Three Young Ranchmen

CHAPTER I.

An Unpleasant Discovery

"When do you think Allen will be back, Paul?"

"He ought to be back by two or three o'clock, Chet. His horse was fresh, and the roads are very good just now."

"I hope he brings good news, don't you? I am tired of waiting here."

"We will have to content ourselves on the ranch another year, I am afraid. Father left matters in a very unsettled condition, and what has become of Uncle Barnaby the world only knows."

"I don't care so much about the dullness—I like to hunt and fish and round up the cattle just as well as any one—but what I'm complaining of is the uncertainty of the way things are going to turn. For all we know, we may be cast adrift, as the saying goes, any day."

"That is true, although I imagine our title to the ranch is O. K. If those title papers hadn't been burned up when one end of the house took fire I wouldn't worry a bit."

"Neither would I. But we all know what Captain Grady is—the meanest man that ever drew the breath of life—and if he once learns that we haven't the papers he'll be down on us quicker than a grizzly bear in the spring."

"Well, we won't let him know that the papers have been burned up. We will continue to bluff him off."

"We can't bluff him forever. To my mind——"

The boy broke off short, and coming to a halt, pointed with his disengaged hand toward the barn.

"Did you leave that door unlocked?" he went on.

"Certainly I didn't. Who opened it? Perhaps Allen is back."

"And perhaps there are horse thieves around!" was the quick reply. "Come on."

Without a word more the two boys dropped their burdens and started for the structure in which the horse belonging to each had been stabled.

The boys were Chetwood and Paul Winthrop, two brothers, tall, well-built, and handsome. The face of each was browned by exposure, and showed the perfect health that only a life in the open can give.

Chet and Paul lived with their elder brother Allen at a typical ranch home in Idaho, on one of the numerous branches of the winding Salmon River. The home was a rude but comfortable affair, with several outbuildings close at hand, the whole surrounded by a rude but substantial stockade, a relic of the time when troubles with the Indians were numerous.

It was a warm, sunshiny day in August, and the two boys had been down to the river fishing at a favorite deep hole near the roots of a clump of cottonwood trees. Each had a nice mess of fish strung on a brush branch, showing that their quest of game had not been a vain one.

For three years the three Winthrop boys had lived alone at the ranch home. Their former history was a peculiar one, the particulars of which will be given later. Just now we will follow Chet and Paul to the barn, the door to which stood half open.

"Gone!"

The single word burst from the lips of both simultaneously. It was enough, for it told the whole story. Their two animals, Jasper and Rush, had vanished.

"Thieves, as sure as fate!" ejaculated Paul, gazing rapidly on all sides. "See how the lock has been broken open."

"And they have taken all the extra harness as well," added Chet, his black eyes snapping angrily. "I wonder how long ago this happened."

"There's no telling, Chet. Let's see—we went off about eight o'clock, didn't we?"

"Yes."

"Then the rascals have had nearly four hours in which to do their dirty work. By this time they are probably miles away. This is the worst luck of all."

"You are not going to sit down and suck your thumb, are you, Paul?" questioned the younger brother, quickly.

"Not if we can do anything. But we are tied fast here,—we can't follow on foot,—they knew that when they came to rob us."

"Have you any idea who the thieves can be?"

"Most likely a remnant of that old gang from Jordan Creek. I knew they would spring up again, even after Sol Davids was lynched. Let us take a look around, and see if we can't find some clew to their identity."

"If only Allen would come——"

"Fire off your gun. If he is in hearing that will hasten his movements."

Thus directed, Chet hastened outside, and running to the house, quickly brought forth his double-barreled shotgun. Two reports rent the air a second later, and then the youth returned with the still smoking firearm to the barn.

"Have you found anything?" he asked.

"Here is a strap that doesn't belong to our outfit," replied Paul. "But it's only a common affair that might belong to any one."

"And here is a silver cross!" cried Chet, as he sprang forward to pick up the object.

The article which Chet had found embedded in the dirt flooring of the barn was really of silver, but so unpolished that it did not shine. It was not over an inch in length and height, with a round hole directly in the center. At the four corners of the cross were the letters D A F G.

"What do you make of it?" asked Paul, impatiently, as he bent over to examine the object as it lay in his younger brother's palm.

"Nothing. It's a silver cross with letters on it; that's all. I never saw one like it before."

"Is there no name on the back?"

Quickly the cross was turned over. There, dug into the metal, as if with a jackknife, were the letters S. M.

"S. M.," said Chet, slowly. "Who can they stand for?"

"Sam somebody, I suppose," replied Paul. "I reckon there are a good many folks in Idaho with the initials S. M."

"That is true, too, but it's not likely many of them are mean enough to turn horse thieves."

Chet surveyed the cross for a few seconds longer. Then he rammed it into his pocket and went on with the search, and Paul followed suit.

But their further efforts remained unrewarded. Not another thing of value was brought to light.

They were on the point of giving up when a clatter of hoofs was heard outside on the rocks leading from the trail back to the willows and cottonwoods.

"There is Allen now!" cried Paul, joyfully. "Hi, Allen! This way, quick!" he added, elevating his voice.

"All right, Paul, my boy!" came in a cheery voice from the elder of the Winthrops, as he dashed up on his faithful mare. "What's wanted?"

"The horses have been stolen!"

"Phew!" It was a low and significant whistle that Allen Winthrop emitted, and the pleasant look on his fine features gave way to one of deep concern.

"Stolen!" he said at last. "When? By whom?"

"We don't know," replied Paul. "We just got back from the river a few minutes ago and found the barn door broken open and both horses gone."

"And no clew?"

"We found this."

Allen Winthrop caught up the silver cross quickly and gazed at it for the fraction of a minute. Then he muttered something under his breath.

"Did you ever see this cross before?" asked Paul.

"No, but I have heard father tell of it," was the answer. "It is the cross the old Sol Davids gang used to wear. Do you see those letters—D A F G? They stand for 'Dare All For Gold.' That was the gang's motto, and they never hesitated to carry it out."

"Then we were right in thinking that the horse thieves might be some left-overs from the old gang," observed Paul.

"Yes they are most likely of the same old crowd," said Allen. "The hanging of old Sol did not drive them out of this district."

"But what of the initials S. M.?" asked Chet. "I never heard of any horse thief that those would fit."

"We'll find out about that when we run the thieves down," said Allen. "You say you discovered the robbery but a short while since?"

"Less than a quarter of an hour ago."

"Have you been up to the house?"

"I went for my gun," began Chet. "I wonder if it were possible——" he commenced, and then meeting his older brother's eyes stopped short. Not one of the trio said more just then. All made a wild dash from the barn to the house. They burst into the living room of the latter like a cyclone.

"It looks all right," began Paul.

"But it isn't all right," burst out Chet. "See the side window has been forced open!"

Allen said nothing, having passed into one of the sleeping rooms. He began to rummage around the apartment, into the closet and the trunks.

"By gracious!" he burst out presently.

"What's up?" questioned his two brothers in a breath.

"It's gone!"

"Gone?"

"Yes, every dollar is gone!" groaned Allen.

He referred to three bags which had contained silver and gold to the amount of seven hundred dollars—the Winthrop savings for several years.

Paul and Chet gave a groan. Something like a lump arose in the throat of the younger youth, but he cleared it away with a cough.

"The mean, contemptible scoundrels!" burst out Paul. "We must get after them somehow!"

"I'll go after them," replied Allen, with swift determination. "Give me my rifle. I already have my pistol."

"You are not going alone, are you?" demanded Paul.

"I'll have to. There is only my mare to be had."

"It's foolhardy, Allen," urged Chet. "What could one fellow do against two or more? They would knock you over at the first chance."

"I won't give them the first chance," grimly replied Allen, as he ran for his rifle. "As they used to say when father was young, I'll shoot first and talk afterward."

"Can't two of us ride on the mare?" asked Paul. "I am not so very heavy."

The older brother shook his head.

"It can't be done, Paul; not with her all tired out after her morning's jaunt. No, I'll go alone. Perhaps the trail will lead past some other ranch and then I'll call on the neighbors for help."

"Can you follow the trail?"

"I reckon I can; leastwise I can try. I won't lose it unless they take to the rocks and leave the river entirely, and it ain't likely they'll do that."

Chet and Paul shook their heads. To them it seemed dangerous, and so it was. But it was no use arguing with Allen when he had once made up his mind, so they let him have his own way.

Three minutes later Allen was off on the trail of the horse thieves.

CHAPTER II.

Allen on the Trail

Although Allen Winthrop was but a young man in years, yet the fact that he had had the care of the family on his shoulders since the death of his parents had tended to make him older in experience and give him the courage to face whatever arose before him in the path of duty.

He was four years older than Chet and two years the senior of Paul, and the others had always looked upon him as a guiding spirit in all undertakings.

