"There! One shot!" suddenly cried Bud, as a sharp report cut the air.
It was followed, almost immediately, by another.
"Come on, boys!" cried Mr. Merkel, and there was a general leaping to saddles. Bud and his cousins were not a bit behind the cowboys and a little later, amid shouts, the two parties rode at a fast clip down the slopes toward the mysterious camp.
"Look! There are your cattle!" cried Nort to Mr. Merkel, as several steers were seen, standing in a bunch near some queer piece of apparatus that looked like a derrick.
"That's right!" shouted the cattleman, for he had caught sight of the animals bearing the Diamond X brand. "But what in the name of sour dough biscuits are they doing?" he asked. "If these are rustlers they're the queerest ones I ever saw!"
"Well, they're rustlers all right!" yelled several of the cowboys.
"Come on, fellows! Let's get at 'em!"
"Right you are, Buddy!" rang out savage, exultant yells on all sides. The cowboys wished for nothing better than to come to hand grips with lawless men who stole the fruit of others' labor. "Treat 'em rough!"
"Sit tight and ride hard!" called Bud to Nort and Dick. "There's going to be some hot work!" and he spoke to his pony, which leaped forward as if he, too, wanted to get into the fight.
"Will we need our guns?" asked Dick.
"Better have 'em handy!" advised Nort, as his hand went to the leather holster at his hip.