"Here's where they killed the steer, or yearling," Bud said, pointing to a heap of bones.

It was all that remained from the feast of the buzzards.

"And here's where they started to drive off the cattle, evidently," added Nort, pointing to where a plain trail, made by the feet of many animals, led away from the ground that was more generally trampled by a large herd.

"Let's follow it," urged d.i.c.k. "We want to see when it gets to the disappearing point."

"That's right!" chimed in Bud.

They urged their ponies slowly along the trail left by the rustlers. It seemed to go down the valley to the place where the hills lowered on either side to form a sort of pa.s.s. It was in this pa.s.s that the two cowboys said the trail was lost.

"We've got some distance to go, yet," observed Bud, as they paused to look and make sure they had not lost the trail.

"And, after all, maybe we'll only find the same thing Snake and Kid did--nothing!" said Nort.

"Well," began Bud, "we've got to get to the bottom of this, and if we don't in one way we will----"

He was interrupted by a shout from d.i.c.k.

"Look!" cried the stout lad. "There's a fire! The gra.s.s is on fire, Bud!"

The western lad gave a quick look in the direction d.i.c.k indicated. It was off to the right from the trail they had been following.

"It is a fire--regular prairie fire," Bud murmured.

"Could any of the reservation Indians be on the rampage and have set it?" asked Nort.

"I don't know! We've got to find out about it!" shouted Bud.

"Come on, fellows!" And, wheeling his horse, he abandoned the trail of the rustlers, and galloped toward the fire, followed by Nort and d.i.c.k.

CHAPTER X

SERIOUS QUESTIONS

Some time before the boy ranchers reached the scene of the gra.s.s fire toward which they were riding, they caught the smell of the burning fodder. That it was only gra.s.s which was aflame they had known before this, for that was all there was to ignite in that section of the valley. There were no buildings as yet, tents taking their place. Though Bud and his father planned to erect substantial structures if this year was successful.

"A lot of good fodder going up in smoke, Bud!" yelled Nort, as he rode beside his cousin.

"If it isn't any worse than that we're lucky," was the answer.

"How do you mean?" asked d.i.c.k.

"I mean if we don't lose any cattle. The gra.s.s isn't any good after it dries up on the ground, the way this has. But if the fire starts a stampede of cattle--that will mean a loss."

"Do you think that's what the game is?" asked Nort, encouraging his pony, Blaze, by patting the animal's neck.

"I can't see what else it is, unless the fire started when some one threw down a burning match or cigarette, and most cow punchers aren't that careless. Our fellows wouldn't do it, and I don't believe any other ranchers around here would, except on purpose."

"You mean the Double Z bunch?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Sort of heading that way," replied Bud, significantly.

Together the boy ranchers rode on toward the fire, silently for a time, the only sounds being the thud of their ponies' feet and the creak of saddle leathers and stirrups. The smell of the burning gra.s.s was more p.r.o.nounced now, and the pall of black smoke was rolling upward in a larger cloud.

"It's a big fire!" exclaimed Nort. "How can we stop it, Bud?"

"It will soon burn out," the western lad replied. "I happen to know where this gra.s.s is. It's a place where we couldn't very well bring water to, and if it doesn't rain much, as it hasn't lately, the fodder gets as dry as tinder. There's a sort of swale, or valley, filled with this dry gra.s.s and it's just naturally burning itself off."

"Then no very great harm will be done; will there?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Not much, unless the cattle get frightened and start to stampede. That's what I'm afraid of, and why I'm riding over there. We can't hope to put out the fire." Owing to the fact that the gra.s.s was so dry that no cattle would feed on it, there were no steers in the immediate vicinity of the blaze Had the fodder been cut it would have made excellent hay, but it would need to be cut green to bring this about. As it was, the tall gra.s.s had just naturally dried up as it attained its growth.

"It doesn't take even as much as a blaze like this to start a stampede," said Bud, as he and his cousins rode nearer to the burning gra.s.s, They could feel the heat of it, now. "It's queer how frightened animals are of fire," went on the rancher's son.

"There must have been some wonderful sights out here, years ago, when there were millions of buffalo, and when there were prairie fires, miles in width, driving them before it."

"I should say so!" chimed in Nort. "I've read some of those stories in Cooper's books. He's great; isn't he!"

"You delivered the goods that time!" remarked Bud.

"I wish the west was like that now," voiced d.i.c.k. "With Indians and buffalo all over."

"There are a few Indians left yet," said Bud. "They're mostly on reservations, except when they make a break, ride off and act up bad. I guess we stock raisers are better off without the wild Indians.

"As for the buffalo, they were mighty valuable, and if we could raise them as well as cattle, we'd make a lot of money. The government is trying to get several herds started, but it's no easy task. Why, there are almost as many buffalo in New York city as there is out west now."

"Where!" asked Nort, not thinking for the moment.

"In Bronx Park," answered Bud. "I haven't seen 'em but I've read about 'em."

"Oh, yes. So have I," agreed Nort. "I forgot about them. Whew!

It's getting hot," he added, as a shift in the wind brought into their faces a wave of heated and smoke-filled air.

"We'd better not keep on any nearer," decided Bud. "Let's ride around to the other side, and see what we can see."

Accordingly they turned to the right, as the fire seemed less fierce on that quarter, and continued on. They had been riding over a stretch of the valley carpeted with rich, dark green and fairly damp gra.s.s. Bud and his cousins knew that when the fire reached this stretch it would die out for lack of fuel.

In fact the blaze, as they could see, was confined to an area about a mile square, but of irregular shape. So far none of the cattle in sight had shown more than momentary fear of the blaze.

They had run some distance from it and then stopped, sometimes going on with their eating, and again pausing to look with fear-widened eyes at the sight of the leaping tongues of fire.

"But we can't tell what's going on behind that smoke screen,"

declared Bud. "Some rustlers may have started it to hide their work."

"Any of your men over in that direction?" asked d.i.c.k.

"They aren't supposed to be," Bud replied. "Of course some of 'em may have ridden over when they saw the smoke, same as we did. But I don't see how any of 'em could have reached here as soon as we did."