“IN HER HAND THE WOMAN HELD A LONG BARRELED RIFLE”
The X Bar X Boys in Thunder Canyon. Frontispiece—(Page 150)

THE X BAR X BOYS

IN THUNDER CANYON

BY

JAMES CODY FERRIS

Author of “The X Bar X Boys on the Ranch,”

“The X Bar X Boys on Whirlpool River,” etc.

ILLUSTRATED BY

Walter S. Rogers

NEW YORK

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS

Made in the United States of America

Copyright, 1926, by

GROSSET & DUNLAP

All Rights Reserved

The X Bar X Boys in Thunder Canyon

CONTENTS

X BAR X BOYS IN THUNDER CANYON

CHAPTER I

The Landslide

Raising his head in a gesture of disdain that was almost human, the horse walked stiff-legged around a porcupine that lay in the center of the trail.

“Steering clear of needles, Flash?” said his rider, laughing cheerfully. “Say, Roy,” he called to his companion, who sat astride a chestnut mustang, “is it true that porcupines can shoot their quills?”

“Bunk!” answered Roy Manley briefly. “Pure bunk, Teddy. You don’t mean to say you believed that, do you?”

“Well, now, that’s a question,” Teddy Manley replied, a veiled twinkle in his eyes. “Some say one thing, some say another. Pop Burns told me a porcupine shot him full of quills from ten feet away.”

“Pop Burns!” Roy snorted. “He could convince an Eskimo that ice was made of rock candy. You ought to know Pop by this time.”

The two brothers pulled their horses to a halt and gazed curiously at the small, quilled animal. The boys were alike in build, both being lean, wiry products of ranch life. Teddy Manley, fifteen years old, one year younger than Roy, had light hair and blue eyes, favoring his mother, Mrs. Bardwell Manley, in these respects. Roy took after his father in the matter of eyes and hair—both of these being brown.

Roy ran his hand over the ears of Star, his pony. From any other, this would have been cause for immediate proceedings tending toward the unseating of the rider, but now Star whinnied affectionately.

“Tell you what,” Roy declared. “Let’s bring this sticker home with us and get Pop to explain how it shoots its quills.”

“Good idea,” Teddy answered, grinning. “You’re elected, Roy. How are you going to carry it?”

“Humph! Never thought of that,” the brother demurred. “If we had something we could wrap it up in—”

“Or if we had a wagon,” Teddy went on. He was deriving much amusement from Roy’s serious attention to the problem at hand. Quieter, and looking at life through graver eyes than Teddy, Roy would frequently devote himself to the solemn consideration of a question which Teddy would dismiss with a light laugh. Roy’s nature was drawn from his mother, who, before her marriage to Bardwell Manley, had been a schoolteacher in Denver.

“Why don’t you tie him to Star’s tail?” asked Teddy, his face a study in innocence.

“Why don’t I? A fine suggestion!” his brother burst out. “Why don’t you carry him under your arm? You’ve got a leather vest on—you won’t get stuck.”

Teddy assumed to consider this proposition. He dismounted and walked toward the porcupine. Bending over, he peered closely at the curled-up animal.

“Looks as if he were dead,” the boy said finally.

“He’s not dead,” Roy declared convincingly. “You try to pat him on the head if you think so. He just curls up so you’ll let him alone.”

“Like a steam roller?”

“Yea, like a steam roller,” answered Roy, with a grin. “If you think I’m going to ask why, you’re mistaken. Go on, pick him up, Teddy. He won’t hurt you. He likes children.”

“Then why don’t you take a crack at him?” the other boy demanded. The one year’s difference in their ages was a touchy point with Teddy.

“Too busy. I have to hold your horse or he’ll slide down the mountain side.”

The two boys were returning from a ride across the country. They had been investigating some land that their father, who was the owner of the X Bar X Ranch, was thinking of purchasing for grazing ground. They had stayed longer than they had intended, and, wishing to reach home before night, had taken a short cut over Mica Mountain. The riding was not of the best, especially at this time of year when the warm summer sun had melted the snows on the peaks and the water, flowing down, was loosening the top soil. But the brothers were willing to chance a possible accident for the sake of arriving home “in time for grub.”

“Don’t worry about Flash!” Teddy exclaimed. “He could stand on the side of a house. Well, what’s the news? Are we going to take old Needleback home with us?”

“Sure! Wrap him in—” Roy stopped suddenly. He tilted his head forward in a listening attitude.

“Thunder,” Teddy remarked. “I heard it, too. Come on, let’s be on our way. Never mind the porcupine.” He walked over to Flash and rested his hand on the pommel of the saddle. As he did so the rolling noise was repeated, this time much louder.

“Thunder nothing!” Roy cried. “There’s not a cloud in the sky. That’s up the mountain some place.”

“Well, whatever it is, I don’t like the sound of it!” came from Teddy, as he vaulted into the saddle. “Makes my flesh creep. I’m tired, I guess. We’ve been riding ever since early morning. That’s the longest stretch I’ve been on a horse since that night we chased the rustlers all over creation. Baby, that was some time! Wonder what happened to the three men who got away?”

“Oh, I suppose they left the country,” Roy answered, as he guided his bronco down the steep trail. “Birds like that don’t linger long in one place, especially when they know that place isn’t healthy for them. The four we put in jail are there for a good stretch, I hope—though that jail in Hawley isn’t any too strong.”

“You said it! Well, if they escape, they escape, that’s all. But they’d better not try any more funny work around here. Dad’ll salivate ’em. Jimminy! I wonder what that noise was that we heard. It’s got me kind of leery.”

“Rocks falling, most likely. Don’t know what else it could be. I know it isn’t thunder. Come on, get a wiggle on. Be dark soon. Watch your step, this footing isn’t any too good.”

Keeping firm hands on the reins, the two ranch boys proceeded down the mountain side. The ground was covered with a loose shale, and the mountain on this side was nearly devoid of trees. It would not do to urge the horses to a faster gait than they naturally took, for a fall here meant a nasty slide.

