“Perhaps that’s where they disposed of their stolen horses,” suggested Jack.
“More’n likely.”
Jarley Bangs had armed himself with a double-barreled shotgun, and he rode in advance with Spouter at his side and the others close behind.
The way lay across a stretch of prairie and then into the edge of the woods bordering the river. The party had just gained the water’s edge and were looking for a good fording place when Brassy suddenly uttered an exclamation.
“Look up the river, will you? There are those men now! And see! they are leading a couple of horses!”
“Get back out of sight, quick!” ordered Jarley Bangs. And in a few seconds all were behind the bushes which at that point lined the river.
“Why, they’re heading almost straight for Big Horn Ranch!” exclaimed Spouter excitedly.
“They’re going to follow the old river trail,”announced Jarley Bangs. “More’n likely they’ll take to the lower trail when they reach the forks.”
“Can’t we head ’em off and capture ’em?”questioned Fred.
“I think we can. Anyhow, we can try,” was Jarley Bangs’ answer.
The old ranchman made a swift mental calculation and then directed the boys to follow him to a fording place a little further down the river. Once on the other side of the watercourse, he urged his steed forward at topmost speed in the direction of another patch of timber further southward.
“They wouldn’t dare take the upper trail,” he told the lads. “For that would take ’em too close to Big Horn. They’ll come this way, I’m almost certain.”
It was not easy riding on a trail which was used but seldom. Nevertheless, the lads hurried after the old ranchman as well as they could. They wound in and out over some rough rocks and up a small hill, and presently emerged upon a much better trail.
“Here is where they ought to pass,” announced Jarley Bangs. “Now then, we’ll put our horses in the thicket and then see what we can do toward pocketing ’em when they come.”
The old ranchman had seen strenuous times in his younger days, and he seemed to know exactly what to do. He divided the boys into two groups, placing them on either side of the winding and rocky road.
“Now if you have to shoot, shoot high so as not to hit anybody on the other side,” was his warning. “But maybe we can get ’em without firing a shot,” he went on.
Brassy was armed with a small rifle, and he insisted upon remaining in the roadway with his uncle. The other lads with their pistols and guns were placed in advantageous positions behind nearby rocks and trees.
The arrangement was scarcely completed when they heard the tramp of horses’ hoofs over the somewhat rocky trail, and in a minute more Bud Haddon came into view, followed by Jillson and Dusenbury, all on horseback and each of the latter leading an extra steed.
“Throw up your hands!” shouted Jarley Bangs, as the horsemen came closer, and he leveled his shotgun full at Haddon’s head, while Brassy covered Dusenbury with his rifle. The boys behind the rocks and trees covered all three men as well as they were able.
The three rascals had not anticipated such a meeting, and, seeing the guns leveled at them, not only from the front but also from the sides, three pairs of hands went up almost as one.
“It’s Bangs!” murmured the man named Dusenbury.“I reckon the jig is up.”
“Don’t dare to budge or I’ll blow somebody’s head off!” roared Jarley Bangs. And he looked as if he meant what he said.
“You’ve got the drop on me, and I ain’t moving,”answered Bud Haddon surlily.
“Hi, Powell! Come out here, will you?” went on Brassy Bangs’ uncle. And then, as Spouter came from the bushes with rifle in hand, he continued.“Go up there and take every one of their guns away from ’em.”
As soon as they had been disarmed the three rascals were told to dismount and stand in a line along the side of the road. Then, as the boys confronted them, Jarley Bangs went through their pockets once more to make sure that no weapon had been overlooked.
“Fine piece of business, to run away with my horses!” exclaimed the old ranch owner, and he jerked his head in the direction of the two animals the men had been leading.
With their hands tied in front of them, the men were made to remount, and then the entire party lost no time in heading for Big Horn Ranch.
“I’ll fix you for this!” hissed Haddon at Brassy when he got the chance.
“You do your worst!” retorted the boy. “I’m not afraid of you any more.”
