THE X BAR X BOYS ON WHIRLPOOL RIVER

THE RUSHING CURRENT SWEPT TEDDY OUT OF REACH OF THE ROCK.

THE X BAR X BOYS
ON WHIRLPOOL RIVER

BY
JAMES CODY FERRIS

Author of “The X Bar X Boys on the Ranch,”
“The X Bar X Boys in Thunder Canyon,” etc.

ILLUSTRATED BY

Walter S. Rogers

NEW YORK

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS

Made in the United States of America

WESTERN STORIES FOR BOYS

By JAMES CODY FERRIS

THE X BAR X BOYS BOOKS

THE X BAR X BOYS ON THE RANCH

THE X BAR X BOYS IN THUNDER CANYON

THE X BAR X BOYS ON WHIRLPOOL RIVER

THE X BAR X BOYS ON BIG BISON TRAIL

THE X BAR X BOYS AT THE ROUND-UP

(OTHER VOLUMES IN PREPARATION.)

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

Copyright, 1926, by

GROSSET & DUNLAP

The X Bar X Boys on Whirlpool River

THE X BAR X BOYS ON WHIRLPOOL RIVER
CHAPTER I
King Of The Forest

“If there be such in these woods, then such there be,” announced Teddy Manley, and punctuated this cryptic utterance with a slight grunt as he bent over the marks in the soft earth.

“No doubt, no doubt,” his brother, Roy, declared dryly. “Speak the mother tongue, Teddy. What are you staring at, anyhow?”

“Take a look for yourself,” Teddy answered briefly, and stepped aside. Roy moved closer, gazed curiously at the impressions on the ground, then gave a low whistle.

“Bear tracks!” he exclaimed excitedly. “Bear tracks, or I’m a shad!”

“You remain as originally intended,” remarked Teddy. “Those are definite, certain, and never-to-be-doubted bear tracks. Now the burning question is—” he hitched up his belt and turned his head from side to side. “Whar am Mister B’ar?”

Roy hunched his shoulders in a gesture expressing entire ignorance of the subject. The tracks were fairly fresh, but their maker could be many miles away by this time.

It was early fall, and the two brothers had started out from the X Bar X Ranch, with the intention of bagging some small game. Teddy carried a light shotgun, hoping to get a chance at duck. Roy had brought with him a small-bore rifle. Hardly the weapons with which to hunt bear.

The boys had picketed their ponies near the foot of the mountain, knowing that the steep grade above made riding impractical. Thus far they had not sighted any game worth considering, but now, when they were near the top, Teddy had come upon the bear tracks.

“Do we follow them?” Teddy, the younger, asked dubiously. He glanced down at the gun held in the crook of his arm. “This shotgun I have would only take his picture, Roy, and that pea-shooter of yours isn’t much better. What’s the verdict?”

Roy looked at his brother and smiled.

“Trying to kid me? After looking for bears in these woods for years, when we raise one, you want to know things! Huh! Don’t ask! Look me straight in the eye, brother mine, and say: What would you rather do, or hunt bear?”

“You’re the doctor,” Teddy responded. “You must be getting reckless in your old age, Roy.” This last was to nail any idea that Teddy hesitated to face the adventure. He was slightly chagrined at the fact that Roy had taken the initiative in suggesting that they proceed. Usually it was the other way around, the younger lad proposing, and Roy, with what he was pleased to call his “more mature judgment,” disposing.

“Far be it from me to dissuade you from entering the lists against a baby bear,” Teddy went on. “I hope you see him before he sees you. Those animals are easily scared.”

“Yes, Teddy, my lad,” Roy said with a maddening grin. “We shall not argue the issue. Come on—let’s go.”

Grumbling half-heartedly to himself, Teddy Manley followed the tracks. As he proceeded, the injustice that had been done him was forgotten in the mounting excitement of the chase. The tracks led diagonally across the mountain, and seemed to get fresher with every yard. As the boys came to a clearing, Teddy halted.

“Not long since he passed here!” he exclaimed, as he noticed an ant heap that had been disturbed by the animal. “Look—those ants are still half crazy with fright—running around every which way.”

It was not by accident that Teddy’s eyes caught this telltale bit of evidence. Born and brought up in the West, these boys could interpret the signs of the forest with unerring judgment. Where another might see merely a broken twig, the young ranchers read a story.

“He’s close,” Roy returned laconically. He looked to his rifle. The magazine was full, and he pumped a bullet into the chamber. If they did come upon the bear, by great good luck Roy might succeed in placing a shot through the eye into the brain, which was the only place where the small bullet would be effective. If he missed—well, several things might happen, and not all of them to the bear.

Teddy gazed intently toward a clump of sage brush just off the trail. Absently he bent his left knee, and with his hand he dislodged a piece of dirt that had caught on the heel of his shoe. This he tossed into the bush carelessly.

There was a sudden deep-throated growl. The bushes stirred, then parted. Framed in a circlet of brown sage brush, appeared the shaggy head of a huge black bear.

Neither boy spoke. Silently Roy leveled his rifle. The bear stood as immobile as a statue, staring fiercely at the intruders, only his head showing. Then, as the lips drew back in a snarl, showing the sharp teeth and the red gums, Roy pressed the trigger.

There was a sharp crack. The bear started as though it had been stung by a hornet, and a crimson spot of blood marked the black fur just above the left eye.

“Take it on the run!” Teddy cried hoarsely, and fired as he spoke. He knew the buckshot would have small effect, but he hoped it might cause the animal to hesitate long enough to give them an opportunity to make their escape.

As the bear moved forward Roy sprang to one side. With a yell to Teddy to follow, he bounded to the right, then up, toward a ledge that jutted out from the mountain over their heads. If they could gain that, and the bear could not, they had a good chance for their lives.

Teddy leaped after his brother. The bear, growling in rage at the pain of his wound, sought to close his teeth in Teddy’s leg. The boy gave a shout, and releasing his hold on the gun gave all his attention to the business at hand—beating the bear to the ledge. Strangely enough, as he scrambled up the incline, Teddy’s thoughts reverted to the ranch yard, when only yesterday he and Roy had sat on the corral fence and snickered as Pop Burns told about the time a bear had tried to make a meal from Nick Looker’s pants, while Nick was in swimming at Lomley’s Lake. According to Pop, the bear had struck a fishhook in the back pocket, and out of revenge had chased Nick all over creation.

“Now I know just how Nick felt,” Teddy panted. “Never—as long as I live—will I laugh at another bear story! Hey, Roy! Hang on to your gun! Mine’s gone!”

But even as he spoke, he heard a thud and saw their only remaining firearm go sliding down the mountain. It hit in the path of the oncoming beast, and the animal stopped for a moment to see what this was that tumbled toward him. As the rifle reached him, he put out his paw, stopped the gun, sniffed at it, then flicked it from him with a snort, and once more lumbered on.