“I hear Nell and Ethel are going to stay at the 8 X 8 most of this coming winter,” Roy remarked casually, as he guided Star around a large rock. He referred to two New York girls with whom the brothers had become acquainted some time before.

“You don’t say!” his brother returned, in a bantering tone. “I suppose the news just trickled out! You didn’t ask mother to ’phone over to Mrs. Ball and find out, did you? Oh, no! Well, let’s have it all. Why are they going to stay all winter, Mr. Bones?”

“Aw, dry up,” Roy said, laughing, albeit his face was a trifle red. “Trying to kid me, aren’t you? How’s Curly, Ted? Have you heard from her lately?”

“No, I haven’t!” and Teddy in his turn became flustered. “But I know why they are going to stay all winter, even if you don’t. Their folks went abroad. Mr. Carew had to settle an estate with ramifications in Italy, and Mr. and Mrs. Willis went with him and his wife.”

“Oh-ho! Our little detective on the job! Say, don’t try to kid me. After that you haven’t got a word to say! Star, take it easy! This pony must want to get home in a hurry.” Roy steadied his grip on the reins.

“Guess he didn’t like that noise any more than we did,” Teddy suggested. “These horses know almost as much as we do, they’ve been with us so long. It was sure tough when the rustlers stole them, wasn’t it? Great to have them back, though.”

“I’ll tell a maverick it is! And we’re lucky those rustlers—especially Froud—didn’t ride ’em to death. Checkered Shirt prevented Froud from injuring them, I guess. Wonder what became of him!”

“Can’t imagine. He turned out to be a pretty decent sort of a hombre after all, didn’t he? Well, I wish him luck. He certainly did us a favor.”

Teddy was referring to the leader of a gang of rustlers who had turned friendly when the brothers saved him from death and had in consequence helped them recover their ponies, which had been stolen by Gilly Froud to revenge himself against Mr. Manley for his discharge by the ranch owner.

As the brothers rode down the trail, Roy frequently turned in his saddle and gazed up the mountain. Finally Teddy asked:

“What’s the idea, Roy? Why the interested stare? Expect to see a friend of yours?”

“Not any. But I’m still curious about that noise. Seems to have stopped, and I’d like to know what it really was.”

“Thought you said it was rocks falling down the mountain?”

“Well, it probably was. But that doesn’t prove anything. Suppose it was a landslide? It might be, you know. And landslides aren’t things you can fool with.”

“A landslide on Mica Mountain? Forget it! Never knew one to happen yet. Golly, look at that buzzard! Wish I had a rifle along; bet I could knock him for a loup.”

Roy turned again in his saddle. Evidently he had not heard Teddy’s remark about the bird circling overhead, for he did not reply. Instead he listened intently.

“Say, what’s the matter with you?” Teddy demanded, as he watched his brother. “You give me the willies. Why don’t you—”

Roy held up his hand.

“Listen!” he commanded. “Hear that?”

To the boys’ ears came that same queer rumbling noise. Now it did not decrease as it had before, but grew louder and louder. The brothers faced each other, paling beneath their tan.

Suddenly a stone hit the ground with a crash directly in front of Teddy’s horse. The thunder increased in volume—it seemed almost at their heels. Then another stone fell—and another!

Like a flash, both boys turned. What they saw caused their breath to stick in their throats and their hearts to beat madly.

The whole mountain side seemed to have been torn loose. Huge boulders were tumbling toward them. The few trees that dotted the landscape were uprooted and toppled with majestic force. The air was filled with flying pieces of rock!

Above all rose that sullen, deep-throated roar like a giant in anger.

CHAPTER II

A Missing Brother

“Ride!” Teddy yelled. “It’s a landslide! Watch out for—”

His words were drowned by a bo-o-o-m! that seemed to shake the mountain to its very base. Teddy wasted no more time in useless explanations. Wisely he gave Flash his head and let the bronco pick his own path down the treacherous incline.

As horse and rider catapulted toward level ground, Teddy’s first thought was for his brother. He turned swiftly in the saddle, and his heart gave a leap when he saw that Roy had disappeared. Frantically the boy peered through the haze of dust which hung over the landscape like a pall, but Roy was nowhere to be seen. Teddy knew it would be hopeless to yell, as he could never make himself heard over the crashing roar of the landslide.

With a silent prayer for his brother’s safety, the rider was forced to use all his skill to retain his seat in the saddle. Lucky for him that he had, as his father put it, “been born aboard a bronc,” else he must surely have been flung to the ground, to be seriously injured, if not killed, by the rocks and trees that were sweeping swiftly down the mountain side, almost at his heels.

Flash, his eyes white with fright, was leaping for safety like some wild animal. Now and then he would give a whinny of terror as a rock landed at his side with a thud. The chances were about even that the boy and his pony would avoid the falling stones. Yet, as each one hurtled by, it seemed certain that the next must strike and send the horse and rider crashing to the ground.

“Stick to it, Flash!” Teddy panted, drawing his hand quickly over his eyes to clear them of sweat. “Another five hundred feet and we’ll be safe—the slide is slowing up! If I could only see—this dust—if Roy is safe—”

The grinding noise to the rear of the boy was gradually lessening, and the hurtling rocks were becoming fewer in number. Still Teddy knew he was by no means safe, as any moment another slide might start and overtake him. And a second slide, piled on top of the already loosened earth, might completely overwhelm him. He must ride, and ride hard, if he wished to place himself out of danger.

Flash’s trip down the mountain was one of breath-taking escapes from destruction. Teddy swayed with him as though he were a part of the horse. Almost automatically, the boy would know when the bronco was going to plant his feet to avoid a sudden drop, and he would brace himself for the shock. Then the pony would slide and leap—slide and leap. On Teddy’s part it was a marvel of horsemanship; on Flash’s part it was a wonderful example of animal intelligence. Frightened as he was, the pony never once made a misstep, never once gave way to his terror and dashed blindly forward. Had he done so it would have meant the end for Teddy Manley.

