"Hold on a minute! Don't be rash! Hold on!"

Nort pulled his pony back so suddenly that the creature reared high in the air. Some time ago Nort would have been unseated by such a trick, but now he stuck to the saddle like a burr to a cow's tail.

"What's the matter?" Nort shot back over his shoulder.

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

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

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

"But maybe Bud's right about wanting to be careful before we go any closer," suggested d.i.c.k. "You know Uncle Henry warned us not to run our necks in any noose."

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

"No," agreed Bud, who, having taken the gla.s.ses from his cousin, was now making a careful observation, "we don't want to drink any poison water or have cattle eat any poison gra.s.s, if there are such things on the ranch. But we can stop a bullet just as easy as a cow can and with just the same bad results for us."

"Bullet?" questioned Nort, wonderingly.

"Do you think those cows were shot?" asked d.i.c.k.

"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 probably was done by the same man, or men, who have been doing the other killings in Death Valley."

"But what in the world for?" exclaimed d.i.c.k.

"Search me!" answered Bud.

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

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

Though their curiosity made them eager and anxious, the boy ranchers held themselves in check and while riding slowly around on their ponies kept a keen watch of the territory surrounding the grazing herd and the motionless forms of the dead cows.

But when nearly half an hour had pa.s.sed, and there was no sign of any human enemy, and when nothing suspicious had been observed, Bud gave the 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 signs of uneasiness. They wandered around, grazed, ambled here and there, some coming close to look at the boy riders. They behaved like any normal herd of cows. Some of the calves showed their playfulness in kicking up their heels and darting hither and yon, while some of the young bulls engaged in head-b.u.t.ting contests.

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

"Silently, I grant you, but not necessarily in the night," spoke d.i.c.k.

"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 we can find out, now that it has happened almost under our noses as you might say."

This section of Dot and Dash ranch consisted of diversified country.

There was a wooded portion, with a small stream running through it, and in the distance were rolling hills and dales. It was ideal cow country and the herbage was succulent and rich.

Near the place where the five dead cows were stretched out was the beginning of a long, narrow defile, or gorge which ran back into the hills. Some of these hills were quite high and were covered with a growth of timber. Others consisted of big rocks piled in fantastic fashion as though there had been a volcanic eruption some time when the world 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 to attack them, the three young men rode up to the cows. The ponies showed no signs of fear on approaching the dead bodies, as some Eastern horses might have done. A cow pony has no nerves. He gets used to so many queer sights and happenings that even an auto rearing up on its front wheels and running backward while a cow turned somersaults on the fender would not cause a pony to turn his head.

The boys dismounted, pulled the reins of their animals over their heads as an intimation to the creatures not to stray and then made their way toward the cows.

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

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

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

"And not long, either," added d.i.c.k, noting the fresh and limp condition of the bodies. "This didn't happen later than last night or early this morning."

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

"And a total loss," came from d.i.c.k. "Can't even sell the fresh beef in Los Pompan. We wouldn't dare, not knowing whether the cows died from poison 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 d.i.c.k had said, the cows were a total loss, or nearly so, for it would hardly pay to have a skinner come out to flay off the hides of such a small number. Often when a cow or steer is killed by accident the carca.s.s is fit to eat and there is fresh beef on the ranch or the carca.s.s may be sold to the nearest butcher. But in this case it would have been dangerous and foolish to use this cow meat for food.

"Nothing to do but bury 'em and forget it, I guess," sighed d.i.c.k. "But it's quite a loss."

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

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

"Oh, that will have to be done, of course. But I mean to have some sort of a doctor come out here and look at these cows, or at one of them. 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 us anything about what that Life Elixer is composed of. I'd like to have that a.n.a.lyzed."

"Do you think that, or the queer old man, had anything to do with the death of these cows?" d.i.c.k wanted to know.

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

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

They rode about the place but could discover nothing wrong. The cows seemed 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 overtook them.

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

They rode over to the stream, which the ponies showed an anxious desire to drink from, but as d.i.c.k 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?"