“Yes, and the rest of the ranchers ought to be warned. I should be on my way, but I hate to leave because they’ll strike here first.”
“How do you know?”
“Uncle Dave overheard their plan.”
“Why can’t I go rouse the ranchers?” asked Alta, as she ran out to grasp and cling to Fred’s hand.
“It’s too risky, little gal,” objected her uncle; “you stay in out of harm’s reach.”
“Not when I can be of help.” Alta’s tone was decisive. “Get Eagle quick, Bill.”
“Alta will make a better messenger on that pony than I,” suggested Fred, “and she’ll be in less danger on the road than here.”
The old Colonel reluctantly acquiesced and Alta sprang to her saddle.
“Go to the Bar B first,” said Fred; “then strike for the ranches north and east; watch out for danger as you return. If you sight trouble, strike for Uncle Dave’s cabin.”
Alta was up and away in a second.