At this moment the young rancher bore little resemblance to the young man registered as “Theodore Havens Manley, Latin Scientific Course,” on the records of the Hopper Boarding School. His face was streaked with dust, and perspiration had smudged it into a black mask. His hat was gone—swept off by a swishing branch—and his hair was in wild disorder. His clothing was torn in several places by the bushes he had dashed through. He was panting fiercely, and his eyes were sharpened into two points of blue light. From his lips came words that were barely articulate.

“Now, Flash—watch that rock! Stick to it, old boy, stick to it—a little more—yow! That was a close one! All right, baby, you’re not hurt—take it easy now—”

A leap—a swift, neck-jerking halt—slipping, sliding, trying desperately for a foothold—another leap—

Suddenly a yell burst from Teddy’s lips. Frantically he pulled on the reins, seeking vainly to stop the pony almost in midair. The boy’s face paled. In front of him, so close that the horse’s forefeet seemed on the very edge, yawned a deep gully!

“Flash! We’re done for! Ah-h—”

In the second that remained to him Teddy made his decision. It was impossible to stop, the gully seemed to rush eagerly to meet them. There was only one chance—that Flash could clear it, could leap to the other side.

Teddy released the reins. He dug his heels deep into the pony’s sides. And, with his heart in his throat, the boy felt the horse rise beneath him and sail through the air.

For a moment the mount and his rider were silhouetted against the sky like a frantic picture thrown on the silversheet. A moment—then Teddy felt his very bones grind together in the shock of that swift descent. Vaguely he looked about him. Flash, trembling like a leaf, was standing upon a broad plateau. They were safe!

Teddy nodded his head several times, slowly, deliberately, as if to confirm his past thoughts. Then he dismounted stiffly, and putting a hand on either side of the pony’s head, he looked him straight in the eyes. For a second—perhaps two—he stood there, while Flash gradually grew still and breathed easier. When he whinnied softly, Teddy rubbed the pony’s ears and stepped back.

“Finish!” the boy said. Then he laughed, adding:

“Me, I’m going to join the aviation and have you for a plane! Jimminy, what a jump! Let’s see—”

Turning, Teddy walked to the edge. The dust of the landslide had almost settled, and he saw plainly the other side of the gully. It was a great deal higher than the land on which he stood, which difference in elevation was the only reason Flash had been able to make the leap. No horse could have jumped that distance on the level. Even with this drop to aid him, it seemed almost impossible that Flash had done it. Yet there he stood, looking at his master with knowing eyes, and here Teddy stood—safe!

“But where in thunder am I?” the boy exclaimed suddenly. “I don’t remember seeing this gully before. If I could get to the other side again I could probably find my way home, but there’s not a dog’s chance of ever leaping back.” He looked down into the abyss and shuddered. The thought of that tremendous jump was unnerving.

As Teddy walked toward Flash, he felt a wave of uneasiness pass over him, as though an unpleasant thought were hiding in his brain somewhere. His mind leaped forward.

“Roy!”

Where was his brother? What had happened to him? Did he escape? They were both ahead of the slide, surely he could not have fallen! Star could bring him out of it—unless he was struck by a rock!

Teddy hunched his shoulders. He ran his hand through his hair and discovered for the first time that he had no hat on. Then he looked about him, as if he expected to find the hat lying under a bush. The hat—never mind the hat! Roy was gone!

In silence and with a deep frown creasing his forehead, Teddy remounted. Could it be possible that his brother had come to this same gully and, as he had, leaped with his horse to the other side? Teddy cast his eye along the opposite edge. Less than a quarter of a mile away the lip of the gorge dipped down, so that it was level with the plateau on which Flash stood. The meaning of this struck Teddy like a dash of cold water. This, then, was the only place the leap could be made! If a pony tried the jump where both sides were level, he would hit the cliff with his hind feet, while his front feet would paw desperately on the loose earth of the plateau’s edge, seeking madly to draw himself and his rider to safety, then with a scream he would lose his hold—fall backward—turning over and over—over and over—

A groan burst from Teddy’s lips.

It could not be! It must not be! Roy was safe! He had turned to one side and had ridden from under the landslide. Now he was looking for Teddy, wondering what had happened, wondering if Teddy had made it all right. Now he was taking off his hat, rubbing back his hair and muttering something about, “I’ll tell a maverick that was some ruckus!” Certainly he was safe, Teddy argued. Roy—good old Roy—he’d come riding along any minute now and yell across to his brother asking him if the landslide didn’t remind him of the scene in “The Fall of Pompeii.”

But Roy did not come riding along, and the sun was casting long shadows as Teddy rode slowly along the edge of the gorge. Somehow he would have to find his way out of here. He must reach home and send a party out to search for Roy. No, Roy would be waiting for him when he got there! Maybe he would arrive in time to halt those who were about to start after Teddy. If he hurried they might find Roy before it was too late! No, no! Roy was home already!

“Can’t go on like this,” the boy muttered, bending low over the pony’s head. “The thing to do is to find dad as quickly as I can and tell him. He’ll know what to do. But I won’t let mother know—not until we find Roy. Then Roy can tell her. If I could only remember this gully I might reach the ranch without riding all over the landscape.”

He hunched his shoulders again, as another boy might straighten up, and thrust his chin forward. Chirping to his mount, he increased his pace.

The sky above him had turned to a pale blue that was almost white, while to the west, beyond the mountains, a riot of color blazed. Teddy threw his head back as a shrill, hoarse cry of a circling buzzard tore the silence. Then the boy raised in his stirrups and shook his fist fiercely at the winged carrion-eater.

“What do you want here? There’s nothing for you! Search! Go ahead and search, you filthy buzzard! You won’t find anything, I tell you! Roy is home—home! And he and I will come out to-morrow and toss some lead into you! Maybe you’ll like to try that for a change of diet!”

Strangely enough, the bird ceased his ominous circling, and with another scream disappeared over the rim of trees. Teddy sank back into the saddle, his face somewhat red, ashamed of his outburst.

