"What's going on?" asked a voice behind Bud and Dick.
They turned quickly to behold Nort, who had ridden back from the ranch headquarters.
"What you all looking at?" he asked, for the cowboys were gazing silently at the spot in the stream where the tragedy had just taken place.
They informed Nort in a few words.
"Well," he remarked, "that's the best protection we could have against the sheep coming over—quicksands in the creek."
"The only trouble is," said Dick slowly, "that the quicksands are only in certain places. They can cross safely elsewhere."
"The point is, though," observed Bud, "that they can only guess at those places. And, not knowing where they are, may make them stay away altogether."
"I hope so, but I don't believe it," remarked Snake. "You'll see they won't give up so easily."
Nor did the sheep herders thus forego an attempt to graze their flocks on the rich pasture claimed by Mr. Merkel. It was too late that day to attempt anything more. Night settled down, but with an augmented force of cowboys at the fort the boy ranchers were not apprehensive.
Tours of duty were arranged, so that two or more cowboys would be on guard all night. However, the hours of darkness passed with no further activity on the part of the Mexicans.