But at least the rifle had served one good purpose—for in that small interval of time Roy had reached the ledge. He jumped upward, careless of consequences, and felt his finger close over the root of a tree. Straining every muscle, he gradually drew himself up—higher—higher—and, with a gasp of thankfulness, he sank down upon the rock.

Then, bracing himself, he stretched his arms over the edge toward Teddy. The boy seized his brother’s hands, and, grunting with exertion, succeeded in gaining the shelf just as the bear reached the spot where he had stood but a moment before.

“Leaping lizards!” Teddy panted. “That was some close! Hey, listen to that geezer grunt! Golly, I—”

“I’ll tell a maverick it was close!” Roy gasped. “Another second and you’d have been mince-meat! I told you we shouldn’t have followed those tracks. If we had had a decent rifle—”

“You told me! Well, for the love of Pete! And you were the one who wanted to do all this bear hunting! Great snakes! How do you get that way? Wow! Listen to our friend! He won’t be able to talk to-morrow!”

Below them the bear was uttering dire threats against their safety and was trying desperately to reach the ledge by jumping. Every time he sprang the boys heard the “scra-a-a-ape” of his claws over the rock.

Teddy shook his head.

“Baby,” he remarked, “I sure hope he gets discouraged easily! If he ever manages to pull himself up here—good-night!”

Cautiously Roy leaned over.

“He’s still at it. Thank goodness this shelf is narrow. But the point is, how are we going to get down? It’s a cinch we can’t climb up that cliff.” He motioned with his thumb to the wall back of them, which rose straight up. “As long as the old boy wants to hang around, we’re his guests,” he finished grimly.

“Well, if you had frozen to that gun of yours we might have a chance. But there it is, lying down on the rocks, not doing us a bit of good. It might just as well be at home as down there. Say—”

Teddy stopped short. Speechless, he seized his brother’s arm and pointed. Roy looked along the side of the mountain, then staggered against the wall.

“Jumping catamounts!” he groaned. “We’re cooked! Another one! Start the slow music, Teddy. This bear’s brought his gang along with him!”

“Oh, cheer up! It’s not a gang—yet! It’s one bear, only one! And that makes two bears, only two! Golly, if we only had a rifle!”

CHAPTER II
The Brainy Beastie

Scuffling rocks down the slope of the mountain in his haste to join his comrade, the second bear approached the ledge. Teddy and Roy knew that the new arrival could not come at them from the side, as the corners of the shelf tapered into the straight wall.

Yet this fact was paramount in the minds of the boys—that two bears were one more bear than one bear.

“Come, join the party,” Teddy said bitterly, as he watched the scrambling approach of the second beast. “The more the merrier. Roy, just tell François to lay another place, will you?”

Roy did not reply, but once more leaned over the edge of the projection. The animal they had first encountered had ceased his ineffectual attempts to reach the shelf, and was calmly awaiting the arrival of his mate.

“The uninvited guest,” Teddy continued, eyeing the oncoming bear with a malevolent stare. “Well, there’s always room for one more. We strive to please.” He raised his voice to a shout. “Hey, amigo, would you mind bringing that rifle with you as you come by? There’s something in it I want to give you. What? Oh, all right. If you want to be nasty about it. The next time I—”

“Teddy, put a buck-strap on that lower lip of yours,” Roy interrupted. “I have an idea.”

“Has it got something to do with us leaving here before winter sets in? Because if it has, let’s hear it.”

Without speaking, Roy nodded his head, then proceeded to search his pockets diligently. At length he brought to light a fishline with a hook attached, imbedded in a small cork. He held the line up with a triumphant smile.

Teddy looked at it for a moment. Then a grin came over his face.

“Fine!” he cried joyfully. “Just the thing. I haven’t been fishing for some time, and it’s well nigh on to three weeks since I fished for bear. I’m kind of out of practice. Let’s see now. What is it you use for bait? Oh, yes, I remember now. You tie the end of the line to a tree, put yourself on the hook, and jump overboard. When the bear nibbles you yell, ‘I’ve got him!’ That is, if you can. Then the bear laughs and says, ‘Oh, no, quite the contrary, I assure you,’ and by that time—”

“Save it, and write a joke book,” Roy retorted. “Now control your well known faculty for humor for a moment and pay attention. What’s that down there?” He pointed, and Teddy stared.

“That? Well, it looks like the rifle you so obligingly dropped. Of course, I can’t be sure, for we’re not sure of anything in this world. But I think it is.”

“Strangely enough, you’re right. Now my idea is this: I’ll tie a weight to this line about a foot below the hook. Make a cast. Catch the hook in the rifle. Draw up said rifle. Shoot said bear and his little friend. Then go home and eat.”

Teddy gazed silently at his brother. His mouth opened wide. A fixed look came into his eyes. Then, gasping for breath, he put out his hand gropingly, as though to steady himself.

“I’m not well,” he said thickly, “and I want to go home. It must be those cucumbers we had for lunch. Never again, as long as I live, will I eat cucumbers. Why, Roy, do you know what I thought you said? I thought—”

“Suffering tripe, can’t you be serious for a minute?” Roy burst out. “I tell you my scheme will work. It’s the only chance we have. Look—the other bear has arrived. Hear ’em talking to each other? Suppose they’re able to boost themselves up here? ’Course I don’t say they could—it’s pretty high, thank goodness. But if they did? Where would we be then? Now you watch. I’m going to try it. Here she goes.”

Teddy settled himself in a sitting position on the ledge with his back to the wall, so that he was out of sight of the bears below. He waved his hand grandly.

“You may fire when ready, Gridley!” he quoted.

Roy carefully judged the distance from the ledge to the spot where the gun lay, estimating the length of line he would have to use. By this time the two bears were in close conference. Deep rumblings of bear talk came to the boys on the ledge, and finally one heavy-throated, decisive grunt.

“Period,” said Teddy, and lapsed once more into silence.

Roy took a firm stand upon the ledge. He had already attached the stone to the line and had removed the cork from the fortunately large hook. Now he drew back his arm, took careful aim, and threw. The line whistled out, then sagged as the stone struck the ground.

“Make it?” Teddy asked, not deigning to arise.

“Missed,” was the laconic reply. “Give me time.”

“Certainly. We have weeks at our disposal. I’ve got nothing to do but sit here, anyway.”

Roy grinned good-naturedly and drew the line in. Once more he cast.

“I’ve got those bears worried, at any rate,” he declared, pulling in for a third attempt. “Notice how quiet they are?”

Teddy nodded solemnly.

“Sure. They just decided which one was going to have me for lunch. I’ll bet the first bear won. He likes me. Tried to kiss me on the way up, but I was bashful, and, anyway, we were in a hurry.”

Once more the line whistled through the air. This time, when it landed, Roy gave a yell.