“Must be getting woozy,” he muttered. “Yellin’ at a buzzard! Never did that before. I wonder—”

Suddenly he stopped, pulling the reins taut. Above him, outlined against the eastern sky, was the figure of a man on horseback. As he rode closer, a red beam from the setting sun shot through the trees and illuminated his face like a spotlight. Teddy gave a yell.

“Nick! Nick Looker! Yo-o-o, Nick! How do I get out of here? Where’s Roy? Hey-y-y, Nick!”

CHAPTER III

The Slouching Rider

Nick Looker’s answer winged down on the evening breeze.

“Yo-o, Ted! What you say-y-y? Where you been?”

“How do I get out of here?”

“South! Keep south! Straight out from the gully! Then bear west! I’ll meet you!”

With a throb of sudden hope in his heart that Nick had found Roy, Teddy turned Flash about and rode rapidly in the direction Nick had indicated.

While the boy is hurrying to meet the young puncher on the trail above him, a few moments will be taken to tell something of Roy and Teddy Manley of the X Bar X Ranch.

The two brothers had been born on their father’s ranch, and, with the exception of the three years they had spent at the Hopper Boarding School, just outside of Denver, they had lived the rugged life of the cowboy. Although their father was more than moderately well off, he, as a Westerner of the old school, determined that his boys should have every chance the West offered them to grow into hardy men. Hence it was that they were an important part of the “working crew” on the X Bar X.

As related in the first book of this series, called “The X Bar X Boys on the Ranch,” Roy and Teddy succeeded in obtaining information which led to the capture of a band of rustlers at the very moment they had planned to steal cattle from the Manley range. Among these men was Gilly Froud, who was despised even by his cronies because of his cruelty to horses and his mean, avaricious spirit.

It was this coward who, out of revenge for a fancied wrong done him by Mr. Manley, had stolen General, Star, and Flash, the especial horses of Mr. Manley, Roy, and Teddy. That theft was his undoing, for the two boys and their father were determined to recover their favorite mounts at all costs. The many exciting adventures which led to their recovery and the jailing of most of the rustlers, are told of in the book preceding this.

With this explanation, let us return to Teddy as he is riding to meet Nick Looker, a cowboy of the X Bar X outfit.

Following Nick’s instructions, the boy bore south out of the gully. Then, in a moment, he spotted a well worn trail, and, practically of his own accord, Flash made for this at a gallop.

“Right under my nose and I couldn’t see it!” Teddy murmured bitterly. “What a fine Westerner I am! If I had found this sooner I’d be almost home by now and we could have started after Roy that much quicker. There’s just a chance that Nick saw him—just a chance. Baby, I sure hope he has!”

Eager to set his mind at rest, he touched Flash impatiently with his heels. The horse, who was doing his best over the rough ground, turned his head as if in reproach. Teddy grinned slightly.

“All right, ole hoss,” he said. “Go ahead. Don’t mind me. Guess I’m kind o’ nervous. But you can’t blame me now, can you?”

At that moment, when Teddy was most concerned over his brother’s safety, Roy was within a quarter of a mile of him, across the gully, himself riding toward Nick Looker.

When the landslide came, Roy, realizing his danger, had snapped Star into action with a sudden yell. The next moment the pall of dust hid everything, and Roy had to give his safety into the keeping of his pony.

Star did not fail him. Taking a direction at right angles and to the left of the route Flash had picked, the bronco sought to avoid the rumbling slide by long, desperate bounds. Somehow, he had chosen the only avenue of escape left to him. As he shot over the mountain, Roy noticed that they were leaving the landslide behind. In a few moments he and Star stood in safety, while in the distance the rocks still crashed down the slope.

As Teddy’s first thought had been for his brother, so now Roy hoped fervently that Teddy had succeeded in riding clear.

He stopped and looked about him. The thunder of the landslide had died to an echo, and Roy knew that within five minutes the earth would settle entirely. Still it would not be exactly safe to ride over that stretch of mountain for some time, as the least disturbance might start another slide.

“Well, if she starts, she starts,” Roy said aloud. “I’ve got to find Teddy! If he’s off his horse, he’ll want to ride double with me. Guess Star can hold us; hey, old boy? Get along now. Tread easy. Don’t go kicking about or you’ll have the whole mountain on top of us. All right, mosey!”

Diagonally across the mountain he rode, his eyes narrowing as the sun neared the horizon and Teddy was still missing. Yet, he thought, no news is good news, and Teddy might even now be waiting at the ranch for him.

To the best of his knowledge, the trail he rode led toward the X Bar X. If Teddy was really lost, it would be best to make for home and send out a searching party. One man could do nothing in this trackless, wild country. Turning in his saddle, Roy squinted at the descending sun, now a dull red ball.

“Take it on the run, Star,” he said aloud, in a somewhat anxious voice. “Night, she’s coming. Want to find out if Teddy got home safe. If not—”

He did not complete his thought, but let the reins hang loosely over the bronco’s neck. Star eased into a gallop.

“I suppose we’re going right,” Roy remarked after a moment. “Seems as though the ranch should be due east. When that slide came, we were—”

Cutting the sentence off sharply, he pulled back on the reins with all his strength. Star slid forward on stiffened legs, reared, and came to rest within a foot of the edge of the gully. From where Roy sat, it appeared that the pony’s head hung over the cliff while the horse himself remained on solid land only by dint of clinging to the earth with his tail, or perhaps with his hind feet, to help him. The boy took a deep breath.

“If it’s all the same to you, Star, maybe you’d be just as happy a little farther back. Hey? Easy, now—there’s no rush. Let’s not do anything sudden. Easy! That’s the stuff. Whew!”

Pushing back his sombrero, Roy mopped his forehead.

Then he dismounted and walked forward, to part the bushes and investigate the canyon before him.

