CHAPTER XXI
SETTING THE TRAP
Just as Bob had remarked, the hard work of the first day of the grand round-up seemed to be done. The cowboys had taken their wearied mounts to the corral, and were themselves gathering in little knots, to talk over the exciting events marking the start of the regular Fall clean-up.
It promised to be a banner year for Circle Ranch. There were half again as many young cattle to brand with the well known ring, designed to stamp them as the property of Colonel Haywood. Besides, the main herd had wintered better the preceding year than for a long time; there had been less loss through wolves, and the depredations of rustlers; and, to cap the climax, many unclaimed cows and steers had fallen to the colonel, after his raid on Lost Valley.
All these things made everybody feel “bully,” as the cow punchers themselves expressed it. And as Frank and Bob passed group after group they could see that, tired as the workers must be, this feeling was constantly cropping out.
“Nobody seems to think of anything like danger right now,” said Bob, in a low tone, as they passed a bunch of the wild riders, among whom were several dark-faced Mexicans.
“I should say not,” echoed his chum. “You see they believe our friend Mendoza is across the border before now, and likely to stay on Mexican soil for some time, if he knows what’s good for his health.”
“Did you notice that fellow on the outskirts of the bunch; and how he turned deliberately around to look at us when we rode past?” asked Bob.
“Sure,” came the quick reply, “but if we didn’t know what we did, I reckon neither of us would have thought it queer for him to do that. If he’s a stranger here, as seems likely, it would be only natural for him to look, when one of the others remarked that the colonel’s son was coming.”
“I agree with you there, Frank; but seeing that we do know something, don’t you admit that there was something suspicious in the quick way he turned? For my part, I only gave him one peep as I waved my hand to the lot; but that seemed to tell me he was frowning to beat the band. How?”
“Just what he was, Bob.”
“Then you noticed that too, did you?” demanded the Kentucky boy, eagerly.
“No question about it; and three to one that fellow is no other that the rustler who’s been such a nuisance around here for several years,” Frank replied.
Bob whistled, as was his usual fashion when surprised.
“But think of his nerve, would you, Frank?”
“Oh! they say he’s got more than his share of that, all right,” chuckled his chum, as they headed toward the horse corral, to leave their mounts in the care of the man who had charge there.
“Some of these punchers must have known him; he used to be on a ranch once, I’m told,” Bob went on.
“That’s so,” said Frank, slowly, “but it was years ago that he broke loose, and took to an easier way of getting a herd than raising cattle. Besides, you must remember we agreed he would shave his face clean, to start with. That must make a big change in any Mexican. And he can keep his hat well down over his eyes. Last of all, he relies on the fact that nobody dreams he would take such risks as to come here right now.”
After leaving their horses, the boys headed straight for the ranch house, where they asked for Colonel Haywood.
It chanced that he was in his business office, in consultation with the overseer, which fact pleased Frank; since Bart Heminway would have to be put in touch with the truth concerning the presence of the notorious rustler at the Circle Ranch round-up.
The stockman looked up as the lads entered, and smiled.
“Back from your little gallop, eh?” he remarked; for he had seen them starting forth, and wondered at the powers of endurance shown by both boys and horses; for they had been pretty busy all that stirring day.
“Yes, Dad, and with some news that will make you sit up and take notice, I reckon,” replied Frank, after glancing around, to make sure there was no chance of his being overheard by way of the open window.
Bob had, by arrangement, stepped over, and taken up his position where he could occasionally thrust his head outside a window and in this way make sure no listener was crouching near the wall of the building.
“Now you have me guessing, son,” remarked the stockman.
“Three to one it’s something about that Mendoza!” exclaimed the overseer, who had never ceased to lament the fact that they had allowed the rustler to escape so easily.
From the fact of Bob laughing at this chance remark, the stockman realized that Bart had hit pretty close to the line.
“What about him now, Frank?” he asked.
“He didn’t cross the boundary after all, Dad,” said the boy. “Fact is, he’s come back to this region, bent on getting his revenge for what the Circle Ranch outfit did to knock his game to flinders.”
“Where did you get this interesting news, son?” asked the other, frowning; for well he knew that it meant trouble of some sort.
“We happened to run across that old Moqui, Havasupai, when we were riding just now. He was about tired out, but bent on getting to the ranch house some time to-night. He told us that after riding off many miles to the south with his men, Mendoza had slipped away, and headed back this way.”
“But Frank, how did the Indian know what the rustler had in mind?”
“I think he overheard a talk between Mendoza and one of his men,” the boy replied. “The rustler was angry at the slick way we shut him up that day, and walked all his cattle off, as well as our own. He said he was going to pay you up, if it was the last thing he ever did. And, dad, I reckon he’s right here now, in the thick of the round-up, ready to strike before another morning!”
Colonel Haywood and his overseer exchanged glances.
