The Saddle Boys at Circle Ranch; Or, In at the Grand Round-Up

CHAPTER XXII
CAUGHT IN THE ACT—CONCLUSION

That crackling sound which came to Bob’s strained ears he knew must mean that a match had been struck. Yes, he could see the sudden little glow; and even managed to catch a view of a dark face hovering over some fuel that the would-be fire-bug had carried with him to the spot.

This immediately flashed into flame, indicating that Mendoza, in order in make sure of a good start, had soaked the material with some inflammable substance; perhaps kerosene.

Bob knew that something was apt to happen about that time; nor was he at all mistaken. He saw a dark figure drop down upon the crouching fire-bug, and heard a startled exclamation. Then the two men went whirling over the ground, locked in a close embrace.

“This way, Bob!” cried Frank, rushing forward to stamp out the rapidly spreading flames; for that work had been given over to their charge. “Old Hank will help Ted! Kick lively now, and scatter the fire!”

They worked at a furious rate, and soon had the flames under control. Others had meanwhile come dashing to the spot—Scotty, Jeff Davis, Bart, the foreman, and last, though far from least, the stockman himself.

Old Hank Coombs had taken a hand in the game, and Mendoza was speedily overcome, though he writhed and squirmed to the last uttering harsh words intended for the owner of the ranch.

“What will they do with him, Frank?” asked Bob, as he saw signs that indicated a general outpouring of the cowboy legion from the nearby bunk-house, and other places where the overflow had been lodged.

Even Bob realized that if ever these furious fellows laid hands on Mendoza he would meet with a swift fate, which, perhaps, he well deserved, as he had long been the pest of the border, and a thorn in the sides of all cattle raisers.

“Dad will do everything in his power to hold the boys quiet,” Frank answered. “See, he’s telling Hank and Ted to take him right inside the house; and there he’ll be kept. I understood Dad to say he’d sent word to the sheriff to come around with a posse in the morning.”

“Oh! then perhaps Mendoza will get a chance to work a few years in the penitentiary, after all,” remarked Bob.

“He will, if the sheriff ever gets him to town safe,” replied Frank, doubtfully.

Of course the whole place was filled with excitement by this time. The women in the house had been awakened by the noise; but accustomed to all sorts of alarms, they calmly waited to be told what it meant. Those who live on cattle ranches meet with so much bordering on danger, that they learn to control their nerves; and this applies to women as well as men.

Some of the boys demanded that the rustler be given over into their hands, and promised that he would never “rustle” any cattle again. To this, however, the owner of Circle Ranch gave a negative answer.

“Perhaps he deserves all you would give him, boys,” he announced, when they came clamoring for Mendoza; “but, fortunately, we were able to nip his miserable scheme in the bud, and no damage was done. So, as the sheriff of the county will be here in the morning, I expect to turn him over, and see that he gets a long term. And remember, boys,” he added, seriously; “it would be a dangerous thing for anybody to try and enter this house to-night.”

They knew what he meant, and that when Colonel Haywood spoke in that vein he was not to be taken lightly. Though there was more or less grumbling, still the remainder of that night passed away without any disturbance. No doubt Mendoza, having had a chance to cool down, and repent of his rashness, was glad to see the break of early dawn.

The sheriff did come, along about noon, while the cowboys were partaking of their midday meal. And knowing what a task he might have before him, he brought a large posse of deputies along, in order to protect his prisoner.

The last the saddle boys saw of the Mexican rustler, he was galloping off between several heavily armed riders, and laughing mockingly at the crowd that gathered to see him depart.

The stockman did all in his power to keep any of his employers from deserting the round-up, in order to try and wrest the prisoner away from his guards; and so successful were his efforts that Mendoza was landed in the lock-up. It might be said of him that in due time he received the reward of his crimes, and was sent to the penitentiary for a long term. Unless he should manage to escape at some time, the cattlemen of the Southwest can breathe easy for years to come; for the rustler will, in all probability, never be seen again.

The old Moqui had arrived at the ranch about midnight. Indeed, he was just in time to see the capture of the man who had caused him so much mental suffering in connection with his one daughter, Antelope.

