The Boy Ranchers on Roaring River Part 22

"Come in, boys!" he invited when d.i.c.k and Bud stood in the doorway.

"How's everything? Any more cyclones?"

"Not yet," answered Bud with a laugh. "The weather is quiet, but that's the only thing that is."

"What do you mean?" the deputy asked quickly.

Without any preliminaries Bud told the story of his capture and escape.

The deputy listened carefully, now and then asking a question. When Bud had finished he sat silent for a moment, drumming his desk with his fingers. Suddenly he brought his fist down with a bang and looked up.

"That settles it!" he cried in a decided tone of voice. "Delton is finished! From now on we go after him tooth and nail! And I want you boys to know something. I can rely on you, of course, to keep it a secret." Strangely the deputy's western accent seemed to leave him, and he a.s.sumed a more cultured tone of voice. He held a s.h.i.+ny piece of metal out toward Bud. "I'm from Was.h.i.+ngton--Secret Service--here's my badge."

Bud took it silently. It was, indeed, the badge of a federal official.

"I took this job as an ordinary deputy to disarm suspicion," Hawkins went on. "I knew if I came to Roaring River as a stranger I'd be investigated, and perhaps have to give myself away. So I just got myself appointed a deputy, and then I could work openly. No one would suspect a western deputy of being a federal man--there's too many of them. Now you know why I'm so interested in this smuggling. We've simply _got_ to stop it--somehow! Even the Chinese who are in this country legitimately don't like to see their countrymen come in by the back door. And what good are immigration laws if we can't enforce them? I'm just telling you this to impress upon you the seriousness of the project."

"It is certainly no joking matter," Bud agreed, handing back the badge.

"So you're a federal man! I should think if you wanted to trace the smugglers secretly you'd take another position than deputy."

"You'll see how it will work out," Hawkins said. "It's sometimes best to seem almost what you are, to avoid seeming what you really are.

Figure that one out. What I mean is, if I openly a.s.sume the aspect of a man of the law, no one will look further than that. Understand?"

"I do," responded d.i.c.k. "And now let's decide on our plan of action.

Do you think what happened to Bud will change any of the details, Mr.

Hawkins?"

"Don't see why it should. In fact I think it makes our scheme all the more advisable. Personally, I believe the run will go through to-night. There's no doubt but that's what you heard referred to, Bud, for I had a tip concerning the same thing. They will depend on the element of surprise and the superiority in number to succeed. We'll have our hands full, at any rate."

"Somehow this doesn't seem real," mused Bud. "Here we are planning to capture a gang of smugglers who _know_ we're after them, yet they go right ahead and play into our hands."

"My dear boy," said Hawkins grimly, "you don't quite understand.

Delton is far from playing into our hands. In fact, if truth be told, our chances are rather slim that we'll ever see Delton. He's no baby.

But I think we've got him beaten in one way--the gang across the border doesn't know what we know. Now here's the situation." d.i.c.k and Bud came closer. "A s.h.i.+pload of c.h.i.n.ks have just landed in Mexico. Never mind how I know, but I do. These Chinese have got to be smuggled over the border within three days, to make room for another bunch. All right. This gang in Mexico corresponded with Delton last week, telling him that he was to receive the c.h.i.n.ks on a certain night.

"There's one thing we want to make sure of--and that is to avoid frightening them off. Has there been much action around your ranch?"

"None at all. We've kept things pretty quiet."

"That's good. Tell you--I think it would be best if you fellows would stay as close to the ranch house as possible, until this thing is over.

You see the smugglers might send out a one man auto patrol, some time to-day or this evening, to look over the lay of the land, and if he sees anything suspicious the chances are that he'll choose another route to s.h.i.+p the c.h.i.n.ks over the border by. But I don't think they'll go far from Roaring River. They got away with it so easy last time, that they'll probably try it again. Well--" Hawkins tightened his lips grimly--"they won't work it twice."

"Any more instructions?" d.i.c.k asked.

"No--I'll be over to the Shooting Star sometime this afternoon. May bring a friend with me--Larry O'Connor--one sweet shot with a revolver.

That is if I think we need him."

"Well, we've got five men all told," d.i.c.k declared. "And all of us are fairly used to handling guns. Target practice at tin cans keeps your eye in, and we do lots of that."

"Good idea, if you can afford the money for ammunition. Never know when you'll need to rely on a well-placed shot."

"Are you just going to ride over to the ranch openly?" Bud asked.

"Won't someone see you?"

"Even if they do, they won't suspect anything. But to make sure I'll wait until after dark. Guess that would be best. No attempt will be made until well on into the night, and we'll have plenty of time to get set for them."

"Then we'll see you to-night?" inquired d.i.c.k as he arose.

"Sure thing! Oh, by the way--keep an eye on that Mex cook of yours, will you? I want him where I can grab him quick if I need him."

"We will. Good-bye until to-night, Mr. Hawkins."

"So-long, boys."

Bud and d.i.c.k rode back to the Shooting Star. As soon as possible they told the others of their talk with Hawkins, and of his being a secret service official. Billee Dobb said he "opined as much long ago."

The day dragged on. The boys were all slightly nervous, though they wouldn't admit it. Several times one would catch the other fingering his gun unconsciously. But evening finally came, and while they were eating supper Joe Hawkins arrived. He was alone.

"Thought you were going to bring someone with you?" Bud said when the greetings were over.

"Decided it wasn't necessary. We've got plenty here. Now, boys, are you all set?"

"All set!" the Kid said loudly. "Bring 'em on!"

"They'll come without us bringing them," Hawkins declared a trifle grimly. "Turn that lamp low, d.i.c.k, and let's get out of here."

"What about the Mex?" inquired the Kid.

"Bring him along," the agent declared. "Want him where I can keep an eye on him."

In spite of his wordless protests, the cook was dragged out of the kitchen and made to accompany the punchers to a place near the side of the house. And there the six men watched, each with his hand on his gun and with ears strained for the sound of a car. There was a road which ran past the ranch and into the town. It was over this road that the watching men expected the smugglers to come.

And now all settled down to a night of waiting.

CHAPTER XVIII

SMUGGLING OPERATIONS

Hardly a breath of wind stirred. The sky had become partly clouded, blotting out the moon. Now and then a horse whinnied, softly, as though frightened. The waiting men moved about uneasily, talking in whispers. Nine o'clock pa.s.sed. Then ten came. The air grew chill and damp, and the clouds overhead gathered more thickly.

"Gonna rain," said the Kid in a low voice. "We sure are favorites with the weather man."

"May hold off," Bud observed softly. He moved over to where Hawkins was standing, eyes peering down the road. "What do you think of it?"

he asked the agent.

"Not much," was the quiet answer. "Looks like rain. That means we'll have a hard job to see them when they do come."

"Hey, the Mex wants to go back," the Kid said, lowering his voice.