"Which I'm going to do dark an' early," declared the old cowboy. "I have the late watch t'-night."

For it had been decided, with the coming of the additional steers from Square M, that it would be necessary to ride herd, as so many cattle in a bunch might engender a stampede. And at Old Billee's suggestion the night-riding was to start then, to break them in, so to speak.

Bud saw Pocut Pete standing by himself at the cook tent, Buck Tooth having been induced to open some cans of peaches, a form of fruit much in favor on western ranches where the fresh variety is un.o.btainable.

"You'd better clean up that gla.s.s you left in the bunk tent," Bud remarked in a low voice.

"What gla.s.s?" sharply demanded the other, and there was in his voice a note of defiance, the boy thought.

"The gla.s.s bottle you dropped, and I stepped on," Bud resumed, for he did not hesitate to give orders in his own camp.

"I didn't drop any bottle!" declared Pocut Pete.

"Well, some one did, and I smashed it," a.s.serted Bud. "If you don't want to cut your feet you'd better bury it," and he hurried off to wash from his hands some of the unpleasant-smelling mixture that had clung to them.

"I sleep with my boots on," said Pocut Pete. "But I'll tell the rest of 'em to be careful."

"It would be better," Bud flung back over his shoulder.

It was late next day when cowboys from Square M arrived, slowly driving before them the cattle that were to be doubled up with those which Bud, Nort and d.i.c.k considered specially their own.

"What's the situation over there now?" Bud asked one of the punchers, who looked tired and weary, for the trail had been long and dry, as evidenced by the eager manner in which the steers rushed for water.

"Pretty bad," was the answer. "This disease, whatever it is, seems to kill off mighty quick. I don't know how many your dad has lost, but I guess now, what with those we've brought here and them sent to Diamond X and Triangle B, that we'll get the best of the trouble. Gosh! You got a nice place here!" he added admiringly.

"Yes, it's pretty good," Bud agreed. "Bringing the water over from Pocut River made all the difference in the world."

"You got out a lungful that time!" a.s.serted another of the cowboys who had helped "haze" over the steers that were transferred to save them from infection.

The visiting cowboys departed next day, leaving their animals mingled with those in which Bud, Nort and d.i.c.k had an interest. The doubled-up herd was not too large but what there was plenty of feed and water in Flume Valley.

During the days that followed, matters at Diamond X Second, as Bud sometimes called his ranch camp, adjusted themselves smoothly. There was no further sign, or evidence, of mysterious warnings. The cattle throve, and those from Square M, which were not in as good physical condition as the animals that had been longer in the green valley, began to "pick up" and fatten.

"I tell you what, fellows!" boasted Bud to his cousins, "dad'll be wishing he'd kept this ranch for himself! We'll beat him at his own game!"

"It would be a big stunt if we could, not taking advantage of his bad luck at Square M, though," spoke Nort.

"Well, you have to count on bad luck in this business," remarked Bud.

"Not that black rabbits have anything to do with it," he laughed, as he looked at Old Billee.

Bud and his cousins were returning, one hot afternoon, from having ridden to a distant part of the valley, where Snake Purdee had reported he had found a calf killed. There was a suspicion that rustlers had been at work, but Bud decided the animal had been separated from its mother and the main herd, and had been pulled down by coyotes.

"What's that?" asked Nort, when they were within sight of the camp with its reservoir in the background.

"What's what?" asked Bud, who pulled his pony aside quickly, to escape a prairie dog's burrow.

"Looks like Old Billee waving his hat for us to hit up the pace," spoke d.i.c.k.

"It is!" a.s.serted Bud, after gazing beneath his hands held in front of his eyes as a sun-shield. "I hope nothing's wrong!"

But when they had ridden up, the old cowboy riding out to meet them, it was made plain, in a moment, that something had occurred out of the ordinary.

Old Billee Dobb was much excited. His eyes blazed and snapped and he shook the reins in addition to mildly spurring on his pony.

"More mysterious warnings?" asked Bud.

"Worse'n that," was the answer. "She's dry ag'in!"

"The pipe line?" asked d.i.c.k.

"You hit it!" cried the other. "Water's stopped runnin' ag'in, Bud!"

"Whew!" whistled the boy rancher. "And with a double lot of stock on hand, too! This _is_ bad!"

CHAPTER IX

A SHOT IN THE NIGHT

Wheeling his pony, Old Billee rode back with the boy ranchers, until they reached the bottom of the reservoir wall. Then, dismounting, Bud, Nort and d.i.c.k scrambled up the earth slope on one side until they could look into the storage tank, and at the pipe which, connecting with the old underground water-course, kept the reservoir filled.

"She isn't spouting!" said Bud, in blank disappointment.

"Just a dribble," added Nort, mournfully.

"And if it does as it did before that'll stop in a little while,"

remarked d.i.c.k.

"When did it start to stop?" asked Bud, unconscious of the double meaning of his words.

"About an hour ago," Old Billee answered. "I happened t' notice it when I come up here t' try for a fish."

"Fish!" cried Nort. "Can you get any fish _here_?"

"Sartin sure!" a.s.serted the old cowboy. "They come in from th' river, under th' mountain, though how they like the dark I can't say, an' they come out of this pipe. I've caught many a good one."

The eastern lads looked to Bud for confirmation, and their cousin, nodded, rather gloomily, though.

"Yes," said Bud, "fish do come through the pipe. But if we don't get any more water they'll all die off soon."

"Maybe the water will come back--as it did before," a.s.serted d.i.c.k.

Bud did not answer. He appeared to be figuring out something on the back of an old envelope with the stub of a pencil.

"We'll have enough for a week, I think," finally announced the boy rancher. "Then, if the water doesn't come back, we'll have to drive all the stock over to Diamond X. Can't take a chance letting 'em die of thirst here, even if they didn't stampede, which they'd be sure to do."

Two things are vitally necessary on a ranch--gra.s.s and water for the stock. Of gra.s.s there was plenty in Flume Valley, and, had the stream continued to come through the pipe, there would have been a goodly supply of water, even for the extra stock added from Square M.