Bart Heminway talked to the four cowboys wanted at the house, and they had managed to slip indoors. They were now waiting to be placed on their several stations by the stockman, who exhibited some of the qualities of a general in managing his affairs.

The saddle boys had taken up their position in a spot close to Ted Conway and Old Hank. In figuring out just where the intended attack might come, this particular place had been deemed first choice. The direction of the night wind convinced Colonel Haywood that a shrewd man who wished to fire the buildings would be apt to select it as his starting point.

It was a dark night, too, despite the fact that there was supposed to be a moon back of the heavy clouds which covered the heavens.

Once having taken up their position, Frank and Bob knew that they must remain as still as a cat watching for a mouse to show at a hole in the

flooring. There was no telling when the enemy might appear. After having started the blaze, if that proved the intention of the rustler, he would have his plans laid to gallop madly away on the freshest horse in the corral, and thus laugh at pursuit.

Tired after the labors of that wonderful day, the cowboys had sought their bunks sooner than usual. By ten o’clock all had become silent around the place. Here and there a fire smouldered, past which an occasional figure might be seen to shuffle; or it might be a dog wandering around, looking for bones.

Frank and Bob lay close, never moving a muscle, though to the latter it was indeed hard work. An hour, two of them, had crept along, and nothing happened. Bob even began to wonder whether after all there might not be some mistake; or whether the rustler’s nerve had failed him in the pinch.

Then he felt a slight nudge in the region of his ribs, that came from Frank’s elbow. This warned him that his keen-eared chum had caught some suspicious movement close by. Perhaps the rustler was coming, bent on carrying out his scheme of firing the buildings belonging to Circle Ranch! Bob held his breath, and waited to see what would speedily happen.

CHAPTER XXII
CAUGHT IN THE ACT—CONCLUSION

That crackling sound which came to Bob’s strained ears he knew must mean that a match had been struck. Yes, he could see the sudden little glow; and even managed to catch a view of a dark face hovering over some fuel that the would-be fire-bug had carried with him to the spot.