“Yes, we had quite a time then,” went on Mr. Watson. “We trailed some of the suspects to a lonely cabin and surrounded ’em. Two was killed and then the whole lot got roused up and they came back at us. We’d have been in a bad way ourselves only some United States troops heard of our plight and rescued us. But it stopped cattle rustling for a time. Now they’re at it again, and the worst of it here with us is that we can’t get a single clue.”
“That’s mean,” agreed Mr. Munson. “Well, I’m in no particular hurry and if I hear anything that would help I’ll let you know.”
“Oh, don’t tell us—tell these boys!” sneered Hinkee Dee, nodding at the motor boys. “They’re the only original cattle detectives.”
“Is that so? Are you really after the thieves?” asked Mr. Munson.
“Well, my father, one of the owners of this ranch, said we could try our hands,” replied Ned, “especially after these gentlemen had failed,” and he looked at the assistant foreman, who laughed.
“Well, you might stumble on the trail just as well as anyone else,” agreed Mr. Munson. “I wish you luck. It’s no fun to raise choice cattle and have them stolen.”
Jerry and his chums wondered whether the man would refer to his boast that he had bought Square Z cattle below the market price, but he said nothing, nor did they.
The next day when Mr. Munson had gone with the foreman to look over the round-up of some distantly pastured cattle, and when Professor Snodgrass had gone afield on his usual bug-hunting expedition, the three boys talked matters over.
“We want to make this airship flight impressive,” Jerry said.