The Boy Ranchers at Spur Creek: or, Fighting the Sheep Herders

"They're at it again! Rustlers just cut out a bunch at North Station and they're hazing 'em off!"

"Whew!" whistled Mr. Merkel. "This is getting serious!"

Little time was lost. Instead of stopping for a "bite," the boy ranchers and their companions hastily swallowed some coffee that "Ma" Merkel and Nell made ready for them. Some "grub" was hastily packed, for the expedition might be out all night – very likely would – and then, saddles, girths and guns having been hastily inspected, the cowboys set forth.

To the bunch that had been on guard at Spur Creek was added some other punchers from Diamond X – as many as could be spared. This was not a large number, for, as Mr. Merkel had said, he had sent some of his men to drive his shipment of steers to the railroad.

This latest raid, word of which had been telephoned in from a distant place by a cowboy who had witnessed it, had taken place at what was called "North Station." This was a sort of auxiliary ranch Mr. Merkel had started when he secured more range land in the spring. By pasturing some cattle around there, several miles were saved in shipping his steers after fattening them up. And, as I have told you, nothing so soon takes valuable fat off cattle as driving them long distances to feed, to water or to a shipping point.

The boy ranchers knew little of North Station, having been there but once, though the trail to it was plain. And as they rode they talked of what might have taken place there.

"Guess whoever was in charge wasn't keepin' a very good lookout, or he'd have stopped the rustlers," observed Snake Purdee.

"Oh, you can't tell," said Billee Dobb. "Accidents will happen, and Del Pinzo is as slick as they come."

They all knew this to be true.

"Well, there's one thing in our favor," remarked Bud, as he urged his horse up between the steeds of Nort and Dick.

"What's that?" asked the latter.

"We're after the rustlers right quick," went on Bud. "Red Dugan, who telephoned in, said the gang driving off our cattle was still in sight as he was talking. So we ought to overtake them by dark."

"Not much fun fighting after dark," observed Dick dubiously.

"That's right," agreed his brother. "You can't tell who you're shooting at or who's shooting at you. How did Red come to be on the job so quickly?" he inquired of Bud.

"Well, you know dad has a lot of telephones set up at different places over his range," the owner's son explained. "He says it doesn't cost much to string a line of his own, and it's mighty handy when you want to send word back to headquarters. It proved so in this case. For Red was out on a distant part of the range, where there happened to be a branch telephone in a box on a pole, and he shot in word of the raid."

"Mighty lucky he did," observed Nort.

"Yes, for we're on the trail almost as soon as the rustlers took it," said Bud.

And indeed the boy ranchers were on the trail, riding hard; for they were some miles from where the raid had taken place, and they knew the rustlers would not spare the cattle they were driving away. For the thieves cared little about running fat off the stock they had "lifted." All they desired was to get what animals they could, to be sold to some other unscrupulous band, or used for food. Little consideration would be given to the steers.

After keeping to the main trail for some distance, the pursuers struck off to the right, heading more to the south, for it was in this direction they might expect to overtake the rustlers.

Old Billee, who was riding ahead with Yellin' Kid, keeping an anxious lookout for any signs of the rustlers, suddenly raised his hand as a signal to stop. Those following him, including the boy ranchers, pulled in their steeds.

"What's the matter?" called Bud. "See something?"

"No, but I feel something," was the somewhat strange answer.

"What do you mean?" asked Yellin' Kid.

"I mean I'm hungry!" and Old Billee chuckled. "If, as they say, an army fights on its stomach, the same is true about a cowboy. If we're goin' to do any fightin' – an' I reckon we are – then I got to eat!"

"I'm right glad to hear you disperse them there sentiments!" chuckled Snake Purdee. "I was goin' t' tighten up my belt another hole or two, to make my stomach take up less room, but if you're goin' t' eat – "

"Might as well, an' rest the hosses a bit," said Billee. "We'll do all the better afterward."

Accordingly they halted, the horses were turned out to graze, and a fire was built over which bacon could be sizzled and coffee made. These two staples formed the basis of most meals when the cowboys were on the trail, as they were now.

No time was wasted, but Billee knew how to handle his men, and he did not insist on an immediate start after the meal. He knew the value of a little rest after food had been taken. The horses, too, would be fresher for a wait.

But while the afternoon was still young they were on their way again, and before dark they had reached the headquarters of North Station, an auxiliary to Diamond X ranch.

"You fellows got here pretty quick," observed Sam Tod, the foreman at North Station.

"Well, we didn't stop to play mumble-th'-peg along th' way," chuckled Billee. "Now let's hear the yarn straight."

It was hastily told, bearing out what had already been learned of it over the telephone.

"Pack us up a little more grub and we'll keep on," said Billee Dobb to Sam, when the narration was ended.

"You'd better call it a day and stay here for the night," counseled Sam.

"Nothin' doin'!" declared Billee earnestly. "We're goin' t' hit th' trail hard!"

"Now listen a moment," begged Sam. "I know this part of the country better 'n what you do, Billee, though I give in to you on lots of points. This section is pretty rough, an' them rustlers won't be able to make any kind of speed with th' cattle. You can catch up t' 'em better if you make an early mornin' start than if you keep on now."

"You think so?" asked Billee, who was not "sot in his ways," as he often said.

"I'm sure of it," declared Sam.

"Wa'al, mebby you're right," conceded the veteran cowboy. "What say, fellows?" and he appealed to Bud and the others.

"I say let's stay here for th' night," decided Yellin' Kid. "As Sam says, we can make better time in th' mornin'. Th' rustlers can't drive cattle only so fast, anyhow."

"Unless they stampede 'em," put in Bud.

"That's what they did t' get away from where we had 'em pastured," declared Sam. "But if they get 'em that wild now the animals is likely t' break away, an' that isn't what this bunch of Greasers is countin' on."

"I guess you're right," admitted Bud. "It's about a fifty-fifty proposition, and we'd better wait here over night."

This decided, little time was lost in taking saddles from the horses and turning them into the corral, while their riders made ready to wash up, prepare for the evening meal and rest.

As Snake Purdee turned his pony in and hung the saddle over the fence he noticed a small enclosure in one corner of the corral, in which were two rather sorry-looking specimens of horseflesh.

"What you got there, Sam?" he asked, nodding toward the two sequestered steeds.

"Oh, couple a' outlaws," was the answer.

Snake's eyes seemed to sparkle with new light.

"Reg'lar man-killers?" he asked eagerly.

"Might call 'em that," assented Sam with a smile.