Consequently but little was said by way of opposition when Allen determined to go after the thieves alone, but nevertheless the hearts of both the younger brothers were filled with anxiety when they saw Allen disappear on the back of his mare up the trail that led to the southwest.

"It's too bad that we can't accompany him," was the way Chet expressed himself. "I'd give all I possess for a good horse just now."

"All you possess isn't much, seeing we've all been cleaned out," replied Paul, with a trace of grim humor he did not really feel. "But I, too, wish I had a horse and could go along."

"Still, somebody ought to stay on the ranch," went on Chet, "we might have more unprofitable visitors."

"It's not likely that the gang will dare to show themselves in this vicinity again in a hurry. Like as not they'll steer for Deadwood, sell the horses, and then spend their ill-gotten gains around the gambling saloons. That is their usual style. They can't content themselves in the mountains or on the plains as long as they have the dust in their pockets."

After Allen had disappeared the two boys locked up the barn as well as was possible, using a wooden pin in lieu of the padlock that had been forced asunder, and then went back to the house. Chet brought in the string of fish and threw them in a big tin basin.

"I suppose I might as well fry a couple of these," he observed; "though, to tell the truth, I am not a bit hungry."

"I, too, have lost my appetite," replied Paul. "But we must eat, and dinner will help pass away the time. I reckon there is no telling when Allen will be back."

"No. I don't care much, if he only keeps from getting into serious trouble."

In the meantime Allen had passed down the trail until the buildings of the ranch were left far behind. He knew the way well, and had no difficulty in finding the tracks—new ones—made by the hoofs of four horses.

"As long as they remain as fresh as they are now it will be easy enough to follow them," was the mental conclusion which he reached, as he urged forward his tired mare in a way that showed his fondness for the animal and his disinclination to make her do more than could fairly be expected.

The belt of cottonwood was soon passed, and Allen emerged upon the bank of a small brook which flowed into the river at a point nearly half a mile further on.

He examined the wet bank of the brook minutely and came to the conclusion that here the horse thieves had stopped the animals for a drink.

"I imagine they came a long distance to get here," he thought, "and that means they will go a long way before they settle down for the night. Heigh-ho! I have a long and difficult search before me."

The brook had been forded, and Allen crossed over likewise, and five minutes later reached a bit of rolling land dotted here and there with sage and other brush.

Allen wondered if the trail would lead to Gold Fork, as the little mining town at the foot of the mountains was called.

"If they went that way I will have no trouble in getting help to run them down," he said to himself. "I can get Ike Watson and Mat Prigley, who will go willingly, and there is no better man to take hold of this sort of thing than Ike Watson."

Mile after mile was passed, and the trail remained as plain as before.

"It looks as if they didn't anticipate being followed," was the way Allen figured it, but he soon found out his mistake, when, on coming around a rocky spur of ground, the trail suddenly vanished.

The young ranchman came to a halt in some dismay, and a look of perplexity quickly stole over his face. He looked to the right and the left, and ahead, but all to no purpose. The trail was gone.

"Here's a state of things," he murmured as he continued to gaze around. "Where in the land of goodness has it gone to? They couldn't have taken wings and flown away."

Allen spent all of a quarter of an hour on the rocky spur. Then on a venture he moved forward over the bare rocks, feeling pretty certain that it was the only way they could have gone without leaving tracks behind them.

He calculated that he had traveled nearly ten miles. His mare showed signs of being tired, and he spoke to her more kindly than ever.

"It won't do, Lilly," he said, patting her soft neck affectionately. "We have got to get through somehow or other. You must brace up and when it is all over you can take the best kind of a long resting spell."

And the faithful animal laid back her ears and appeared to understand every word he said to her. She was a most knowing creature, and Allen would have gone wild had she been one of those stolen.

The barren, rocky way lasted for upward of half a mile, and came to an end in a slight decline covered with rich grass and more brush. Allen looked about him eagerly.

"Hurrah! there is the trail, true enough!" he cried, as the well understood marks in the growth beneath his feet met his gaze. "That was a lucky chance I took. On, Lilly, and we'll have Jasper and Rush back before nightfall, or know the reason why."

Away flew the mare once more over the plain that stretched before her for several miles. Beyond were the mountains, covered with a purplish haze.

The vicinity of the mountains was gained at last, and now, more than tired, the mare dropped into a walk as the first upward slope was struck.

Hardly had she done so than Allen saw something that made his heart jump. It was a man, and he was riding Chet's horse!

CHAPTER III.

A Dangerous Situation

It was not possible for Allen Winthrop to make any mistake regarding the animal the man on the mountain trail was riding. Too often had he ridden on Rush's back, and too well did he know the sturdy little horse's characteristics.

But the man was a stranger to the young ranchman, and he could not even remember having seen the rascal's face before.

"Stop!" called out Allen, as he struck Lilly to urge her on. "Stop! Do you hear me?"

The man caught the words and wheeled about quickly. He was evidently much disturbed by the encounter. He had been looking ahead, and had known nothing of Allen's approach.

"Stop, do you hear?" repeated Allen.

"Wot do yer want?" was the surly response, but the speaker did not draw rein in the least.

"I want you to stop!" exclaimed Allen, growing excited. "That horse belongs to my brother!"

"Reckon you air mistaken, stranger," was the cool reply. "This air hoss is mine."

This unexpected reply staggered Allen. He had expected the man to either show fight or take to his heels. It was plainly evident that the fellow intended, if possible, to bluff him off.

"Your horse? Not much! Whoa, Rush, old boy!"

Commanded by that familiar tongue, the horse came to a halt that was so sudden it nearly pitched the rider out of his saddle. He muttered something under his breath, straightened up and gave the reins a vicious yank that made Rush rear up in resentment.

"See here, youngster, keep your parley to yourself!" howled the man, scowling at Allen.

"I will—after you get down and turn that nag over to me," rejoined Allen, as coolly as he could, although he was in an exceedingly high state of suppressed excitement.

"And whyfore should I turn him over to you, seein' as how he belongs to me?" growled the man, as brazenly as he could.

"You stole that horse from our barn not four hours ago," retorted Allen. "I will waste no more words with you. Get down or take the consequences."

As he concluded the youth unslung his rifle in a suggestive manner. He had lived out in those wilds long enough to know that to trifle in such a case as this would be sheer foolishness.

"You're a hot-headed youngster, tew say the least," was the reply, and as he spoke the man scowled more viciously than ever. The sight of the ready rifle in Allen's hands was not at all to his liking. He made a movement toward his pistols, but a second glance at the youth made him change his mind.

"I said I would waste no more words with you," repeated Allen. "Get down!"

"But see here, youngster——"

"Get down!" And up came the rifle in a motion that caused the man to start back in terror.

"There must be a mistake somewhar," he said, slowly, as soon as he could recover. "My pard turned this critter over to me, and I reckoned it war all right."

"There is where you reckoned wrong. Are you going to get down now or not?"

"Supposin' we talk it over with my pard first? Thar he is now."

The man pointed to the trail behind Allen. His manner was so natural that for the instant the young ranchman was deceived. He looked about.

With a dash and a clatter the horse thief urged Rush on, digging his spurs deep into the little horse's flesh. As he did so he dropped partly under the horse's neck, thus to shield himself from a chance shot, should it be taken.

But, although astonished and angered at being so easily duped, Allen did not fire. Rush was moving along over the rocks too rapidly for him to take the risk of killing his brother's favorite beast. Besides, only a small portion of the rider could be seen at one time.

"I'll follow him until I get a better chance," he thought, and he cried to Lilly to follow in pursuit.

Once again the gallant mare responded, although she was now thoroughly jaded. Up the rocks they went, and around numerous bends, the clatter ahead telling plainly that the race was about even for pursued and pursuer.

"I must be on my guard or that fellow may play me foul," thought Allen. "He looks like a most desperate character, and he knows well enough what capture by the law-abiding folks of this State means. They would lynch him in a minute."

Allen wondered what had become of the other thieves and the horse Jasper. Surely they could not be far away.

"Perhaps that fellow is trying to reach the others, who may have gone on ahead," he speculated mentally. "If he reaches them it will be so much the worse for me, for I can never fight two or more among these rocks and bushes. On Lilly. We must run him down at once!"

But the little mare could be urged no longer. She had reached her limit, and went forward with a doggedness that was pitiful to behold.

In five minutes Allen heard the clatter ahead drawing away from him. Soon it ceased entirely.

But he did not give up. It was not in his nature to surrender a cause so long as one spark of hope of success remained.

The mountain trail now led downward for a few hundred yards, and then wound through a rocky pass, dark and forbidding. Allen kept watch on either side for a possible ambush, but none presented itself.

"He has gone on, that is certain," he thought. "I rather guess he thinks to tire me out, knowing the condition my mare is in; but if he thinks that he is mistaken. I'll follow, if I have to do it on foot."

