“Just what I did, Ned,” Jimmy told him. “I mentioned the fact that we had seen a pigeon flying, and then he says as how this same Ally Sloper he had got about five birds from a feller over in Kingman, on the railroad beyond the Opal and the Blue Ridge Mountains down in Arizona. He was told to let one go every little while, to see if they’d get safe home again. But, fellers, that place lies to the southeast as you know, and we saw that pigeon away off to the northwest of here, which says Ally Sloper he just lies!”
“That’s a fine start,” commended the scout master. “We know who the chief spy is, and it ought to be an easy thing to learn who his close pals seem to be, for like as not he’d stick only to those who are in the same boat with him.”
“Sounds well to me, Ned,” Jack remarked, after apparently turning the matter over carefully in his mind.
“What’s the game?” asked Jimmy.
“Here’s the way it stands,” remarked Ned, soberly. “That second message must have been sent to tell the gang that both bosses are away, and conditions looking good for a raid to-night.”
“Whew! so soon as that?” ejaculated Jack, drawing a long sigh, for he was pretty tired and had calculated on getting rested up between sunset and another dawn; if, as they suspected, there were going to be great goings-on around the cattle ranch before many hours, it was possible that they might be on the jump all night; but then, Jack was a fellow who could stand considerable punishment without throwing up the sponge, and that intake of breath might simply mean a resolution to do his part in the drama.
“If there was only some way now to round the cattle up and drive them into the stockades or corrals, so they could be guarded,” Ned continued, as though he might have been doing more or less planning before the critical moment arrived, “why, we might hold the fort until morning and not lose any of the herds.”
“Do you suppose it could be done?” Harry wanted to know.
“I see no reason why not,” came the sturdy reply. “It looked to me like the herds were grazing within a few miles of here, though there may be some further off. Now, if the punchers only got the fever on them, I’ve no doubt they could round the steers and cows up and get them in the stockade long before the rustlers would think of coming along.”
“There’s one bully thing about it,” ventured Harry, smilingly. “We’re going to have a full moon to-night, and a cattle drive will be a picnic. If it was pitch dark, or stormy, it might be a different story. The scout luck holds good. Things may look a bit gloomy for a while, but we get there in the end.”