“I’m sort of wary about turning in the horse and my borrowed clothes in this shape,” Dave admitted.
“Anyhow, crude oil is good for your hair,” Doris said. “Let’s go!”
It was a long jaunt back to the ranch, and as they jogged along the boys told of their experience.
“That well is on some of the land they can’t find an owner for,” Dave said. “It’s the far corner of the three sections Plum took us over yesterday.”
“I thought it looked familiar,” Doris said thoughtfully.
“That man Moon was awfully mad,” Marshmallow chuckled. “We—Dave and I and all the cowboys except the one who was wrestling a steer and didn’t know what was going on—were the first ones on the scene. Moon was there with three other men, all of ’em oil-soaked, ordering the drillers around. When we got there he tried to chase us away.”
“By the time he had us backing off,” Dave laughed, “everybody else was swarming in from the other side.”
“Do you know who the three men with him were?” Doris asked.
“Of course not,” Dave answered.
“You have met one, more or less socially,” Doris said with a wry smile. “The other two are not unknown to my family.”
“Oh, lay off the riddles,” Marshmallow said. “Are you just fooling, Doris?”
“No,” came the answer. “One of them was the stowaway, and the others were the men who robbed Uncle Wardell!”
“Honest!” exclaimed Marshmallow. “Let’s go back and tackle them!”
CHAPTER XVI
Plans
Marshmallow’s rash proposal about fighting was voted down.
It was a droll cavalcade that trotted into the yard of Crazy Bear Ranch later.
Yellow dust had settled thick over the oil on the boys. The girls were only a little less covered. Altogether they were a queer-looking crowd.
“What has happened?” Mrs. Mallow cried, as she ran out to meet them.
“Is—are you—you?” she demanded. “Marshall! The only way I could recognize you was by your shape.”
“We’re all right, Mother,” Marshmallow responded. “Just got a little crude oil on us. Doris said it was good for freckles or something.”
“We’ll explain as soon as we have bathed,” Dave said.
“We’ll have plenty to tell,” Doris cried over her shoulder, as she darted for her room.
There, in tubs of cold water filled by hand, the girls scrubbed themselves clean and with real relief changed into airy, fluffy afternoon frocks that would have graced the veranda of any country dub, and were particularly charming in the rough-and-ready surroundings of the ranch.
The boys were tardy in appearing, and when they made their entrance in linen knickers and white shirts open at the throat they still exhaled an aroma of oil.
“Let’s sit under the trees,” Mrs. Mallow suggested. “Then you can tell me everything.”
Marshmallow first interviewed Mrs. Saylor, and successfully, for he returned with a large pitcher of milk, glasses for all, and a plate of sliced cake.
“Now we can talk comfortably,” he grinned.
“But do talk,” Mrs. Mallow urged. “I’m still all at sixes and sevens. Tell me what happened.”
The boys told their story first.
Then Doris related her surprising share of the day’s adventures.
“We shall have to act quickly, then,” Mrs. Mallow announced as Doris concluded. “I think you might consult Mr. Plum. I am sure he can help, and I know he is not on the side of the oil speculators.”
“Oh, Plum’s an old fossil,” growled Marshmallow.
“Why, Marshall!” his mother exclaimed. “Such disrespect. You should have come with us this morning. We explored the most fascinating ruins!”
“I’d like to make a fascinating ruin out of—I mean, out of those robbers,” Marshmallow said.
“Don’t let the cake take the edge off your appetites,” Mrs. Saylor called from the house. “Supper in half an hour—with hot cornbread!”
The young folks waved to her in assent and greeting.
“Come on, a council like us ought to be able to plan a campaign to outwit the crooks before supper,” Dave urged. “Who has any ideas?”
“They are tough customers,” Marshmallow cautioned. “And remember that they have the less desirable element of the country backing them up. There’s no use trying any force.”
“Do you suppose they suspect us?” Mrs. Mallow said.
“I don’t know,” Doris replied. “If that sleepy-headed registrar of deeds ever wakes up enough to tell Moon I was trying to locate the old claims there will be some sort of trouble, I expect.”
“Suppose we get Mr. Saylor to pick his strongest and most trusted men,” Marshmallow suggested, “and we will waylay the outfit along the road, tie ’em up and make them give up the deeds.”
“I thought you just said there was no use trying force,” Doris remarked.
“What about this for a plan?” Dave spoke up. “I’ll see if Pete can borrow Miss Bedelle’s plane and he and I can pretend to be barnstormers.
We’ll take the thieves for a ride and threaten to pitch them overboard unless they give up the papers.”
“I think you boys have been watching too many movie serials,” Doris laughed. “No, Dave. In the first place, they may not buy a ride, and in the second place they may not have the deeds with them and there you would be, flying around with the men afraid to land. And finally, Miss Bedelle might not lend her new airplane.”
“Gosh, it is a tough nut to crack,” Marshmallow admitted.
“I still think you ought to consult Mr. Plum,” Mrs. Mallow said. “He knows the country and the people.”
“All right. Where is he?” decided Doris, jumping to her feet.
“He has gone away for a few days on business,” Mrs. Mallow said. “He has to survey a new irrigation project.”
“We can’t wait for him,” Doris determined. “We must act quickly. I think the best thing of all is to get Miss Bedelle to help us. I’m sure she is as much opposed to the oil scheme as anyone.”
“I believe you are right,” Mrs. Mallow said. “Besides, we owe her a call, to thank her for the use of her plane.”
Further discussion was discontinued at that juncture by the announcement that supper was ready for them.
“We’ll drive over in the morning,” Doris said firmly, as the five trooped into the dining room.
Marshmallow’s eyes suddenly sparkled, and he snapped his fingers.
“Did you forget something?” Kitty asked. “Or remember something?”
“Just—er, just remembered that I wanted to bring some candy back from the village,” Marshmallow stammered. “Want to ride over with me after supper, Dave? My sweet tooth is aching.”
“Why, I guess so,” Dave replied, passing the fried ham to Doris.
Marshmallow ate hastily.
“Hurry