CHAPTER XX
Burying the Hatchet
There was tender grass to be munched. There was warm sun to bask in. There was the placid river to drink from. Yet of cattle there was none, nor any sign of them.
“Just in time to be late!” Bug Eye groaned, and rested on his paddle.
“They may be further on,” Teddy remarked hopefully. “Beyond the rise, there.”
“Much beyond,” Roy said bitterly. “If they were there, some would wander off to this range. Yet we’ll look.”
Once more the canoe went forward, this time slowly, dispiritedly. Their journey had been in vain. Their cattle were gone.
As Roy had feared, once past the rise in the land, they saw that surely the herd had departed. Pop said nothing, but sat and smoked in silence, his paddle dragging. Bug Eye made a few remarks under his breath.
“We’ll have to land and find Jake Trummer,” Teddy declared. “That gang we heard on the river at night has been here before us.”
“They rustled ’em, hey?” Bug Eye asked inanely.
“Exactly,” Teddy replied. “How far away they’ve gotten with them, there’s no telling. We’re worse than useless without broncs. We’ll have to wait for dad.”