"What! To be captured by the Indians and made into sausage meat?" joked Mr. Merkel, for at times they poked a bit of fun at Dick on account of his plumpness. Though, truth to tell, he was now not too stout, and the life of the west had greatly hardened him.
"They wouldn't have caught me without a fight!" he bruskly declared.
"That's right! A fight!" cried Bud. "What are we going to do about this, Dad? We can't let our cousins be carried off this way; can we, fellows?" he demanded of his boy rancher companions.
"I should say not!" was the instant response, duet fashion.
"No, it wouldn't be right for us to sit back and do nothing," agreed Mr. Merkel. "There aren't any too many men available to help out the sheriff. We've got to do our share. Get ready boys!" and he looked at his son and nephews, his glance also roving over his own aggregation of cowboys, most of whom were now gathered in front of the main ranch building of Diamond X.
"Where are we going?" asked Dick.
"On the trail of the Yaquis!" answered his uncle. "We can spare most of the bunch, now that the round-up is over. You don't need many out at your ranch, Bud. Call in all you can spare, and we'll hit the trail!"
"Whoo-pee!" shouted Nort, whirling his horse about and setting it at a gallop down through the corrals.
"This is news!" yelled his brother, following the lead of Nort.
"I only hope we aren't too late!" remarked Bud, when his cousins came back to join him.