Of course, there was great excitement at the ranch when the crowd came in with the three prisoners. The story of what had happened was quickly circulated, and Joe Jackson and a number of the cowboys were called in from the ranges. One of the cowboys was sent off to notify a deputy sheriff of what had occurred and of what the ranch owners expected to do, and two other cowboys were started off to notify the owners of other ranches in that vicinity.
As a consequence early the next morning a posse consisting of twelve men headed for Bimbel’s ranch. Of course, the boys wanted to go along, but they were forced to remain behind, much to their chagrin.
“You might get shot,” said Songbird Powell.“And, besides that, you have had glory enough, helping to catch these three rascals,” and he smiled faintly.
The affair at Bimbel’s was rather a strenuous one. Jenks and Noxley, as well as Bimbel, tried to escape, and Noxley was shot in the leg. The fellow thought he was going to die, and while waiting for the doctor to come and attend him he made a full confession concerning the stealing of many of the horses in that neighborhood. He said that Bud Haddon was at the head of the gang and that Haddon, with Jillson and Dusenbury, were in the habit of disposing of the animals either at Omaha or Chicago, although one or two steeds, including one belonging to the former owners of Big Horn Ranch had been sent further east.
“I guess it was one of the early thefts that took Haddon to Haven Point,” declared Jack, and in that surmise he was correct.
With this evidence against them, Haddon, Jillson and Dusenbury were submitted to a severe gruelling, each being examined separately. Finally Dusenbury broke down completely and admitted that he and the other two had fired John Calder’s barn after stealing his noted pair of gray horses. The horses had been shipped out of town, and were later on recovered, as were also Mr. Powell’s Blackbird and several other of the animals.
When Bud Haddon’s effects were examined many pawn tickets were discovered, and following up the clues thus afforded Colonel Colby managed to get back many of the articles stolen from the school. These included Professor Duke’s heirloom watch and a number of the things lost by our friends.
At first it was thought that Brassy might be prosecuted, but when Bud Haddon was brought to trial for the thefts the State used the youth as a witness against the fellow, and consequently Brassy was allowed to go free. He, however, received a stern lecture from Colonel Colby and was then told that he had better not return to the Hall.
“I don’t think I want to come back,” said Brassy. “A whole lot of the fellows would never forgive me for what I did.” And in this surmise he was probably correct. Brassy returned to his uncle’s ranch, and that was the last heard of him for a long time.
With the mystery of the robbery at Colby Hall and of the missing horses cleared up, the Rover boys and all the other young folks at Big Horn Ranch turned their attention once more to having a good time. Sam Rover went back to New York to take charge of the offices in Wall Street, and that gave Dick Rover and his wife a chance to come out and pay the ranch a visit.
“We’ve certainly had some strenuous times here,” remarked Jack one day.
And he was right. But other strenuous times were still in store for the lads, and what some of these were will be related in the next volume, to be entitled, “The Rover Boys at Big Bear Lake; or, The Camps of
the Rival Cadets.”
“Big Horn Ranch is a delightful place,” said Ruth. “I never thought a spot where they raised cattle could be so interesting.”
“Is your father going to stay out here and become a regular ranchman, Spouter?” questioned Fred.
“I don’t know about that,” answered the ranch owner’s son. “He’ll stay here for a while, anyway. He likes it better and better every day.”
“I dink some day I got me a ranch mineself alreatty,” remarked Hans Mueller. “Den I could raise all mine own meats for mine delicatessen stores, not so?” and he smiled complacently.
“Come on, boys, let’s get on horseback and have a race!” cried Andy, as he came up from finishing a game of lawn tennis with Mary.
“I’m with you,” answered Fred, who had been playing a game of croquet with May and some of the others.
“All right! A horseback race it is!” cried Jack.
“An extra piece of cake to the boy who wins!”shouted his sister Martha after him.
“Hurrah! Me for that piece of cake!” came from every one of the boys assembled.
And here, while they are running down to the corral pell-mell to get on their horses for a gallop across the prairie, we will leave them and say good-bye.
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