“That’s the one! Watch this now, Teddy, and give me credit!”

Teddy, jarred out of his placidity, leaped to his feet. He saw that the hook had come to rest about five feet below the gun, and in a direct line with the trigger guard.

“Boy—take it easy!” he breathed. “Pull up slow—slo-o-o-w! A little more—no—don’t jerk it—gently now—”

“Well, for the love of Pete, will you pipe down for a second?” Roy exploded, a grin of amusement on his face. “How do you think I can do this with you yelling in my ear? First you sit back and let me do all the work, and then, by golly, you want to play director. Hey, iss diss a system?”

“Pardon,” Teddy replied, mockingly contrite. “You are right. I am at fault, and I await your pleasure. Henceforth I keep my peace.”

With a smile of satisfaction, Roy returned once more to the business of catching the hook in the trigger guard. Slowly he drew in. The hook neared the rifle. Then, with a foot more to go, it caught on the edge of a stone, and stuck. Carefully Roy twitched the line, hoping to dislodge it. But the hook resisted all his efforts. Both boys took a deep breath. Below them the bears started their growling again, and stones and dirt clattered down the mountain as they leaped repeatedly up toward the ledge.

“Now may the gods of the hills be with us,” Teddy murmured. “I fear me those bears have formed a conspiracy against us!”

Roy jerked the line desperately. If it parted, their last hope was gone. They would have to remain on the ledge until the bears left of their own accord or until the animals succeeded in their objective. Roy shuddered slightly as he thought of this last eventuality. That would not be so pleasant.

“Let’s try it,” Teddy suggested hoarsely, afraid almost that his voice would cut the line. He took the cord from his brother’s unresisting hand.

For a moment it seemed that he would have no greater success than Roy. The hook appeared caught firmly. Then, resolutely, Teddy gave the line a violent tug.

The hook released its tenacious hold on the stone and snapped through the air. Teddy gave a gasp of dismay. Then, suddenly, his face cleared and his eyes lit joyfully. He gave a shout of triumph.

The hook, leaping toward the rifle, had become attached to the trigger guard!

“Got it!” Teddy yelled. “Don’t know how, but I did! Now, Roy, we’ll see just how much this plan of yours is worth! Here, gun, gun, gun, gun, gun! Come to papa! Whoa, baby, not so fast! That’s the stuff! Nice rifle!”

By fits and starts, the rifle, drawn by the fishline, made its eccentric way up the mountainside. Gradually it approached a spot just under the ledge where both bears were waiting, crouched against the wall, staring frantically at this strange manifestation. Never before had they seen a stick travel uphill apparently under its own guidance.

“Golly, I hope they leave it alone,” Roy gasped, peering anxiously over the edge. “When I yell, Teddy, you give the line a quick pull up and I’ll grab the gun. Easy now, it’s almost below me. Careful—careful—get away from there, you varmint. Yay-y-y-y! Woof woof! Bang bang! Scat! Now, Teddy! Pull! Hey, you! Lookout—”

Teddy, standing above, where he could not see the rifle now that it was directly below the shelf, had given the cord a quick tug in obedience to Roy’s shouted command. At this very moment the bears recovered from their panic. Simultaneously, they made a dive for that strange thing dangling in front of them. The animal that had chased the boys succeeded in hitting the barrel with one paw, while the other paw brushed against the line. The rifle swung around, the muzzle pressed against the bear’s chest. With a snort of surprise, the beast hugged it to him.

Bang!

There was a quick report, as though some one had slapped two boards together. The bear, stung with a pain more violent than any bee sting, sprang back with a grunt of outraged dignity—sprang back, and, howling in rage, fled ignominiously down the mountain, with his astounded companion tumbling after!

There was deep silence on the ledge. Open-mouthed, the boys watched the lumbering animals disappear in the foliage at the foot of the incline, and the crackling of the brush and the waving of twigs testified that their speed was as yet undiminished—they were still going, and going fast.

Teddy blinked rapidly. Bending over, he felt with his hand of several places on the rocky floor of the shelf. Finally he found one to his liking. Then he sank blissfully down, rolled over on his back, and the next moment the hills echoed with the laughter of two boys lying on a narrow ledge high up in the mountains.

“The—the poor thing was scared!” Roy spluttered, as soon as he got his breath. “He tried—oh, golly—he tried to commit suicide! Baby! I never expect to see a sight like that again! Teddy, if you had only seen him—seen the expression on his face when the gun went off! He grabbed the barrel, pointed it at his chest, and pulled the trigger! Honestly! Then he looked so gosh-blamed surprised and disappointed, and—and—Hold me, Teddy, or I’ll bust!”

“I saw most of it,” Teddy declared, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “The best part of it all was to see those two hopping down the mountain like a couple of silly cows—or like rocking horses out on a spree! Man, that was one sweet show! Say, I’ll bet the one who shot himself won’t sleep to-night. Or, if he does, he’ll have bad dreams. Imagine a bear shooting himself! Won’t Pop Burns like to hear about this!”

“Yes, but will he believe it?” Roy asked dubiously. “Pop likes to tell ’em, but when it comes to listening—that’s another thing.”

“Well, anyway, this beats his story about the bear eating Nick’s pants.”

“I’ll tell a maverick it does! And we know this is true, while that other—well, I have me ‘doots.’ Come on, we’d better go now. We’ve got to find your gun before we start home. Here—you slide down first then grab me. I’ll bet Star and Flash are getting restless by now. Neither one has been ridden much lately. All right—over you go. There’ll be no bear to welcome you with open arms, either, thank goodness. The party is over!”

Still chuckling, the two boys, after finding the two guns where they had been dropped, made their way down the mountain toward the ponies. Star and Flash whinnied as they came up and pranced about ecstatically the moment the boys were in the saddle. The love Teddy and Roy had for their broncos was not unreciprocated.

Talking of their adventure with the bears, the boys rode slowly home. Teddy was anxious to tell Pop Burns about it, to see what he would say. But as they neared the ranch yard of the X Bar X, they heard something that drove these topics from their minds.

From around the corner of the bunk-house came voices, loud in anger. They listened. One of the speakers was their father!

CHAPTER III
An Angry Visitor

“What do you reckon is up, Teddy?” asked Roy Manley.

“Haven’t the least idea, but we’ll soon find out!”

The two urged their mounts forward anxiously.

Digressing here, for a moment, it will be recalled that these two youths were first introduced in a book called “The X Bar X Boys on the Ranch,” the opening volume of this series. Therein was told of the long and dangerous hunt they, in company with their father and other members of the outfit, had undertaken to round-up a gang of rustlers who had stolen Flash, Star, and General, the ponies of Teddy, Roy, and Mr. Manley.