At last the trail left the rocky pass and came out upon some shelving rocks overlooking a deep canyon, at the bottom of which sparkled the swift-running stream. Here a rude bridge led to the other side, a bridge composed of slender trees and rough-hewn planks.

Without hesitation, Allen rode upon the bridge. As he did so a derisive laugh resounded from the other side of the canyon, and he saw the man he was after and two others ride into view.

Then, before he could turn back, Allen felt the bridge sagging beneath him. Suddenly it parted in the center, and horse and youth went plunging headlong toward the waters far beneath.

CHAPTER IV.

The Man in the Sink Hole

We will now return to the ranch and see how Chet and Paul were faring during their elder brother's absence.

Chet took the string of fish, and selecting two, began to clean them. He was used to the work, and did it with a dexterity and quickness that could not have been excelled. Ever since his mother had died it had fallen upon Chet's young shoulders to do the culinary work about the ranch home.

While Chet was thus engaged Paul busied himself in looking over the shotguns, cleaning and oiling them and then loading up.

The fish cooked, Chet set the table, putting on three plates, although he himself was almost certain Allen would not come back in time for the meal.

"It's queer, I've been thinking," remarked Paul, during the progress of the meal, "Allen said nothing about the result of his morning trip."

"He was too excited over the theft of the horses to think of anything else, I reckon," was the reply Chet made. "It was enough to upset any one's mind."

"At least he might have said if he had heard from Uncle Barnaby," grumbled Paul. "More particularly, as we were just dying to know."

"I imagine if he had heard he would have said so and left us the letter, Paul. Allen knows as well as you or I how anxious we really were."

"It's queer the way Uncle Barnaby disappeared," mused Paul, as he mashed the potatoes on his plate with a fork. "One would not think a man could go to San Francisco and disappear forever."

"He might if he went to Chinatown and got sandbagged or something like that."

"Oh, you don't really think such a thing would happen?"

"It might. Uncle was a great hand to see the sights, and also to make a show of his money, and the Chinese in San Francisco are, many of them, a bloodthirsty set."

"Do you really believe he discovered the rich mine he talked about?"

"He discovered something, that is certain. And he had faith enough in it to go to San Francisco in the hope of starting a company to develop the claim."

It was in this strain that the two boys talked on until long after the meal was finished, and while they are conversing let us take a brief glance at their former history.

As I have said, the three brothers were orphans, their parents having died several years before.

The ranch had belonged to their father, who had willed it to his three sons equally, and as none of them were yet of age, he had appointed his brother, Barnaby, his executor.

Barnaby Winthrop was an old prospector, who had spent a life among the hills, prospecting for gold and silver. As has been said, he was a peculiar man, but warm and generous hearted to the last degree.

As there was really little to do at the ranch but look after the cattle, the uncle had left the place in charge of the three boys and continued month in and month out ranging over the hills and among the mountains in search of the precious metal which lay hidden beneath the surface.

One day Uncle Barnaby had staggered into the house, weak and hungry. He had made a perilous trip up to a point theretofore considered unattainable. He announced that he had at last struck a mining spot that if properly worked would prove a bonanza. He refused to state the exact location and announced his intention of going at once to San Francisco to organize a company to open up a mine.

He started apparently in the best of health, and although he had been gone now a number of months, and they had been anxiously awaiting his reappearance, they had seen or heard nothing of him.

During this period the boys had had considerable trouble at home, which had occupied their attention. At the start some of the cattle had gone astray, and it had taken a ten days' hunt over the long range to find them. Then had come Captain Hank Grady, who had sought in various ways to get possession of the ranch, stating that their father had borrowed money from him and that it had not been paid back. The captain was known to be both mean and unscrupulous, and all of the boys doubted very much if he spoke the truth. But they had expected much more trouble from him before the end was reached, and they were destined not to be disappointed. Captain Grady knew the value of the ranch, even if the boys did not, and he meant to gain possession of it, if not by fair means, then by foul.

"We'll have to take a look for the cattle this afternoon," said Paul, some time after the conversation concerning Uncle Barnaby came to a close. "We don't want any of them to get in the sink hole again."

"That's so; we'll start at once, and we'll see to it that we lock up good," laughed Chet. "No more thieves wanted."

The house was soon tidied up, and then, after closing up everything well and setting an alarm to scare away any newcomer, Chet and Paul set out on foot over the rolling land which led from the river.

Half a mile beyond the rolling land was a nasty bit of spongy soil known as the sink hole. Not unfrequently the cattle would stray in this direction and more than one had sunk to death in the mire.

"Some cattle around there now!" cried Paul, as they drew close to the spot. "It's lucky we came this way."

"Go to the westward of them," said Chet. "We can drive them——" Chet broke off short, for just then a piercing cry rang in their ears:

"Help! help! For the sake of heaven, help!"

Chet and Paul were thrilled to the heart to hear that wild, agonizing cry for assistance which rang out so clearly on the afternoon air. Plainly a human being was in distress, and needed immediate assistance.

They looked around, but for several seconds saw nothing. Then the cry rang out again, more sharply, more pitiably than ever.

"Help! help! Save me from death!"

"Do you see him?" demanded Paul, breathlessly.

"No, I do not," rejoined Chet. "But he must be near. Did not the cry come from over there?" pointing with his finger to the right.

"I believe it did. Come on!"

Paul set off on a run around the edge of the sink hole, which was all of several hundred feet in diameter. Close behind him came Chet, wondering who the man could be and how they might assist him should he be beyond their reach.

Two dozen steps brought them in sight of the sufferer. He was a young man and his general dress and appearance betokened that he was a stranger in those parts, and, in fact, a stranger to the wilds; a city fellow, born and bred.

"Save me! Help!" cried the man for a third time. He was up to his middle in the spongy soil and sinking rapidly.

"Keep up your courage; we will assist you!" shouted Paul in return.

"Thank God, somebody has heard my cry!" murmured the man, gratefully. "You must be quick; I am sinking rapidly," he continued aloud.

"Have you anything in the shape of a rope with you?" asked Paul of Chet.

"I have not."

This was a sad predicament, as the man was all of three yards from solid ground. How to get to him was a question. But it was solved by Chet, as he brought a bit of stout cord from his pocket.

"Tie the two stocks of the guns together," he said. "This way; let me show you."

He held the two stocks side by side, so that they overlapped each other about eight or ten inches. The cord was hastily wound about them and tied, and it was Chet who thrust one of the gun barrels toward the sinking man, while he firmly grasped the other.

"Catch hold," he said. "Paul, help me land him."

THE MAN CAUGHT THE END OF THE GUN.

The man caught the end of the gun and Paul took hold of Chet's hand. Two efforts were made, the first time the man letting the gun slip and sinking deeper than ever. But the second effort was successful, and, panting from his unusual exertion, the man reached the solid ground and fell exhausted.

CHAPTER V.

Good Cause for Alarm

It was several minutes before the man who had been rescued from the sink hole could sit up and talk. His hat was gone, and with a dirty face and tangled, muddy hair, he presented a sorry spectacle.

"I'm very thankful to you for what you have done," were his first words, accompanied by a look that told plainly he felt what he said. "I thought I was at the end of my string sure, as they say in these parts."

"I allow that's a bad hole to get into," returned Chet. "I wouldn't want to get into it myself."

"And may I ask to whom am I indebted for my life?" continued the man.

"My name is Chetwood Winthrop, and this is my brother Paul."

"I am exceedingly glad to know you, boys. My name is Noel Urner, and I am from New York. I am a stranger in Idaho, and I know nothing of such treacherous places as this—at least I did not know of them until a short while ago." And the man shuddered as the memory of his fearful experience flashed over him.

"It's one of the unpleasant things of the country," responded Paul, with a little laugh. "But how came you in it?" with a glance down at the spurs on the man's boots.

"I see you are looking at my spurs. Yes, I had a horse, but he is gone now."

"Gone! In the sink hole?" ejaculated Chet.

"No; he was stolen from me."

"Stolen!" Both boys uttered the word simultaneously.

"Yes. I was riding along when I came to a spot where I saw some flora which particularly interested me, for I am a botanist, although for pleasure only. I dismounted and tied my horse to a tree and climbed up to secure the specimens which were on a shelf of rock some thirty feet over my head. Soon I heard a clatter of horses' hoofs as they passed along the road. I came down with my specimens to see who the riders were, but they had already passed on, taking my horse with them."

"The horse thieves!" cried Chet.

And he told the man of the raid made on the ranch and how Allen had gone off in pursuit of the thieves. The reader can well imagine with what interest Noel Urner listened to the tale.

"One would not believe it possible!" he exclaimed, when Chet had wound up by saying he wished Allen would lay every one of the rascals low. "I fancied horse thievery was a thing only permitted in the wildest portions of the territories."

