bar-S brand.”
Donald began chuckling at that.
“What do you find to laugh at?” asked Billie, who looked unusually sober for him.
“I was just thinking,” replied the ranch boy, “what a tremendous surprise it’ll be for Uncle Fred, yes, and Aunt Josie too, when they see us coming along whooping, with the lost herd in our charge. That would make a picture worth keeping, if only Billie here could snap it off, which he can’t, more’s the pity!”
CHAPTER XI.—LAYING PLANS.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” remarked Billie, after there had been a little interval of silence, while every one seemed to be busy with thoughts of his own.
“Better ease your mind, then, Billie, and let us hear what’s bothering you,” said Donald, with a smile; for he was used to the ways of his cousin, and knew that whenever anything did worry the fat chum he had a regular bulldog method of keeping everlastingly at the matter until he had smoothed the tangle out, fairly well at least.
“Yes,” added Adrian, “you know we’re always willing to oblige you with whatever information we happen to have ourselves, so don’t be bashful, Billie.”
“Well, it’s just this,” and the other lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper, as though not wanting to take any chances of the prisoners catching a single word of what he meant to say, “what are we agoing to do with that crowd when morning comes along? Somebody give me the answer, please.”
“Why, we don’t want to be bothered with the lot any longer than we can help,” Donald told him; “and that being the case we’ll decide on how we’d better turn ’em loose, minus their guns, of course.”
“Huh! that might mean you’d let ’em have their ponies, I reckon?” pursued Billie.
“Well, it’s considered a cruelty out here on the plains to take a man’s cayuse away from him,” said Donald; “and because they’re a pack of cattle rustlers hadn’t ought to make us covet their mounts, I take it. See here, what’s ailing you, Billie; you’ve sure got a bee in your bonnet right now? I hope you haven’t got an eye on one of their hosses, that buckskin p’raps, and think it’d about be in your class?”
Billie shook his head slowly.
“You wrong me, Donald, sure you do,” he observed, mournfully, as he gave his cousin a reproachful look; “I was only trying to do the thinking for the bunch for once. And I’ll tell you what occurred to me if you want me to.”
“Of course we do, old fellow, and we’ll thank you for doing it, too!” exclaimed Adrian, warmly.
“Same here, Billie!” echoed the other chum.
“All right,” Billie went on to say, still in that low, mysterious way; “then listen here, fellows. Now, it’s going to take us quite some time to drive this lot of steers and cows back to where they came from, I take it?”
“Sure thing,” remarked Adrian, encouragingly, when Billie stopped his explanation as though seeking confirmation of his statement.
“Well, supposing then, we turned these rustlers loose about the time we started, and gave ’em to understand we’d shoot the first fellow we saw dodging after us, what d’ye s’pose they’d be apt to do in that case? Why, make a bee-line for where they could find another batch of their breed, and fetch the whole gang awhooping after us. We might find a dozen or two tough punchers closing in on us long before we could get to the Bar-S Ranch buildings. How’s that?”
“Say, there’s a whole lot in what you say, Billie,” admitted Donald, thoughtfully.
“And it’s got to be threshed out while we sit here, too,” added Adrian. “I’ve a plan in mind right now that might fill the bill.”
“Then for goodness’ sake let’s hear it!” begged Billie, eagerly.
“When we leave here in the morning we won’t untie the rustlers at all, only one fellow, who can accompany us on our ride,” pursued the owner of the ranch from which the cattle in the coulie had been stolen and stampeded.
“But hold on,” remarked tender-hearted Billie, “wouldn’t it be kind o’ cruel to leave the lot here, tied hand and foot? What if nobody came along, and they had to just roll around here all the time? Say, it’s _aw_ful to get hungry, and as for me I wouldn’t want my worst enemy to be kept from his feed for even one whole day. I can’t imagine any suffering so terrible; and you wouldn’t think of trying such punishment even on cattle rustlers, would you, Adrian? They’re human after all, even if they are bad men.”
“You didn’t let me finish what I was going to say, Billie,” observed the ranch boy, quietly. “Didn’t you hear me tell how we’d take one of them along on his pony, picking out the meekest of the bunch, if there’s any choice about that, so we can make him help drive the cattle, and one of us could keep close to him all the time.”
“Yes, yes, go on, please, Ad, I’m following you,” said the fat chum.
“When we had gone far enough, miles and miles from here, so that we knew we’d soon strike the ranch buildings,” continued Adrian, “why, then we could turn him loose, and let him gallop back here to set his pards free.”