The boys felt keenly the loss of their ponies, and braved many dangers before regaining them. The fact that the Manley posse caught the rustlers when they were about to make a raid on the cattle of X Bar X added not a little to the excitement.

In the second book, called “The X Bar X Boys in Thunder Canyon,” the adventures of Teddy and Roy on the trail of kidnappers are related. These scoundrels, in revenge for a wrong they fancied Mr. Manley had done them, took Belle Ada, the boys’ sister, and Nell Willis and Ethel Carew, her friends, to a cavern far up Thunder Canyon. Guarded there by an old woman and a number of men, the girls had a terrifying time until Roy and Teddy found them and brought them safely home after rounding up the kidnappers, who turned out to be the same gang that had made trouble at the X Bar X Ranch before.

The voice of the man who was quarreling with their father in the ranch yard was not an unfamiliar one to the Manley boys. Teddy, who was leading, reined up sharply and jerked his head in the direction from which the words were coming.

“Jake Trummer,” he said shortly. “Seems to be getting a load off his chest. Wonder what the row is about.”

“Plenty, from the noise,” Roy answered. “He’s sure laying it into dad. Let’s investigate.”

As the boys were intimately concerned with the running of the X Bar X, their decision to learn the cause of the argument was not an intrusion. They knew their father wished them to know anything that concerned the ranch. So, chirping gently to their ponies, they rode around the bunk-house and came in sight of the speaker.

Jake Trummer had his back to them as they trotted up.

“You heard what I said, Bard Manley,” he was thundering. “I ain’t got no time for foolin’ around. Either you take yore cattle off my ranges, or, by gosh, I’ll drive ’em off, an’ none too gentle, either! You hear me!”

“Can’t help it, not bein’ deaf,” Mr. Manley returned. “You make a noise like a steam calliope, Jake, only not so pleasant. But you use the same kind of power—hot air. Now listen. Just as fast as I can, I’ll—hello boys!” their father suddenly broke off. “You’re just in time. Jake, here, was tellin’ me a nice little story about a bad wolf; wasn’t it, Jake?”

“We heard some of it,” Roy said, with a grin, and dismounted. “What’s the matter, Mr. Trummer?”

“Matter enough! And if you think it’s a nice story, you’ll learn different, Bard Manley! You get yore cattle off my ranges, an’ quick! You know the grass down by Whirlpool River is the best grazin’ in the state, an’ you know I only got a certain amount of it. Hardly enough for my own stock. Then you let yore cows go roamin’ all around creation an’—”

“Do you mean that our cattle are using your grass?” Teddy asked, sliding from his horse. “If that’s so, we’ll try to get them off as quickly as possible.” He turned to his father. “I’m sorry about that, Dad. I had Nick an’ Gus riding this week. They didn’t do their job very well, I guess. Wait a minute, Mr. Trummer, and we’ll get the straight of this. Hey, Nick!” The boy raised his voice in a shout. “Nick around? Come over here—pronto!”

“Take it easy,” Mr. Manley said suddenly. “Never mind it, Nick!” he called. And as a young puncher appeared from around the bunk-house the “boss” waved a hand. “Trot back. If we want you we’ll yell again.”

Nick Looker, with a puzzled look on his face, obeyed slowly. Mr. Manley turned again to Jake Trummer.

“Listen, Jake. I’ve known you for some years now. We ain’t never had no argument before. I’m sorry my dogies got over on yore land. But, leapin’ turtles! that’s no reason to come an’ take my head off about it! Why’n’t you come up an’ tell me like a man, instead of raisin’ the dust like a cyclone? Hey?”

Jake Trummer’s face grew red. His neck swelled until the veins stood out like knotted cords. His hands clenched.

“’Cause I didn’t want to, that’s why!” he shouted. “Think you can run me like you run this here ranch, Bard Manley? Well, you can’t! When I says a thing I means it! You hear me! Them cattle of yours been on my grass fer a week now. Every day I figures you’ll come over an’ take ’em off, but you don’t do nothin’. So finally I has to come over to you. But it’ll be the last time! You hear me! You get them cows off Whirlpool River, or, by golly, I’ll drive ’em in the river! You hear me!”

Turning on his heel, Jake Trummer strode savagely to the corral rail where he had tied his pony. Releasing her, he vaulted into the saddle, swung the pinto’s head about, and galloped out of the yard. Slowly Mr. Manley took a corncob pipe from his pocket, stuck it in his mouth, applied a match to its already filled bowl, and then grinned.

“The old boy sure had his fur up, didn’t he?”

“I’ll tell a maverick he did,” Roy responded. Then a frown came to his face. “What’s the rights of this, dad? When did Jake come over? Had he been here long?”

“Not five minutes before you came. Teddy, you trot over and ask Nick an’ Gus Tripp to come over here. I want to ask them some questions. I didn’t see no sense in lettin’ Jake Trummer have any say in how we handle our men, so that was the reason I told Nick to go back before. But to tell the truth—” he exhaled a great cloud of smoke—“to tell the truth, I thought Jake was foolin’ at first. But I guess he was sure enough mad.”

“No doubt about that,” Teddy added grimly. “I’ll get Nick for you, Dad. I’m sorry this happened. Jake has always been a good neighbor, and I hate to have trouble with him.” Shaking his head, the boy led his horse to the hitching rail and then made for the other end of the yard.

“Takes it like a veteran,” Mr. Manley remarked to Roy, as he watched Teddy walk off. “Roy—” and he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder—“I never say much to you two, but I guess you know that I’m pretty well satisfied with who I got for youngsters. When the time comes for me to take a back seat, I expect you an’ Teddy to carry on this ranch like I did when I got it from my father—your grandfather. You never saw him, but Pop Burns did. He’ll tell you all about him. An’ I tried to do the best I could by him—just like you an’ Teddy are doin’ for me. You boys are men, now—yep, real men. It took men to locate those rustlers the time we had our broncs stole, and to round ’em up. It took men to ride at that cave in Thunder Canyon to get Belle Ada an’ the rest without knowin’ how many guns you were goin’ up against. Yep, it took men to do those jobs—an’ you did ’em. I ain’t kickin’ none. Snakes! what started me off on that trail? Son, you see any signs of Father Time around here?” and he squeezed Roy’s shoulder affectionately and laughed a little.

“Not any, Dad,” Roy responded, and tried to echo his father’s laugh, but there was a queer lump in his throat that he could not account for. Never before had his father talked like this. And when Mr. Manley saw his son’s eyes, he understood. With a yell he grabbed Roy about the waist and affected to throw him to the ground.

“Could I do it?” he grinned, desisting. “You bet I could! Snakes, Roy, you’re too blame serious! What chance have you got to see me take a back seat yet awhile and watch the grasshoppers whizzing by? In the words of the immortal poet, not any! Where in thunder is Teddy? Oh, here he comes!”