"There are horse thieves everywhere," said Paul. "Every one living for a hundred miles around has suffered during the past ten years. Sometimes we think them wiped out, and then, all of a sudden they start up again."

"Well, I trust your brother gets your horses back," said Noel Urner. "It's a pity he won't know enough to take mine away from the thieves, too!"

"He'll collar the thieves and all they have, if he gets half a chance, you can depend on that," said Chet. "But won't you come to our ranch with us? You can clean up there and have something to eat if you are hungry."

"Thank you, I will go gladly. Possibly you can sell me a headgear of some sort too."

"We can fit you out all right enough, sir."

It did not take the boys long to chase the cattle away from the sink hole, and this accomplished, they set off for the ranch with Noel Urner between them.

They found the young man an exceedingly bright and pleasant chap. He said he had come west two months before and had been spending over a month in San Francisco.

"I came out at the invitation of an old prospector," he said. "We were to meet in San Francisco, but when I arrived there I could not find my man. He belongs somewhere in this neighborhood. His name is Barnaby Winthrop. Perhaps you have heard of him?"

"Heard of him!" cried Chet.

"He is our uncle!" added Paul.

"Your uncle!" And now it was Noel Urner's turn to be surprised.

"Yes, our uncle, and he has been missing for several months," continued Paul. "Oh, tell us what you know of him at once, for we are dying to know!"

"The Barnaby Winthrop I mean had an undeveloped gold and silver mine he wished to open up."

"It was our uncle, beyond the shadow of a doubt," said Chet. "Our name is Winthrop, and Uncle Barnaby is our guardian. We can prove it to you by the papers, if you wish."

"I am willing to take your word, boys. But, you understand, one must be careful about speaking of mines in this section; at least I have been told so."

"Yes, we know about that," returned Paul. "Many a man has lost the chance of his life by advertising his knowledge too broadly. Others would gain a clew of a mine, hunt it up, and put in a claim before the original discoverer knew what was up."

"Exactly, and that is why I was slow in saying anything. But when you ask me to tell you about your uncle, I am sorry to say I know but very little, although I suspect much, now you say he has been missing so long."

By this time the little party had reached the ranch house. They went inside, and despite the fact that the boys were impatient to hear what Noel Urner might have to say, they gave the young man time to wash up and make himself otherwise presentable, Chet in the meanwhile frying another fish and preparing a pot of coffee.

"This is just what I wished, and no mistake," said Noel Urner, as he set to with a hearty good will. "But I am sure you are impatient to learn something of your uncle, so I will not keep you waiting. To make my story plain, I will have to tell you something of myself also.

"In the first place I am a broker and speculator from New York city. I make a specialty of mining stocks, and own shares myself in half a dozen mines.

"About ten weeks or so ago I heard through a friend in San Francisco that Barnaby Winthrop was trying to form a company to develop a new strike in this vicinity. I wrote to him and he sent word back that if I would come on he would prove to me that he had a big thing, well worth looking into.

"I had other business west, and so at once started for San Francisco. Your uncle had given his address as the Golden Nugget House, a place I afterward learned was frequented by old-time miners and prospectors.

"I made inquiries at the Nugget House for your uncle, and to my astonishment learned that he had disappeared very mysteriously one night, leaving no trace behind him."

"What!" cried Paul, springing to his feet, and Chet was too astonished to speak.

"I do not wonder that you are astonished. Yes, he had disappeared, leaving his valise and overcoat behind him.

"I thought the matter so queer that I was on the point of notifying the police. But on calling at the post office for letters I received one from him stating that he was sorry, but he had come back to the place in question and found it not what he had anticipated, so he wouldn't bother me any more."

"I don't believe he came back!" ejaculated Chet. "If he had he would have stopped at the ranch."

"I agree with you."

"Have you that letter?" asked Paul, his voice trembling with excitement.

"I have."

"I would like to see it, please."

"Certainly." And Noel Urner brought forth a large flat pocketbook from which he extracted the communication in question.

Paul took it to the light and examined it closely.

"This is a forgery! Uncle Barnaby never wrote it."

"Let me see, Paul," ejaculated Chet.

He also examined the letter with as much care as his brother had displayed. There was not the slightest doubt of it. The letter was not genuine.

"It's certainly a bad state of affairs," said Noel Urner. "It makes the disappearance of your uncle look decidedly bad."

"It looks like foul play!" cried Paul. "Why should Uncle Barnaby leave the hotel in that fashion if all was perfectly straight?"

"It's like as not some mining town rascals got hold of his secret and then put him out of the way, so that they might profit by it," said Chet. "There are plenty of fellows mean enough for that."

"At first I was satisfied by the receipt of the letter," continued Noel Urner. "But the more I thought over the matter the more I became convinced that something was wrong; but in a different way from what you think. I imagined your uncle had found other speculators to go in with him and they had persuaded him to cut me off. That is why I started off, after settling my other business in California, to find your uncle and learn the truth. I was willing to lose a few weeks' time out here looking around, even if it didn't pay."

"We are very glad you came and that we found you," answered Paul. "I am sorry for only one thing, that Allen is not here to meet you."

"I am in no hurry to continue my journey; indeed, I do not see how I can without a horse. If you wish I will remain here until your brother returns."

"You are right welcome to do that," cried Chet. "As for not having a horse, you are no worse off than ourselves, for we are without an animal of any kind, outside of the cattle."

"Then, being equally bad off, we ought to make good friends," smiled Noel Urner. "I shall like staying on a ranch for a few days first rate, and you can rely on my giving you all the assistance in my power when it comes to finding out the fate of your uncle."

"We can't do anything until Allen returns," sighed Paul.

"Then we will hope that your brother returns speedily, and with good news."

"The best news will be his return with all our horses," returned Chet. "We can do nothing without our animals."

Alas! How little did both Chet and Paul dream of the terrible ordeal through which Allen was at that moment passing!

CHAPTER VI.

From One Peril to Another

"I am lost! Nothing can save me!"

Such was the agonizing thought which rushed into Allen Winthrop's mind as he felt himself plunging madly downward to the glittering waters far beneath him.

It must be confessed that the otherwise brave young ranchman was fearfully frightened at the dreadful peril which confronted him. He and his faithful mare were going down, and certain death seemed inevitable.

"Heaven help me!" he murmured to himself, and shutting his teeth hard, clung grimly to the saddle.

Out of the sunlight into the gloom and mist below descended horse and rider.

Scarcely two seconds passed and then, with a resounding splash, the animal and its living burden disappeared beneath the surface of the river and out of the sight of the rascals on the opposite side of the canyon.

"That settles him," cried one of the horse thieves, grimly. "He was a fool to follow us."

"Maybe he'll escape," ventured a second.

"Wot! Arfter sech a plunge?" returned the first speaker, sarcastically. "Wall, hardly, ter my reckonin'."

They shifted their positions on the brink of the opening, but try their best, could see nothing more of the young man or the mare.

It was now growing darker rapidly, and fifteen minutes later, satisfied that Allen had really taken a fall to his death, they continued on their way.

And poor Allen?

Down, down, down sank the mare and her hapless rider, until the very bottom of the river was struck.

The swiftly flowing tide caught both in its grasp, tumbled them over and over and sent them spinning onward. Allen's grasp on the saddle relaxed, and as it did so the young man lost consciousness.

How long he remained in this state Allen never knew. When he came to he was lying among brush, partly in the water and partly out.

He attempted to sit up and in doing so, slipped back beyond his depth. But the instinct of self-preservation still remained with him, and he made a frantic clutch at the brush and succeeded in pulling himself high and dry upon a grassy bank.

Here he lay for several minutes exhausted. He could not think, for his head felt as if it was swimming around in a balloon.

At last he began to come to himself and after a bit sat up to gaze about him. But all was dark and he could see little or nothing.

He remembered the great plunge he had taken and wondered what had become of Lilly. He called her with all the strength of his enfeebled lungs, but received no response.

"She must have been killed," he thought. "Poor Lilly! But had it not been for the protection her body gave me it is more than likely that my life would have been ended, too!" and he shuddered to think of his narrow escape.

It was nearly half an hour before Allen felt strong enough to rise up. His head felt light, and for a while he staggered like an intoxicated man.

He knew he was down in the canyon, and some distance below where the bridge had been. He wondered how he could ascend to the top of the rocks which presented themselves on the two sides.

"I can't climb up in this darkness," he said half aloud. "I might slip and break my neck. I had better walk along and hunt for some natural upward slope."

He started off along the river side, the top of the canyon towering nearly a hundred feet above his head as he proceeded. The opening gradually grew narrower, and with this the distance between the rocks and the water decreased, until there was hardly room left for Allen to walk.

"I must have made a mistake," was the mental conclusion which he arrived at. "I should have gone up the river instead of down. The chances are that I can't go over a hundred feet further, if as far."