“She’s deep, all right, and wide,” he mused. “Not a chance to jump it—here, at any rate. Funny I don’t remember this. Well—”

He shook his head jerkily, in the gesture of a person casting an unpleasant thought from him. Walking swiftly to where he had left Star, he remounted and started silently to follow the canyon. Turning from side to side, so that he might not miss Teddy if the boy were in that vicinity, Roy, glancing to the south, away from the gully, gave a start. In the distance, far up the mountain, he could see the figure of a man on horseback.

“Teddy!” he yelled, then the next moment regretted it. That was not Teddy. He rode differently, slouched to one side. Quickly Roy moved out of sight behind a bush and peered through. The man was gone. Roy could not tell whether he had heard his hail or not.

“Jimminy! he looked familiar.” The boy was puzzled. “I’ve seen a rider just like that somewhere. I wonder if—” Then he smiled to himself at the absurdity of it. The rustlers they had captured were in jail at Hawley. That fellow who had wanted to shoot Froud for knifing his friend Brand was certainly behind bars.

“It couldn’t have been him up there! Yet that slouch and the queer way he held his shoulders!”

Roy had not known how vividly the picture of that night had been impressed in his memory. The ride to the north fence—the long wait—then the coming of the rustlers with Froud leading them and the others following, among them one with that strange slouch. No, Roy had not consciously marked the peculiarity of that side-riding horseman. Yet now, when he saw one who recalled the scene, he pictured the rider almost as vividly as if he were before his eyes.

Keenly the boy swept the mountain top with his gaze, but the puncher had disappeared. Roy shrugged his shoulders.

“Guess I’ll never know,” he commented grimly. “But how could it be that rustler when he’s over in Hawley playing solitaire in a cell? My eyes must be doing tricks.”

Star whinnied softly, recalling Roy from his reverie.

“Thanks, baby,” the boy said with a little chuckle. “You’re a grand little alarm-clock, I’ll tell a maverick! Let’s be going.”

With the disappearance of the strange horseman, Roy’s mind reverted to Teddy with a sickening fear. A frown came to his face and he chirped to Star, who was moving restlessly forward. With a jump the pony went into a gallop.

“Hey, you!” came a sudden call.

Roy jerked his head around in amazement.

“Where you bound for? Eagles, to get the evenin’ mail?”

“Nick!”

“Why not?”

A puncher rode into the open and approached Roy. His tanned face wore a broad grin.

“What’s yore hurry?”

“Nick! Have you seen Teddy? Is he safe?”

“Sure, he’s safe!” the cowboy chuckled. “Safe an’ sound. He’ll be here in a minute. I spotted him followin’ the gully like a lost sheep. Listen! Think I hear him now. Say—”

But Roy waited no longer. With a yell he started Star toward the sound of the approaching horseman. In a moment the two brothers were face to face.

“Teddy! I was afraid you were—”

“I thought you were—”

They both stopped. Teddy thrust out his hand, and, for a brief moment, it met Roy’s in a firm grip that spoke of what was in the heart of each. Then Teddy chuckled.

“Quite a show, hey, Roy?”

“I’ll tell a maverick! But, Teddy, when the rocks were busting down a mile a minute and roaring like thunder and the dust started to rise, didn’t it remind you of—now tell the truth—didn’t it remind you of the eruption of the volcano in ‘The Fall of Pompeii?’ ”

Teddy laughed softly, and side by side the two boys rode toward the X Bar X. Nick, whistling softly, led the way. The sun flashed a last blaze of orange and pink as it sank behind the hills.

Far to the rear, on the mountain top, was a lone horseman, his hand shading his eyes, peering intently at the three riders. Silent and immobile as a statue he sat, slouching sideways in the saddle, as though he were discouraged and weary after a long, long ride.

CHAPTER IV

A Message in the Night

At the ranch that evening, there was much talk of the landslide and of how Nick came upon the two boys “wanderin’ around within five hundred yards of each other an’ each thinkin’ the other was settin’ on the ground, tossin’ little rocks after big ones,” which was Nick’s way of telling of the incident.

Mr. Manley, the soul of bluff friendliness and humor, laughed until the ends of his long black mustache curled inward.

But Mrs. Manley, she whom the boys and their father often called, half jokingly, half seriously, “the blonde angel of the West,” smiled tenderly. Now that the danger was over, she would not worry. Still in her mother’s heart was a prayer of thankfulness for the boys’ safety. Often had she watched her sons off on a dangerous mission with a laugh on her lips and anguish in her soul, but they never knew that.

Perhaps Mr. Manley suspected, for at times he would gather her in his arms without a word of warning, and in a soft voice ask her if she was sorry she had come out to “this roughneck West where there’s nothin’ but cyclones an’ wild steers an’ rustlers.”

Then she would lift her face to his, her eyes shining with just a hint of tears—of happiness, and in a moment Mr. Manley’s laugh would go booming out into the sunny yard. Seldom would she answer his question. He knew the reply without being told.

Belle Ada, the daughter of the family, she of the dark eyes and wavy black hair, characterized by Sing Lung, the cook, as “Plitty like litta’ black jade house-god,” was disappointed that Teddy had not brought home the porcupine. Belle was twelve years old, and a fitting partner for Teddy when any joke was afoot.

“We could have had loads of fun with him,” she declared. “Golly! Imagine Pop Burns trying to get him to shoot his quills! I know we could have fixed up something, maybe with rubber bands, so when Pop went near him the quills would shoot! Of course I don’t say we could have. I just say maybe. But, anyway—”

“Hey, take it easy!” Teddy interrupted. “We haven’t got old Needleback; so what’s the use of supposing? You’re lucky to have us back at all, Miss Maybe. Do you realize that?”

“Bugs,” Belle stated definitely, with that callousness so attractive in sisters of twelve. “I know you and Roy. It ’ud take more than a landslide to put you under. Like that time you went after the rustlers. If I could have come with you, I’ll bet none of them would have gotten away!”

“Is that so!” Roy interrupted, getting up from the steps of the front porch, where he had been sitting, and walking toward Belle. “Is that so! How would you work? What would you do? Shoot ’em all? Would you? Would you? Would—”

“Roy Manley, don’t you touch my hair! I just combed it! Roy! If you don’t stop—”

With a bound, Roy cleared the railing, while Belle stood in mock fury, shaking her fist.

