Boy Ranchers on the Trail; Or, The Diamond X After Cattle Rustlers

by Frank V. Webster

  Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Tiffany Vergon, CharlesAldarondo, Charles Franks and the Online DistributedProofreading Team.

  THE BOY RANCHERS ON THE TRAIL

  OR

  _The Diamond X After Cattle Rustlers_

  By WILLARD F. BAKER

  CONTENTS

  I THE ROUND-UP

  II A CURIOUS INSTRUMENT

  III STARTLING NEWS

  IV THE SCRATCHED SAFE

  V THE BROKEN BOTTLE

  VI MISSING STEERS

  VII FOUR EYES

  VIII THROWING THE ROPE

  IX THE FIRE

  X SERIOUS QUESTIONS

  XI THE WATCH TOWER

  XII IN SPITE OF ALL

  XIII THE SIGNAL

  XIV FOUR EYES-NO EYES

  XV A BIG RAID

  XVI ON THE TRAIL

  XVII WILD COUNTRY

  XVIII THE BOILING SPRING

  XIX IN A MAZE

  XX A SURPRISE

  XXI IN PURSUIT

  XXII BUD'S DISCOVERY

  XXIII THE FIGHT

  XXIV A DESPERATE CHANCE

  XXV LIEUTENANT WAYNE

  THE BOY RANCHERS ON THE TRAIL

  CHAPTER I

  THE ROUND-UP

  "Come on, Nort! It's your turn to cut out the next one!"

  "S'pose I make a mux of it, Bud!"

  "Shucks! You won't do that! You've roped a calf before!"

  "Yes, but not at a big round-up like this. If I make a fizzle thefellows will give me the laugh!"

  "What if they do? Everybody knows you haven't been at it long,and you've got to make a start. Besides, anybody's likely to makea mistake. That's why they put rubbers on the ends of pencils.Ride in now and snake out the next one, Nort!"

  "All right, Bud! Here goes!"

  Blaze, the pony Nort Shannon was riding toward the bunch ofcattle gathered at Diamond X ranch for the big, spring round-up,leaped forward at the sound of his master's voice, and inresponse to the little jerk of the reins and the clap of heelsagainst his sides. Into the herd of milling, turning and twistingcattle the intelligent animal made his way, needing hardly anyguidance from Nort. The lad, by a mere touch, corrected thecourse of Blaze slightly, and in a moment he was heading for acalf which bawled loudly.

  "Get him, Nort!" cried a voice from among the cowboys looking on.

  "Don't get me fussed, Dick!" Nort shouted back to his brother,who sat astride his pony near Bud Merkle. "It'll be your turnnext!"

  Into the herd he wormed his way on Blaze, dodging here and there,but with his eyes ever on the calf he hoped to cut out so itcould be branded. Nort leaned forward in his saddle, and then hiscousin and brother, eagerly watching from outside the herd, sawthe boy rancher's hand shoot up.

  Through the air the rope went, turning, twisting, writhing anduncoiling like a snake. In an instant it had flipped around thehind legs of a calf.

  "Good!" yelled Dick.

  "Even Babe couldn't 'a' done better!" complimented Bud,enthusiastically.

  "'Tisn't over yet!" gasped Nort, for he had hard work ahead ofhim, and the dust raised by thousands of hoofs was choking. "Wait'till I get it to the branding corral!"

  He leaned over in his other stirrup, causing the lariat to pulltaut and, the next instant the calf flopped on its side.

  "Snake him out, Blaze!" cried Nort to his pony, and the animalturned and dragged the prostrate calf along over the ground, anoperation not as cruel as it sounds as the surface was inchesthick in soft dust, like flour.

  "That's the boy, Nort!" called his cousin Bud. "I knew you coulddo it! Now then, Dick! Let's see how you'll make out!"

  "I can't throw a rope as good as Nort," answered the stouter lad,as he urged his pony, Blackie, into the herd. "But here goes!"

  Meanwhile Nort had dragged the calf he had cut out to the corralwhere the branding was going on. Two cowboys, stationed there forthe purpose, leaped forward and threw the calf over on its side,for it had managed to struggle to its feet when Nort ceaseddragging it. One man twisted a front leg of the strugglingcreature back in a hammerlock and knelt on its neck. The othertook hold of the upper hind leg, and with this hold prevented thecalf from sprawling along on the ground.

