CHAPTER X
SERIOUS QUESTIONS
Some time before the boy ranchers reached the scene of the grassfire toward which they were riding, they caught the smell of theburning fodder. That it was only grass which was aflame they hadknown before this, for that was all there was to ignite in thatsection of the valley. There were no buildings as yet, tentstaking their place. Though Bud and his father planned to erectsubstantial structures if this year was successful.
"A lot of good fodder going up in smoke, Bud!" yelled Nort, as herode beside his cousin.
"If it isn't any worse than that we're lucky," was the answer.
"How do you mean?" asked Dick.
"I mean if we don't lose any cattle. The grass isn't any goodafter it dries up on the ground, the way this has. But if thefire starts a stampede of cattle--that will mean a loss."
"Do you think that's what the game is?" asked Nort, encouraginghis pony, Blaze, by patting the animal's neck.
"I can't see what else it is, unless the fire started when someone threw down a burning match or cigarette, and most cowpunchers aren't that careless. Our fellows wouldn't do it, and Idon't believe any other ranchers around here would, except onpurpose."
"You mean the Double Z bunch?" asked Dick.
"Sort of heading that way," replied Bud, significantly.
Together the boy ranchers rode on toward the fire, silently for atime, the only sounds being the thud of their ponies' feet andthe creak of saddle leathers and stirrups. The smell of theburning grass was more pronounced now, and the pall of blacksmoke was rolling upward in a larger cloud.
"It's a big fire!" exclaimed Nort. "How can we stop it, Bud?"
"It will soon burn out," the western lad replied. "I happen toknow where this grass is. It's a place where we couldn't verywell bring water to, and if it doesn't rain much, as it hasn'tlately, the fodder gets as dry as tinder. There's a sort ofswale, or valley, filled with this dry grass and it's justnaturally burning itself off."
"Then no very great harm will be done; will there?" asked Dick.
"Not much, unless the cattle get frightened and start tostampede. That's what I'm afraid of, and why I'm riding overthere. We can't hope to put out the fire." Owing to the fact thatthe grass was so dry that no cattle would feed on it, there wereno steers in the immediate vicinity of the blaze Had the fodderbeen cut it would have made excellent hay, but it would need tobe cut green to bring this about. As it was, the tall grass hadjust naturally dried up as it attained its growth.
"It doesn't take even as much as a blaze like this to start astampede," said Bud, as he and his cousins rode nearer to theburning grass, They could feel the heat of it, now. "It's queerhow frightened animals are of fire," went on the rancher's son."There must have been some wonderful sights out here, years ago,when there were millions of buffalo, and when there were prairiefires, miles in width, driving them before it."
"I should say so!" chimed in Nort. "I've read some of thosestories in Cooper's books. He's great; isn't he!"
"You delivered the goods that time!" remarked Bud.
"I wish the west was like that now," voiced Dick. "With Indiansand buffalo all over."
"There are a few Indians left yet," said Bud. "They're mostly onreservations, except when they make a break, ride off and act upbad. I guess we stock raisers are better off without the wildIndians.
"As for the buffalo, they were mighty valuable, and if we couldraise them as well as cattle, we'd make a lot of money. Thegovernment is trying to get several herds started, but it's noeasy task. Why, there are almost as many buffalo in New York cityas there is out west now."
"Where!" asked Nort, not thinking for the moment.
"In Bronx Park," answered Bud. "I haven't seen 'em but I've readabout 'em."
"Oh, yes. So have I," agreed Nort. "I forgot about them. Whew!It's getting hot," he added, as a shift in the wind brought intotheir faces a wave of heated and smoke-filled air.
"We'd better not keep on any nearer," decided Bud. "Let's ridearound to the other side, and see what we can see."
Accordingly they turned to the right, as the fire seemed lessfierce on that quarter, and continued on. They had been ridingover a stretch of the valley carpeted with rich, dark green andfairly damp grass. Bud and his cousins knew that when the firereached this stretch it would die out for lack of fuel.
In fact the blaze, as they could see, was confined to an areaabout a mile square, but of irregular shape. So far none of thecattle in sight had shown more than momentary fear of the blaze.They had run some distance from it and then stopped, sometimesgoing on with their eating, and again pausing to look withfear-widened eyes at the sight of the leaping tongues of fire.
"But we can't tell what's going on behind that smoke screen,"declared Bud. "Some rustlers may have started it to hide theirwork."
"Any of your men over in that direction?" asked Dick.
"They aren't supposed to be," Bud replied. "Of course some of 'emmay have ridden over when they saw the smoke, same as we did. ButI don't see how any of 'em could have reached here as soon as wedid."
Together they rode on, circling to the right to get around theedge of the fire.
"She's dying out," observed Dick.
"Yes, it can't burn much longer," admitted Bud. "And no greatdamage done, either, unless we find something we haven't yetseen."
But when they had completed the circuit around the edge of theblazing grass, and could ride across the fire-blackened area, andbehind what was still a thick screen of smoke, they saw somethingwhich caused them great surprise.
This was not the sight of a bunch of stampeding cattle, though itwas what Bud and his cousins folly; expected to encounter. Therewere some cattle on this side of the fire, but they had run farenough away to be out of danger, and beyond where they could befrightened into a frenzied rush.
"Look!" exclaimed Nort, pointing.
"Four Eyes!" exclaimed Dick.
