Like a flash Bud, who had been standing beside Nort, to watch the effect of d.i.c.k's try, turned and faced outward to view the darkening valley, whence had come the sound of that shot. Nort turned also, but d.i.c.k seemed to think one of his companions had played a trick on him.

"That isn't fair!" cried the stout lad. "What'd you want to go and bust that bottle for, Nort?"

"I didn't do it!" a.s.serted his brother.

"Nor I," added Bud in a low voice. "The shot came from out there," and he indicated the long and fertile valley, over which the purple evening shadows were falling. "Duck, fellows!" he suddenly cried, and he pulled Nort beside him in the gra.s.s.

d.i.c.k, who caught the words of warning, and saw what his cousin had done, also dropped down, so that, a second or two after the firing of the strange shot that had shattered the bottle, only the heads of the boy ranchers showed above the gra.s.s, and then only slightly. "What's the idea?" asked d.i.c.k, as silence followed the measure of safety.

"Whoever it was that fired might shoot again," replied End.

"Who was it?" asked Nort.

"That's what we've got to find out," answered Bud in a low voice.

"Could it have been either Snake or Yellin' Kid, riding back and breaking that bottle over our heads, to show what good shots they were?" asked d.i.c.k.

"No, I hardly think so," replied his cousin. "They're both good shots, all right, and they could have broken that flask from the distance it was broken. But they wouldn't throw a scare into us this way. Besides, they haven't any time to fool around. They have an all-night ride ahead of them."

"What makes you think the bottle was busted from some distance, Bud!" d.i.c.k wanted to know.

"The way the bullet sounded," was the answer. "It was almost spent when it got here, but it had force enough to break the gla.s.s, and would have damaged us if it hit us. I thought whoever played that fool trick might try another shot, so I yanked you down, Nort."

"Glad you did! I might not have thought of it. But whoever it was doesn't seem to be going to shoot again."

"No," agreed Bud, after a little period of silence, during which no other menacing crack of a weapon was heard. "But we'll wait a little longer."

Through the fast-gathering darkness the boys looked out from their semi-hiding places across the valley. No wisp of smoke, and no movement of horse or rider was to be observed. And silence once more settled down on Happy Valley--not quite so happy as it had been. For, following the clearing-up of the mystery of the water supply, new and sinister events seemed pending for the boy ranchers.

But, as yet, there were only straws, showing which way the evil wind was blowing.

"Could it have been a chance shot?" asked d.i.c.k, raising himself a little to get a better look.

"That bullet was aimed straight for the bottle, over our heads,"

declared Bud. "It was no chance shot."

"One of ours couldn't have glanced, could it?" d.i.c.k wanted to know.

"Surely not!" affirmed Bud. "Why, no one had shot for some time.

I'd just put the new bottle on the stick for you."

"Yes, and I was just going to shoot, when somebody took the bullet out of my gun, so to speak," went on d.i.c.k, grimly jesting.

"Do you think they were shooting at--us?" asked Nort, hesitatingly.

Bud did not answer for the moment, and when he did it was to say, as he suddenly arose:

"If they did I'm going to give 'em another chance. And I'm going to do some shooting on my own account!" He had his gun in his hand, for he had so held it since he had shattered the first bottle, and now it was grasped in readiness for instant action.

"We're with you!" cried Nort and d.i.c.k, as they emerged from their rec.u.mbent positions in the gra.s.s, and hastened to the side of their cousin.

But though they looked across the valley, now half shrouded in gloom, and up and down, as far as they could see, no one was in sight. Here and there were small herds of their cattle. Back at the camp tents Buck Tooth was performing his evening duties, or "ch.o.r.es," as Bud called them. The Indian paid no attention to the shooting, for he knew the boys had gone to practice, and he could not be expected to realize that one of the shots was, possibly, a hostile one.

I use the word "possibly" with reason, for, as yet, there was nothing to show that it was not either an accident, or had not been fired by some pa.s.sing cowboy who, from a distance, seeing the bottle on a stick, could not resist a chance to "take a crack" at it. And yet this last theory would seem to be a poor one. For if the shot had been a joke the one who had fired it would, in all reason, it appeared, have shown himself soon after.

"No one seems to show up," remarked Nort at length, in a low voice.

"Then we'd better look for 'em before it gets too dark," declared Bud. "Come on! Let's get our horses."

"Isn't it taking a chance, riding out to look for some one who may have fired at us purposely?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Yes," agreed Bud, after a moment's thought, "but life out west is all more or less of a chance and risk. You take a risk, every time you ride at more than a foot-pace, of your pony stepping into some prairie dog's hole and not only laming himself, but killing you. But you don't stop riding on that account."

"No," agreed Nort.

"And we take a chance every time we ride herd," went on Bud. "The steers may stampede, and before we can get 'em to milling, they may rush over us. But I notice neither of you ever back out of that job; do you?"

"No," agreed Nort, adding: "Well, then, I reckon going after this unknown shooter isn't taking such a long chance."

"I'm with you!" exclaimed d.i.c.k.

Briefly telling Buck Tooth what had happened, the boy ranchers rode off at a fast pace, to take advantage of what little light of day remained. They headed, as nearly as they could ascertain it, in the direction whence the single shot had come. But it is hardly needless to say they found no one, and no sign that could be construed into a tangible clue.

"We'll tell Snake and Yellin' Kid about it when they come back,"

decided Bud, as he and his cousins returned to camp when darkness had completely fallen. For it was useless, after that, to search for the perpetrator of the joke.

Or was it a joke?

That is what the boy ranchers asked themselves more than once.

Contrary to their half-formed expectations, the night pa.s.sed quietly. There was no disturbance among the cattle, and no midnight visitors invaded the camp. But, for all this, the slumbers of our heroes were not easy. Perhaps they had premonitions of coming disaster.

For disaster came, with the return, early on the morning of the next day, of Snake and Yellin' Kid.

"They're after you, Bud!" shouted the cowboy with the loud voice.

"They're after you!"

"Who?" asked Bud, as he and his cousins came out to meet the cowboys.

"Rustlers!" was the grim answer. "There's a lot of your steers missin' from that far herd! Rustlers, Bud! Rustlers!"

CHAPTER VII

FOUR EYES