Soon Allen came to a halt. The ground between the wall of the canyon and the water ceased just before him. Beyond the steep and bare rocks ran directly downward into the stream.

"That settles it," he muttered, in great disappointment. "All this traveling for nothing. And it's getting night over head, too! It's a shame!"

Allen paused to rest, for in his weak condition the walk had tired him greatly. Then he started to retrace his steps.

Hardly had he taken a yard's advance, when his left foot slipped upon a round stone. He was thrown over on his side, and before he could save himself went plunging headlong into the stream!

He essayed by every means in his power to regain the bank, but in vain. The current of the river was extra strong at this point—the width of the course having narrowed down—and before he could clutch the first thing he was carried to where nothing but the steep and slippery rocks presented themselves.

Vainly he put out his hands to stay his progress, vainly he tried by every means in his power to obtain some sort of hold on the rocks.

VAINLY HE PUT OUT HIS HANDS TO STAY HIS PROGRESS

And now the surface of the river grew blacker as the rocks on both sides began, seemingly, to close in over his head.

He was almost tempted to cry out for help, and took a breath for that purpose, but the sound was not uttered. What would be the use? Not a soul would hear him.

On and on went the young ranchman, the waters growing more cold each instant and the prospects more gloomy. He was half tempted to give himself up for lost.

It was an easy matter to keep himself on the surface, for he was really a good swimmer, but now the current was so strong that he could scarcely touch either side of its rocky confines as he was swept along, he knew not where. Allen had never explored this stream, and this to him made the immediate future look blacker than ever.

"If it ends in some sort of a sink hole, I'm a goner sure," he thought. "But I never heard of such a hole up here among the mountains, so I won't give up just yet."

Hardly had the thought occupied his mind when, on looking up, he saw the last trace of evening fade from sight. The river had entered a cavern! He was now underground!

It may well be imagined with what dismay Allen, stout-hearted as he was, viewed the turn of the situation. Here he was being borne swiftly along on an underground river, he knew not where. It was a situation calculated to chill the bravest of hearts.

All was pitch black around and overhead; beneath was the silent and cold water, and the only sound that fell upon his ears was the rushing along of the stream.

As well as he was able, Allen put out his hands before him, to ward off the shock of a sudden contact of any sort, for he did not know but that he might be dashed upon a jagged rock at any instant. Then he prayed earnestly for deliverance.

On and on he swept, the stream several times making turns, first to one side and then to the other. Once his hand came brushing up to a series of rocks, but before he could grasp them he was hurled onward in an awful blackness.

A quarter of an hour went by—a time that to the young man seemed like an age—and during that period he surmised that he must have traveled a mile or more.

Then the current appeared to slacken up, and he had a feeling come over him as if the space overhead had become larger.

"This must be an underground lake," he thought. "Now if I——Ah, bottom!"

His thought came to a sudden termination, for his feet had touched upon a sloping rock but a few feet below the surface of the stream. The rock sloped to his right, and, moving in that direction, Allen, to his great joy, soon emerged upon a stony shore.

He took several cautious steps in as many different directions and felt nothing. He was truly high and dry at last.

This fact was a cheering one, but there was still a dismal enough outlook. Where was he and how would he ever be able to gain the outer world once more?

CHAPTER VII.

The Cave in the Mountain

Allen was too exhausted to do more than move about cautiously. He felt for the edge of the stream, and then moved away from it for several yards.

His hand came in contact with a dried bush and several sticks of wood, all of which had probably floated in at one time on the stream, and these at once made him think of a fire. What a relief a bit of light would be!

In his life on the long range, Allen had found a watertight matchbox very useful. He felt in his pocket and found the article still safe. He opened it with fingers that trembled a little; but the matches were still dry, and in a trice one was struck and lit.

He held the match under some of the driest of the brush, and had the satisfaction of seeing it blaze up. He piled the stuff up, and on top placed several heavy sticks. Soon he had a fire which blazed merrily.

The light illumined the cavern, casting a ruddy glare on the rocks and the rippling water. It was a weird and uncanny scene, and he shivered involuntarily. He would have given a good deal to have been in the outer world once more.

Allen saw that the river had simply widened at the spot, and that a hundred yards further on it flowed into a narrow channel, as before. Only on the side which he occupied was there anything in the shape of a shore. Opposite the rocks stood straight up, and were covered with moss and slime.

"If I am to get out, it must be from this shore upward," Allen thought as he surveyed the situation. "I can never get back on the river. One could never row even a boat against that current."

The shore was not more than thirty or forty feet wide. It was backed up by rocks, but Allen was glad to see that they did not present an unbroken surface. There were numerous fissures, and in one place the opening was a dozen feet in width.

Selecting the brightest of the firebrands Allen, left the vicinity of the stream and started to explore this opening. He was in great hopes that it would lead upward and that he would thus be enabled to climb out of his prison—for to him that damp, dark place was nothing less.

The opening was filled with loose stones, and Allen had to be careful for fear of spraining an ankle, or worse. He moved along slowly, halting every few steps to survey the scene ahead.

Twenty yards distant from the entrance to the fissure Allen came to a turn to the left. Here was a narrow opening just large enough for him to pass through. Beyond was another cavern-like spot not over ten yards in width and height and of interminable length.

Fearful of losing his way, Allen hesitated about advancing. But presently he plucked up courage, and, holding down his firebrand, he allowed it to burn up again and then proceeded along the chamber.

The flooring was uneven and covered with loose rocks and stones. Huge stalactites hung down from overhead, and in several spots the moisture dripped down with weird hollow sounds.

"I would like to know how far underground I really am," was Allen's earnest mental speculation as he came to a halt beside a tiny stream which flowed from one side of the cavern to the other. "If there was only some slope which led upward it would be more encouraging. But it's about as flat as a bit of prairie land."

Allen hopped over the stream, and, assured that he could easily retrace his steps if necessary, continued on his search, his firebrand held over his head.

It was a discouraging journey when the end was reached. Before him arose a solid wall not less than twenty feet in height, at which elevation the cavern appeared to continue. Allen gazed up at the wall with a hopeless look on his face.

"Humph! How in the name of creation am I to climb up there?" he muttered. "It's as steep as the side of a house and twice as slippery. If I can't find some sort of stepping places I reckon I'm beaten and booked to go back to where I started from."

Waving the firebrand to make it burn the brighter, Allen began to scrutinize the face of the wall before him. He started at one end, resolved that not a foot of the surface should escape him.

He had traveled along some fifteen feet when he came to something that made him start back in astonishment.

"Great Caesar!"

Before him were a number of letters, cut in smooth rock, which was apparently quite soft. The letters read:

Barnaby Winthrop's Mine.

Allen stared at the letters on the rock as if he had not spelled out the words aright. But there was no mistake. They really read "Barnaby Winthrop's Mine."

"Well, if this isn't the most wonderful discovery ever made!" ejaculated the young man, finally. "So this is the place that Uncle Barnaby talked of as being the richest claim in Idaho. I wonder how he ever found it?"

While Allen stood close to the rocky wall he reached the conclusion that his uncle must have come there by the river, but whether a voluntary or involuntary passenger he could not decide. He knew Uncle Barnaby was exceedingly fearless, but was there any human being who would take the awful risk of a journey on that underground river, not knowing to where it led?

"He must have been caught, just as I was," said Allen to himself, at last. "And that being so, the question is, how did he manage, after he was once here, to get out?"

While Allen was debating this question he cast his eyes about for some means of scaling the wall. He walked along its face until the very end was reached, and there, to his joy, discovered a dozen rudely cut niches, some of them were close together and others nearly a yard apart, but, with the end of the firebrand between his teeth, he had no great difficulty in pulling himself up to the level of the flooring of the cavern above.

Allen now found himself in an opening not over fifty yards square. The roofing was hardly out of reach, and the young man saw at a glance that the quartz rock was full of virgin gold and silver. It was a veritable bonanza.

"A million dollars or more!" he cried, enthusiastically. "Uncle Barnaby struck it rich for once. I wonder why he don't come back and begin operations. It's queer I didn't get word from him."

Allen could not help but spend some time in looking around, so fascinating was the sight of the precious metal as it shimmered here and there in the ruddy glare of the torch. His uncle would be rich indeed, and he knew that he and his brothers would not be forgotten by their generous guardian.

But soon the thought of escape came back to him. Was there an opening to the outer world, or was he entombed alive?

At the far end of the chamber, after a long search, Allen came to a narrow passageway, which he was compelled to enter on hands and knees. It led upward and he had great hopes that ere long he would emerge into the outer air once more.

But he was doomed to disappointment. The passageway led around numerous curves, and long before the end was reached his torch went out, and he was left in total darkness. He crawled on and on, until finally he brought up against a solid wall.

Much frightened, he lit a match to survey the situation. Saving in his rear, the rocks arose on all sides. But overhead was open, and up he went, very much as a sweep might climb a half-choked up chimney, up through weeds and brush and dirt.