"By the great horned toad and Zip Foster--yes!" agreed Bud, andhis cousins knew he must be stirred to unusual depths of feelingto use this name. Zip Foster had not been mentioned in severalweeks. The mysterious personage, on whom Bud called in times ofgreat excitement, was almost a stranger, of late, in HappyValley. In fact Dick and Nort never could get Bud to talk aboutZip. But that is a story which will be told in its proper place,and due season.
"It _is_ Four Eyes!" went on Bud, as he and his cousinsrecognized in the form of a distant rider that of Henry Mellon,the new cowboy. "And what he's doing here is more than I canimagine. I'm going to find out, though!"
The spectacled cow puncher was riding swiftly along, on a coursethat ran parallel to the direction of the fire. He was on theedge of the burned area, and galloping-away from the boys. But hewas not beyond seeing or hailing distance.
"Hello there!" shouted Bud, dropping his reins and making amegaphone of his hands.
Four Eyes heard the call--there was no doubt of that, for heturned in his saddle and looked back. Then he must have seen theboys, for he waved his hat at them. Next he pointed ahead, as ifto indicate that he was in pursuit of some one, and kept on,never slacking his pace.
"Come on!" shouted the impulsive Nort. "Let's catch up to him!"
He was about to spur his pony forward, but Bud caught the bridle.
"No use," said the western lad. "He's too far ahead, and ourhorses are too played out If he comes back well hear about it. Ifhe doesn't--"
"Why, don't you think he'll come back!" interrupted Pick.
"It wouldn't surprise me if he didn't," Bud answered. "There aresome queer things going on around here, and he may be one of 'em.Though I haven't any reason to suspect him--yet!" he quicklyadded.
"What are we going to do!" asked Dick, as he saw his cousinslacking his pony's pace. "Shall we go on to the end of therustler's trail, or follow Four Eyes."
"Neither one," answered Bud. "At least not just yet," he added,as he saw Nort and Dick look at him curiously. "Let Four Eyes go,for the time being. He
may have seen some cowboys he'd like tointerview about this fire, and be after them. Or he may not. Asfor getting on the trail of the rustlers, we'd have to ride backquite a distance to do that, and it would be dark when we pickedit up again. Too late to do anything."
"Are we going back to camp?" asked Dick.
"No, let's stay right here. We've got grub, and water isn't sofar off. We'll just camp out for the night."
"Suits me," assented Dick.
"Same here," agreed Nort.
It was something the boys had often done. They carried blanketsand tarpaulins on their saddles, ready for this emergency, andthey "packed" sufficient rations for several substantial, if notelaborate, meals. They had a coffee pot, a frying pan, bacon andprepared flour, and flapjacks were within their range ofabilities as cooks.
Pausing to note that the fire was rapidly dying out, that therewas no cattle stampede in their vicinity, and noting that FourEyes was now almost out of sight, the boy ranchers rode on to thenearest water-hole, and there prepared to spend the night, thoughit was still several hours until darkness should fall. But thehorses were tired, for they had been run hard after the fire, andthe boys decided to rest them. The lads, themselves, were freshenough to have kept on, had there been occasion for it.
"Well, I'm glad this was no worse," observed Bud, as they satdown, having picketed their steeds, and looked at the recedingpall of smoke. "I only hope the fellows at camp won't beworried."
"I guess they know we can take care of ourselves--at least wehave so far," spoke Nort.
"Yes," agreed Bud. "You fellows have done pretty well since youcame out here--you aren't tenderfeet any longer, not by all theshots that ever broke bottles."
"Say, what do you think of that, anyhow?" asked Dick, as hechewed reflectively on a bit of grass.
"I don't know what to think," asserted Bud. "There are a lot ofserious questions we have to settle if we're going to keep onwith this ranch."
"Why, we are going to keep on, aren't we?" asked Nort.
"I should say so!" cried Bud. "We're going to stick here,rustlers or not! And those are the only fellows I'm worryingabout," and he tossed a lump of dirt in the fire which Dick wasstarting.
"Are there always rustlers to worry about on a ranch?" askedNort.
"More or less," answered his cousin. "Especially when you have aplace so near Double Z. I don't accuse Hank Fisher of being arustler, exactly," he went on, "though I think Del Pinzo is.That's been proved, but it didn't do much good, for he broke jailand they can't seem to land him."
"What makes Hank Fisher and that Double Z bunch so sore at you?"asked Dick.
"I guess it's because we're beating them at the cattle game,"answered Bud. "And because dad dammed the Pocut River and tooksome water for this valley. As if that hurt Hank!" he added. "Buthe makes that an excuse. However, I'll fight him to the finish!"
"And we're with you!" added Dick and Nort.
After supper they sat around the fire, talking of variousmatters. But ever and again the question troubled them of whetheror not they could get on the trail of the rustlers. And, too,they wondered what could be the object of Four Eyes.
Night settled down, quiet save for the occasional snorting of theponies. The boys wrapped themselves in their blankets and crawledbetween their tarpaulins with their feet to the smouldering fire.They talked until drowsiness stole over them and then, havingdecided to maintain no watch, they all three slumbered.
What time it was that Bud awakened he did not know. But awaken hedid, and suddenly.
And the cause of his awakening was the sound of a horse rapidlyridden, and, evidently, approaching the place where he and hiscousins had camped for the night.
"Who's there?" cried Bud suddenly, and without preface. Under theblanket his hand sought his weapon.
"Who's there!"