Ted Strong in Montana Part 71

But when he saw the dead steer on the ground beside him he remembered what had happened, and sat up and laughed with the others.

It did not take him long to recover after this.

"I'm going to try to find out what caused this beast to go mad," said Ted. "There's certainly something wrong about it."

"How are you going to find that out?" asked Ben.

"I don't know yet, but I will," Ted answered. "Come on, two or three of you fellows. The rest of you ride back to the camp. You may be needed there. We can't guard things too closely these days."

The party separated, and Ted, with Bud, Ben, and Kit, rode away, but they had gone only a little ways when they heard a noise behind them. It was Stella galloping toward them.

"I'm going, too," she said, and go she did.

Riding about half a mile west they came to a deep coulee, into which they descended and followed its course for a short distance, when suddenly Ted held up his hand as a signal to halt.

"I smell burning paper," he said, and, getting down from his saddle, went forward alone on foot, as silently as an Indian.

Suddenly he bent forward, examining something on the ground, and motioned the others forward. They rode to his side, and saw him looking at a small, dead camp fire.

"Some one camped here last night," he said, thrusting his hand into the warm ashes. "And whoever it was burned papers in it before he went away this morning; the smell of them is still in the air." But no nose in the party was keen-scented enough to detect it except Ted's.

Ted was still pawing among the ashes, when a change in expression swept over his face, and soon he pulled out several small pieces of charred paper. They were only burned on their curled-up edges, and Ted saw that they were covered with writing, evidently part of a letter.

"What's this?" he exclaimed, after he had spread them out, and studied them attentively. "Here are some words. There is not very much sense in them, though."

"What do they read?" asked Stella.

"This is all I can make out of it: 'I *end you *** **nds of ***is **een.

***tter it on *** *ra.s.s. nce rr ws,'. Sounds as crazy as the steer, doesn't it?"

"That's as easy as living on a farm," said Stella, who had been looking over Ted's shoulder.

"All right, Miss Smarty, what is it?" said Ted laughingly.

"See, it's part of instructions to some one, and the way I read it is like this: 'I send you so many pounds'--I don't know just how many, but from the s.p.a.ces the weight is expressed in three letters or three figures. The next is presumably a poison, although I wouldn't have thought of it if you hadn't spoken of it. What does two words, the first ending in 'is' and the other in 'een' mean, I wonder?"

They all scratched their heads for an answer.

"Why, sure, I have it," said Ted. "It is Paris green."

"That's it. Clever boy. Then there's 'tter,' which simply shouts 'scatter' at you. After that 'ra.s.s.' That's not hard. It reads so far: 'I send you, say six, pounds of Paris green,' although it must have been more than that. 'Scatter it on the gra.s.s.'"

"But the rest of it. That will stump you," said Ben.

"That's what caused me to get next to it first. It's Clarence Barrows, as sure as you're born!"

"Stella, you're right, by jinks!" shouted Bud. "Ther sweet-scented Lieutenant Barrows has sent men out yere ter poison our critters, and we've caught him with ther goods on."

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

THE BOBWHITE'S CALL.

The discovery that Lieutenant Barrows had lent himself to such an enormous crime in the sight of all cowmen as to attempt to poison a herd of cattle, served to keep them all silent as they rode homeward, but around the fire that night their tongues loosened as they discussed it.

They told Hallie Croffut nothing about it, as they wished to save her pain, for as far as any of them knew she was still betrothed to Lieutenant Barrows, who was proving himself an enemy indeed.

"I see how it is, and how easy," said Ted. "They have been following us ever since we have been on the trail, but from a secure distance, generally riding parallel with us, out of sight in coulees, watching us continually."

"But how could they poison our cattle, without our seeing some of them sometimes?" asked Kit.

"Easy enough. Probably there are only two of them, for more would be in the way, and run more risk of being seen."

"But about the poisoning part of it? I don't understand how they could do it."

"That's easy, too. They are probably a day ahead of us all the time, guessing at our probable direction of march. If they guess it wrong, they try it over again, for they are never more than a mile or so away.

When they pick out a place where they think we will graze, they scatter the Paris green on the gra.s.s for the cattle to lick up. It takes a good-sized dose of the poison to affect so large an animal as a steer, and that is probably why we have not lost more of our stock by that means. They could never get quite enough, that is, the most of them, to kill them. Such as are dead did get enough to make them loco first, and kill them afterward."

"Another thing," said Kit: "We have had several heavy rains in the early morning lately, and that has served to run the poison off."

"I wouldn't wonder, also, if they haven't missed our route several times, and left the Paris green to poison some other herd," said Stella.

"Their salvation, I am convinced, is also due to the peculiar quality of the water they have found to drink. Who knows but that it is a perfect antidote for the Paris green?" said Ben wisely.

"Oh, slush!" interposed Bud. "I reckon ther truth is they haven't begun ter poison in right earnest yet. From ther letter, I would think that they had just received the stuff and were trying it out before they begin the big poisoning stunt. I'll bet Woofer is the chief actor, and that he's just met ther feller what brought ther poison out with him.

Having found that it worked on a few o' ther cattle, they'll spread it on thick ahead o' us. An' ther wust part o' it is, thar don't seem no way ter circ.u.mvent 'em, onless we go hunt fer 'em, an' put 'em out er business quick."

"Well said, Bud," was Ted's comment. "There's no way of discovering the confounded stuff. We can't go ahead with a microscope and a chemical laboratory to a.n.a.lyze every blade of gra.s.s along the route for Paris green. The best we can do is to take our chances and keep going north.

But I think we'd better establish outside picket lines which will stay well in advance, and off to the flanks. If it can be done, this system will succeed in at least frightening them off for a while. Everybody prepare to stand extra hours in the saddle."

A line of outriders was established at once, and the herd pushed on, and for several days there were no evidences that any more of the cattle had been poisoned.

They were nearing the river, as they could tell by the gradual sloping of the land to the east, and the flatness of the country.

One afternoon about four o'clock Brock, one of the hired cow-punchers, came riding into camp as fast as his horse would run, and fell out of the saddle. He had been shot through the leg, and was almost insensible from loss of blood when he succeeded in getting in.

When he was able to speak, he said to Ted:

"I was riding picket about two miles off to the west. As I topped a hill I saw a body of men about a quarter of a mile away. With my gla.s.ses I saw that they were soldiers, and wondered what they were doing so far from a post, as there isn't one nearer here than Fort Felton."

"Soldiers, eh?" asked Ted. "Cavalry or infantry?"

"Cavalry."

"How many of them were there?"