“All right, men!� he exclaimed. “After ’em! Snakes! No rustler kin steal any X Bar X brand an’ get away with it!�
Mr. Manley turned from the old wrangler to Roy.
“Son,� he said slowly, “get your rifle. Bring Teddy’s out, too. Hurry up!�
The boy ran up the steps and into the building. Mr. Manley handed his own gun to Teddy.
“Hold this,� he ordered. “I’m going to say good-bye to your mother.�
He made for the side of the house where Mrs. Manley and Belle Ada were waiting in the garden. When he returned his face wore a grim look. The time for action had come.
Roy had brought the rifles, and he, Mr. Manley, and Teddy vaulted into the saddle. The others, Pop, Nick, and Gus Tripp, were already mounted.
The news of the theft had gone the rounds of the ranch like wildfire. Every puncher on the place, except those riding herd, were watching from the top rail of the corral fence. Even Sing Lung, the cook, deserted his kitchen and came to the door of the mess-house, carrying in his hand a huge spoon.
Mr. Manley gave a yell. Spurs raked the sides of the steeds. There was the sound of hoofs on the hard earth. The six horses swung into action. Down toward the road swept the riders. Past the corral, the punchers astride the top rail yelling encouragement. Past the mess-house, Sing Lung waving his spoon wildly and shouting Chinese in a fluent stream. Out of the yard and into the road leading to Eagles. A cloud of dust arose. The chase was on.
“Take it easy for a while, boys,� Mr. Manley advised, as he pulled his horse down to a slower pace. “There’s some things I want to tell you. First of all, I want to say this. I see you all have got rifles along. Well, don’t do any promiscuous shootin’. We want to get those hosses back, but we don’t want any more trouble than we can help. Savvy?