He was half smothered by the dust which filled his nose and mouth, and he was forced to keep his eyes closed for fear of being blinded.

At last, after he was nearly ready to give up in despair, he felt a breath of cooling air blow over him. This was encouraging, and he commenced to climb harder than ever. Up and up he went, until suddenly opening his eyes, he found himself at the top of the hole, and looking almost directly into the face of the rising sun!

CHAPTER VIII.

Into a Snake's Nest

"All night underground!" murmured Allen to himself as he surveyed the scene before him in intense surprise. "Heaven be thanked for my escape!"

His climb had so exhausted him that for a long while he sat on the ground, unable to move. He felt both cold and hungry, but paid no heed. It was blessing enough for the time being to be safe.

When he felt stronger, he began to speculate upon where he was and how far he would have to travel to reach the ranch. The face of the country looked new and strange to him.

"I must mark this spot, so I can find the mine again," he thought. "Uncle Barnaby may not know of this opening."

Close at hand was a tall tree, and upon this Allen cut his initials in large letters. Then he walked to all the trees in the vicinity and cut hands on them pointing to the first tree.

"Now, I reckon it's all right," he said to himself. "And the next best thing is to strike out for home."

Climbing the tree, Allen took his bearings as well as he was able, and then struck off as rapidly as his tired legs and sore feet would permit.

He had covered perhaps half a mile when he came to a steep decline. He tried to proceed down this with care, but slipped and rolled with a crash through the brush to the bottom.

It was a bad fall and hurt him not a little, but that was not the worst of it.

The passage through the brush aroused half a score of snakes, some small and others a yard and over in length, and now they came after him, hissing angrily and several preparing to dart at him.

It was small wonder that Allen gave a yell. He knew the reptiles were, many of them, poisonous, and he had not the first thing with which to defend himself. He leaped back to retreat, but only to find himself surrounded.

No one who has never been surrounded by snakes can realize the terrible feeling which awakens in one's breast at such an experience. It is a feeling that, once realized, is never forgotten. Allen said afterward he felt as if his hair had lifted from his head and his heart had had a bath in ice water.

"Great Scott!" were the words which escaped from his lips. "This is the worst yet!"

He had no time to say more, for at that moment one of the snakes leaped through the air directly for his hand. He threw his hand up, caught the reptile by the tail and flung it, hissing, among its fellows.

Then he essayed to leap over those in front of him. But before he could do so one wound itself around the instep of his boot. It was a poisonous snake. Allen saw that at a glance. He tried to kick it off, but missed it.

Then out darted the terrible fang and up came that ugly head, with diamond-like eyes, toward the young man's knee!

For one brief second Allen fancied his last hour on earth had come. A single bite from that snake and all would be over, for it would be all out of the question to get rid of the poison.

But with a strength and courage born of despair he bent down, and, reaching out, caught the reptile around the neck. The bright eyes almost paralyzed his nerve, and he was compelled to turn from them in order to accomplish his purpose.

Holding the snake with a grasp of iron, he leaped out of the circle of reptiles. Then he bent down and forcing the snake's head against a rock, ground it to pieces under his heel.

HOLDING THE SNAKE HE LEAPED OUT OF THE CIRCLE OF REPTILES.

It was a highly dangerous bit of work, and when it was over the great beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. To him it was as if the last few seconds had been an age.

The other snakes had not followed him, but, nevertheless, he lost no time in leaving the spot on a run. Five minutes later he was nearly a quarter of a mile from the vicinity.

He had gone at right angles to the course he imagined would take him back to the ranch, and now he found he must make a detour around a hill covered with cactus and other prickly plants.

By this time Allen was thoroughly worn out and hungry to the last degree. Bitterly he regretted the loss of his favorite mare, Lilly.

"If I had her I imagine I could strike home inside of a couple of hours," he said to himself. "But on foot it will take me until noon or longer."

But there was no use to grumble, and after resting a spell the young man again started on his weary tramp through thicket and brush, over hills and through hollows. More than once he stumbled and fell, and it was all he could do at times to regain his feet.

"It's no fun to be afoot on the long range," he soliloquized. "A mile seems three times as long as when on horseback."

But there was no help for it; he must go on, and on he went, his feet now so sore in his wet boots that he could hardly take a regular step.

As he proceeded, he looked about for something to eat, but outside of a few half-green berries, found nothing. Birds were numerous, but without firearms they were out of his reach.

A less experienced person than Allen would have been much frightened by the solitude and loneliness. But the young ranchman was accustomed to being out alone for days at a time, and he did not mind it. He wished to get home more for bodily comforts than aught else.

At last, when Allen was beginning to congratulate himself that the roughest portion of the journey would soon be over he came face to face with a most unexpected difficulty. Emerging from a thicket, he found himself at the very brink of a gully all of ten feet wide and of great depth.

"Humph!" he muttered, as he came to a halt. "I can't jump that. How am I to get over?"

This question was not easy to answer.

Looking up and down the opening, no bridge, either natural or artificial, was presented to view.

"I'll have to cut a pole and use that," he thought. "There is no use to tramp up and down looking for a spot to cross."

His pocketknife was still safe, and he drew it out and went to work with a will on a sapling growing some distance from the gully's edge.

The sapling had just been laid low and Allen was on the point of dragging it away when sounds broke upon his ear that filled him with surprise. He heard human voices, and one of them was that of a man he had encountered on the road, the fellow who had been riding Chet's horse!

"I reckon you have missed the road, Saul," said the man in a disgusted tone.

"No, I ain't missed nuthin'," was the reply. "So don't you go for to croak so much, Darry."

"Well, we don't appear to be makin' much headway," growled the fellow addressed as Darry.

"We'll come out all right, never fear. It's this yere blamed gully bothers me. We might git over afoot, but we can't cross it on the hosses."

Allen crouched back behind a bush, and a moment later the two men appeared in the opening near the gully. The fellow called Darry still rode Chet's horse, while he addressed as Saul was astride of Paul's animal. Behind the pair came a tall negro, riding a mustang and leading two others, little animals looking much the worse for constant and hard usage.

"Dis yere ditch doan' seem ter git no narrower, nohow," said the colored man, with a good-natured grin. "I dun racken we might as well build a bridge an done with it."

"By the boots, but I reckon Jeff is about half right," cried Darry. "This split may last clear across the hill."

"It's not so easy to build a bridge," grumbled he called Saul, who appeared to be the leader of the trio. "We ain't got no axes."

"Well, I move we take a rest, anyway," said Darry. "I'm tired of riding a strange hoss over these yere hills."

"All right, we'll lay off and have a bite of the stuff in Jeff's haversack," replied the leader of the crowd.

They dismounted not over two rods from where Allen lay hidden in the brush, hardly daring to breathe. Being unarmed and knowing the temper of the rascals only too well, the young man kept himself covered and made not the slightest sound.

The negro brought forth an old army haversack and from it produced some crackers, jerked meat, and several other articles. Soon the trio were eating voraciously.

The horses had been tied to several trees in the vicinity, and while the men were eating and talking in low tones, Allen conceived the idea of gaining possession of one of the animals and riding off with it. He knew it would do no good to confront the thieves unarmed.

"I'll get on Paul's horse," he thought, "and if I can, I'll take Chet's animal with me. Then I'll have their horses back, even if I won't have my own."

Watching for a chance, when the backs of the men were turned, Allen crept from his cover and wormed his way toward Paul's horse. His knife was in his hand, and noiselessly he cut the halter. Another cut and Chet's animal was also free.

The horses stamped as they recognized Allen, who always made pets of all in the stable. Then Jasper let out a loud neigh of welcome.

The sound reached the ears of the leader of the horse thieves. He sprang to his feet, and a second later, Allen was discovered!

CHAPTER IX.

A Visitor at the Ranch

Let us once more go back to the ranch, where Chet and Paul, as well as the newcomer, Noel Urner, anxiously awaited Allen's return.

The night had been a long one to the two boys, neither of whom had slept a whole hour at a time. As Chet expressed it, "they felt it in their bones" that something was wrong.

At daybreak both rushed up to the roof of the ranch house, and with a field glass which Mr. Winthrop had left them, scanned eagerly in all directions.

"Not a man or horse in sight," said Chet in deep disappointment. "The chase must have been a long one indeed."

"Like as not Allen has gone on to some town," rejoined Paul. "But he ought to be back by noon; he knows we will be anxious to hear how he made out."

The two went below to meet Noel, who had just finished dressing. They set to work and a smoking hot breakfast was soon on the table.

"Well, I see nothing for me to do but to calmly wait for your brother's return," said the young man from New York. "I don't want to start out anywhere on foot, especially as I know nothing of the roads."

"Yes, don't go anywhere till Allen gets back," said Paul. "I want you to tell him yourself all you know concerning Uncle Barnaby."