With the arrival of Nick and Teddy, Roy’s mind turned from its rather sombre trend to the business of ranching. Roy, but one year older than Teddy, had a more serious disposition, frequently considering events more important than they really were. This nature he inherited from his mother, who, before her marriage to Bardwell Manley, had been a school teacher in Denver. From her Roy got his taste for the really worthwhile things in life—poetry, literature, pictures. But the fact that these tendencies showed early development occasioned Teddy, who as yet was quite Roy’s opposite, much amusement.

As Nick Looker approached, Mr. Manley’s face took on a frown.

“Hear the news, Nick?” he asked shortly.

“Teddy told me,” Nick returned. An anxious light came into his eyes. “Was Jake Trummer real sore, boss?”

“He sure was,” Mr. Manley replied tersely. “Where’s Gus?”

“Town. Nat Raymond an’ Jim Casey are ridin’ from to-day on, accordin’ to Teddy. Gus went in to get some mail—says he’s expectin’ a letter from some Southern belle he’s got down near the border. Kind of uneasy about her, I’m thinkin’. Want him, too, boss?”

“Yes, I want him, too. But there’s a few things I want to say to you first. Nick, Jake Trummer had a right to be as sore as he liked. It’s no joke for another man’s cattle to eat up all your best grazin’ grass, especially when you ain’t got too much of it. Jake threatened to drive our dogies in the river if we didn’t get ’em out of there pronto, an’ of course I couldn’t let him get away with that, so I came back at him. But I knew he was right. Well—speak up. Got an explanation?”

“Who, me?” Nick’s face expressed hurt surprise. “What have I done, boss?”

“Well, outside of lettin’ our Durhams wander over on Jake Trummer’s land and makin’ him come over here fit to be tied, I guess nothin’. But we all have our own ideas, an’ mine, strange as it may seem, is that when a man’s set to ridin’ cattle, he’s supposed to ride ’em, and not let ’em mess up a neighbor’s grazin’ ground.”

“Me? I let ’em loose? Why, boss, I didn’t have nothin’ to do with it!”

“Weren’t you ridin’ herd?”

“Me? Why, no, boss.”

Mr. Manley turned to Teddy.

“How about that, son? Didn’t you tell me Nick was on herd?”

Teddy looked at Nick, then averted his glance.

“I guess I—” he began.

“Wait!” Nick interrupted. “Teddy did set me out about a week ago! But the way I understood it, he shifted plans, an’ I’ve been workin’ fence fer six days! I ain’t been near the cattle!”

“What do you mean?” Teddy asked sharply.

“Why, Joe Marino—you know, boss, The Pup—he come to me an’ said that Teddy, here, told him to tell me he was to take my place, an’ I was to ride fence. He an’ Gus been on the job all week. I’ve been workin’ on the fence. An’ believe me, it sure needs fixin’. You mean to say that The Pup lied, Teddy?”

Teddy nodded his head.

“That’s just what he did, Nick. I guess it’s all my fault. I should have been more careful and checked up. But what on earth did The Pup do a thing like that for? It sure beats me!”

“Nick, where’s The Pup?” Mr. Manley demanded sharply.

“You got me, boss,” Nick confessed. His eyes were troubled. Somehow, this thing that had happened seemed partly his fault, and he found it a strange experience to be in wrong with the boss.

CHAPTER IV
Joe Marino

Always, as long as Nick Looker had been on the ranch—five years this coming winter—he had done his work cheerfully and well. The men on the X Bar X had more than mere employees’ interest in the ranch. They looked upon it as a home, and, as such, to be well cared for.

“This here Pup—” Nick observed, “now, I don’t like to say nothin’ against a man when he ain’t here fer a come-back; but—well, boss, The Pup sure likes his liquor. I don’t mind a man takin’ a nip now and then, if he’s built that-away. But not during workin’ hours.”

“Do you mean to say Joe Marino has been drunk while he’s on the job?” Teddy asked quickly.

“Now, maybe we’d better wait till The Pup shows up,” Nick countered, shifting his shoulders uneasily. “He’ll be around soon. Maybe he’s rode to town with Gus Tripp. Most likely that’s it.”

Mr. Manley puffed thoughtfully at his pipe. Through half shut eyes he observed Nick. It was several moments before he spoke.

“Gus hasn’t been doin’ any promiscuous galivantin’, has he, Nick? But never mind,” he added quickly, as he saw the cowboy move his head from side to side. “I don’t want you to tell tales out of school. We’ll wait. Whereabouts were all those breaks in the fences?”

It was late in the afternoon before Gus Tripp rode in. With him was The Pup. Roy, who had been seated outside the ranch house on a bench, mending a broken stirrup, saw them come up. He dropped the leather and hurried forward.

“Gus,” he called, “dad wants to see you. Tie your pony and come over to the corral, will you? Joe, you too.”

“He want to see me?” The Pup asked, and Roy noticed that his voice seemed unduly loud. “Well, I’m all set. Where is he?”

“Over by the corral, as I said. Hurry up. Get your letter Gus?”

“Nope—not any,” Gus answered. As he spoke he swayed slightly in the saddle. “Funny—I kind of expected she might write. Guess I’m a back number—ha—that’s funny—me a back number! Can ya imagine that, Roy? A back number! Like a last year’s calendar! Say, that’s pretty good. Get that one—that—that one, Roy? A last year’s calendar. Huh! Pretty good! Made it up all—all by myself, too. Yesser! Pretty good—pretty good,” and he wagged his head stupidly.

Roy looked at the cowboy sharply. This was unlike Gus. It was plain to be seen that he had been drinking, probably at Rimor’s in town. Roy approached, and laid hold of the bridle of Gus’s pony.

“Where have you been all day, Gus?” he asked quietly.

“Who, me?” Exaggerated surprise was on the man’s face. “Why, I—I been busy. Me an’ The Pup. We both been busy. Awful busy. Ain’t we, Joe?”

The Pup disdained to answer. An ugly look on his face, he lashed his horse savagely, and jumped him toward the hitching rail. Then he dismounted and walked toward Gus.

“Come on,” he snarled. “Don’t sit there talkin’. We got to see the boss. Ain’t you heard orders?” and he looked at Roy, a sneer on his face.

Roy flushed. He did not wish to seem above the men, but rather as working with them. Joe intimated with his glance that Roy’s authority was given by virtue of his being “the boss’s son,” and not because he deserved it. Roy opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it, and walked slowly away. The Pup laughed loudly. Roy felt his muscles tighten, but he did not turn. He would not argue with a man who had been drinking.

He was not present at the scene between Mr. Manley and Gus and The Pup. Teddy told him of it later.

“There’s two we will have no longer with us,” Teddy said that night. “Dad was feeding General sugar when they came up. Soon as he heard them he whirled around and he knew in a second that they had been hitting the bottle. Gus just looked kind of ashamed, but The Pup had a mean look on his face.

