The Boy Ranchers: or, Solving the Mystery at Diamond X

"Wonder what's going on?" mused Dick, as the noise increased, the shouts of men mingling with the snorting and bellowing of cattle. "I'm going to take a look."

He stepped forward to part the flaps of the tent, they having fallen together, but as he did so the Greaser ripped out something fiercely in his own tongue, and his hand went toward a sheathed knife at his belt.

"Oh, keep your shirt on!" burst out Dick. "I'm not going to run away – not just now," he added as a qualifying phrase.

Whether the man understood the words, or guessed that Dick had no intention of escaping, was not made clear, but he offered no further objection to the act of the boys in pulling aside the flaps of the tent and looking out.

They saw that the cattle which had been taken from the Diamond X ranch – stolen as Dick and Nort believed – were being driven into a small, and evidently hastily-constructed corral, where they could get to the stream to drink.

"They've got a regular system," remarked Nort, as he saw the cattle being quieted down, once they were inside the improvised pen.

"Making a business of it," agreed Dick. "But you wouldn't think such men as these two professors would frame it up to be cattle rustlers; would you?"

"That isn't all they are," said Nort. "That digging and blasting means something!"

He pointed to where, on the side hill at the scene of the first explosion, the two scientists were evidently directing operations looking to another blast. Professor Wright and his aide seemed to pay no attention to the cattle that had been brought in.

"This is a queer sort of game," said Dick to his brother, as they went back in the tent and sat down on boxes at the heads of their cots. "I can't see to the bottom of it."

"Nor I, except that these fellows are doing something they don't want known. Rustling cattle isn't all of it, by any means, but if the other isn't digging for gold, or something valuable, I give up."

"But if they were after gold, why would they deny it?" asked Dick.

"You've got me!" admitted Nort. "It sure is queer. But I wonder if they're going to starve us; and what's become of our ponies?"

The last question was answered first, for Dick pointed to where, off to one side, Blaze and Blackie were contentedly grazing, being pegged out, as were a number of other horses.

And, an hour or so later, came the answer to the other question, for a man, who evidently acted as camp cook, came to the tent with a pot of coffee, some tin cups, and the head of a barrel used as a tray, on which was piled some food.

Had the viands been most uninviting, Dick and Nort would have eagerly welcomed them, for the boys were hungry. But, as a matter of fact, the food was clean, and well cooked. The two professors, whatever might be their game, evidently insisted on adequate culinary operations.

"Sail in!" exclaimed Nort, as he smelled the appetizing odor of the hot coffee, and what appeared to be some Mexican dish, cooked with plenty of beans, and more red peppers than the boys cared for.

But, as I have said, they were hungry, and this is the best sauce in the world. None of the condiments so freely used by the Mexicans was needed, and soon there was silence in the prisoners' tent, broken only by the clatter of knives and forks on the tin camp dishes.

Once or twice the Greaser guard looked at the boys in what Dick and Nort both agreed, later, was a hungry style. The pot of coffee was much more than the boys needed, though they ate up all the food. And it was while feeling in his pockets for a toothpick that Nort's fingers touched something which played a very prominent part in subsequent events.

Slowly Nort drew forth a small bottle, and held it up so Dick could see it, but so that it was concealed from the Greaser at the tent entrance. And then Dick noted that Nort held up a four ounce flask of paregoric. Nort had been suffering from toothache the past few days, though for some reason it had not bothered him since he and Dick had become "lost." Perhaps the excitement following that incident quieted the nerves. At any rate Nort carried the bottle of paregoric with him, for one of the cowboys had recommended that this household mixture of opium, rubbed on the gums, would give relief.

Nort found that it did, and since then he had carried the bottle with him, pending the time he expected to visit a dentist. He now held this phial of paregoric up so Dick could see, at the same time pointing first to the Greaser and then to the coffee pot.

"Now?" asked Dick, in reply to Nort's obvious statement that he intended to administer some of the soporific to their guard.

"To-night," was Nort's answer, and then he put the bottle back in his pocket.

Dick's eyes lighted up. He knew the effect of a large dose of paregoric, comparatively harmless as it is in small quantities, or as Nort used it.

Now a way seemed opened for the boys. If only they could command the other elements necessary for success.

