“But Frank, how did the Indian know what the rustler had in mind?”
“I think he overheard a talk between Mendoza and one of his men,” the boy replied. “The rustler was angry at the slick way we shut him up that day, and walked all his cattle off, as well as our own. He said he was going to pay you up, if it was the last thing he ever did. And, dad, I reckon he’s right here now, in the thick of the round-up, ready to strike before another morning!”
Colonel Haywood and his overseer exchanged glances.
“Oh! he’s ekal to it, Colonel,” declared Bart. “When I think of the bold games that fellar has engineered through all these years, and the way he gave us the merry laugh every time we hunted him, I’m ready to admit he’d be ready to drop in whar fifty enemies was gathered, and make b’lieve he was one of ’em. And thar’s sure several Mexican ropers along I never set eyes on before. Just as like as not one of ’em might be Mendoza.”
“Did the Moqui know what sort of revenge this fellow expected to take, Frank?” the stockman continued, uneasily.
“I don’t know whether he was only guessing, or knew about it,” replied the boy; “but he said something about his poisoning the spring-hole where most of our cattle drink; or else burning the building, while all of us were sleeping!”
“Either one would be bad enough,” declared the stockman; “but now that we have been forewarned it’ll have to be a clever man who can accomplish such a game.”
“What will you do, dad?” asked Frank, eagerly.
“First of all, put a guard over the spring, who will remain in hiding, with orders to shoot down any man seen to be tampering with the water, especially if he looks like a Mexican,” replied the rancher, firmly.
“And about burning the buildings?” continued Frank.