“Guess you’ve forgotten all the western lingo you used to know, haven’t you?” Ned asked. “The brand on dad’s cattle is a Z in a hollow square, and his ranch is named that.”
“Cut out the explains,” begged Jerry, “and get down to facts. What about the cattle rustlers?”
“Well, Dick writes dad that a lot of his choice stock has been run off the ranch,” went on Ned, reading the letter and summarizing the information he gathered from it. “It isn’t the first time, it seems, for the thieving had been going on before dad bought the place. Dick was foreman then and dad kept him on,” Ned explained. “He’s one of the best there is, so all reports of him say.
“But he writes that never before were the cattle thieves so bold or so successful. They have wiggled out of every trap set for them and seem to laugh at the cowboys. Dad’s ranch isn’t the only one that has suffered either, for Dick tells of others. He ends up his letter by warning dad that he’ll have to do something if he doesn’t want to lose all he invested in the place.”
“And something ought to be done!” declared Bob. “Think of all the prospective roast beef that’s being stolen! Those cattle thieves ought to be—they ought to be——” and Bob paused to consider a punishment to fit the crime.
“They ought to be kept on a vegetable diet!” laughed Jerry. “That would leave so much more roast beef for Bob—eh, Chunky?”
“Well, I’d like a chance to chase after ’em,” declared the fat lad. “What’s your father going to do, Ned?”
“I don’t know. This is the first I have heard about it. I suppose I’d better send this letter back to him. He may want it to refer to.”
“Too bad we missed him—and my dad, too,” put in Bob. “I’m sorry I forgot about the gas, but——”