The Boy Ranchers Part 12

The man's answer was a deeper scowl, and his hand went toward the holster at his hip--a holster that Nort and d.i.c.k noted with relief was empty. For Del Pinzo's gun had fallen out as he was dragged by Bud's la.s.so from the hole beside the stump where he had been hiding.

CHAPTER XI

BAD BUSINESS

"My mistake, Del Pinzo! My mistake!" exclaimed Bud, smiling as good-naturedly as possible under the circ.u.mstances. The young rancher leaped from Sock (so called because he had one white foot that looked exactly as if he had on a sock) and approached the Mexican, who had begun to loosen the lariat from around his body.

"I sure didn't know you were there, Del Pinzo," went on Bud, soothingly. "I was just showing these tenderfeet how to throw a rope, _p.r.o.nto_,--when up you sprout, and get the benefit of it. Hope I didn't ruffle you any?" asked Bud.

"Hum! Too much _p.r.o.nto_!" muttered the man, but his face lost some of its scowl as he realized it had been an accident.

"What's _p.r.o.nto_?" whispered d.i.c.k to Nort, noting that his brother had half drawn his gun, though there was no need of this action.

"Means quick," translated Bud, who overheard the question. "I was a little too quick with my rope. But I didn't know anybody was behind that stump."

"Nor I," said d.i.c.k, while Bud began gathering in the length of his lariat.

"I--sleep!" said the Mexican; with some of the gutturalness of the Indian. "No got a right to sleep?" he asked, half sarcastically, as he recovered his gun from where it had slipped from its holster.

"Sure you got a right to sleep," admitted Bud cheerfully. "This isn't Diamond X land, nor yet Double Z," he added, with a quick glance around. "Not that you wouldn't have a right to take a snooze if it _was_ Diamond X," Bud went on. "Well, I reckon we'll mosey along," he said slowly, making a sign to d.i.c.k and Nort to mount their ponies.

"Got to get back to the ranch."

"Um!" was all the remark Del Pinzo made as he brushed himself off.

Bather a useless proceeding it would appear, for he was always dirty and unkempt to the last degree.

"Who is he?" asked d.i.c.k of Bud as the three boy ranchers rode along the homeward trail, now out of earshot of the man Bud had so unceremoniously roped.

"Oh, he's a sort of Mexican half breed," was the answer. "Not very safe to have on the range during round-up."

"Why not?" asked Nort, as he turned to catch a last glimpse of the Mexican slinking off amid the foothills.

"Well, he and his kind don't stop to look at the brand on a steer if they happen to feel hungry," explained Bud. "They'll cut one out of the herd, or appropriate a maverick, or an unbranded calf, and feast up on it. They'll skin it, salt down the hide after they blur the brand, and get away with it."

"What's blurring a brand?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Putting a hot iron on it over the brand that's already there,"

explained Bud. "Some brands can be changed from one to another without much trouble, but when this can't be done a cattle thief will simply make a botch of the brand, and it's a pretty slick ranchman who will swear, out of hundreds of steers and calves, that any particular one is his, if he can't make out the brand or earmarks clearly."

"Earmarks?" questioned Nort.

"Sometimes we clip a piece out of a calf's ear," explained Bud, "as well as branding 'em. Each ranchman has his own particular earmark for his cattle. But either may be botched or blurred by a thief if he's cute enough."

"And does this Del Pinzo do that?" asked Nort, a little thrilled at having been in such close a.s.sociation with a cattle thief.

"I wouldn't put it past him, and the gang he hangs out with," Bud answered. "Maybe that's what he was up to when I roped him."

"Where does he hang out?" asked d.i.c.k.

"He's supposed to work on the Double Z ranch--Hank Fisher's place," was the reply. "And Hank doesn't bear any too good a reputation around here."

"Maybe he was one of the men the professors hired, and who afterward turned against them," suggested d.i.c.k.

"Maybe," a.s.sented Bud. "I'd like to know what that camp meant," he murmured as he rode on with his cousins.

"If they aren't after gold, they're after something, and they're making a secret of it," declared Nort. "And meeting Professor Wright the night an attempt was made to steal some of your cattle, Bud, makes it look as if the whole outfit might be trying to rustle off stock."

"Yes, it might, and again it might not," said the western lad. "I'd hate to think two decent-looking men, like Professor Blair and Professor Wright, would be cattle thieves. But you never can tell.

Their learned appearance may be all bluff. I'd sooner think it was Del Pinzo and his gang. But he may be working with the professors.

Anyhow, they haven't got away with anything yet, and they won't if dad's boys keep their eyes open. Only I would like to solve the mystery of that camp," and he looked back toward the deserted one, where some strange excavations had been made.

"Maybe we can trail 'em and find where they've gone," suggested d.i.c.k.

"Oh, we could find 'em if we wanted to," said Bud. "An outfit like that can't travel along in a ranch country and not leave a trail like an old buffalo wallow. But will it be worth while--that's the question? We'll soon be busy with the round-up at Diamond X, and no time for trailing mysteries."

"Well, the round-up won't last forever," said Nort, "and when it's over we can see what all this means. It'll be a pack of fun!"

"It sure will!" agreed his brother, "and we can stay here till snow flies."

"And then you'll want to hit the trail for home," laughed Bud. "Though we don't get as severe storms as they do farther north, nor do they come so early. But it's bad enough, sometimes."

"What's that?" suddenly asked d.i.c.k, rising in his stirrups and pointing to two or three figures of hors.e.m.e.n, down in a little swale, or valley.

They were evidently engaged in some lively occupation, for they were riding rapidly to and fro, and from a fire, about which knelt three figures, a curl of smoke arose.

"They're stealing some of your cattle now!" cried Nort. "Come on!

We'll capture 'em!"

He spurred his horse forward, an act instinctively followed by his brother. Bud, too, rode after them at a fast pace, but there was a smile on his countenance.

"Keep your shirts on, fellows!" he advised. "That's only some of the Diamond X outfit branding stray calves they come across. But it'll give you a chance to see how it's done."

Riding rapidly across the open plains, where, here and there as they topped little hills the boys could see cattle grazing, the boy ranchers approached the group in the swale. After a quick inspection of the oncomers, the cowboys about the fire went on with what they were doing.

Two of them held down on the ground a struggling calf, while the cow-mother of the little beast, lowing and shaking her head, endeavored to break past two other cowboys who were heading her away from the scene of the branding operations.

For that is what was going on. Some of the Diamond X cowboys had come upon an unbranded calf with its mother as they rode across the prairies. As they were on their employer's land they knew the unmarked animal must belong to him, and it ought to be at once permanently identified as Mr. Merkel's property.

It was the work of but a moment for one of the cowboys to la.s.so the little bawling creature, and drag it to where he wanted it.

While some of the cowboys held the calf, not taking the time to "hog tie" the creature, others headed off the frantic cow-mother. Then a fire was made of greasewood twigs, and the branding iron, which one of the cowboys carried at his saddle, was put in the flames to heat. When hot enough it was pressed on the flank of the calf, burning into the hair and slightly into the hide, the diamond with the X in the centre--the mark of Bud's father's cattle.

As the men released the calf, it staggered to its feet, uttered a feeble bawl or two, and ran to its mother, who at once began to lick with her tongue the branded place.

"Where you headin', Bud?" asked Yellin' Kid Watson, one of the cowboys who had been engaged in the impromptu branding operations.

"Headin' home," answered the rancher's son.