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 usualcity lad's dreamings of adventures in the open, of camps, of desperatemeasures against desperate men, they had never hoped for this.
"Crickity! Think of it!" hoarsely whispered Nort to his brother asthey galloped along side by side. "We haven't been here a day yet, andwe're run into cattle rustlers!"
"Great!" commented Dick. "Oh, boy!"
"We haven't run into 'em yet, that's the trouble," spoke Bud grimly, ashis pony worked in between the two brothers. "But we will in a littlewhile--Babe'll fix 'em."
"Can't we take a hand?" asked Nort eagerly, as his hand sought theweapon 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 alwaystells 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 ascrap. These rustlers know they're caught now, and they may run forit. They can't get away with the steers, anyhow, without a fight. Ofcourse 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 foremanspurred off through the night, following the trail of the now runningsteers. If there were rustlers driving the cattle away the menthemselves gave no sign, but remained hidden.
"It means cattle rustlers--that's all," explained Bud, as he led theway for his cousins to follow, since the young representative of theDiamond X ranch knew the trail. "Rustlers are just men who take otherfolk's cattle, drive 'em off, change the brands and sell 'em whereverthey can. Sometimes they get away with it and sometimes they don't!"
"And are they running off your dad's cattle now?" asked Nort.
"Looks that way," admitted Bud, "though I haven't seen any of the mendoing it. You know some of our cowboys drove in a bunch of fat steersfrom one of dad's distant ranches the other day. They're being takenover to the railroad to be shipped. Not the station where you fellowscame in, but another, about two days' trip from here. It's a bunch ofthese cattle that's being hazed away from us, I reckon."
"I didn't know they hazed steers, like they do college Freshmen,"ventured Dick.
"Hazing cattle means to sort of work 'em along easy like--drive 'emwhere you want to go," explained Bud. "We have to do a lot of hazingwhen we have the round-up--that's when the cattle owners send theircowboys to collect the animals that have been feeding on the open rangeduring the year. Each man separates into a bunch the cattle with hisbrands, and also the little calves, or the mavericks, and hazes themtoward his corrals."
"What's mavericks?" asked Nort. He could not forbear the question,even though considerable excitement seemed just in the offing. Hewanted to learn all he could about ranch life.
"A maverick gets its name from an old Texas ranchman named SamMaverick," answered Bud. "He didn't brand his cattle, and one day,during a stampede, his steers mixed in with a lot more that werebranded. He and his men cut them out and hazed over to his range allcattle that weren't branded. Every cow, calf or steer that didn't havea brand on was called one of Maverick's, and so we call, now, anyunbranded animal a 'maverick.' Anybody who finds it can brand it andclaim it as his, though; in some places all the mavericks are bunchedtogether and divided. But say, I wonder what Babe's doing, anyhow? Ihaven't heard a shot, and he must be up to that bunch of rustlers now,if that's what they were."
"What else could they be?" asked Nort.
"I don't know," Bud replied. "Anyhow, here's some of the cattle. Lookout you don't run into 'em!" he called sharply, as he pulled in hispony.
He spoke just in time to warn Nort and Dick, for, in another instant,they found themselves among the tail-enders of a bunch of cattle thathad run from them at first.
No men were in sight--not even Babe--and there was a haze of cloudsover the moon now, and a sort of fog close to the ground, thatprevented clear vision.
"Are these your cattle?" asked Dick.
"Tell you in a minute," responded the young cattleman. He rode upalongside one of the animals and focused on its rump the gleam from anelectric flash light. Bud carried one of these mighty handy pocketarticles, which are much more effective than matches for makingobservations at night. In the bright gleam of the little light the boyranchers saw, plainly branded in the hide of the animal, a largediamond, with the letter X in the centre.
"Dad's stock--all of 'em, I reckon!" exclaimed Bud, as he flashed historch on others in the bunch, revealing more of the Diamond X brand.
"But where are the rustlers?" asked Nort, in a tense whisper, and hishand sought the holster where his newly-acquired weapon rested.
"I don't know," began Bud. "They may have ridden off, or it may bethat----"
He stopped suddenly and listened. Dick and Nort heard, as did Bud, therapid approach of a horseman. In an instant Bud had switched off hispocket electric light, and then in the half hazy light of the partlyobscured moon he and his cousins peered forward. Nort and Dick haddrawn their guns, an example set them by Bud.
"Don't do any shooting until you hear me," ordered Bud. "There may beno need of it!"
The rider, unseen as yet, was coming nearer and nearer, the thud of hishorse's feet pounding hard on the turf. He seemed to be approachingfrom the direction in which Babe had disappeared.
In another instant the rider was pulling his horse to a quick stopbeside Bud's animal, and when a beam of misty moonlight flashed outfrom beneath a cloud it was seen that the assistant foreman of DiamondX ranch had returned.
"Oh!" exclaimed Nort, and there was almost a note of disappointment inhis voice because the rider did not develop into a cattle rustler.
"Did you see any of 'em?" asked Bud eagerly.
"Not a hair," answered Babe Milton, who proved that he could be activeenough when occasion called for it, in spite of his size and weight."But I heard some one riding off down the gully, and if it was any ofour boys, or any of the fellows around here, they wouldn't have run.Besides, these steers belong to the bunch Happy Day is hazin' over tothe railroad. They didn't get cut out by themselves."
"Not much," agreed Bud, while Nort and Dick listened eagerly.
"So I'm going on a little farther," said Babe. "You fellows stay here,and if I don't get back in an hour--well, you'll know somethinghappened."
"Can't we come?" asked Dick, eagerly.
"You'd better stay here," advised Babe. "Somebody'll have to ride herdon these steers, and I can deal with those rascals better'n youboys--though I may need your help later. Anyhow, Bud, you stay here,and herd 'em in till I get back--if I do."
"And if you don't?" asked Bud. There was a world of meaning in thosefew words, for cattle rustlers were desperate men.
"If I don't, ride back to the ranch an' tell the boss," spoke Babesimply, as if it was all in the day's work--or night's.
"All right," agreed Bud. He realized that though he was the son of theowner of Diamond X ranch, in this case the word of Babe exceeded evenhis heritage.
Turning his horse quickly, after a brief examination of his saddlegirths, Babe spurred away into the haze of the cloudy moonlight,leaving the boy ranchers to guard the cattle. The animals, after theirrun, were content to remain quiet now, moving about a bit uneasily, andrumbling as if in protest now and then. They were all full-grownbeasts, ready for the market, and valuable.
"S'pose he'll get any of 'em?" whispered Nort.
"Can't say," answered Bud, briefly. "Babe generally does get what hegoes after, though." This was significant.
In silence, broken only by the occasional lowing of the cattle, the boyranchers waited--waited for they knew not what. And then, as suddenlyas an explosion, came a cry in the night--and such a cry!
An unearthl
y noise of long drawn out howling notes, mingled with roars,the crescendo effect ending in a peal of weird yells that were like thecries of a laughing hyena, mingled with the sardonic wails of a baboon.
Boy Ranchers; Or, Solving the Mystery at Diamond X Page 7