The boy ranchers, meaning this time Nort and Dick, as distinguished from Bud, felt that they were on their mettle—that they were being put to a severe test. They had ridden out from the mysterious camp of the professors, and now they were to ride back to it, leading the raiding party. True, they had come out at night, and under the stress of excitement, so that it was not easy to determine the trail back.
But as the boys rode alone, each at the head of a cavalcade that was beginning to diverge, they felt the full measure of responsibility. One of them must make good—must pick up the obscure trail leading to the rendezvous of the cattle rustlers.
It was Dick who proved the lucky one this time. The party led by Nort was out of sight among the many hills and swales, when Dick, riding past a water hole, stopped suddenly.
"The trail goes in that way," he said. "I'm sure of it. Blackie stopped here when we were riding out, to get a drink."
"Are you sure he stopped here?" asked Babe, who was with Dick's party.
"Positive! He stopped in such a hurry that I slid off and fell, and this excited him so I had quite a job holding him."
In an instant one of the cowboys was out of his saddle and looking carefully at the ground.
"The kid's right!" he exclaimed. "There's been some sort of a fracas here."
In that country, where rains were infrequent, and travel light, marks remained for a long time on the dry ground.
"I'm sure it was here," declared Dick, "and we came out that way." He pointed toward some distant hills.