“Oh! I get on to what you mean!” declared Billie, admiringly; “by that time they just couldn’t give us any bother, even if they did hurry away to find the rest of the ugly Walker crowd! That’s a fine scheme of yours, Adrian. Ain’t it funny now, with all my thinking that never came into my mind? But count on me agreeing with you, Adrian. It couldn’t be bettered, no matter how much I badgered my head over the business. And Donald here says the same, don’t you, old fellow?”
“I sure do that same,” Donald was quick to say; “and I think that our chum has covered the ground the best ever.”
“There’s another thing I’ve decided on,” Adrian went on to remark, encouraged by the success of his first proposition.
“Let’s have it then,” Billie begged him; “might as well hear all these bully ideas in a heap while we’re ready to take a shock; and you do beat the world on thinking up things, Adrian, that’s right.”
“The very first chance I get I mean to send word to the sheriff of this county as the owner of Bar-S Ranch, and demand that he come to my place instanter with a posse behind him, ready to break up this rustler business. Those cowboys told us a new sheriff had just taken office, and they kind of hoped he wouldn’t be like the last one, right under the thumb of these terrible Walkers. Fact is, they seemed to have an idea he stood ready to do his duty the first time any ranchman got nerve enough to call on him to break the gang up. And I’m going to be that rancher to take the bull by the horns!”
He did not say this boastingly, nor was his voice elevated so that the listening prisoners might hear his words; but as he spoke there was a determined look on Adrian’s face that told Donald, who knew him so well, he had never been more earnest in all his life than when he made this bold assertion looking to throwing down the glove of defiance to the Walkers.
“A great scheme, Adrian,” Donald remarked, and his manner told even more than his few words.
“Don’t talk louder than we are now,” said Billie just then; “because I saw one of them fellows bob his head up like he was mighty curious to know what we had our heads together for.”
The three Broncho Rider Boys continued to confer for some time longer. Billie was holding out manfully, but every now and then he would stretch his mouth in a dreadful way, as the irresistible impulse to yawn came upon him.
“Better lie down in your blanket, Billie,” remarked Adrian, taking pity on the stout chum; because he knew Billie’s failings, and sleeping was one of them.
“Yes,” added Donald, who would rather see the other snuggled in the folds of his blanket than sitting there with his hands embracing his knees, thinking up a host of questions between yawns; “we’ll do all that’s necessary to keep things going; and if we have any need of your help, why we promise to call on you.”
“Well,” said Billie, “in that case p’raps I might take a few winks of sleep, because that gallop did kind of knock me up. But remember, I depend on your word of honor to give me a punch if I’m needed.”
After that they heard nothing further from Billie, save an occasional heavy sigh resembling a snore, whenever he chanced to lie on his back. He was dead to the world in three minutes after lying down, with his warm blanket wrapped around his ample proportions, much after the manner in which he had seen Indians do at the quaint Zuni cliff dwellers’ village in Arizona, visited by the three boys before coming up to Wyoming.
About half an hour after this Adrian thought they would do well to examine their prisoners, in order to make sure that their bonds were holding out securely. They did not profess to have had a great deal of experience in fastening up fellows, and during the time that had elapsed possibly one of the men might have succeeded in gnawing his bonds partly through, or working them loose.
So Donald and Adrian took the flashlight torch, and went over each of the prisoners’ bonds. They found them just as secure as when first triced up, which was to the credit of the young captors, to be sure.
The man whom they had decided must be the leader of the quartette, was staring hard at Adrian all the time the boys hovered over their prisoners. Evidently he must have begun to entertain certain suspicions with regard to the other.
“Say, hain’t I seen ye before now, younker?” he finally asked, pointedly.
“I don’t know,” replied Adrian, “but I can’t remember of ever meeting you, up to now.”
“Might your name be Sherwood?” the other insisted; “and hain’t ye the kid that years ago used ter ride ’round hyah on a calico pony, when the ole man was alive, an’ ran Bar-S Ranch? I heard ’em call yuh Adreen a while ago, an’ ’pears tuh me as how thet same war the name o’ thet lively boy. Air you him?”
Adrian did not see fit to answer. He could not deny the accusation, and there would be no good end served in acknowledging it; though of course the man would construe his silence to mean assent, and understand things accordingly. But perhaps it might be as well that the Walkers knew the true owner of Bar-S Ranch had come to town to take possession of his own, and clear up this strange tangle that seemed to have possession of his property, under Uncle Fred Comstock, who had taken to himself a wife, and she connected with the Walker tribe.
The boys went back to the dwindling fire, to sit the night out. They did not try to keep up much of a blaze, lest it serve to draw enemies to the spot; but sitting in the shadows, they held their rifles in readiness, and occasionally exchanged a few words as the minutes dragged slowly by.
Finally in the far east appeared the first faint streaks that told of coming day and the pair of weary watchers welcomed their arrival with positive relief, for it would mean a change, and action.