The Boy Ranchers in Camp Part 9

"Do you mean t' tell me you still believe in that old superst.i.tion?"

laughed Snake Purdee, who had acquired this name because of his exceeding fear of rattlers and other reptiles. He had been bitten once, he declared, and had nearly died.

"There's more'n superst.i.tion!" declared Old Billee. "Look at that!"

and he brought out the board warning, and related the incident of the mysterious disappearance of the water, and its equally strange reappearance.

"Oh, it's just one of those freaks of the old, underground river course," said Snake. "Of course I wouldn't put much past Hank Fisher and Del Pinzo, but if either of them sent these warnings it was t' play a joke, an' scare our boy ranchers. Guess Hank's jealous!" laughed Snake.

"But what has happened over at Square M?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Has Hank or Del Pinzo anything to do with that?" Nort wanted to know.

"I don't see how they could," spoke Snake. "It's just that----"

But at this moment Bud came out of the tent, having finished his telephonic talk with his father.

"There's an epidemic of disease at dad's Square M ranch," Bud explained to his cousins and the others. "It's so bad that a lot of the steers have already died, and dad is going to take off the rest of the stock before they catch the trouble. Some he's going to put at Triangle B, some at Diamond X and some he's going to haze over to us. We'll have to double up, fellows," he told Nort and d.i.c.k. "I guess dad is glad he's got Flume Valley now. It may save him a lot of money that otherwise he'd lose."

"Got t' double up, eh?" murmured Old Billee Dobb. "How many head's he goin' t' send here, Bud?"

"About five hundred he told me. They'll be stock that hasn't been near the infected cattle," he went on, "so there won't be any danger to our herds."

"Can we look after five hundred more steers?" asked Nort.

"Oh, I'm comin' to help you," offered Snake. "I forgot t' say that I was going t' move into one of your _flats_," and he waved his hand toward where the white tents made an attractive camp. "Didn't bring my duffle bag," he added, "but one of th' boys is going t' ride over this evening with his 'n' mine."

"Is some one else coming?" Bud wanted to know. "If we double up too much we'll need more grub."

"Your dad told me t' tell you he'd send some," went on Snake. "Yep, a new ranch hand is due t' arrive this evenin'. He's a wonder with th'

gun an' rope, t' hear him tell it!" chuckled Snake.

"One of them fly boys?" asked Old Billee, mildly, with a gleam of light in his eyes, however. "Will his heels need clippin', Snake?"

"Might," was the brief answer. "But now you know th' worst. There's trouble at Square M, an' you'll have to double up with cow punchers an'

stock, Bud."

"I don't mind," said the boy rancher. "Dad says he'll split the profits with me, and that's what we're looking for--to make a success of Flume Valley ranch. We'll do it, too!" he a.s.serted confidently.

"If th' water holds out, an' no more black rabbits don't throw you,"

murmured Old Billee Dobb.

"Shucks!" laughed Bud, but the day was to come when he recalled the old cowboy's ominous warning.

"It's queer, though," said Bud that evening, when they were gathered around the camp fire, discussing the coming of the cattle from Square M, which were to arrive the following day, or the one after that.

"It's queer what made that disease break out so suddenly among dad's steers. There aren't any cases of it at Double Z; are there?" he asked Snake. "And Fisher's place is the next one nearest ours."

"No, I don't recall hearin' that Hank's stock is sufferin' any," the cowboy admitted. "But Square M is hard hit. It's a disease the government experts are tryin' t' find a remedy for. Been experimentin'

with all sorts of serums, germs an' th' like, I understand."

"Is it a germ disease?" asked Nort.

"That's what they call it," the cowboy a.s.serted. "It can be given easy, from one steer to another, just by rubbin' horns, so t' speak.

Or the trouble may break out sudden in a herd, if th' germ gets loose in 'em."

"That's all bosh!" declared Pocut Pete, the new cowboy who had arrived just about grub time, with his own outfit and that of Snake Purdee, who had ridden over "light."

"What's bosh?" asked Old Billee.

"The idea that this disease is spread by germs, or 'bugs,' as some folks call 'em. I think the cattle get poisoned by eating some weed, same as lots of 'em get locoed."

"Well, maybe," agreed Bud. "Anyhow, we got good feed here, and plenty of water for dad's cattle, as well as ours. We can double up as well as not. Now I wonder if we have blankets enough for you two?" and he looked at Snake and Pocut, who said his name had been given him as he had "punched" cows so long in the vicinity of the Pocut River.

"Oh, we'll make out," a.s.serted Snake, who was easily suited.

But Bud, being the nominal head of the camp, would leave nothing to chance. While some of the others were still about the flickering camp fire, talking of the trouble at Square M, the strange disappearance of the water and kindred topics, the boy rancher went to inspect the tent where the older cowboys were to pa.s.s the night.

It was fitted with cots enough, and one to spare, but Bud wanted to make sure of the blankets. For it gets cold at night on the western plains on even very hot days.

As Bud entered the tent he saw, in the dim light of a turned-down lantern, a figure sitting on one of the cots.

"That you, Snake?" Bud asked.

"No, it's me," answered the voice of the new cowboy, Pocut Pete.

"Oh," remarked the lad, and as the other arose Bud caught the tinkle of gla.s.s. For a moment an ugly suspicion entered Bud's mind, but when his nostrils did not catch the smell of liquor, which was strictly forbidden on all Mr. Merkel's ranches, Bud felt a sense of relief.

Pocut Pete pa.s.sed out, after Bud had a.s.sured himself that there were blankets enough, and as the boy rancher was leaving the tent, he trod on something that broke, with a grating sound, under his foot.

CHAPTER VIII

DRY AGAIN

"What the mischief's that?" exclaimed Bud, as he unhooked the lantern from the tent pole and swung it toward the ground where he had set his foot. "Has Nort or d.i.c.k lost their bottle of paregoric?" and he chuckled as he recalled what use his cousins had made of that baby-pacifier when they had been captured at the camp of the professors, as related in the book prior to this.

"It _is_ a bottle, and I stepped on it and smashed it," went on Bud, as he saw the shining particles of thin gla.s.s. "That new cowboy, Pocut Pete, must have dropped it. Hope it wasn't any medicine he needed.

Smells mighty queer, though!" and Bud sniffed the air. "I hope he isn't one of those 'dope fiends,'" and again a feeling of apprehension pa.s.sed over him.

Bud picked up one of the largest pieces of the crushed gla.s.s bottle.

The little phial appeared to have been filled with a sticky, yellowish substance, and the odor was not pleasant.

"Whew!" exclaimed Bud as he caught a strong whiff of it. "I wouldn't want to have to take any of _that_ for medicine. Guess I'll ask Snake what he knows of Pocut Pete before I make any inquiries on my own hook.

And I'll tell him he'd better bury this gla.s.s if he doesn't want to cut his own feet, or that of the others."

"Bunks all right?" asked Old Billee Dobb, as Bud emerged from the tent.

"All ready to turn in," was the answer.