“Come on, Teddy,” the departed brother called back. “Let’s go see Nick down at the bunk-house. We can’t be bothering with children.”

With a laugh, Teddy arose and followed his brother.

“We’ll see you later,” he whispered as he passed Belle. “Think up a good one, and I’ll help you.”

Approaching the bunk-house, the two boys saw that Nick, Pop Burns, and Gus Tripp were leaning against the side talking—“settling their supper.” In the dusk of the evening, they resembled a picture, so quietly did they stand. The cowboy will seldom move unless it is necessary, but at those times he makes up for his former quiescence.

“Greetings, boys,” Teddy called softly.

“And to you, great chiefs, the blessing of the harvest moon,” came from Gus. “What brings you-all to the abode of the humble?”

“Make talk,” Teddy grunted. “Where do you get that ‘humble’ stuff? Been getting more love letters, Gus?”

“You tell ’em,” Pop chuckled. “Pop” was the oldest puncher on the X Bar X. He claimed to have invented the brand of the Manley ranch when the present owner’s father first settled it. Thus he felt entitled to a certain consideration from the “youngsters,” as he called the other hands. This respect he often sought to enforce by criticizing the rising generation, much to his later dismay. In the words of Nick, they “hopped all over him.”

“Never mind about my love letters,” Gus responded, grinning. “I guess Nick, here, can tell us all we want to know about love. He’s the hombre that writes the ‘advice to the lovelorn’ in the Hawley Register; ain’t you, Nick? An’ I know where he gets his dope from, too! Me, if I liked Norine as well as you do, I’d marry the girl, that’s what I’d do! Yessir!”

“Dry up,” Nick growled. Norine was the daughter of Mrs. Moore, a widow, who for many years had been the housekeeper at the ranch house of the X Bar X. Norine was Irish—and pretty. Nick was not the only puncher on the ranch who had fallen a victim to her charms.

“Yep, these kids amuse me,” Pop chuckled, sliding gently down the side of the bunk-house until he sat upon the ground, when he proceeded to light and fill a pipe. “They sure tickle me! Talkin’ about love! Huh! Why, you birds don’t know what love means. Me, I had experience. First gal I ever loved was the dar’ter of a bouncer in a drinkin’ place over Tacoma way. She was a gal fer yuh! Shoot? That gal could shoot the eye outta a fly at ten paces. That’s the reason I didn’t marry her. She was too good. The next one was—”

“Aw, take a rest!” Nick exploded. “How do you get thataway? Must think you’re King Solomon, or somebody! Pop, there’s only one trouble with you. You’re too verbose.”

“Here!” the old man sat upright, startled. “Don’t go callin’ names at me, Nick, ’cause I won’t have it. I’m tellin’ yuh now, I—”

“Take it easy, Pop,” Roy broke in. “That doesn’t mean anything to get sore about. It means you talk too much.”

“Oh!” Pop returned, mollified. “I thought it meant somethin’ else. Got to be careful these days, with all the youngsters readin’ dictionaries. When I was your age, Nick, all my knowledge I got out of Harvey’s Encyclopedia an’ an almanack containin’ the names of every bird, animal an’ fish in creation, with a remedy for all ills the flesh is heir to. Yep, an’ she stood me in good stead, too. I remember the time—”

“Gettin’ late,” Gus declared, stretching high. “Got a pack of tobacco, Nick? I’m all out. Say, what you boys been doin’ all day? Seems like I heard some talk of a landslide.”

“That was us,” Teddy said grimly. He told the story of their escape once more, since Nick had not yet repeated it.

“Guess you were glad to be on the backs of Flash an’ Star,” Gus commented when Teddy had finished.

“I’ll tell a maverick we were!” Roy burst out. “Those horses are almost human! Now you take that jump that Flash made, with Teddy on him. I saw the place, and, baby, it was some leap! How many horses could do that? Then when I gave Star his head, as the rocks started to play tag with me, why, he knew which way to go. Brought me right out of it. By golly, I—”

“Guess during the time the rustlers had them broncs you didn’t lose any love for ’em, did ya?” Nick remarked dryly. “Well, you’re right, Roy. They’re sure some horses!”

“Can’t tell me different!” Teddy agreed. “Say, Roy, did you let the boys know about that rider you saw on the mountain? Maybe they know who it is.”

“What was that?” Gus asked quickly.

“Well, nothing much,” Roy answered, “except that I saw a man who looked a great deal like one of those punchers we rounded up when they tried to steal our cattle. As I remember there was one hombre who sat kind of slouched in the saddle—leaning to the left. Any of you recall that?”

“I do,” Nick stated definitely. “When he heard that Froud had knifed Brand, he took a pot shot at him, only he missed. Sure, I remember that slouch. But as far as I know he’s in the hoosegow at Hawley. There were only three of the rustlers that made a getaway. That waddy who rides leanin’ in his saddle we got. Still, I reckon there’s more than one side-winder in these parts.”

“Guess so,” Roy said musingly. He stared up at the sky through which tiny stars were now peeping. “Going to be a nice day to-morrow,” he said in a low tone. “Just right for a ride. Maybe—”

“Maybe,” Teddy repeated. “Why not? I’ll go with you.”

“Huh?” Roy came to with a jerk and looked at his brother. “What do you mean—you’ll come with me? Do you think you’re a mind reader?”

“Sure do,” Teddy replied, grinning broadly. “Guessed right, didn’t I? You mean to ride over to the 8 X 8 and see Nell and Ethel, don’t you? Oh, never mind denying it. Anyway, I’ll go along to see that you get there all right. Can’t have bogie-mans get my ’ittle brother. No, sir! Would be terrible. Would be awful. Would be—”

“Chuck it,” Roy growled, making a pass at Teddy. “If you come along, it’s not to save me from any bogie-man. It’s for just one thing—to see Curly! Hey, Pop, what about that? You qualify as an expert. What should a man do when he wants to see a girl and she’s ten miles off on another ranch?”