Colonel Haywood was not the one to forget a promise he had made; and as soon as the grand round-up was a thing of the past he set to work trying to find where Mendoza had hidden his Moqui wife.

As one of the cattlemen had been able to give him a hint concerning this, success greeted the efforts of the ranchman before long. Havasupai was enabled to once more claim his daughter.

He could not return to his village, for there was a perpetual edict of banishment issued against him; so, as the stockman offered him a chance to remain at Circle Ranch, and be entered on the regular payroll as a scout, hunter, and tracker of lost cattle, Havasupai settled down to his new life.

The boys were glad of this, since both of them had taken a decided liking to the old Indian. And Hank Coombs struck up a close friendship with Havasupai, they having many interests in common.

On the very day after the grand round-up had closed, with Circle Ranch resuming its ordinary aspect, the saddle boys started out on what everybody supposed was simply a hunt for fresh venison; or a chance to pot some daring wolf found abroad in the daytime. But Bob had another mission on his mind.

“Oh! I hope I find it there, Frank,” he said for the fourth time, as later on they drew rapidly near a motte of timber that marked some spring-hole, miles away from the ranch proper.

“Well, I give you my word I wish it just as much as you can do,” chuckled the other, giving his chum a meaning look.

“I suppose I have bothered you a heap, Frank, what with my guessing, and asking all sorts of silly questions,” Bob went on; “but if you only knew how much I think of that knife you wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Oh! I’m not blaming you, Bob, not a bit of it,” laughed the other. “I was only thinking of that dream you had, and wondering if it could come out true, with the knife sticking in that tree just as you saw it while asleep. If it does turn out that way, why, I’ll believe your spirit must have wandered out here while your body lay there alongside me. But in a few minutes now you’ll know the worst.”

“Say the best, Frank!” cried Bob. “Don’t discourage me, right now, when you can see how I’m keyed up to top-notch pace.”

“There’s where you crept up on the deer, and fired,” Frank remarked, pointing.

“Yes, and I can follow the track I took into the timber, every foot of it,” Bob called back over his shoulder; for in his eagerness he was outstripping his chum, though Frank was content to have it so. “But seeing that I cut up the deer, as you said, I couldn’t have lost the knife beforehand, that’s sure!”

“Well, there you are; and I can see the trees at the foot of which the buck dropped. Hold your breath now, Bob, and wish hard you’re going to find the lost blade.”

The Kentucky lad drew his big black horse up sharply, and with a bound was out of the saddle. Frank, who had also come to a sudden stop, saw him glance around eagerly, while a look of bitter disappointment flashed across his face.

“Your dream—remember that it was around in the crotch of the tree you saw it, Bob! Feel there, and see!” cried Frank.

The other hastened to do so. Immediately a yell broke from his lips, and Frank saw him bring forth a knife that had been lodged in the crotch.

“Found!” shouted Bob, beginning to dance around the place in his great satisfaction. “Now after this I’m going to believe there may be something in dreams, aren’t you, Frank?”

“Shucks!” laughed the other, “chances are you just partly remembered putting it up there, and the fact appealed to you while you slept, that’s all. If a small part of the silly dreams I’ve had ever came true, I’d be in hot water all the time. Where one happens to hit the mark, fifty fall down. But I’m glad you’ve got that knife again.”

The Fall round-up was over, and had been a great success. Circle Ranch had done far better than any year since it was started, and could easily be set down as the banner cattle raising combination in the whole State. Then, besides, there was the wonderful success that had resulted from the effort to rid the community of Mendoza, the rustler. From now on peace would hang over the cattle ranches from the Grand Canyon of the Colorado down to the Mexican border.

The saddle boys had many adventures still awaiting them, and what some of these were will be related in another volume, entitled: “The Saddle Boys on Mexican Trails; Or, In the Hands of the Enemy.”

Impulsive Bob, the Kentucky lad, still has much to learn about Western ways; but with such a chum as Frank Haywood to show him the secrets of forest, plain and trail, he at least bids fair to, in time, become well versed in the accomplishments that mark the true son of the wilderness. Until such time as perhaps we may once more gallop in the company of the saddle boys we will say to our young readers, good-bye.

THE END