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

"Did you see that Greaser just going in Herb's? One of the worst men in town. I'm telling you because he works on the next place to yours. If I were you I'd leave him entirely alone. Not that you'll have trouble with him – but forewarned, you know. Well, boys here's where I leave you. Got to get back to the office, and see how things are. I reckon I'll see you right soon, as you're so close, and anything I can do for you, let me know ime-jit! Think I'll take a run out to your place within the next week, and see how you make out. Well, adios, boys. Good luck!"

With a wave of his hand he was off. The boys were sorry to see him leave, for he was very pleasant company.

"I have an idea he'll be a good friend," declared Nort as they rode toward the ranch. "And if anything turns up, we may need a couple of such friends."

"He's regular, all right," the Kid agreed. "Looks as though he could handle himself in a fight, too. Doesn't talk much, but when he does – he says something. Yep, he suits me to a T."

"Good thing we met him," Dick said. "Well, boys, here we are!"

In front lay the ranch. As the five drew closer, they could see that the houses were well built. It was indeed in good shape.

"Say, here comes somebody that's sure in a hurry," Billee Dobb said suddenly. "Wonder what he wants?"

Riding toward them, dust raising under his bronco's feet, came a lone horseman.

CHAPTER VI

THE THREAT

Pulling their ponies to a halt, the five gazed curiously at the approaching rider. As he drew closer, they noticed he carried a sawed-off "scatter-gun," otherwise a shotgun. This in itself was strange. No true Westerner ever sports one of these, and they are looked upon with derision by the regular "gun-totin'" cowboy. A long-barreled Colt is the puncher's favorite weapon.

The stranger reined up sharply as he came within talking distance and looked piercingly at the ranchers as he called out:

"Anything I can do for you?"

"Well, I don' know," answered the Kid slowly. "You might, and then again you might not. What happens to be your special line?"

The stranger scowled.

"That's my business. What I'm aimin' to find out is, what's yours?"

"This is the Shooting Star, isn't it?" broke in Bud.

"It is."

"Well, we're the new owners. My name is Bud Merkel – my father just bought this ranch, and we came over to take possession. This is Dick Shannon, and his brother Nort. Billee Dobb and Yellin' Kid on my right. Will that do you? Now how about tellin' us who you are?"

"Me? Oh, Jim'll do, I guess. I happen to be the boss hand on this here sheep ranch. So you're the new owners, hey? Wonder what old 'J. D.' will have to say to that. You got papers, I suppose?"

"Certainly. Here is the bill of sale, and – "

"Take it easy, Bud, take it easy," Billie Dobb cautioned in a low tone of voice. "I don't exactly care for this feller's looks."

"Who's 'J. D.' – the one tendin' the ranch now?" asked the Kid.

"Yea – only he's not exactly tendin' it. He's here, and something tells me he's goin' to stay here – new owners or not. 'J. D.' don't care much about owners. What he's interested in is keepin' what he's got. And as far as I can see, he's still got the Shootin' Star."

"I don't like to dispute your word," Nort said hotly, "but we might have something to say about that ourselves. Come on, boys, let's ride in."

"Just a minute – just a minute! Where you-all countin' on headin' for?" sneered the lone horseman.

"The ranch house, of course!"

"Now just you let me give you-all a little piece of advice. I won't charge nothin' for it, and it might be useful. If I was you boys, I'd turn right around and ride the other way. Tell you what you do, youngster – " this to Bud – "you tell your father you couldn't find the ranch."

There was a moment's ominous silence. The Kid was the first to speak.

"Well, now, stranger, that's kind of you. Yes, sir, I think that's right kind of you to take an interest in us like that," he drawled. "But you know how it is. We sort of want to find out things for ourselves. So if you don't mind – " his tone changed suddenly. "We'll be gettin' along to the ranch. Out of the way, puncher! Let's go, boys!"

The stranger's eyes narrowed. He half raised his rifle, then apparently thinking better of it, let it drop again. As the five moved forward he rode slowly along in the rear.

They reached the corral at the side of the house, and Bud and Dick dismounted. Nort, Billee, and the Kid stayed on their ponies. Walking to the door of the house, Bud knocked boldly. There was no answer. He knocked again, this time a little harder. Still no result.

"Wonder if there's anyone around?" asked Dick. "Suppose we take a look at the side."

"Here's someone," Bud declared as there was a sound of a key grating in a lock. "They certainly keep things tight down here."

The door opened slowly. In its frame stood a man of slight build, and, by cowboy standards, dressed effeminately. He wore a "boiled" collar, small black string tie, low cut vest and gray trousers. His long black hair, with a slight shine on it, was brushed straight back.

"What'll you have, gents?" he asked. "Lookin' for me?"

"We're looking for the man in charge of the ranch," Dick said slowly. "If you can qualify, then I guess it's you we want to see."

"Right! And what can I do for you?"

"This will tell you," spoke Bud, handing him a copy of the bill of sale for the ranch. "We're the new owners. You rent the place, don't you? I believe the deed says your term was up last month. Sorry to have to put you out, but business is business. Can you get ready to shift by to-morrow morning, do you think? We'll make out down in town for to-night."

The man in the doorway didn't answer. He read over the paper Bud had handed him and then looked up. His expression was anything but friendly.

"And I'm supposed to beat it out of here, hey?" he asked coldly.

"Afraid so," answered Bud.

The man suddenly stepped to one side.

"Come in a minute, boys," he suggested. It was evident that his manner had undergone a change. He seemed more friendly.

"You just get in?" he asked.

"Yes – we were delayed on the way, or we would have gotten here sooner."

"Sit down, boys."

As the slightly-built man was drawing up chairs Bud cast a quick glance at Dick. "Watch out"! his look signaled. But there seemed no need for suspicion. "J. D.," as they had heard him called, appeared harmless.

"I take it you boys are sensible?" he began when they were seated.

"Hope so," Dick answered with a slight grin. "We've never been in any asylum that I know of."