  "Sit on him!" called Mr. Merkel, owner of Diamond X and otherranches. He was superintending the round-up of his herds andthose entrusted to Bud, Nort and Dick in the first businessventure of the boy ranchers. "Sit on him!" yelled Bud's father.

  Accordingly the men sat on the calf, thus, with the holds theyhad secured, keeping it under restraint with the least possiblepain to the small creature.

  "Branding iron!" sang out Slim Degnan, foreman of the ranch.

  A little blaze was flickering on the ground, not far from wherethe calf Nort had cut out was thrown and held. In a moment thefire-tender had seized the branding iron, and, a second or twolater, it was being pressed on the calf's flank.

  The creature bawled loudly, and kicked out, thereby nearlythrowing off the men who were sitting on it. But the branding wasall over in a moment, and the men leaped up, releasing theanimal.

  The calf stood, dazed for the time being, after it had scrambledto its feet, and then trotted out of the corral, lashing its sidewith its little tail. Plainly branded on it now, never to becompletely effaced, was the mark of the ownership of Mr. Merkel--anX inside a diamond.

  "Next!" called the branders:

  "Here comes Dick!" shouted Bud, as Nort rode up beside him. "Andhe got his calf!"

  "Good!" exclaimed the brother. "I guess we're learning the business!"

  "Surest thing you know!" asserted the son of the owner of DiamondX. "I told you it wasn't so hard, and you've done the same thingbefore."

  "But not at such a big round-up," remarked Nort, as he preparedto ride in again and cut out another calf.

  "Yes, it is big," admitted Bud, as he made ready for his share inthe affair--his task being the same as that of his cousins--tocut out the calves for branding purposes. "It sure is a biground-up."

  It had been in progress for days. Twice a year on the big,western ranches, the cattle are driven in from the outlyingranges, to be tallied, inspected, marked and shipped away. Thespring and fall round-ups are always busy seasons at any ranch.

  During the times between round-ups the new calves attained theirgrowth, but they needed to have branded into their hides themarks of their owners. Then, too, some yearlings escaped brandingat times, either by remaining out of sight at the round-up, or inthe attending confusion.

  Unbranded calves who had partly attained their growth, weretermed "mavericks," and when the herds of different ownersmingled, there was, usually, a division of the mavericks, sinceit could not be accurately told who owned them.

  The title maverick was derived from a stock man of that name,whose practice was to claim _all_ unbranded calves in aherd. His cowboys would ride about, cutting out the unmarkedanimals, with the cool statement:

  "That's a maverick," meaning that it belonged to their "boss."

  And so the name has commonly become associated with anyhalf-grown, unbranded calf.

  Mr. Merkel was the owner of several ranches, Square M, Triangle Band Diamond X, not to mention Diamond X Second, or Flume Valley,of which his son Bud, and the latter's cousins, Norton andRichard Shannon, were the nominal proprietors.

  The cattle from Flume Valley, or "Happy Valley" as Bud called itafter the mystery of the underground water was solved, were inthe round-up with the others from his father's ranches.

  For days preceding the live
ly doings I have just described, thecowboys, called in from distant ranges, had driven the cattletoward the central assembling point--the corrals at Diamond X.

  Slowly the longhorns, the shorthorns and cattle with no horns atall, had been "hazed" in from their feeding grounds towardDiamond X. The cow punchers had galloped hard all day, and theyhad ridden herd at night, to keep the animals from straying. Atnight this was not so hard, for the animals were glad to restduring the darkness.

  But during the day there was always some steer--often more thanone--that wanted to run away from the herd. As this might start astampede it was necessary to drive the "striker" back, and thiswas, often enough, a difficult task.

  Bud, Nort and Dick had borne their share of this difficult round-uptask, and now, when the thousand or more of steers, calves andmavericks had been gathered at Diamond X, the work of tallyingthem, branding those that were without marks and shipping awaythe best was well under way.

  In and out of the herd rode the boy ranchers, doing their bestalongside of more seasoned "punchers." Calves were cut out,thrown and branded, to be quickly released and again mingle withthe herd.

  "Oh, I'm Captain Jinks, Of the Horse Marines!"

  One of the cowboys, wiping the dust and sweat from his face, withhis big, red silk handkerchief, or, rather, neckerchief, startedthis song. It was taken up by half a score of loud voices.

  "Yi-yippy!" came in stentorian tones from Yellin' Kid. "This isthe life!"

