The Boy Ranchers in Death Valley: or, Diamond X and the Poison Mystery

"Don't you want to find out what killed those cattle?" asked Dick, riding back to join his cousin.

"Sure!" Bud replied. "But I don't want to keel over myself. Theremust be something there that killed those cows, that is if they'redead. And what killed them may kill us, if we go too close, just as ithas killed others and nearly did for Sam."

"Those cows are dead all right," declared Nort who, now that his ponywas quiet, had taken a pair of field glasses from the case slung at hisshoulder and was examining the silent forms. "They're as dead as alast year's sunflower."

"But maybe Bud's right about wanting to be careful before we go anycloser," suggested Dick. "You know Uncle Henry warned us not to runour necks in any noose."

"But we got to find out what killed these cows, so we'll know how toguard the others against the same danger," declared Nort. "And if itwas poison water they drank, or maybe poison grass they ate, why, wedon't want our other animals to do the same thing, or get any poisonwater ourselves."

"No," agreed Bud, who, having taken the glasses from his cousin, wasnow making a careful observation, "we don't want to drink any poisonwater or have cattle eat any poison grass, if there are such things onthe ranch. But we can stop a bullet just as easy as a cow can and withjust the same bad results for us."

"Bullet?" questioned Nort, wonderingly.

"Do you think those cows were shot?" asked Dick.

"They might have been."

"Who'd do such a thing?" demanded Nort.

"If it was done at all – which I'm not saying for a fact – it probablywas done by the same man, or men, who have been doing the otherkillings in Death Valley."

"But what in the world for?" exclaimed Dick.

"Search me!" answered Bud.

"The other cows weren't shot!" asserted Nort. "Sam's horse that diedwasn't shot, and no bullet nipped him or even creased him."

"No," agreed Bud. "I guess I'm out when it comes to guessing thosecows were shot. But let's wait a bit before we go any closer. Wecan't do those dead cows any good and it may save our lives."

Though their curiosity made them eager and anxious, the boy ranchersheld themselves in check and while riding slowly around on their ponieskept a keen watch of the territory surrounding the grazing herd and themotionless forms of the dead cows.

But when nearly half an hour had passed, and there was no sign of anyhuman enemy, and when nothing suspicious had been observed, Bud gavethe signal to ride on to come closer to the scene of the mystery.During the wait the living members of the herd had exhibited no signsof uneasiness. They wandered around, grazed, ambled here and there, some coming close to look at the boy riders. They behaved like anynormal herd of cows. Some of the calves showed their playfulness inkicking up their heels and darting hither and yon, while some of theyoung bulls engaged in head-butting contests.

"Whatever happened," said Bud as he and his cousins rode nearer,"didn't scare the whole herd. Death must have come silently, and inthe night."

"Silently, I grant you, but not necessarily in the night," spoke Dick.

"It could happen any time, as it did to Sam. That was in the daytime."

"You're right," Bud admitted. "It sure is mighty queer. But maybe wecan find out, now that it has happened almost under our noses as youmight say."

This section of Dot and Dash ranch consisted of diversified country.There was a wooded portion, with a small stream running through it, andin the distance were rolling hills and dales. It was ideal cow countryand the herbage was succulent and rich.

Near the place where the five dead cows were stretched out was thebeginning of a long, narrow defile, or gorge which ran back into thehills. Some of these hills were quite high and were covered with agrowth of timber. Others consisted of big rocks piled in fantasticfashion as though there had been a volcanic eruption some time when theworld was young. Between the hills were small valleys here and there, which made fine, sheltered places for the grazing of cows.

Having satisfied themselves that there was no lurking enemy waiting toattack them, the three young men rode up to the cows. The poniesshowed no signs of fear on approaching the dead bodies, as some Easternhorses might have done. A cow pony has no nerves. He gets used to somany queer sights and happenings that even an auto rearing up on itsfront wheels and running backward while a cow turned somersaults on thefender would not cause a pony to turn his head.

The boys dismounted, pulled the reins of their animals over their headsas an intimation to the creatures not to stray and then made their waytoward the cows.

"They're sure dead all right," remarked Bud, prodding the one nearesthim with his foot.

"Have you just found it out?" asked Nort.

"No, but I remember what happened to Sam, and I was thinking maybe theymight be only stunned, or something like that. But they're dead."

"And not long, either," added Dick, noting the fresh and limp conditionof the bodies. "This didn't happen later than last night or early thismorning."

"Guess you're right," admitted Bud. "Yes, they're dead sure enough."

"And a total loss," came from Dick. "Can't even sell the fresh beef inLos Pompan. We wouldn't dare, not knowing whether the cows died frompoison or not."

"No," agreed Bud. "And it can't be anything but poison of some sort, for I'm sure they weren't struck by lightning."

"There was no storm last night," declared Nort.

As Dick had said, the cows were a total loss, or nearly so, for itwould hardly pay to have a skinner come out to flay off the hides ofsuch a small number. Often when a cow or steer is killed by accidentthe carcass is fit to eat and there is fresh beef on the ranch or thecarcass may be sold to the nearest butcher. But in this case it wouldhave been dangerous and foolish to use this cow meat for food.

"Nothing to do but bury 'em and forget it, I guess," sighed Dick. "Butit's quite a loss."

"It sure is," remarked Bud. "But we're not going to bury 'em rightaway – at least not all of 'em, and we're not going to forget it."

"No, I didn't mean just that," went on Dick. "We've got to get to thebottom of this. But why not bury the bodies, Bud?"

"Oh, that will have to be done, of course. But I mean to have somesort of a doctor come out here and look at these cows, or at one ofthem. Maybe he can tell what killed 'em."

"Good idea," said Nort. "There may be a horse doctor in town."

"I think there is," spoke Bud. "And we'll see if he can tell usanything about what that Life Elixer is composed of. I'd like to havethat analyzed."

"Do you think that, or the queer old man, had anything to do with thedeath of these cows?" Dick wanted to know.

"There's no telling. I'm not going to pass up anything until I findout there's nothing in it!" retorted Bud. "Dot and Dash isn't going toruin if I can help it!"

"That's the idea!" echoed his cousins.

They rode about the place but could discover nothing wrong. The cowsseemed to have dropped in their tracks, dying without a struggle, though the ground around them was considerably cut up by their hooves,as though the animals had "milled" restlessly before death overtookthem.

The remaining and live members of the herd showed no uneasiness and nosigns of having been injured or disturbed as far as the boys could seeby riding among them.

They rode over to the stream, which the ponies showed an anxious desireto drink from, but as Dick was riding his horse toward the clear water, evidently to let the animal plunge its nose in, Bud cried:

"Do you think it's safe?"

"Why not?" Dick asked, momentarily pulling his pony back, and it wasnot easy, for the creature was thirsty.

"Maybe this is the poison water the cows drank."

"Running water like this couldn't very well be poisoned," declaredDick. "A stagnant pool or a water hole might be, but not this. Andhorses won't touch bad water. Watch mine."