The Boy Ranchers on the Trail Part 8

THROWING THE ROPE

Silence followed this greeting and question, and then the two boy ranchers, and their cowboy friends, waited for Bud to speak, he being, in a sense, the head of the new organization. Though d.i.c.k and Nort held equal shares, purchased for them by their father, the two lads who had lived so long in the east deferred to the boy of the west in this matter, thinking, naturally, that he would better be able to handle it.

"Looking for a place?" asked Bud, genially enough, as he surveyed the newcomer, from the top of his broad-brimmed range hat to the pawing hoofs of his black steed, for the horse was impatiently digging in the dirt.

"Yep!" was the answer. "I'm looking for a place." The voice was pleasant, and there was none of that clipping off of the final "g" in his words, so common a practice among most of the cowboys.

Perhaps they didn't have time to use the proper endings. "I'm dead anxious to ride for some outfit," went on "Four Eyes," as he had been dubbed and as he came to be called, as long as he remained with Diamond X Second. "Your father sent me over here,"

he added.

"My father!" exclaimed Bud. "Do you know him? I don't know you!"

he added quickly, for he sensed that the stranger, in some manner, had managed to pick him from all the others as the son of the proprietor of Diamond X.

"I don't claim to know your father, only having met him once, when I rode up, yesterday, to ask for a job," went on Four Eyes.

"I slept out last night--back there," he added with a wave of 'is quirt in the direction of Diamond X. "Had supper with the boys at your father's ranch, and he told me you might be needing some one. If you don't----" He paused suggestively, evidently ready to ride on and try his luck elsewhere if there was no chance in the valley.

"I may need some one," Bud said. In fact, he was in need of an additional hand, and since this latest action on the part of rustlers he wanted help more than ever, for he was about to put into execution a plan for getting on the trail of these marauders. "But how'd you know who I was?" he asked, anxious to ascertain how the stranger had picked him out, as distinguished from Nort or d.i.c.k.

"Oh, your father looks like you," was the easy answer, given with a laugh, in which Snake, Yellin' Kid and the boy ranchers joined.

"When he said he didn't need any riders, adding that perhaps you might, I decided to take a chance."

"All right. I can use another hand--or, rather, _we_ can,"

and Bud waved his hand toward his cousins. "You can turn your pony into the corral," he added, "and we'll give you something to eat--unless you've had breakfast?" he questioned.

"Not so much but what I can eat more. Thanks! My name's Henry Mellon. I've ridden some for Curly Q and Long L if you want any references."

"I reckon my dad sized you up all right," spoke Bud.

"I reckon he did!" laughed Henry Mellon, or Four Eyes, as I shall call him, following the custom of the others on the ranch. "I wouldn't want to try to put anything over on him."

"It isn't exactly healthy," agreed Bud, for his father bore an enviable reputation for finding out the truth about matters in that "cow country."

"Ever ride for Double Z?" asked Yellin' Kid, and the loud tone's of his voice appeared to startle the newcomer.

"Why, no," was the answer. "I can't say that I have. One of Mr.

Merkel's ranches?" he asked.

"No. It's Hank Fisher's place," spoke Snake. "Glad to meet up with you," he added, riding forward and extending his hand.

"That's quite a hoss you got there. Beckon he can go some!"

"Well, he doesn't take dust from many," was the cautious admission, as the new cowboy shook hands all around. "He'll be glad of a rest, though, for I've ridden hard lately. I suppose I can use another?" he asked Bud.

"Sure," was the answer. "Snake here, or Yellin' Kid, will show you which ones you can add to your string. See you later, fellows," Bud called to his cowboy helpers, as he motioned to Nort and d.i.c.k to follow him to their own private tent.

"What do you think of it, Bud?" asked Nort, when they were alone, and the new cowboy was being made to feel at home by Snake, Yellin' Kid, and Old Billee, who had by this time ridden in. The smell of cooking arose from the tent that Buck Tooth had turned into a kitchen.

"You mean him?" and Bud nodded toward where the cowboys were congregated in friendly talk.

"No, I mean about the rustlers."

"Oh, they're bad! No question about it--they're _bad!_"

declared Bud. "As soon as we get a chance we'll ride over and take a look at the place. It doesn't seem reasonable that they can drive a bunch of cattle off down the valley, and then have all traces of 'em disappear as if they'd gone up in an airs.h.i.+p."

"That's right!" chimed in d.i.c.k. "Do you s'pose this Four Eyes saw the rustlers?"

"He didn't come from that direction," declared the western lad.

"He _says_ he didn't," spoke Nort. And when Nort accented that one word Bud looked at his cousin quickly.

"Don't you believe what he says?" Bud asked.

"All the same I'd call up your father," went on Nort.

Bud hesitated a moment and then said:

"I will! No use taking chances. He may be all right, but it won't do any harm to know it. I like his looks, though we don't often get a cowboy with gla.s.ses. I'll call dad!"

Which he did, on the telephone, learning from his father that Mr.

Merkel knew nothing about the stranger, though he "sized him up,"

as being all right.

But Mr. Merkel had done more than this. He had called, on the telephone, or had been in communication, otherwise, with the late employers of Henry Mellon, and the cowboy was well spoken of. He was a reliable hand, it was said.

"So we don't have to worry about _him_," Bud told his cousins. "But we do have to take some action about these rustlers! Hang 'em! I wish they were all bottled up in the tunnel!"

"That's right!" chimed in d.i.c.k.

"Are we going on their trail?" asked Nort.

"If we can pick it up," agreed Bud. "Anyhow, we'll take a ride over that way. What with cattle missing, and queer shots being fired behind your back, we're likely to be in for as lively a time as when we had the water fight!"

"Or locating a Triceratops!" added Nort with a laugh.

After breakfast, and the finis.h.i.+ng of the usual "ch.o.r.es" about camp, the boy ranchers prepared to ride over and look at the place where the raid had been made. "What cattle had not been taken--and it was only a small part of the herd that had been driven off--were now nearer the camp headquarters, having been hazed over by Snake and Yellin' Kid. Mr. Merkel had been told of the theft, and had advised prompt action on the part of his son and nephews.

"Four Eyes seems to be making himself right at home," remarked d.i.c.k, as the three boys started toward the corral, intending to saddle their ponies and ride over to the scene of the cattle-rustling operations.

"Yes," agreed Bud.

Henry Mellon was in the midst of Old Billee, Buck Tooth, Snake and Yellin' Kid, and, as the boy ranchers watched, they saw N Four Eyes twirling his lariat above his head.

"What's he doing?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Oh, just showing 'em some fancy roping," Bud answered.

"Let's go over," suggested Nort. "I'd like to get on to a few tricks, myself."

They found Four Eyes attempting some of the more difficult feats of rope throwing. After twirling his la.s.so about his head, the rope forming a perfect circle, he changed the direction from horizontal to perpendicular, and nimbly leaped backward and forward through the swiftly circling lariat.