  But as, just then, his pony slipped and he missed the throw hemade for a calf, it is doubtful if Yellin' Kid felt as gay as hesounded.

  "Hot work; eh, boys?" asked Mr. Merkel, when Dick, Nort and Budrode past to get drinks of water.

  "But it's great, all the same!" answered Dick, with shiningeyes--eyes that gleamed amid a face dark with the tan of thewestern sun and grimy with the dust of the western plains.

  "Glad you like it!" commented the proprietor of Diamond X as hekept on with his tallying. "How they coming, Slim?" he asked hisforeman.

  "Couldn't be better! Old Buck Tooth is doing a heap sight morethan I ever dreamed a Zuni could."

  "Bud said that his old Indian helper was up to snuff!" commentedMr. Merkel. "I'm glad to know it. Heard anything from Double Z?"he asked, and there was an anxious note in his voice.

  "No, Hank and his gang seem to have quieted down after what Itold 'em!"

  "Well, I hope he doesn't make trouble for Bud and the boys.They're going back to Happy Valley to-night."

  "So I understand. Oh, shucks! Don't worry about Hank! He's alltalk--he and that blustery foreman of his, Ike Johnson!"

  There had been a dispute between the cowboys of Diamond X andthose of Double Z, a ranch owned by the notorious Hank Fisher, afew days before the round-up, the subject of dispute being theownership of certain mavericks. It had ended with the triumph ofSlim Degnan, foreman of Mr. Merkel's holdings.

  And so the round-up went on, the heat, the dust, the noise andconfusion increasing as calf after calf, maverick after maverick,was branded, and the steers to be shipped were cut out, to behazed over to the railroad stock yards.

  And yet, with all the seeming confusion, there was order andsystem in the work.

  "Well, I guess this is the last," remarked Mr. Merkel to his son,as Bud, with his cousins, rode slowly up to the ranch house, whenthe final calf had been cut out and the tally made. "You boysgoing back after grub?"

  "Yep," answered Bud, but there was no enthusiasm in his voice.He, like his cousins, was too tired. For the day had been agrueling one, with the heat and hard work.

  "You sure did make out a whole lot better than I ever thought youwould," said Mr. Merkel, as he rode along with his son andnephew's. "Putting water into that valley made a big difference."

  "I should say so!" exclaimed Bud. "Our stock will lay overanything you will ship from any of your three ranches, Dad!"

  "I wouldn't wonder but what you are right, Bud! Well, let's washup and eat."

  One by one the cowboys drifted in, some singing ranch songs inspite of their weariness. Bud and his cousins were through withtheir meal first, and, having persuaded his sister, Nell, to packa basket of doughnuts, pie and cheese for him, Bud signalled tohis cousins to join him out at the pony corral.

  "Let's get an early start back to Happy Valley," he urged. "It'sa long enough ride, anyhow."

  "You said it!" commented Nort.

  "Well, there's one thing we don't have to worry about, and thatis not finding any water running into the reservoir," added Dick,as he slipped in through the gate and caught one of his ponies--notBlackie, who was tired out from the round-up. Each cow puncher,including the boy ranchers, had several animals in his "string."

  "No, I guess, since we solved the mystery of the water supply,we'll have no more trouble," agreed Bud.

  The boy ranchers rode over the trail to their own camp--it wasactually a camp, for permanent ranch buildings had not yet beenerected in Happy Valley, though some were projected. Tents formedthe abiding place of our heroes, and as they were only thereduring the summer months the canvas shelters served very well,indeed.

  The moon rose, shining down from a starlit sky, as the rough butfaithful and sturdy cow ponies ambled along. Now the boy rancherswould be down in some swale, or valley, and again topping one ofthe foothills which led to Buffalo Ridge or Snake Mountain,between which elevations lay Happy Valley, where the cattle ofDiamond X Second were quartered.

  "There she is--the old camp," murmured Dick, as they started downthe slope which led to the collection of tents erected againstthe earthen and stone bank of the reservoir.

  "And maybe I won't hit the hay!" exclaimed Bud, with a yawn. "Wedon't have to get up to-morrow until we're ready."

  "Oh, boy!" cried Nort in delight.

  They rode forward, and were almost at their camp when Bud, whohad trotted ahead, pulled his pony to a sudden stop and criedout:

  "Hold on there! Who are you and where are you going?"

  At the same moment his cousins saw the moon gleaming on the .45gun which Bud drew from his holster.