FOUR EYES
For a moment Bud Merkel seemed unable to comprehend the bad news thus brought to him by his cowboy helpers and friends. Nort and Dick, also, were shocked by the intelligence. But Bud quickly recovered. Perhaps it was because of his heritage of the west—the ability to face danger and disaster with grim courage, part of his father's stock in trade.
"Rustlers, eh?" repeated Bud, and his voice was steadier than Yellin' Kid or Snake Purdee expected to find it. "Did they get many?"
"Quite a bunch," answered Yellin' Bad. "We rounded up as many as we could, and—"
"You mean you rounded up the rustlers?" asked Nort, eagerly.
"No, what was left of the steers," answered Snake. "Guess we wouldn't be back here alone—that is, just us two, if we'd had a run-in with the rascals. We didn't see 'em, but we did find traces of 'em. What are you going to do, Bud? Get on their trail?"
"Let's talk it over, first," suggested the boy rancher, and he looked at Nort and Dick, for they were partners with him on this venture of trying to raise cattle in Happy Valley—which would have been almost a desert save for the water that came through the strange mountain tunnel.
"Tell us about it," urged Dick.
"Well, there isn't so much to tell," replied Yellin' Kid, his voice a bit lower, now that there was serious business afoot. "Snake an' I started there, to haze back th' steers as you; told us, Bud. But when we'd rounded up th' herd, drivin' 'em in from where a lot of 'em had strayed, we saw, right away, that th' count was short. First we thought a bunch was hidin' out on us, but we made a pretty good search an' then we got th' evidence."
"The evidence?" exclaimed Nort.