“‘Gus, where you been?’ dad wanted to know. Gus said he’d been to town, to get a letter that didn’t come. Said he’d been expecting it for two weeks, and he was kind of disappointed. Say, Roy, I thought he was sweet on Norine?” Norine was the daughter of Mrs. Moore, who was the housekeeper on the X Bar X. “How about that?”

“Don’t know,” Roy replied. “Gus told me about the letter, too. I have an idea that had something to do with his drinking—he never used to touch it before. But go ahead. What happened next?”

“Well, as I said, dad caught on right away, and he was some sore. Told ’em both to get out—that he wouldn’t have men on his ranch who drank during working hours. Then he asked The Pup what was the idea, lying to Nick and getting him to change places with him, so The Pup could ride herd. At first Joe wouldn’t tell, but when Gus let out a few secrets the whole thing came forth. It seems that The Pup wanted to take the cows so he could slip away to town when he felt like it and liquor up and no one would know about it. How he ever got Gus to consent to a thing like that is beyond me unless, as you say, Gus isn’t himself on account of that letter.”

“What did Gus do when The Pup spilled the beans?”

“Just acted as if he was mighty sorry. Roy, it isn’t like Gus to pull a stunt like that. He isn’t built that way. Joe Marino, now—I wouldn’t put it past him. I don’t like that hombre for a cent. When he came here last month, dad was short a hand, or he never would have taken him. And now look at the trouble he’s got us in. Jake Trummer, one of dad’s oldest friends, turned into an enemy. You know, Roy, I think something happened up on Whirlpool River at Jake’s ranch besides the mere fact that our cattle wandered there. That, in itself, wouldn’t cause Jake to raise the row he did. I’ll bet The Pup said something to Jake that he didn’t want to repeat, knowing dad as he does. So he took it all out in being sore about the cattle.”

“Maybe,” Roy said slowly. “So Gus is going to leave, is he?”

“Yep! Fact is, he’s gone now. When dad finished, Gus straightened up like a man and shook his head to clear it. Then he spoke right out and admitted he’d been in the wrong—that he’d got it coming to him. Said it was all his fault about the cows and that dad was perfectly right to fire him, and that he’s blamed sorry.”

“He did?” Roy’s eyes lighted. “Good for Gus! I knew he was a straight shooter, even if he did make a mistake. What did The Pup say then?”

“He looked at Gus with a kind of funny expression on his face. Then he let a gob of tobacco juice ride at the ground, laughed, and walked away. Gus took it all. He sure feels pretty low over this.”

At that moment Mrs. Manley came to the door, saw Teddy and Roy seated on the porch steps, and called to them.

“Boys,” she said, “will you come in a minute? Your father wants to see you.”

“And so do I,” a girl’s voice added. Belle Ada, the sister of Roy and Teddy, walked out on the porch. “Where’s that new whip you promised me, Teddy? Got it?”

“Haven’t had time yet, Belle,” Teddy answered. “Have it to-morrow sure. I’m going in to town then, and I’ll stop by and pick it up. It ought to be at the express office by now. I ordered it last week.”

“Oh, you’ll forget it,” Belle declared, and then laughed.

Belle was twelve years old, with dark hair and eyes. In disposition she was a great deal like Teddy—happy-go-lucky, always ready for fun.

“You’d better tie a string around your finger. Or, better still, around your toe. You’re liable to miss it on your finger, and you stub your toe so often that you can’t miss it there.”

“Aw, take a rest,” and Teddy grinned. “Come on, Roy, we’ll hop in and see dad. Where is he, Mother?”

“In his room. I think it’s about Gus that he wants to talk to you. I’m so sorry that happened, boys! I told your father that he should go more slowly. He was so worked up over Mr. Trummer’s visit that he wasn’t quite himself. I tried to calm him as much as I could, and now I think he regrets that he acted so hastily. But you go in and let him tell you himself.”

Mr. Manley was seated in a chair in his room, with his corncob pipe, unlit, between his teeth. This was always a sign of mental uneasiness with him. When smoke came from the pipe, all was well. When it reposed in his mouth cold and dead, there was usually something up.

“Want us, Dad?” Teddy asked.

“Yes. Want to make talk. Come in. Shut the door. Either one of you see Gus?”

“He’s gone, Dad,” Roy answered. “Teddy, you saw him go, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did. He rode away with a bag on his saddle about two hours ago. He owned his own horse, didn’t he, Dad?”

“Yes! Gus came to me with a pony, saddle, and nothin’ else, three years ago. Wanted a job. I gave it to him. So he’s gone, eh?”

“Afraid so, Dad. Didn’t you tell him to clear out?”

“I did, and I’m sorry now that I did it. Your mother’s been talkin’ to me, and, as usual, she’s made me see the error of my ways. I was too fast. Jake Trummer got me all worked up. He used to be my best friend, next to Pete Ball. Well, it’s too late now, I guess. As for Joe Marino, I don’t care when he leaves. We never should have taken him. He didn’t know much about punchin’, and the first day he was here I kind of got set against him. He’s gone, too, I suppose?”

“No, he hasn’t,” Teddy declared. “I saw him at the bunk-house talkin’ to Pop Burns a little while ago. Pop didn’t seem to care much about listening. He said something sharp and turned away. Guess The Pup must have been beefing about you throwing him out.”

“He won’t get far with Pop,” Mr. Manley chuckled. “Imagine Pop hearin’ anything against the X Bar X! Not him. Well, I guess that’s all, boys. I was hopin’ I could catch Gus and explain to him. The poor geezer must have been worried about something, or he never would have done a thing like he did.”

“You’re right, Dad,” Teddy declared. “I noticed he hasn’t looked well for some time. Keeps talking about a letter all the while. Yep, it’s too bad. But it can’t be helped now.”

“No,” and Mr. Manley sighed. Then he arose.

“We got a job ahead of us to-morrow. Got to get those cows off Trummer’s land. I don’t want no man but me to feed my cattle. So be ready to start early. If you see Marino, you can tell him, for me, that the sooner he leaves the better I’ll like it.” Again Mr. Manley sighed. “But I sure wish it had been some one else besides Gus,” he added.

CHAPTER V
Guarded Words

Sadly enough, however, it was Gus Tripp who was the storm center. This thing had been the only blot on his escutcheon during the three years he had worked for the X Bar X. Willingly would Mr. Manley have wiped it clean had Gus given him the opportunity. But the die was cast. Gus—he of the drawling speech and eyes which were wont to grow languid while Norine was near—had gone.

