The Boy Ranchers: or, Solving the Mystery at Diamond X. Baker Willard F.

bottles of medicine. "Tell th' boss to use it just as it is – don't need any dilutin' with water."

      "Oh, you mean Professor Wright," said the other, so translating the cowboy's use of the word "boss."

      "Yep," answered Babe. "Tell the boss to use it straight."

      "Well, he isn't here just now," said the other. "The men who were shot seem to be doing well, however. I'll attend to them myself. Thank you again."

      His voice was cultured and his manner pleasant. But it was evident that he invited no confidences.

      Little could be made out, even in the moonlight and the gleam of the fire, save the usual scattered camp outfits, and the white tents.

      The boy ranchers and Babe had done what they set out to do – deliver the medicine, and no incident had marked their trip, unless the singing of the assistant foreman can be called such.

      "Some of us'll ride over to-morrow," promised Babe, as he and the boys turned to take the trail back to the ranch.

      "Thank you, but we may not be here," remarked Professor Blair. "We may move on. But thank you, just the same."

      "Don't mention it," begged Babe, slightly sarcastic of the other's cultured accent and words. "We aim to please, an' be neighborly."

      "Of which you have given ample evidence," was the rejoinder.

      "Guess that'll hold him for a while," murmured Bud to his cousins.

      "Good-nights" were called and the outfit from Diamond X ranch was on its way again. Nort and Dick were eagerly questioning Bud about western matters, learning to their delight that there would be chances to go hunting and fishing after the big round-up, and Babe was beginning on about the forty-seventh verse of his favorite song, when Bud suddenly stopped in the midst of telling some incident, and gazed intently across the rolling range.

      "What's the matter?" asked Dick in a whisper, for the silence of the night, and the strangeness of their surroundings, seemed to call for whispers.

      "I thought I saw cattle moving," said Bud. "Yes, I do!" he went on, quickly. "Look, Babe!"

      Babe broke off his song at a point where a dying cowboy was begging to be "toted back to the chuck house," and looked to where the boy rancher pointed.

      "That's it, shore as rattlers!" the assistant foreman said. "It's about time they tried suthin' like this! Got your guns, boys?"

      "What for?" asked Nort, a thrill of excitement leaping through his veins. "What is there to shoot?"

      "Rustlers!" said Bud, grimly. "Somebody – Greasers, likely – are trying to run off some of our fat steers! Come on, we'll ride 'em down!" He clapped spurs to his horse, an example followed by Nort and Dick, but, quick as they were, Babe had shot ahead of them, and in the moonlight the city lads caught the gleam of his gun as he pulled it from the holster.

      CHAPTER VII

      A CRY IN THE NIGHT

      Needless to say that Nort and Dick were thrilled through and through. Having lived in a city nearly all of their lives, though with the usual city lad's dreamings of adventures in the open, of camps, of desperate measures against desperate men, they had never hoped for this.

      "Crickity! Think of it!" hoarsely whispered Nort to his brother as they galloped along side by side. "We haven't been here a day yet, and we're run into cattle rustlers!"

      "Great!" commented Dick. "Oh, boy!"

      "We haven't run into 'em yet, that's the trouble," spoke Bud grimly, as his pony worked in between the two brothers. "But we will in a little while – Babe'll fix 'em."

      "Can't we take a hand?" asked Nort eagerly, as his hand sought the weapon at his side.

      "We may have to," Bud admitted, "but dad doesn't think I'm old enough, yet, to mix up in a man-sized fight. Maybe he's right, but he always tells me to hold back until I'm needed."

      "We can take a hand then, can't we?" asked Nort eagerly.

      "Sure thing!" exclaimed Bud. "But there may not be any need of a scrap. These rustlers know they're caught now, and they may run for it. They can't get away with the steers, anyhow, without a fight. Of course if they get Babe covered – and us – they'll make their getaway, but he may bluff 'em off."

      "What does it all mean, anyhow?" asked Dick, as the assistant foreman spurred off through the night, following the trail of the now running steers. If there were rustlers driving the cattle away the men themselves gave no sign, but remained hidden.

      "It means cattle rustlers – that's all," explained Bud, as he led the way for his cousins to follow, since the young representative of the Diamond X ranch knew the trail. "Rustlers are just men who take other folk's cattle, drive 'em off, change the brands and sell 'em wherever they can. Sometimes they get away with it and sometimes they don't!"

      "And are they running off your dad's cattle now?" asked Nort.