The Boy Ranchers at Spur Creek Part 13

"That's right," agreed Nort. "Wonder who it is that's been after your dad's cattle now?" he ventured.

"Maybe some of the old gang--maybe a new one," replied Bud. "You never can tell."

"You mean Del Pinzo's old gang?" asked d.i.c.k.

"He's the worst of the lot--always was and always will be," declared Bud.

"But how does he keep out of jail?" Nort wanted to know.

"That's one of the mysteries of it," went on Bud. "We've had him sent up more than once, but he gets out again by some sort of lawyer's trick. Either that or he breaks jail. The jails around here aren't anything to boast of," he said with a laugh. "They're more a joke than anything else."

"Do you reckon Del Pinzo is out now?" asked Nort.

"Shouldn't wonder a bit," Bud a.s.sented. "We can tell whether he had a hand in this or not as soon as we hear dad tell what happened."

Musing on the wily, mean and desperate tricks of this renegade Mexican half-breed, if such was his nationality, the Boy Ranchers and their friends galloped along over the trail to Diamond X. On the way they looked for signs of any cattle raids, but saw none. And these signs are very plain when they do occur.

Generally they were in the shape of the half-eaten carca.s.s of some steer, for the raiders were generally desperate and hungry men, and before driving off a bunch of cattle they would kill one and cut off enough to roast over a hastily built fire.

But there were no indications of that now, and, in fact, there were none of Mr. Merkel's cattle pastured in the section our friends rode over to get to the ranch headquarters.

"Most of the herds are farther north," explained Billee, "an' I reckon that's where th' rustlin' took place."

This proved to be the case when they arrived at Diamond X and had a chance to get some information. Mr. Merkel was out at one of the corrals, talking to some of his men, when his son and nephews rode up with the cowboys from Spur Creek.

"What's the good word, Dad?" greeted Bud.

"Sorry there isn't any good word--it's mostly bad," was the reply. "I didn't like to pull you off from down there," he went on, "but as you didn't seem to be very busy, and as we needed you up here, there didn't seem to be anything else to do."

"Oh, we were glad to come!" Nort hastened to say.

"What's doin'?" asked Billee.

"They're after us again--the rustlers," announced Mr. Merkel.

"Same old gang?" asked Bud.

"I reckon so," his father answered. "It looks like the hand of Del Pinzo. You have to give that rascal credit for knowing just how and when to strike."

"Then he's out of jail again?" asked Yellin' Kid.

"That's what some of the boys seem to think," replied Mr. Merkel.

"Here's what happened."

Briefly he told how during a time when many of his men were driving to the nearest railroad station a bunch of choice steers for s.h.i.+pment to Kansas City, a raid was made on an outlying herd that was being fattened in a sheltered valley for future s.h.i.+pment. Not only were a hundred or more steers driven off, but one cowboy of Diamond X was killed and another wounded.

"And didn't our boys shoot back?" demanded Bud indignantly.

"Oh, yes, they gave a good account of themselves," his father replied.

"They got three of the Greasers. That's how we made pretty sure it was Del Pinzo again. They were just his type of rascals.

"And so, because I didn't have men enough here to take after the crowd and get my cattle back, and, at the same time, run things on the ranch, I had to send for you. We'll have to let Spur Creek look after itself for a while."

"I reckon it can, Dad," said Bud. "The sheep herders won't come up for a few days yet, I guess," and he told of the latest development in which Professor Wright was concerned.

"Hum! So he was lost again, was he!" mused Mr. Merkel. "Seems to me he's getting into a regular habit that way."

"Does look so," chuckled Nort. "He's all right in his own way----"

"But he doesn't weigh much!" laughed Bud, perpetrating an old joke at the expense of the professor's thin frame, for he did not have much flesh on his bones. More than one cowboy privately recommended to Bud that his father "pasture" the professor out on some good gra.s.s for a season.

"Well, now you know as much as I do," went on Mr. Merkel. "Our cattle have been stolen, and the gang--Del Pinzo's, I'm pretty certain--is driving them south. It's up to us to get after them."

"And we will!" cried Bud. "As soon as we have a bite to eat and can pack up some grub----"

He paused, for the telephone began ringing violently.

CHAPTER XI

COWBOY FUN

Bud, being the nearest to the instrument which was sending out its call from a small shed near the corral--an extension line having been established there--Bud sprang to answer it.

"h.e.l.lo! h.e.l.lo!" he called, in his excitement his voice resembling that of Yellin' Kid. "This is Diamond X," Bud went on. "What's the trouble?"

He listened for a moment and then called:

"We'll be right over!"

Hanging up the receiver with a bang on the hook, Bud hurried out of the shed and cried:

"They're at it again! Rustlers just cut out a bunch at North Station and they're hazing 'em off!"

"Whew!" whistled Mr. Merkel. "This is getting serious!"

Little time was lost. Instead of stopping for a "bite," the boy ranchers and their companions hastily swallowed some coffee that "Ma"

Merkel and Nell made ready for them. Some "grub" was hastily packed, for the expedition might be out all night--very likely would--and then, saddles, girths and guns having been hastily inspected, the cowboys set forth.

To the bunch that had been on guard at Spur Creek was added some other punchers from Diamond X--as many as could be spared. This was not a large number, for, as Mr. Merkel had said, he had sent some of his men to drive his s.h.i.+pment of steers to the railroad.

This latest raid, word of which had been telephoned in from a distant place by a cowboy who had witnessed it, had taken place at what was called "North Station." This was a sort of auxiliary ranch Mr. Merkel had started when he secured more range land in the spring. By pasturing some cattle around there, several miles were saved in s.h.i.+pping his steers after fattening them up. And, as I have told you, nothing so soon takes valuable fat off cattle as driving them long distances to feed, to water or to a s.h.i.+pping point.

The boy ranchers knew little of North Station, having been there but once, though the trail to it was plain. And as they rode they talked of what might have taken place there.

"Guess whoever was in charge wasn't keepin' a very good lookout, or he'd have stopped the rustlers," observed Snake Purdee.