The morning dragged by slowly, and at the passage of each hour the boys grew more anxious.

"It's a dangerous proceeding, this chasing horse thieves," explained Chet to Noel Urner. "A fellow is apt to get shot, unless he is careful. That is what worries us so."

"Unless something turns up right after dinner, I'm going off on foot with my rifle," put in Paul. "I may not discover anything, but it will ease my mind trying to do something."

It lacked half an hour of noon when the boys heard a cheery voice from the road hail them. They looked out and beheld Ike Watson, the hunter, from Gold Fork, resting in the saddle just outside of the semi-stockade.

"Whoop! Hullo thar!" cried the old fellow, who was hearty in both mind and body and full of fun. "Wot's the meanin' o' two healthy boys a-bummin' around the ranch sech an all-fired fine day as this yere?"

"O, Ike; I'm so glad you happened along!" cried Paul, as he ran out to meet him. "We were hoping some friend would come."

"Thet so?" Ike Watson's face grew sober on the instant. "Wot's the trouble?"

"Our horses have been stolen——"

"Gee, shoo! Hoss thieves ag'in! Wall, I'll be eternally blowed!" exclaimed Ike Watson, in a rage. "Who be they, Paul?"

"We don't know. Allen has gone after them."

"How many animiles did they git?"

"Only two—that is here—Chet's and mine. But they also stole the horse belonging to this gentleman, Mr. Noel Urner. Mr. Urner, this is our friend, Ike Watson."

"Hoss thieves is worse 'n pizen," growled Watson, as he sprang down and gave Noel Urner a hearty shake of the hand. "Thar ought ter be a law to hang every one o' 'em, say I!"

"Allen went off yesterday afternoon, and as we have not heard from him since, we are getting anxious," put in Chet. "We would have followed, but we haven't a single beast left in the barn."

"I see. Which way did the thieves go?"

"Allen took the trail over the brook," replied Paul.

"Humph!" Ike Watson scratched his head for a moment. "Wot's ter prevent me goin' after him, boys?"

"Will you?" asked Paul eagerly.

"Sartin. I ain't got nuthin' ter do, an' if I had, I reckon I could drop it putty quick ter do a favor fer Granville Winthrop's orphans. Give me a bite ter eat an' I'll be off ter onct."

"Are you sufficiently armed?" questioned Noel Urner.

"Armed? Well, I reckon," and from his belt Ike Watson produced an old '49 horse pistol nearly two feet long. "Thet air's my best friend, barrin' the rifle."

Chet soon had dinner for the hunter, which was as quickly devoured, and then, after receiving some of the particulars of the case on hand, Ike Watson started off.

"You'll hear from me before another sun smiles on ye!" he called back. "An' don't ye worry too much in the between time!" And he then disappeared.

The boys felt much more comfortable after Watson had started off to hunt up Allen. They knew the old man would do all in his power to help their elder brother, no matter in what difficulty he might find him.

"A rather odd character, truly," observed Noel, as they again passed into the house.

"Yes, but with a heart of steel and gold," returned Chet. "Idaho does not contain a braver or better hunter than old Ike Watson."

Shortly after this Chet and Paul went out to care for the cattle about the place, for quite a few head had already been penned up ready for the early fall drive. The ranch did not boast of many cattle, and such as there was they desired to keep in the best possible condition.

Noel Urner accompanied them and was much interested in all to be seen and what was done.

"Such a difference between life out here and in the city," he remarked. "Actually, it is like another world!"

"You're right there," replied Paul. "And when you size it up all around, it's hard to tell which is the best—providing, of course, you can get a comfortable living at either place."

Just as the three were walking back to the ranch the sounds of a horse's hoofs broke upon their ears.

"Can it be Allen?" burst out Chet, but then his face fell. "No, it's not his style of riding."

"Oh, pshaw!" whispered Paul a second later. "If it isn't Captain Grady!"

"And who is he?" queried Noel.

"An old prospector who wants to get possession of this ranch. He claims that our title to it is defective, or not good at all. I wonder what he wants now?"

"Perhaps he's got more evidence to prove his claim to the place," groaned Chet. "Oh, dear! Troubles never come singly, true enough!"

With anxious hearts the two brothers walked forward to meet the new arrival, whose face bore a look of insolence and self-satisfaction.

Captain Hank Grady was a tall, evil-looking man of forty years of age. His title was merely one of favor, for he had neither served in the army nor the navy. But little was known of his past by the people of the section, and he never took the pains to enlighten those who were curious enough to know.

For years he had wanted the Big Bear ranch, as the Winthrop homestead was called, for neither by fair means nor foul had he heretofore been able to obtain possession of the property. But now he had been working in secret for a long while, and he came prepared to make an announcement that was designed to trouble the boys not a little.

"Hullo, there, young fellers," he called out roughly, as he dismounted. "I reckon you didn't expect to see me quite so soon again, did you?"

"We did not," rejoined Paul, coldly.

"Well, I confess I fixed matters up quicker than I first calculated to do," went on the captain. "I thought I was going to have a good bit more trouble to establish my claim."

"As far as I know you have no claim here to establish," put in Chet, sharply. "You may pretend——"

"See here, I ain't talking to you," retorted Captain Grady, cutting him short. "Your big brother is the feller I want to see—him or Barnaby Winthrop."

"Both of them are away," replied Paul, "and Chet and I are running the ranch just now."

"And if you do not like my manner of speech you need not stay here," cried Chet, warmly, his temper rising at the newcomer's aggressive manner.

"Ho! you young savage, don't you speak that way to me," roared Captain Grady. "I didn't come here to deal with a kid."

"I may be young, but I have my rights here, just the same," retorted Chet.

"My brother is right," added Paul. "If you wish to talk business you must do so with both of us."

The captain growled out something under his breath. He was about to speak when he caught sight of Noel Urner.

He started back as though a ghost had confronted him, and the words died on his lips. The young man from New York saw the action, but could not in the least account for it.

CHAPTER X.

The Captain's Setback

Captain Grady recovered in a few seconds. He glanced suspiciously about to see if there were others with Noel. Seeing the young man was alone, he plucked up fresh courage.

"All right, I'll talk business with both," he said. "Who is this?" and he jerked his thumb toward Noel.

"A friend of ours from New York," replied Paul.

"Humph! Didn't know you had friends so far off."

"We don't know everything in this world," retorted Chet, pointedly.

"You're right, we don't," replied the captain with equal emphasis.

He tied his horse fast to the doorpost and strode into the house. Paul motioned Chet to follow, and then buttonholed Noel Urner.

"This is Captain Grady," he whispered. "We have told you a little about him. He is trying to get this ranch away from us."

"And he has no real claim to it?"

"I do not believe he has. But he is so slippery a customer he will swindle us if he can. Will you give us some advice how best to proceed? You know more about claims and legal papers than we do."

"Certainly I'll do what I can for you," and then both entered the ranch home.

"I'm sorry I ain't got your older brother to deal with," began the captain. "I reckon he is the one who will understand my talk best."

"Then, perhaps you had best wait till he gets back," said Chet quickly.

"And when will that be?"

"I cannot say exactly."

"I'm not in the humor to wait. I've waited too long already." The captain paused and cleared his throat. "I believe you said you had the original title papers to the ranch, didn't you?" he went on.

"Yes, we did say that."

"I would like to see 'em."

Chet and Paul looked at each other. They had expected and dreaded this request.

"Supposing we don't care to show them to you?" said Paul cautiously.

"What's the reason you don't care?" retorted the captain, angrily.

"We are not called on to explain all our actions to you," said Chet.

"See here, I don't want to quarrel, but I'm a-goin' to see them ere papers," blustered Captain Grady, with a decided shake of his head. "I came all the way from Deadwood to see 'em."

"Well, you won't see them," returned Paul, boldly. It would never do in the wide world to acknowledge that they had been burned up.

"Well, then, I reckon I'm free to speak what's on my mind," roared the captain, "an' that is, that you never had no papers at all."

"You can say what you please," said Chet, as calmly as he could.

"An' that ain't all I've got to say," went on the captain. "I've got more to say to you. This ere claim o' land originally belonged to Sam Slater, o' Deadwood——"

"We know that."

"Slater died, an' left no will——"

"That may all be true, too."

"An' he left this land——"

"No, he didn't. It was sold to my father before that!" cried Paul.

"No such thing. Old Slater left it as part o' his estate——"

"He did not."

"He did, an' I can take my affidavy to it, if it's necessary," exclaimed Captain Grady. "But that ain't all yet wot I hev got to tell. Slater left it to his heirs, an' I bought it from them only last week."

"It can't be true!" gasped Chet, faintly.

"It is true, an' I hev the papers to prove it. This here ranch belongs to me, an' the sooner you boys pack up your duds an' git out the better it will please me," and Captain Grady smiled maliciously at the blow his news had brought to the boys.

