The Boy Ranchers on Roaring River: or, Diamond X and the Chinese Smugglers

The boys watched him with anxious eyes. Would he cross safely, or would he be shot down like a dog? There was no sign from the ranch house. All activity had ceased as though the occupants had been frozen into stillness. Nearer and nearer walked the agent, head up, the gun with the handkerchief tied on it held in front of him. Still there was no sign of life inside the house. When the agent reached within ten feet of the place, the boys saw him stop and look closely at the quiet house.

"Hey, you!" he yelled.

"Nervy guy," the Kid commented, "He might easily get creased, standin' there yellin'. Me, I wouldn't put it past that bunch!"

Suddenly a window flew up and a head poked out. It was a stranger, none of the boys ever having seen the fellow before.

"What do you want?" the man demanded in a truculent tone.

"I call upon you to surrender, in the name of the law!" said Hawkins.

"You what?" Without waiting for an answer, the head drew in but the window remained open. In a moment the head reappeared.

"What are you talking about? Why should we surrender?"

"You're under arrest for smuggling, and for assault and battery with intent to kill!"

"You don't say!" The head popped in. Then in a moment —

"Who are you – John Law?"

"I happen to be a federal agent. But I'm not here to give you my history. Do you surrender?" The boys could hear the sting in the agent's words.

"Wait a minute." Once more the head disappeared. This time it stayed back for some minutes. The watching boys were moving uneasily. Finally another came to the window – it was Delton. The agent gave no sign that he knew him.

"Want to speak to me?" asked Delton, an imperious note in his voice.

"Makes no difference who I speak to. I want to know if you'll surrender, and give yourselves over to the law."

"What for?"

"You know well enough! Smuggling, and shooting!"

"It was that bird's own fault that he got shot. What's he want to come sneaking around for? Serves him right! As for smuggling, who said we were smugglers?"

"Never mind about that." The agent was speaking quickly now. "I ask you once more, do you surrender?"

Unwittingly Hawkins lowered his gun on which was the flag of truce. There was a sudden report, and a spurt of dust arose at the agent's feet.

"There's our answer!" Delton yelled, and slammed down the window.

Hawkins wasted no time in returning to the waiting boys.

"That's that," he said grimly, and he removed the handkerchief from his gun. "We got to go after them. Kid, where's Billee Dobb resting?"

"Over there behind that bend. Want me to go over and see how he's makin' out?"

"Yes. In the meantime, where's that meat and bread you brought, Nort? Everybody grab some. Got water over there for Billee, Kid?"

"Yep; Dick's got a canteen full, and he's got Billee's shoulder tied up with his shirt. We can't do anything more for him 'til we get home."

"I hate to think of Billee lying out there hurt," Bud said a trifle sadly. "Think we all better go over and see him?"

"No, I don't," Hawkins said decidedly. "The Kid knows what he's talking about, and if he says we can't do anything more for Billee, there's no use tracking over there and getting him excited. Here, now, everybody get some of the food Nort brought."

"Not so hungry," Bud said, looking longingly toward the window where they had last seen Delton.

"Eat anyway, Bud. You'll need it. And stop worrying about Billee. I'm sure he'll make out all right."

On his way to the injured man the Kid brought some of the bread and meat for Dick. The others, though they protested they weren't hungry, ate as much as Nort carried. All felt better after this refreshment.

Within five minutes the Kid was back.

"Better!" he called as he came up. "Dick says he's getting along O. K. Took some of the food and wanted to know if he could be shifted to where he could see the fireworks. He's quiet now, though. Dick's afraid he'll start a hemorrhage if he moves around much."

"He might, too," Bud agreed. "It's best to keep him as quiet as possible. Well – when do we start?"

Hawkins had been standing by the side of his pony. Now he mounted and faced the house.

"We start now!" he said. "First we have to decide how to close in. I think Nort and I had better come in from the left. Kid, you and Bud get around to the extreme right. In that way we can cover the whole ground. Nort and I will start first, and try to make the door.

"When I shoot, you start, Kid. If we can get into the house, the rest is easy. I know that bunch. Fine when they're on top, but as soon as anyone gets under their guard, they welch. That's the reason I think we can make it. But listen – " and the agent's voice dropped. "This is a mighty risky business. I don't want anyone to get in this against his will. No telling what may happen. Are you boys willing to take a chance?"

Bud was the first to speak.

"Mr. Hawkins," he said, "I think I know the others well enough to speak for them. When we started this thing, we did so because it was our duty, and, I might as well admit it, because of the excitement. Since then something has happened. Billee Dobb was shot. Are you answered?"

"I am," said the agent, with an understanding look. "All set then, boys. Around that way, Bud. Wait for three shots, then close in – fast. Let's go!"

Bud and Yellin' Kid started for the right of the house. The moment had come. Before many more minutes passed, the plan would have either succeeded, or there would be fewer men able to walk around the ranch house. Hawkins and Nort drew their guns, and headed their ponies to the left, throwing them into a gallop. They crouched low in the saddles. What was in their minds as they made ready for that desperate charge? Fear? Hardly that. A turmoil of excitement, probably.

As they dashed out into the open Nort gave a quick glance toward the window. He could see nothing save darkness within. It took but a few seconds for them to reach the side of the house. Hawkins looked over at Nort. The boy nodded. Now!

They raced madly toward the house. Bang! A shot rang out, and a puff of smoke came from one of the windows. Nort's hat went sailing away as though it were on a string. Bang! Nort saw the agent's pony falter, then recover and go dashing on. Now they were almost to the house. It had seemed as though one of them surely would be hit, for they were speeding across perfectly open territory and the occupants of the house were firing rapidly.

But, somehow, luck was with them. They reached the porch safely. And just as Hawkins was about to give the signal for Bud and the Kid to attack, he saw something that stayed his hand.

From the rear of the house a volume of black smoke was pouring.

CHAPTER XXIII

A RING OF FIRE

"Wait, Nort!" Hawkins yelled. "Stick close to the house! Get in close! Not the front – this way! This way!"

He pulled his horse over to one side and held him as near the side wall of the ranch house as he could get. Nort followed him, also hugging the wall. In that way they were protected from the bullets of Delton's men.

"See what happened?" the agent exclaimed. "The place is on fire! Now they've got to get out, and they'll run right into our hands. How I hope the Kid has sense enough to stay away and nab them when they come out!"