“Buy an airship,” Pop chuckled. “Then you can make flyin’ visits. Pete Ball would be glad to see you comin’, I know. He’d maybe climb up on the roof an’ wave to you.”

“You’re all locoed, I think,” Teddy said casually. “I’m going in. Got some work to do.”

“Yea, work! Going to write a note to Curly because too many people may listen in if you telephone! Do you call that work?” gibed Roy.

“I would not—anything but!” returned Teddy. “The note wouldn’t be poetry though,” and he grinned at his brother, who was a lover of verse. “Say, Gus,” he went on in a different tone of voice, “how’s that cow that was sick? Getting better?”

“She’s comin’ along all right, Teddy,” Gus replied.

Mr. Manley gave the charge of the ranch over to the boys on alternate weeks, and this week Teddy was the foreman. He was responsible for the management of the entire business of the X Bar X.

“Don’t let her mix with the others until she’s entirely well,” Teddy went on. “We don’t want any more sickness on our hands. Well, see you boys in the morning. Coming in, Roy?”

“Not just yet. I want to—”

Roy had been facing Nick while he was talking, and now he stopped suddenly and whirled about. From around the corner of the bunk-house came the clatter of a pony’s feet. The five men stood perfectly still, waiting. The rider appeared, flashing through the night like an apparition. His hat was pulled low over his eyes, and Teddy noticed that he rode not straight up, but leaning to the left.

Close to the five punchers he swung. When he got opposite them, he yelled something and tossed a light stick at Roy. Fluttering from the stick was a piece of white paper. The next moment the rider had swept out of sight behind the bunk-house. The beating of his pony’s feet upon the hard earth sounded loud, then the noise grew gradually fainter and at last died away in the distance. He went as he had come.

Teddy stooped forward and picked up the stick with the paper tied to it. He walked into the bunk-house and held it under the lamp. The others crowded around eagerly. Teddy spread the paper out. On it were scribbled the words:

“Bardwell Manley:

“If you press the charge against those men at Hawley you’ll get yours with interest. Take our advice and let it drop if you want to stay healthy. We mean what we say.

“Reltsur.”

CHAPTER V

The Jumping Bucker

The bunk-house lamp illuminated the faces of five very much surprised cow-punchers. Teddy, who was holding the note, turned it over as though the explanation of its strange arrival might be printed on the back.

“ ’Pears like we’re a gang of hicks,” Gus drawled. “Nick, why didn’t you stop that guy? Maybe he could have told us when he was appointed postman.”

“Why didn’t you stop him yourself?” Nick snorted. “You were as near to him as I was. He rode by almost on yore feet.”

“Notice anything queer about the way he rode?” came from Pop. The veteran puncher pulled at his pipe calmly and surveyed the men about him.

“Sure!” Teddy answered. “He was slouched to the left, like he was aiming to sweep something up from the ground. Why, say, Roy, he might have been—”

“He might have been and was,” Roy returned grimly. “I’ll take a bet that he was the same hombre I saw back on the trail!”

“You mean the waddy you thought was one of the rustlers?” Pop asked curiously.

“Yes, that’s just what I mean. Of course I didn’t get a very good look at him as he flashed by, but he sure looked familiar. What was that he yelled out?”

“Couldn’t get it,” Nick replied. “Don’t matter, anyway. Now about this note. What’ll we do with it?”

“Give it to Sing Lung to make a stew out of,” Pop suggested ironically. “Or maybe you’d rather frame it? But unless you want to do that, it might be a good idea to show it to the boss.”

“Go ahead, ride right on,” Nick growled. “I’m just standin’ here. Roy, you want to take it in to your dad, an’ see what he thinks of it?”

“Sure. Let’s go, Teddy. Dad’s in his room, I think.”

At that moment a step sounded at the door, and all turned quickly—more quickly, perhaps, than such an interruption at another time might merit.

“What’s this, a meetin’ of discontented workers?” a voice asked, and chuckled. “Seems to me you might close the screen unless you like bugs.”

“Boss!” Gus exclaimed. “Hey, take a look at this, boss! Just came. By pony express, too.”

“Guy rode up, goin’ like a jack-rabbit,” Nick began, “an’ tossed this here—”

“Just this second,” came from Pop. “I was standin’ by the door, talkin’ to Nick an’ Roy an’ Teddy an’ Gus, an’ I was just sayin’ that these days ain’t like the old days when I fust came here an’ invented the X Bar X brand, when all of a sudden, boss, I heered a pony come tearin’ toward—”

“What in thunderation?” demanded Mr. Manley, taking the paper Teddy held silently out to him. Quickly his eyes ran over the words. As he read his lips closed together tightly. Then he looked up.

“This ain’t a joke?” he asked.

“Not any!” Teddy exclaimed.

“I’ll tell a maverick it isn’t!” Roy cried. “At least, it doesn’t look like one. It happened just as Pop said when he started that speech of his. We were standing at the door, talking, and a rider came out of the dark and threw this at us, tied to this stick. Then he beat it again before we could wink.”

For a moment Mr. Manley said nothing. He pulled first one side of his mustache, then the other. Then he put the paper in his pocket, took out a corncob pipe, filled, and lit it.

“Regular Wild West stuff,” he remarked slowly, removing the pipe from his mouth. “Deadeye Bill. Well, let him have his little fun. He don’t annoy us any.”

“What you goin’ to do?” Pop asked.

“Me?” Mr. Manley turned to the speaker, a surprised look on his face. “Why, I’m goin’ to hit the hay pretty soon. Gettin’ kind of late. She’s sure some warm out, ain’t she? We’ll probably have a long Indian summer. Nick, will you see that General is saddled for me early to-morrow? Want to take a ride over Hawley way. Got somethin’ I want to tell the sheriff. Well, I’ll be gettin’ back. Watch out for that door, Gus, or you’ll have all the gnats an’ millers in the whole state flyin’ around in here.”