“Oh! he’s ekal to it, Colonel,” declared Bart. “When I think of the bold games that fellar has engineered through all these years, and the way he gave us the merry laugh every time we hunted him, I’m ready to admit he’d be ready to drop in whar fifty enemies was gathered, and make b’lieve he was one of ’em. And thar’s sure several Mexican ropers along I never set eyes on before. Just as like as not one of ’em might be Mendoza.”
“Did the Moqui know what sort of revenge this fellow expected to take, Frank?” the stockman continued, uneasily.
“I don’t know whether he was only guessing, or knew about it,” replied the boy; “but he said something about his poisoning the spring-hole where most of our cattle drink; or else burning the building, while all of us were sleeping!”
“Either one would be bad enough,” declared the stockman; “but now that we have been forewarned it’ll have to be a clever man who can accomplish such a game.”
“What will you do, dad?” asked Frank, eagerly.
“First of all, put a guard over the spring, who will remain in hiding, with orders to shoot down any man seen to be tampering with the water, especially if he looks like a Mexican,” replied the rancher, firmly.
“And about burning the buildings?” continued Frank.
“I’ll make sure to be ready for him here,” the stockman continued. “It would please me first class to catch the house-burner in the act. Of course, now that we believe Mendoza is here for some evil purpose, we could jump on him without warning. That might suit most people; but it’s always been my plan to let a rascal go the length of his rope before nabbing him.”
“I told Bob that, Dad,” remarked Frank. “But will you let all the boys in on the game?”
“Not at all, Frank. I might tell several who can be trusted to keep a still tongue in their heads; for we shall need a certain amount of help here to watch the house on all sides, and get the fellow just as he strikes his match. Old Hank Coombs came in just before you did, and is around. Of course I shall count on him, as well as on Ted Conway, Scotty and Jeff Davis.”
“But you will let us sit up with the bunch, Dad; after bringing in the news you wouldn’t shut us off, would you?” Frank asked.
“It wouldn’t seem right, I admit, after all the good work you two boys have done,” remarked the stockman; “though you’ll have to promise to hold back, and let some of the husky men do the actual hard work. I can’t afford to take the chances of my boys getting hurt by such a desperate rascal.”
Of course both of them readily promised, and after some further conversation Frank and his chum hurried out. The coming of Old Hank Coombs to the ranch was an event that greatly pleased Frank. Much that he knew about life in the open had come through the kindly instruction of the veteran cow puncher and hunter; and the boy could look back to many a happy night spent with old Hank beside a fire somewhere out on the plains, or in the mountains.
Circle Ranch was a bustling hive just then. Scores of strangers were apt to visit the place during the several days that the drive and the round-up were on, interested in the great event. Men representing big papers and magazines in the East had come to see how these things were conducted; for the stock raising business in the Southwest was soon going into a decline, because farms were being taken up everywhere, under the wonderful new system of irrigation that was being put into practice in many localities.
After supper there was heard the sound of merry music. Some of the boys played the mandolin or banjo; others sang; and a few even tried to dance with their customary vigor, though weariness compelled them to speedily abandon this form of hilarity.
Colonel Haywood had carried out all his quickly-laid plans for the campaign, looking to the arrest of the rustler. He had sent a reliable man to the spring-hole where the cattle drank, with strict orders as to what he should do if anyone came and acted suspiciously during the night. No mercy was to be shown a man who would descend to such a pass as to try and poison an entire herd of cattle, just to have revenge on the man who had broken up his unlawful trade.
Bart Heminway talked to the four cowboys wanted at the house, and they had managed to slip indoors. They were now waiting to be placed on their several stations by the stockman, who exhibited some of the qualities of a general in managing his affairs.
The saddle boys had taken up their position in a spot close to Ted Conway and Old Hank. In figuring out just where the intended attack might come, this particular place had been deemed first choice. The direction of the night wind convinced Colonel Haywood that a shrewd man who wished to fire the buildings would be apt to select it as his starting point.
It was a dark night, too, despite the fact that there was supposed to be a moon back of the heavy clouds which covered the heavens.
Once having taken up their position, Frank and Bob knew that they must remain as still as a cat watching for a mouse to show at a hole in the flooring. There was no telling when the enemy might appear. After having started the blaze, if that proved the intention of the rustler, he would have his plans laid to gallop madly away on the freshest horse in the corral, and thus laugh at pursuit.
Tired after the labors of that wonderful day, the cowboys had sought their bunks sooner than usual. By ten o’clock all had become silent around the place. Here and there a fire smouldered, past which an occasional figure might be seen to shuffle; or it might be a dog wandering around, looking for bones.
Frank and Bob lay close, never moving a muscle, though to the latter it was indeed hard work. An hour, two of them, had crept along, and nothing happened. Bob even began to wonder whether after all there might not be some mistake; or whether the rustler’s nerve had failed him in the pinch.
Then he felt a slight nudge in the region of his ribs, that came from Frank’s elbow. This warned him that his keen-eared chum had caught some suspicious movement close by. Perhaps the rustler was coming, bent on carrying out his scheme of firing the buildings belonging to Circle Ranch! Bob held his breath, and waited to see what would speedily happen.