Chapter VII: The Rustlers

At a word from his master the well trained Buckskin doubled up, and lay down on the ground. Most cowboy ponies are taught to do this trick by their masters, and it is in common use; so that the punchers believe it is a poor animal that has not learned to roll over and play dead on occasion.

Bob, too, managed to induce his mount to do the same thing; but to make it absolutely certain that no unwise flounder on the part of Domino might betray them, he sat upon the horse's head, soothing him by little pats on his glossy hide.

"I hear 'em coming," announced Frank, presently.

The sounds reached him against the wind, so that it was quite natural to believe the approaching horses must by now be very close. There was a confused pounding that could only spring from a large body of animals. The trained ear of Frank caught a significance in the clash of hoofs that told him much more than Bob was able to make out.

"All horses, Bob," he whispered across the little gap that separated him from his chum; "and two thirds of 'em running free, without saddles or riders. Lie low, now, and see if you can glimpse 'em as they go past."

"Won't they be apt to run over us?" asked Bob, a bit nervously.

"Nixy. I looked out to pick a place they'd be apt to avoid. They'll brush past a little further to the south," and Frank ended his words with a hiss of warning.

The pounding of many hoofs continued. Frank, straining his eyes, believed he was now able to make out a confused moving mass at some little distance away, heading directly toward the foot of Thunder Mountain.

As the starlight was so vague he could not make out more than that here and there a figure was mounted on a galloping horse, with several unridden animals trailing along behind, as though led by ropes.

The little caravan passed quickly. Already they were vanishing in the deeper shadows lying closer to the base of the mountain that towered aloft several thousand feet.

Still the two boys continued to sit there, guarding their horses; although all danger of discovery seemed absolutely past.

"Whew!" exclaimed Bob, presently, as the sound of retreating hoofs began to die away; "what d'ye think of that, eh, Frank?"

"Indians?" queried the Kentucky boy, eagerly.

"Well," replied his chum, "not so's you could notice. Say, now, you didn't see any feathers on their heads, did you? And I sure heard the fellow nearest us say something that only a white man would remark, when his horse stepped into a hole, and almost threw him over its head."

"Cow punchers; or perhaps rustlers?" continued Bob, anxious to know.

"What would cowmen be doing away off here, tell me that, Bob? And lugging along a bunch of extra mounts, too, in the bargain? No, I rather think, Bob, that those fellows must have some of Mendoza's cattle rustlers. And they've been making a dandy raid on some ranch's saddle herd; or I miss my guess."

"Perhaps the Circle outfit had gotten careless," suggested Bob.

"I sure hope not, for the boys have had plenty of warning; and I reckon Bart Heminway is some too good an overseer to permit such a raid. I'd rather believe it was the X-bar-X outfit that has gone and got nipped this time. But stop and think Bob; what d'ye expect takes these cattle-rustlers over this way right now, headed straight for the canyons of Thunder Mountain?"

"Oh, I see what you mean!" exclaimed the taller lad, immediately. "Perhaps the secret hiding place of Mendoza and his crowd of cattle thieves may be somewhere around this same old rock pile. It'd be just like the tricky rustler to have a hide-out where nobody else ever came!"

"Now, why didn't somebody ever think of that before?" ejaculated Frank, in a tone of mingled surprise and disgust.

"Looks easy, doesn't it, after we've run across a clue?" admitted Bob, laughing softly. "You remember what they said about discovering America, after Columbus did it. But supposing this thing _does_ turn out to be true; how's it going to affect our little business, Frank? Oh! say, I wonder if that crowd can have anything to do with the rumbling of the mountain?"

Frank laughed heartily at the suggestion.

"Well," he remarked, "they're a pretty tough lot, all right; but even such a bad bunch could hardly get enough hot air together to make a mountain shake and groan like that. Besides, don't you see, Bob, they must have been out yonder, riding this way with their stolen horses, when that little circus came off."

"But one thing is sure," the other went on, sturdily; "they don't seem to take any stock in that notion about a volcano, because, as we saw, they headed straight for Thunder Mountain. That gives it away; they're so used to the row that they don't pay any attention to it any longer."

"Correct!" echoed Frank, as though his mind was made up.

"Do we need to hold the horses down any longer?" asked Bob, who could feel that Domino was becoming very restless under his enforced silence.

"I reckon not," replied the other, at the same time taking the blanket from Buckskin's head; whereupon the animal, recognizing this as a sign to rise, quickly gained his feet and shook himself.

"It's back to the blankets again for another nap," remarked Bob, when he, too, had seen his animal regain an upright position. "Wonder what's next on the programme for us. Twice, now, we've been waked up; and I don't know whether it's really worth while trying to get any more sleep to-night. It isn't a great ways from dawn, is it, Frank?"

The other cast a quick look up at the stars. Accustomed to reading these heavenly sign posts of the night, he was able, from their positions, to give a pretty fair guess as to the hour; just as the sun served him in place of a watch during the day.

"Three hours yet to dawn, Bob; no use staying up all that time," he said, presently. "We expect to be on the move again at peep of day; because, after what's happened, it'll be wise for us to get off the level here before broad daylight comes along. There might be curious eyes on the watch up yonder, on Thunder Mountain; and that, you see, would just spell trouble for our crowd."

