CHAPTER XIII
THE SIGNAL
"What's the matter?" cried Dick, hastening from the tent where hehad been making a new loop on his lariat, in preparation forpracticing some of the stunts worked by Four Eyes.
"Have you discovered something from the tower?" asked Nort.
"Yes, I've discovered that the tower isn't any good!" exclaimedBud with emphasis. "Oh, it isn't your fault, Dick," he went on,as he saw that his cousin looked a bit crestfallen. "The tower isall right."
"Then you saw some rustlers from it?" asked Nort.
"No, that's the trouble," said Bud, ruefully. "We didn't see thembut they were here all right--last night. Tell us about it,Billee," he requested.
"Well, there isn't an awful lot to tell," said the veteran cowpuncher. "I was just prospectin' around, over on that new growthof Johnson grass, like you told me to, an' I saw where a steerhad been killed, an' they had eat most of it, too, by th' signs."
"You mean the rustlers?" asked Nort.
"Rustlers, Greasers, Del Pinzo's bunch--anything you like t' call'em," asserted Billee. "Somebody, that hadn't any right t' do it,druv off our cattle!"
"And I say it's about time it was stopped!" declared Bud with asgreat positiveness as before. This time he picked up the hat hehad dashed to the ground and dusted it off. "I'm going to dosomething desperate!" he declared.
"What, son?" asked Old Billee mildly. "They's allers beenrustlers in this cow country, an' they'll allers be some, Ireckon. Course if you can git 'em in th' _act_, they's nothin' t' dobut shoot 'em up. But when you can't git 'em--"
"That's what I'm going to do!" declared Bud. "I'm going to get onthe trail of these rustlers and clean 'em out! Tell us more aboutit, Billee. No use getting up in the watch tower now," he added,gloomily enough. "We've got other work cut out for us. Go ahead,Billee! Shoot!"
"Let me give you a word of advice first, Buddy boy," spoke theveteran cowboy as he slowly got off his pony, an act of grace forwhich the animal was, doubtless, duly thankful. Billee was nofeatherweight, though he was as active as need be, in spite ofhis bulk.
"What's the advice?" asked Bud good-naturedly. His first hotanger was beginning to cool.
"Well, my advice is to leave these rustler alone," said OldBillee. "They's allers been rustlers here an' they'll allers behere. Every cow country has 'em. They're like th' old piratesthat used t' hold up th' ships. Taking tribute, so t' speak."
"But our country didn't pay that tribute long!" exclaimed Dick,remembering the brilliant exploits of Decatur against thecorsains of Algiers, Tunis and Tripoli. "'Millions for defense,but not a cent for tribute'!" quoted Dick in a ringing voice.
"That's what I say!" chimed in Nort.
"Well, it _is_ tribute, in a way," admitted Old Billee. "Iwas going t' say if you'd let th' rustlers make off with a fewsteers now an' then it would save trouble. They're used t' takin'a few. But if you fight 'em then they'll make a big raid with abig gang, an' mebby, take all you got, Bud!"
"I'd like to see 'em try it!" cried the western lad. "And I won'tsit by and have my cattle stolen; will we, fellows?" he appealedto his cousins.
"Not on your life!" declared Nort and Dick.
"Well, I shore do like t' hear you talk that-a-way," said OldBillee. "I didn't think you'd do it. Course it ain't no fun t'sit still an' let these onery Greasers walk off with your cattle.But, as I say, it's sometimes easier'n 'tis t' fight 'em. Lots ofth' ranchmen do pay tribute in a way. Your father was one of th'fust t' fight 'em, Bud, but even he has sorter give up now, an'he don't raise no terrible row when a few of his steers get hazedoff."
"Well, dad has more, and losing a few doesn't put a crimp inhim," said Bud. "It's different with us, and I'm not going tostand it. Zip Foster wouldn't and I'm not going to!" and again hedashed his hat on the ground, thereby startling Billee's horse.
"Say, why don't you get Zip Foster over to help chase therustlers?" asked Dick, slyly nudging Nort. They had long beentrying to get Bud to a "show down" on the identity of thismysterious personage.
"Oh, I reckon we can do it ourselves," and Bud seemed to regretmentioning the name of his favorite.
"Just what are you aimin' t' do, son?" asked Billee, as Snake andYellin' Kid rode up, ready for their day's work out on the rangeamong the cattle.
"I don't exactly know, but it's going to be something andsomething hard!" asserted Bud. "Are there any clues over there,Billee, to give us a lead?"
