"If it isn't any worse than that we're lucky," was the answer.
"How do you mean?" asked Dick.
"I mean if we don't lose any cattle. The grass isn't any good after it dries up on the ground, the way this has. But if the fire starts a stampede of cattle—that will mean a loss."
"Do you think that's what the game is?" asked Nort, encouraging his pony, Blaze, by patting the animal's neck.
"I can't see what else it is, unless the fire started when some one threw down a burning match or cigarette, and most cow punchers aren't that careless. Our fellows wouldn't do it, and I don't believe any other ranchers around here would, except on purpose."
"You mean the Double Z bunch?" asked Dick.
"Sort of heading that way," replied Bud, significantly.
Together the boy ranchers rode on toward the fire, silently for a time, the only sounds being the thud of their ponies' feet and the creak of saddle leathers and stirrups. The smell of the burning grass was more pronounced now, and the pall of black smoke was rolling upward in a larger cloud.
"It's a big fire!" exclaimed Nort. "How can we stop it, Bud?"
"It will soon burn out," the western lad replied. "I happen to know where this grass is. It's a place where we couldn't very well bring water to, and if it doesn't rain much, as it hasn't lately, the fodder gets as dry as tinder. There's a sort of swale, or valley, filled with this dry grass and it's just naturally burning itself off."