"Well, my advice is to leave these rustler alone," said Old Billee. "They's allers been rustlers here an' they'll allers be here. Every cow country has 'em. They're like th' old pirates that used t' hold up th' ships. Taking tribute, so t' speak."

"But our country didn't pay that tribute long!" exclaimed d.i.c.k, remembering the brilliant exploits of Decatur against the corsains of Algiers, Tunis and Tripoli. "'Millions for defense, but not a cent for tribute'!" quoted d.i.c.k in a ringing voice.

"That's what I say!" chimed in Nort.

"Well, it _is_ tribute, in a way," admitted Old Billee. "I was going t' say if you'd let th' rustlers make off with a few steers now an' then it would save trouble. They're used t' takin'

a few. But if you fight 'em then they'll make a big raid with a big gang, an' mebby, take all you got, Bud!"

"I'd like to see 'em try it!" cried the western lad. "And I won't sit by and have my cattle stolen; will we, fellows?" he appealed to his cousins.

"Not on your life!" declared Nort and d.i.c.k.

"Well, I sh.o.r.e do like t' hear you talk that-a-way," said Old Billee. "I didn't think you'd do it. Course it ain't no fun t'

sit still an' let these onery Greasers walk off with your cattle.

But, as I say, it's sometimes easier'n 'tis t' fight 'em. Lots of th' ranchmen do pay tribute in a way. Your father was one of th'

fust t' fight 'em, Bud, but even he has sorter give up now, an'

he don't raise no terrible row when a few of his steers get hazed off."

"Well, dad has more, and losing a few doesn't put a crimp in him," said Bud. "It's different with us, and I'm not going to stand it. Zip Foster wouldn't and I'm not going to!" and again he dashed his hat on the ground, thereby startling Billee's horse.

"Say, why don't you get Zip Foster over to help chase the rustlers?" asked d.i.c.k, slyly nudging Nort. They had long been trying to get Bud to a "show down" on the ident.i.ty of this mysterious personage.

"Oh, I reckon we can do it ourselves," and Bud seemed to regret mentioning the name of his favorite.

"Just what are you aimin' t' do, son?" asked Billee, as Snake and Yellin' Kid rode up, ready for their day's work out on the range among the cattle.

"I don't exactly know, but it's going to be something and something hard!" a.s.serted Bud. "Are there any clues over there, Billee, to give us a lead?"

"Not many, Bud. Just th' usual. They come onto a few scattered steers, killed one roasted what they wanted of it, slipped off the hide an' left th' rest t' th' buzzards. Then they druv off th' remainder. I didn't foller th' trail, for I could see they was half a dozen rustlers in th' bunch, an' it ain't exactly healthy for one man t' trail a crowd like that even if he was a two-gun man, which I don't lay no claim t' bein' no how,"

concluded the veteran modestly. They all knew he would be brave enough in an even fight. But they all recognized the fact that it would have been foolish for him, alone, to have attempted to trail a gang of desperate men.

"Well, I'm going to see what we can do," Bud declared. "If you've sized up all there was to see over there, Billee," and he nodded in the direction of the latest raid on Diamond X Second, "there's no use in me going over. I think I'll go have a talk with dad,"

he concluded. "I want action!"

"So do we!" added d.i.c.k.

"Then come along!" invited his cousin.

A little later the boy ranchers were riding out of the valley, on their way to the main ranch of Diamond X. They would not be back until late that night, or, possibly, until the following morning, for Bud wanted to have a good, long talk with his father, and decide on some plan of action, that would drive out the rustlers and keep them away.

As Old Billee had said, probably an older and more experienced rancher would have put up with a few losses for the sake of peace and quietness. But Bud, like most lads of his age, was impulsive.

And, as he had said, the loss of even a few steers meant possible failure to him and his cousins, just starting in the ranch business as they were.

"Was that a black one?" suddenly asked Bud, as Nort's horse shied at something.

"A black what!" Nort wanted to know.

"A black jack rabbit that ran across the trail in front of you just now," Bud resumed. "If it was, it will bring bad luck, as Old Billee would say," and he laughed.

"No, it was a sort of gray one, part white," Nort answered, for it was one of those immense hares that had leaped across the trail, almost under the feet of his pony.

"That means we'll have part bad luck and part good," declared d.i.c.k.

And some hours later, when they had reached Bud's home, and Nell was serving peach pie and gla.s.ses of milk to the boy ranchers, Nort paused long enough in his eating to remark:

"_This_ is the good luck, Bud."

"You declaimed something that time!" agreed his brother.

Mr. Merkel listened to what Bud and his cousins told them of the raids on Happy Valley.

"Well, you haven't suffered any more than the average ranchman, just starting in," said Bud's father. "The rustlers always seem to pick on a newcomer."

"Well, they'll find I'm a sort of p.r.i.c.kly pear to pick on!"

a.s.serted Bud. "Dad, can't we clean out these rascals?"

"Well, it's your ranch, Bud! You can do anything you like, within reason, but I wouldn't like to see you take any foolish risks."

"There's got to be some risks," declared Bud. "I'm not looking to get out of 'em. But don't you think it would be a good thing if we could get rid of this Del Pinzo gang for good?"

"Sure, Bud. I'll give you all the help I can, and I'll spare you one or two more men if you need 'em--for a time, that is, as we're pretty busy here."

"All right. When we're ready I'll call on you," said Bud, as though he had great plans in preparation. As a matter of fact, as he admitted later, he really did not know what he was going to do, but he was not going to admit that to his father. In other words he was "putting up a bluff," and I have some reason for suspecting that Mr. Merkel knew this. However he gave no sign. In spite of the pie, cake and other good things set out by Nell and Mrs. Merkel, Bud and his chums decided to ride back to their camp that night. It was dark at the start, but the moon would be up later, and the trail was well known.

The boy ranchers rode leisurely along, for there was no special hurry in getting back. It might reasonably be supposed that the rustlers would not again make a raid within a few days at least.

And Old Billee, Yellin' Kid, Snake Purdee and Four Eyes, to say nothing of Buck Tooth, were well able to look after matters in Happy Valley.

And thus proceeding at a foot pace, it was well after midnight when the boys started down the last slope that led into the valley proper. In daylight it would have been possible, from this part of the trail, to have observed the tents and the reservoir.

But now all was shrouded in darkness.

No, not altogether darkness, for as the boys rode forward there suddenly glimmered in the gloom a light, high up in the air. At first Bud thought it was a star, but a moment later as it moved from side to side, and then up and down, he exclaimed:

"Look, fellows! A signal!"

"Signal!" repeated d.i.c.k.

"Yes. Over at our camp! See! There's a light on our watch tower."

"Maybe there's been another raid!" said Nort.

"Or going to be one!" spoke Bud, grimly.

CHAPTER XIV

FOUR EYES--NO EYES