"Whew! things are thickening, for a fact!" exclaimed Bob.

"I was only thinking," Frank continued, "whether we ought to try and get word back to the ranch about our discovery. If they knew Mendoza and his rustlers were hiding somewhere about this place they'd comb the whole mountain range so they could run him to earth. He's been the pest of the border too long now, and something's just got to be done to chase him back where he belongs, south of the Rio Grande."

"But you don't want to go back just yet, do you, Frank?" asked Bob, uneasily.

"I'm ready to do what you say, though I'd like to stay," came the prompt answer.

"Then I say, let's stick it out," declared Bob, with animation. "It might turn out to be a false alarm, after all; and we'd feel pretty cheap to bring all the boys along, and then not be able to show 'em any game. No, I say it'll be time enough to go after 'em, when we make dead sure!"

"That settles it, then," remarked Frank, with a little laugh, as though pleased to learn that his saddle chum looked at the matter in such a sensible light.

This time, after they had lain down in their blankets, there was no further alarm. Frank, from long habits of early rising on the range, awakened just as the first faint streaks of dawn began to show in the eastern horizon.

It required but a touch to arouse Bob; and saddling up, with packs in place, the boys soon left the scene of their night bivouac, heading toward the heavy growth of timber directly at the foot of the mountain.

The early morning mists concealed their movements until they had entered among the timber; when they left they were safe from any suspicious eye, should the bold Mexican rustler have posted any watcher upon the side of the mountain.

Again did the saddle boys build a small fire in a hole, over which they proceeded to cook their breakfast; while the horses cropped the grass near by, secured by the ever useful lariats, or riatas.

"There's where this leads into a big gully," remarked Bob, later on, pointing as he spoke to where the ground became broken.

"Yes," Frank went on, thoughtfully, "and the chances are ten to one that it changes into a regular canyon, where the water rushes down whenever they have one of those gushers, or cloud bursts, that come along once in a while around here. Now, I wonder if those riders hit it up this way?"

He jumped to his feet as he said this. Passing back and forth, Frank seemed to be examining the ground, marking the stepping stones of the mountain.

"Signs aplenty around here," he remarked. "Wish old Hank was along to read 'em. I reckon I can tell what they stand for, though."

"Then they went on up that canyon, you believe?" asked Bob.

"Reckon there isn't any doubt about that part of it," chuckled Frank; "though just where that same canyon leads I can't say. P'raps it may be a short-cut across the big range here, leading to the prairie on the other side. P'raps it doesn't go anywhere, but just leads to a blind hole that I've heard prospectors call a _cul de sac_. Anyhow, we ought to find out, Bob."

"_They_ knew all right," remarked the other, positively. "Wouldn't get any riders going up there in the dark, unless they were mighty familiar with every foot of the way. That's my idea, Frank."

"And I reckon it's the true one," asserted the other. "They know this place as well as I do all around old Circle Ranch."

"There's the sun coming up; and perhaps we'd better be getting a move on about now?" suggested Bob.

"Wait!"

Something in the tone which his saddle chum used caused Bob to turn his head, and look out toward the plain.

"Huh! what does that mean?" he ejaculated. "A single rider heading this way; and he seems to be leading a burro loaded with supplies. Must be a bold prospector, bound to look into the secrets of Thunder Mountain as we're bent on doing; only he hunts for gold, while we're just bent on finding things out."

"But look now," Frank said a little later, as the other came closer. "Don't you see that it's only a little Mexican boy on that bag of bones of a horse? Tell you what, Bob, he must have been sent to town for fresh supplies by some party of gold hunters located right now over the range."

"Yes, and how do we know but what this Mexican boy is hooked up with that Mendoza crowd?" asked the other, seriously. "They might send him off for grub, and such things as they happen to need. And he pays for it with money they get from selling stolen cattle and horses! Nobody would suspect him, Frank, and try to follow. I hope our horses don't give us away now. I'd like to see what that little fellow does."

The boy indeed looked weary as he drew closer, leading his tired burro, upon which a fair-sized load was strapped and roped.

"Get down, Bob," said Frank. "He hasn't glimpsed us, and, luckily enough, our horses are feeding out of sight just now. Doesn't he look sleepy and tuckered out though? See him nodding in his saddle, poor little runt! Oh! what's that moving there among those rocks just ahead?"

"Perhaps it may be one of the rustlers coming down to interview him," said Bob.

"Hist!" Frank uttered almost in his chum's ear as he craned his own neck in order to see better.

The small boy on the tired broncho, and leading the patient burro, kept on steadily advancing, apparently allowing his animal to follow its nose, as though it knew the way fairly well from having passed along it before.

"Look! look!" ejaculated Frank suddenly, jumping to his feet. "Great guns! Bob, would you see what is coming out from among those loose rocks there? A great big grizzly bear; and making straight for the pack mule, sniffing the air as if he smelled grub! There, the horse has scented him. See him rear up, will you? Oh! he's gone and done it, as sure as you live--thrown the boy over his head! And the poor burro is caught fast, with his leading rope held in a crotch of the rocks. The boy will be killed if ever he meets up with that monster! Quick! We must do something to save him, Bob, but whatever shall it be?" and Frank leaped to his feet.