Nort made sure of one, by pouring out a cup of coffee, liberally sweetening it with sugar from the barrel head tray, and setting the beverage to one side on the ground under his cot.

The camp cook came to carry away what the boys had left – which was not much – and if he missed one cup he said nothing about it. Perhaps this was because, just then, some of the cattle tried to break out of the corral, and there was a shout raised for help – to which the cook responded. But the Greaser guard did not leave his place. Evidently his orders were imperative.

"When are you going to try it?" whispered Dick to Nort, as the shadows began to lengthen, and night settled down on the camp.

"Not until after dark – say about ten," replied Nort in a low voice. "It will take about two hours for him to fall asleep, and then we can get out, get aboard our ponies and trust to luck."

"If he only goes to sleep," sighed Dick.

"I'll give half the bottle full," whispered Nort.

The Greaser paid no attention to their talk, but sat immobile at the tent flaps. During the time the boys had been held prisoners no one had come to their canvas shelter save the cook, who brought them a plentiful supper, and also another barrel-head tray for the guard. The day had passed with several blasts having been set off, though the effect of them, and the object, was concealed from the boy ranchers.

In accordance with their plan, Nort and Dick dawdled over their night meal, having consumed only part of it when the cook, at about eight o'clock, came to remove the dishes.

"Git 'em mornin'," he said, as he turned to go out, evidently meaning that he was going to turn in, and the boys could keep what they had until the next day. This exactly suited them, and just before they were ready to lie down, pretending to be sleepy, Nort produced the cup of coffee he had saved out. Quickly he emptied into it half of the bottle of paregoric, and, stirring it to mix the opium concoction well with the beverage, offered it to the Greaser.

If the latter had suspicions he made no show of them, but, with a grunt accepted the unexpected refreshment, and drained the coffee at one tilt of his head. Then he passed the empty cup back to Nort, and proceeded to smoke another cigarette, an occupation that had been pretty much his whole task that day.

"Well, I'm going to turn in," said Nort in a loud voice, pretending to yawn.

"Same here," remarked Dick. Without undressing, they stretched out on the cots, not being afraid of soiling white sheets with their big boots, for there were no sheets to soil. Blankets alone formed the coverings, and these the boys drew over them.

There was no lantern in the tent, but the moon sent a stream of light in a little later, and by its gleam, in less than an hour after the dose had been administered, Nort and Dick saw the Greaser's head bent forward, while he had slumped down in a heap at the foot of the front tent pole.

Nort coughed loudly, two or three times, but the guard did not stir.

"Dead to the world!" whispered Dick gleefully. "We could walk all over him." He arose from the cot slowly, to silence as much as possible the rattle and squeak, and started for the front of the tent.

"The back way!" whispered Nort. "We'll cut the canvas! If we go out in front some one may see us. The back way!"

Dick comprehended, and turned around, picking up his range hat, an example followed by Nort. The latter had opened his pocket knife, which contained a large, keen blade, and, a moment later, a right-angled cut was made in the back wall of the canvas house.

Before emerging, Nort looked carefully through the opening he had made. The moon gave good light, but, fortunately, the tent was in the shadow of some trees and the way of escape seemed clear.

"Come on!" whispered Nort to his brother. They paused a moment, listening to the heavy breathing of the opium-stupefied Greaser and then stepped out of the opening.

An instant later they stood beneath the starry canopy of the sky, having accomplished the first part of their escape from the camp of mystery.

CHAPTER XXII

BACK TO THE RANCH

Perhaps, after all, it was due to the peculiar natures of the two professors that Nort and Dick were enabled to make their escape as easily as the lads did. Primarily Professor Wright and Professor Blair were scientists, whatever else our heroes accused them of in their own minds. And though the men surrounding the mysterious prospectors might be scoundrels, in a sense, they did not have orders to be extra vigilant after Dick and Nort had been placed in the tent; so no general guard was kept over the camp.

Thus it was, that as soon as the lads stepped out of the cut tent, they found no one to oppose their progress. Too much dependence had been placed on the Greaser guard. Who would have supposed that Nort carried a bottle of paregoric?

Or, granting that it was known he had it, would you have imagined that he would use it as he did? The whole affair was so ridiculously simple that perhaps this offered a reason for its success.