No one gave much thought to Joe Marino, “The Pup.” Though he had worked for Bardwell Manley, somehow he had never become a part of the ranch, as the rest had. He was a man apart, neither seeking nor admitting intimate friendship. His fondness for the cup, alleged to cheer, was early discovered, but Mr. Manley was loath to discharge a man for a personal defect so long as it did not affect his work. Up to this time The Pup had been a lone drinker, but now, when it became necessary to send him forth because he shirked his job, he dragged one of the most popular boys on the ranch with him.

Pop Burns was loud in his denunciation of the tempter. While the boys were saddling their broncos the next morning, preparing to head for Whirlpool River, the old man halted The Pup as he was lurching past toward the cook house.

“You still eatin’ here?” he wanted to know.

“I am. Anything to you?” The Pup’s eyes, red from the effect of the last night’s indiscretion, glared evilly. “Want to ask any more questions?”

“Well, now, maybe jest one or two,” the veteran puncher said slowly. “First, where’d Gus duck to?”

“How should I know? Think I’m his keeper?”

“Keeper? Not any! I thought you pretended to be his friend, but I guess I was mistaken. Usually, when a man tells a fellow certain things, that other man kind of likes to keep track of his buddy.”

“Hey? What do you mean—certain things? I don’t know nothin’ about Gus. He rode with me a few times, that’s all.” The Pup leered suggestively. “If you mean the letter he was waitin’ for from that skirt down Togas way, why—”

Pop Burns’ expression changed. His eyes narrowed, and the lines about his mouth deepened. His hands clenched until they looked like solid balls of brown leather.

“Suppose you just forget about that,” he said evenly, an unwonted dignity coming into the old man’s voice and manner. “Understand? We ain’t in the habit of talkin’ out in public about another man’s affairs. Gus was a friend of mine, I ain’t aimin’ to listen to a coyote like you makin’ fun of him. Get me?”

The Pup started to reply, then took a second look at Pop’s face, and thought better of it. With an uneasy laugh he turned away and walked toward the corral, where his pony was tied. Pop motioned to Teddy, who was filling a can of flour some distance away.

“Hear that?”

Teddy nodded.

“Some of it. I didn’t want to interfere, so I kept quiet. Dad wants The Pup off the place as soon as possible. He blames him for the whole affair.”

“Yore dad’s right about that, Teddy. The Pup has got a streak of orneriness in him a yard wide. He ain’t no good to no one, least of all himself. Wouldn’t be surprised if we saw some more of him, at that, one way or another.”

“You mean he’ll make trouble?”

“Well, he ain’t appeared to be a dove of peace so far, has he?” Pop countered. “An’ he’ll not hang his tail between his laigs an’ run without one more nip at somebody. You mark my words! I knew them kind of waddies. Long ago, when yore grandpop was alive—an’ yore dad was only a shaver then, like you are—we had a cuss by the name of—” He broke off suddenly. “All right, boss! Comin’!” Pop called out, and he hurried off in response to Mr. Manley’s call.

Teddy watched him disappear in the direction of the ranch house, then reflectively continued packing the can with flour. But as he worked with his hands, a frown came to his face. He was remembering Pop’s prophecy.

It would be a shame if anything unpleasant happened now. Why, it was not so long ago that they had rescued Belle and Nell Willis and Ethel Carew from the kidnappers. How were the girls on the 8 X 8 getting on? Teddy wondered.

He came to a sudden decision to ride over to Peter Ball’s place to visit them as soon as this business was over.

Clamping the lid tight on the flour can, the boy thought of the cattle on Whirlpool River and of the absent Gus Tripp.

“Mighty queer that Gus would go to pieces like that,” he muttered to himself. “There’s a reason behind it all, or I miss my guess. Gus sure looked downhearted when he rode out.”

Teddy carried the can and the flour bin toward the house. It was now about eight o’clock, and the bright fall sun brought the landscape out in bold relief. Teddy paused a moment before he entered the house and peered toward the mountains to the west, where he and Roy had lately come to grips with the gang that had run off with his sister and her two friends. Then his gaze shifted, and he looked over the rolling prairie toward the spot where they had earlier captured this same gang of rustlers, though they had later escaped to make more mischief. A grim smile curved the boy’s lips.

“Did some one say the West was a quiet place to live in?” he muttered, and laughed shortly. “Seems to me we do nothing but meet trouble out here! Well, I suppose it’s all in the game. Now we’ve got a mean job to get the cows off Whirlpool River. However—” He shrugged his shoulders, replaced the flour bin, while the can he had filled he carried to the yard and fastened to his saddle. His father had told them to prepare for a journey of several days, and this flour, mixed as it was with other ingredients, made fine “pan bread.”

Roy met him at the corral.

“Can’t leave just yet,” he said. “Dad wants to wait until Nick comes back. He rode down to see one of the boys from Jake Trummer’s place who has been in town several days, hanging around. Dad wants to get all the dope he can on this before he goes ahead, and Nick knows this puncher pretty well and said he’d find out all he could. Nick ought to be back in about two hours.”

“As soon as Nick returns we go—that the idea?”

“That’s it. Unless dad wants to start sooner, and I don’t think he does. Say, is The Pup still around?”

“Yep.” Teddy smiled grimly. “Around, and noisy. He had a session with Pop not over ten minutes ago. Pop told him where to get off, too. I heard part of it. Started to gas about Gus and his letter. But he got shut up quick, let me tell you. Pop wouldn’t stand for hearing Gus made fun of. Where does this bacon go—on my saddle?”

“Guess so. I’ve got enough to carry. Golly, dad must expect to spend Christmas on Whirlpool River, from the load we’re packing. Bet when we get there Jake Trummer will forget his sore-headedness and invite us to keep our cows there the rest of the year. That’s the kind Jake is—quick to anger, but he gets over it just as fast. He’s a good friend of dad’s too. At least he was before this happened. That’s what made me think there’s more in this than we suspect. However, we’ll know as soon as we hit the river. Jimminy! what in thunder is that?”

Roy stopped and gazed up the road that led past the ranch house. From behind the house came curious sounds—reminiscent of a load of junk being pulled over cobblestones. Now and then a splutter, like the gasp of some huge animal, made itself heard over the noise. Teddy grinned.

“It will arrive in a moment,” he said.

It did. There soon came into sight one of the strangest contraptions ever seen on four wheels. Once it had been a flivver, but those days were gone forever. Its body was of shiny red and made to resemble a boat, with a rudder in the rear, and a propeller. The wheels were nearly concealed in the “hull.” From its pointed bow, blue smoke arose.

Within it, on the front seat, sat a cow puncher, his face alight with the joy of possession. In the rear were two girls, some two or three years older than Belle Manley, trying in vain to suppress the laughter that would bubble over.

“Bug Eye!” Teddy yelled. “And Nell and Curly! But what in the name of seven sledges is that thing they’re riding in?”

“Howdy, boys!” Bug Eye called, waving one arm and reaching toward the “in’ards” of the machine with the other. With a groan the contraption subsided. “What do you think of my Fishmobile?”