With a glance toward Roy and Teddy, the ranch owner stepped out into the night. Gus chuckled.

“He’s some worried, ain’t he? They might just as well have written ‘Merry Christmas’ on that note for all the boss cares.”

“The man that tries to buffalo dad has got a mean job on his hands,” Roy declared, with a grin. “He’ll push that charge now harder than he would have before. Well, I’ll tell you one thing. Froud didn’t have a hand in this. He knows dad—and with good reason. He’d never send a note like this if he really wanted the charge dropped. He’d know it would be the one sure way of getting dad to force it.”

“You’re right, Roy,” Teddy remarked. “This was written by one of the men that got away. Wouldn’t be surprised if old Slouch himself did the job. Must think he’s some hot stuff! Well, he’ll learn. He sure will. He’s young yet.”

“Check,” Nick agreed, with a laugh. “Teddy, yore dad is one fine man; you know it? Best boss I ever had. I’m sure glad he’s not gonna be scared out of puttin’ those rustlers in jail for a long stretch. Yessir, I’m fer the boss every time.”

“Me too,” came from Gus emphatically. “Ever since that day he went into Rimor’s place and took a chance on gettin’ plugged in the back just to get some information about the stolen horses, I knew he was the man for me. Notice how he took that note? Never batted an eye. They have to come pretty high to stop him!”

“Sure do,” Teddy assented. Then he laughed. “I knew dad ’ud take it that way. Now he’ll go over to Hawley in the morning just to tell the sheriff to convict those rustlers sure.”

“And I’m sure glad of it,” Gus declared. “If I can, I’ll ride over myself when they get sentenced! The dirty thieves!”

The puncher has small use for rustlers. The labor of raising cows until they are fit to sell cannot be lightly forgotten and the rustler who steals them is hated with the vindictiveness of a man who has seen his hard work go for nothing.

Later, Teddy and Roy strolled back to the ranch house, leaving Pop to explain to unwilling listeners how the mysterious rider had come and gone so quickly.

The boys were tired, as well they might be, and sought their beds early. They roomed together, their beds being in a room facing the east. The sun was their alarm clock, and the next morning they arose and hurried down to breakfast with an idea of riding with their father to Hawley. But they found he had already left.

The business of the ranch occupied the attention of the brothers until early afternoon, and they had little time to talk of the events of the preceding night. Four new horses had arrived at the X Bar X, and both Teddy and Roy were eager to see if they would make good saddle ponies. Of course the boys were bound to their own mounts by ties of real affection, but it was necessary that some additional riding broncos be made ready each year for the fall round-up.

Teddy, upon investigation of the newly arrived animals, declared that while three seemed fair enough, the fourth had a queer look in his eye.

When Nick saw the bronco, he grunted.

“Bad actor,” he said. “I know them kind. Send him back. Tell Clews we don’t want no tigers on this ranch. When’d the broncos arrive?”

“Little while ago. I kind of hate to send this pony back, though. Look at the chest on him, won’t you!”

“Yea, an’ did you take a look at his teeth? Made fer bitin’, they are. Better send him back than have him take a chunk out of somebody.”

“Think he’d do that?” Roy asked.

“Sure do! If you don’t believe it, just you fork him—only leave word what kind of flowers you want.”

“Well, now, I don’t know about that,” Teddy said slowly. He walked over to where the horse stood, rubbing against the bars of the corral, and peered into his eyes. “He doesn’t look so bad. Nick, I’d like to take a crack at him. Lend a hand with this cinch, will you?”

“Listen, Teddy,” Nick remonstrated. “Don’t do nothin’ foolish. Even if he don’t bite, he’s a buckin’ fool. I’m certain sure of that. Why take a chance?”

“Yes, Teddy, if I were you I’d wait until dad comes back,” Roy added. “He may want to return the pony. Don’t ride him.”

Teddy did not answer for a moment. Then he took a coin from his pocket.

“Heads I do, tails I don’t,” he said briefly. “Dad won’t want to send the bronc back without knowing what he’s good for. The only way to find out, so far as I can see, is to ride him. Here she goes.”

The boy spun the coin in the air. As it landed, both Nick and Roy bent over it eagerly.

“Heads,” Nick reported. “Now watch your step, Teddy. I know you can ride, but I don’t want to see you ploughin’ a trench in the dirt. I’ll get this here cinch strap good an’ tight, so the saddle won’t sway none.”

In silence the horse was made ready. Teddy stood by his side, and at a signal from him, Roy and Nick stood away. Teddy vaulted into the saddle.

The animal stood like a statue. Not a muscle moved. Teddy whipped his hat from his head and “fanned” the pony. And this time he got results. Straight into the air the animal leaped, landing with legs as stiff as boards. But Teddy was ready for this maneuver, and took the shock with his feet firm in the stirrups.

“Stick to him!” Nick yelled. “Watch out that he doesn’t swing his head on you!”

The warning came not a moment too soon, for the horse flung his head around savagely and bared his teeth. But these teeth never met in Teddy’s flesh, for at the same instant the boy sawed fiercely on the reins, jerking the head straight again.

Now the bronco settled down to the business on hand, and showed the two breathless watchers some of the finer points of bucking. But Teddy stuck, and not once did he “go to leather,” as gripping the pommel of the saddle is called. At the end of several minutes, each of which seemed an eternity, the pony stopped as suddenly as he began, cocked one eye at the top rail of the corral fence, and sprang again into action, this time on a dead run.

“Watch it!” Roy yelled. “He’ll never make it, Teddy! Pull him up! Pull him up!”

But Teddy had a look in his eyes not unlike the fire that gleamed in the eyes of the bronco. He was doing no “pulling up.”

“Yeo-o-o-ow!” he shouted. “Go to it! We’re off! Baby, if you clear that—”

There was no time for more. The horse had reached the rails. Teddy felt the muscles of his mount contract like steel springs, and then he was flying through the air, up, up, up—