"Not many, Bud. Just th' usual. They come onto a few scatteredsteers, killed one roasted what they wanted of it, slipped offthe hide an' left th' rest t' th' buzzards. Then they druv offth' remainder. I didn't foller th' trail, for I could see theywas half a dozen rustlers in th' bunch, an' it ain't exactlyhealthy for one man t' trail a crowd like that even if he was atwo-gun man, which I don't lay no claim t' bein' no how,"concluded the veteran modestly. They all knew he would be braveenough in an even fight. But they all recognized the fact that itwould have been foolish for him, alone, to have attempted totrail a gang of desperate men.
"Well, I'm going to see what we can do," Bud declared. "If you'vesized up all there was to see over there, Billee," and he noddedin the direction of the latest raid on Diamond X Second, "there'sno use in me going over. I think I'll go have a talk with dad,"he concluded. "I want action!"
"So do we!" added Dick.
"Then come along!" invited his cousin.
A little later the boy ranchers were riding out of the valley, ontheir way to the main ranch of Diamond X. They would not be backuntil late that night, or, possibly, until the following morning,for Bud wanted to have a good, long talk with his father, anddecide on some plan of action, that would drive out the rustlersand keep them away.
As Old Billee had said, probably an older and more experiencedrancher would have put up with a few losses for the sake of peaceand quietness. But Bud, like most lads of his age, was impulsive.And, as he had said, the loss of even a few steers meant possiblefailure to him and his cousins, just starting in the ranchbusiness as they were.
"Was that a black one?" suddenly asked Bud, as Nort's horse shiedat something.
"A black what!" Nort wanted to know.
"A black jack rabbit that ran across the trail in front of youjust now," Bud resumed. "If it was, it will bring bad luck, asOld Billee would say," and he laughed.
"No, it was a sort of gray one, part white," Nort answered, forit was one of those immense hares that had leaped across thetrail, almost under the feet of his pony.
"That means we'll have part bad luck and part good," declaredDick.
And some hours later, when they had reached Bud's home, and Nellwas serving peach pie and glasses of milk to the boy ranchers,Nort paused long enough in his eating to remark:
"_This_ is the good luck, Bud."
"You declaimed something that time!" agreed his brother.
Mr. Merkel listened to what Bud and his cousins told them of theraids on Happy Valley.
"Well, you haven't suffered any more than the average ranchman,just starting in," said Bud's father. "The rustlers always seemto pick on a newcomer."
"Well, they'll find I'm a sort of prickly pear to pick on!"asserted Bud. "Dad, can't we clean out these rascals?"
"Well, it's your ranch, Bud! You can do anything you like, withinreason, but I wouldn't like to see you take any foolish risks."
"There's got to be some risks," declared Bud. "I'm not looking toget out of 'em. But don't you think it would be a good thing ifwe could get rid of this Del Pinzo gang for good?"
"Sure, Bud. I'll give you all the help I can, and I'll spare youone or two more men if you need 'em--for a time, that is, aswe're pretty busy here."
"All right. When we're ready I'll call on you," said Bud, asthough he had great plans in preparation. As a matter of fact, ashe admitted later, he really did not know what he was going todo, but he was not going to admit that to his father. In otherwords he was "putting up a bluff," and I have some reason forsuspecting that Mr. Merkel knew this
. However he gave no sign. Inspite of the pie, cake and other good things set out by Nell andMrs. Merkel, Bud and his chums decided to ride back to their campthat night. It was dark at the start, but the moon would be uplater, and the trail was well known.
The boy ranchers rode leisurely along, for there was no specialhurry in getting back. It might reasonably be supposed that therustlers would not again make a raid within a few days at least.And Old Billee, Yellin' Kid, Snake Purdee and Four Eyes, to saynothing of Buck Tooth, were well able to look after matters inHappy Valley.
And thus proceeding at a foot pace, it was well after midnightwhen the boys started down the last slope that led into thevalley proper. In daylight it would have been possible, from thispart of the trail, to have observed the tents and the reservoir.But now all was shrouded in darkness.
No, not altogether darkness, for as the boys rode forward theresuddenly glimmered in the gloom a light, high up in the air. Atfirst Bud thought it was a star, but a moment later as it movedfrom side to side, and then up and down, he exclaimed:
"Look, fellows! A signal!"
"Signal!" repeated Dick.
"Yes. Over at our camp! See! There's a light on our watch tower."
"Maybe there's been another raid!" said Nort.
"Or going to be one!" spoke Bud, grimly.