“Your what?” Roy shouted.

“Fishmobile! P-s-y-c-h-e—Fish. I saw it on a boat once. And this is a boat and an automobile, so I call it a Fishmobile. Good, hey?”

“Did you two ride in that all the way over from the 8 X 8?” Roy laughed, walking toward Nell and Ethel, the good-looking nieces of Peter Ball.

“We certainly did!” Nell answered. “It runs splendidly, doesn’t it, Ethel?”

“Great!” was the laughing answer. “How are you, boys? We came to visit Belle, though, as I remember, Nell did say something about Roy—”

“Oh, hush!” Nell interrupted, blushing. “Teddy, I haven’t seen you since you and Roy found us in those terrible caves at Thunder Canyon,” and she shuddered slightly. “But we want to forget that—although we’ll never forget what you did for us,” and she looked quickly at Roy. “But where is Belle?”

“Right here!” a voice called from the porch, and Belle Ada ran into the yard.

Greetings were soon over, and then the young folks gathered around to inspect Bug Eye’s new creation.

“She goes on land or water,” he explained proudly. “See? Got a propeller on her and everything. Works on the fly wheel. The boss give me that old flivver—remember?—an’ said I could do what I wanted with it. So I done it. Looks great, hey? An’ when I come to a lake, why all I have to do is throw the propeller in gear, an’ away we go!”

“Yes! But, Bug Eye,” Teddy broke in, with a look at Roy, “where is this lake you’re going to sail on?”

A look of amazement spread over the puncher’s face. He snapped his fingers and frowned.

“Golly!” he exclaimed. “Never thought about that. Well, I’ll be jiggered! Of course there’s Lomley’s Lake—but that would never do. Too small. Well, now, that’s too bad.” Then he brightened. “But if I do find a lake somewheres, I’ll be all set for it!”

A laugh arose, which did not at all disconcert Bug Eye. All but the proprietor of “Psyche, the Fish,” wandered into the house. Bug Eye drove toward the bunk-house, there to be the center of a crowd of sarcastic cowpunchers. The remarks made concerning the Fishmobile were graphic if not flattering.

Much as Roy and Teddy wanted to talk to the visitors, they knew that they must continue preparations for the journey to Whirlpool River. It was nine-thirty now, and Nick had not yet returned. Mr. Manley was pacing about the yard nervously, anxious to get started.

Roy was currying Star over by the hitching rail at the side of the cook house. Suddenly he heard a voice that caused him to start. It came from behind the cooking shack, and Roy made as though to go forward, then thought again and remained where he was.

It was Gus Tripp talking. At first Roy did not recognize the tones of his companion, but as the other talked louder, he knew it to be The Pup. Gus seemed to be strangely insistent over something.

“No, sir,” he was saying. “Not me! Count me out! The boss only gave me what I deserved. I hit the bottle and got fired. All right. I got no kick comin’. I’m sorry I did it, but let that go. It’s all over now, and you can count me out of any scheme like that, Joe. I may be an idiot, but, by golly, I’m no polecat!”

CHAPTER VI
To Whirlpool River

“Gus Tripp!” Roy muttered to himself. “And The Pup! I wonder if I—” Coming to a sudden decision, he threw the currying brush on the ground and stepped forward. It took but a moment to reach the cook house, and without hesitating he walked around to the side. It was in his mind to speak to Gus and tell him Mr. Manley would like to see him. But when he rounded the corner he stopped short. There was no one in sight! Puzzled, Roy glanced within the shack. The only person there was Sing Lung, the cook, who grinned widely as he saw Roy.

“Hungly?” he demanded. “You boy betta’ have plenty eat, you lide long, yes?”

“Yep, we got a long ride ahead of us,” Roy returned absently. “Say, Sing, did you hear two men talking outside here?”

“Who men?”

“Well, I think they were Gus Tripp and Joe Marino. I could hear ’em away over by the hitching rail, so you must have heard ’em too.”

“Me? Nope, I hear nobody. I lun wata—see?” He turned on the kitchen faucet, and the noise of the stream beating against the tin of the sink made even thinking difficult, let alone talking.

“All right, shut it off,” Roy yelled. “I understand. But why you don’t break every dish in the place with that torrent I can’t see. Guess you didn’t hear anything.” He stepped into the yard again. Gazing toward the road as it rose into the mountains past Eagles, the ranch town, Roy discerned two horsemen. The boy nodded.

“There they go—Gus and The Pup. Wish I could have got here sooner, so I could have talked to Gus. Now I suppose he’s gone for good. Wonder what he meant by saying he may have been an idiot, but he wasn’t a polecat? I don’t like that Joe Marino! Chances are he wanted Gus to go in with him on some shady scheme, and Gus refused. Good for Gus! Wish he was back with us.” Roy shook his head, and, seeing Pop Burns walking across the yard, asked him where Teddy was. He was told the boy was talking with his father over at the corral, and, intending to tell them that Gus had returned but had ridden away again, Roy hurried forward.

When he reached the corral he saw that Nick Looker had come back. What he was saying evidently was of interest, for both Teddy and Mr. Manley were listening eagerly.

“Roy, I want you to hear this,” the ranch owner called as Roy came up. “Nick, tell him what you told us.”

“Well, it was just that I had a talk with Bob McKeever—he’s a hand on the Whirlpool River Ranch. I’ve knowed him for quite a spell. Bob says The Pup told Jake Trummer that we put our cattle to his grass on purpose, and that The Pup had orders to let ’em roam as much as they wanted. And I found out how all those breaks got in the fence, too—they been cut. I came across a pair of wire pliers down by the east fence.”

“Marino told Mr. Trummer that we put our cows in his fields on purpose?” Roy repeated amazed. “What did he ever say a thing like that for?”

Nick shrugged his shoulders.

“Don’t ask me. I only know what I been told. Guess that’s reason enough for old man Trummer to go up in the air, hey, boss?”

“It certainly is,” Mr. Manley said slowly. “I wish I had known this before. Things would have been different. What else did McKeever say, Nick?”

“Well, he said he heard his boss swear that if them dogies weren’t off his land by to-morrow, he’d drive ’em into the river. And he would, too—old man Trummer is some hot-headed.”

“I know he is,” Mr. Manley said. He thought for a moment. “If I thought it would do any good, I’d phone him. But I’m afraid that would make things worse. Nope, we got to take our medicine. Drat that Joe Marino! I should have thrown him off long ago! Now look at the mess he’s got us in! Snap to it now, boys, we start right soon. Got no time for delays. Nick, you come with us. Teddy and Roy, I expect you to take complete charge of the ranch while we’re gone.”

“You mean we’re to stay, Dad?” Teddy asked, a disappointed look coming over his face. Up to this moment the boy had fully expected to go with the others to Whirlpool River.