Both Paul and Chet were much dismayed by the unexpected announcement Captain Grady had made.

For the moment they stared at the speaker as if they had not heard aright.

It was Paul who spoke first.

"You bought the ranch, and have the papers to prove it?" he gasped.

"That's just wot I said, boy."

"Your claim will not hold water," put in Chet, faintly.

"Well, I reckon it will," retorted Captain Grady. "I allow as how I know wot I'm a-doin'."

"My father bought this ranch, and that settles it," said Paul. "We will not give up our rights here just on what you say."

"Perhaps you had better look at his papers," suggested Noel Urner, who had thus far remained silent.

"It won't be necessary for them to look at 'em," returned the captain, doggedly. "I have 'em and that's enough. I ain't got to show my papers no more than they hev got to show theirs."

"What shall we do?" whispered Paul to the young man from New York, as he led him a little to one side.

"Stick to your resolve to stand up for your rights," was Noel's reply. "Remember, possession is nine points of the law. He cannot dispossess you unless he starts a lawsuit to recover the property he claims."

"I ain't a-goin' to wait for your Uncle Barnaby or Allen to return," went on Captain Grady, sullenly. "I want you to leave at once, bag and baggage."

"Indeed," returned Paul, coldly.

"Yes, indeed. I've been kept out of this place long enough—seeing as how the original owner gave me a half hold on it long before he died."

"What makes you so anxious for the place?" asked Noel Urner with sudden interest.

"That's my business," growled the captain.

"Is there any concealed wealth upon it?"

"No, there ain't," exclaimed Captain Grady, almost so quick that it did not sound natural.

"You seem to be awfully anxious——"

"I own the next ranch, that's why. I want to turn my cattle an' sech in the two. Besides that, it ain't natural for a man to stand by an' see others a-usin' of his things."

"You talk very positively, Captain Grady," said Paul. "But it will do you no good. We shall not budge for the present."

"You won't?"

"Not a step. We claim this property and you will have to get the law to put us out if we are to be put out."

"You young highflyers!" growled the captain. He had a dread of the law and would do anything to keep out of court. "Do you think I'll stand sech talk?"

"You will have to stand it," put in Chet. "I agree with Paul. We won't budge until the sheriff or a constable puts us out."

For the moment Captain Grady was speechless. His face grew dark with gathering wrath, and he looked as if he wanted to eat some one up.

"You won't budge, hey?" he roared at last.

"No."

"I'll put ye out!"

"I don't think you will," retorted Paul.

"Not without a big fight," added Chet.

"The boys have a right to stay here until put out," said Noel Urner. "The property is in dispute, and the only way to settle the matter is by going to law."

"I didn't ask for your advice," growled the captain, fiercely. "I own this ranch, an' I'm a-goin' to have it, an' putty quick, too!"

And without another word he turned on his heel, strode out of the house, sprang on his horse, and rode away at top speed.

"Phew! but isn't he mad!" exclaimed Chet, as the rider disappeared up the river trail.

"You bet!" returned Paul, dropping into a bit of slang. "But he can stay mad as long as he pleases; he can't bulldoze us."

"He is not so sure of his rights as he pretends to be," remarked Noel Urner, who, in the course of his city life, had met many men similar to Captain Grady. "If he knew all was right he wouldn't bluster so much."

"That's my idea of it, too," rejoined Chet. "I am half inclined to think he never bought the land—that is, paid for what he supposed was a title to it—for he couldn't really buy it except it was sold by Uncle Barnaby."

"Well, by the time he pays another visit your brother will be back most likely. It is a pity that your uncle should just now be missing."

The afternoon wore away, and anxiously the two boys awaited the coming of Allen. Several times they went up to the roof of the house and swept all points of the compass with their field glass.

At last the shades of night began to fall, and with heavy hearts the two began the round of evening work, feeding the chickens and pigs and seeing that everything was secure for the night. There were also a couple of cows to milk and a dozen or more of eggs to gather.

Noel Urner went around with them as before, and he was greatly interested. When they returned to the house he began to question them as to the extent of the ranch.

"Oh, it's pretty big," replied Paul. "It runs up and down the river nearly half a mile, and as far back as what we call the second foothills. If we had horses I could ride you around and show you."

"Are there any mines in the foothills?" was the young man's next question.

"There used to be a few, but they have all been abandoned because they did not pay."

"Perhaps this Captain Grady has struck something that will pay."

"Hardly. My father and Uncle Barnaby went over every foot of the ground half a dozen times, and they were both better prospectors than the captain."

Noel Urner was about to ask more questions, but a sound outside of the stockade caused him to pause. They all listened, and then Chet gave a shout.

"Somebody is coming! It must be Allen or Ike Watson! Come on out and see!"

CHAPTER XI.

Ike Watson's Arrival

Let us go back to Allen.

We left him just as the sound made by Paul's horse aroused the leader of the horse thieves, whose full name was Saul Mangle.

"The feller that went over into the river, as sure as fate!" burst from the lips of Mangle, and he started back in astonishment.

"Impossible!" cried Darry, the second man. "That feller must have been killed!"

"See for yourself."

With these words Saul Mangle sprang forward to stop Allen, who was about to mount Jasper. He reached the young man's side as Allen gained the saddle.

"Come down out of that!" he cried, roughly.

"Not much!" returned the young man. "Clear the track, unless you want to be run down!"

He urged the horse forward. Jasper started, but ere he had taken three steps, Mangle caught him by the bridle.

"Whoa!" he cried. "Whoa, I say!"

"Let the horse go, do you hear?" ejaculated Allen, sharply.

"I won't do it! Darry! Jeff! Come here, why don't you?"

The others leaped into the brush. Allen saw that affairs were turning against him. He leaned forward to Jasper's neck.

Smack! Mangle caught a sharp blow full across his mouth. It came so quickly that he staggered back and his hold was loosened.

"On, Jasper, on, my boy!" cried Allen, slapping the animal with his palm. "Come, Rush! Come, Rush!" he added to Chet's horse, which stood close beside.

Off went Jasper with a bound, and Rush followed at his heels.

"Stop him! Hang the measly luck!" roared Saul Mangle. "Darry! Jeff! What are you at?"

As he cried out, the leader of the horse thieves felt for his pistol. But before the weapon could be drawn both horses and Allen had disappeared behind a clump of cottonwoods.

"We had bettah follow him on de mustangs," suggested the negro. "He can't ride——"

"Of course, we'll follow him!" growled Mangle. "Don't stand and talk about it. Come on! He'll be out of hearing in another minute! This is the worst luck yet!"

He leaped for one of the mustangs. In another second all three of the men were mounted and riding after Allen as rapidly as the nature of the land and growth would allow.

"How do you think he escaped?" asked Darry, as they pushed on.

"Can't make it out," replied Mangle. "We'll make him tell the story when we catch him. Ha! what was that?"

A sudden crash ahead had arrested their attention. He listened. A dead silence followed.

"The hosses and young feller have gone into some sort of a hole," cried Darry. "We'll have him now, all right enough."

On they went through the brush, Mangle leading the way. Suddenly the leader came to a halt. Before him was a sheer descent of eight or ten feet.

"Here's where he and the hosses went down," he said to his followers.

"But where is he?" questioned Darry.

"Not far off, I'll warrant ye. Come on."

"Dis yere mustang won't take dat leap," put in Jeff, drawing back.

"And I won't venture it," added Darry, "I don't want to land on my head."

"Cowards!" howled Saul Mangle. "Well, then, there is a trail to the right; take that. Here goes!"

He spoke to his animal, and an instant later rider and mustang went down in a graceful curve. They landed in a bunch of brush, none the worse for the leap.

Darry and Jeff followed by way of the trail. They could hear Allen pushing through the brush not over a hundred yards ahead.

The young man was having a hard time of it. He was going it blindly, and was so faint from want of sleep and something to eat that he could hardly sit up in the saddle.

Yet he realized his peril and clung on desperately, meanwhile urging the horse and his mate to do their best to place distance between them and their pursuers.

But now the slight trail he was pursuing became rougher, and it was with difficulty that any progress could be made. The horses labored along bravely, but were no match on such ground for the nimble-footed mustangs.

"Halt! Do you hear?" were the first unpleasant words which greeted Allen's ears, and looking back he saw that Saul Mangle was in plain sight.

Allen attempted to dodge out of sight. To frighten him Mangle fired off his pistol, the bullet cutting through the brush under Jasper's feet.

"Will you stop now?" yelled Mangle.

Allen was in a quandary. He did not wish to be shot, and yet——

But the young man was not called on to solve the dreadful question. While he hesitated there was a loud shout from some distance to his right, and looking up the rocks he saw to his great joy Ike Watson, the hunter, sitting astride of his horse, rifle in hand.

"Wall, wall!" shouted the old man. "And what's the row, Allen, I want to know?"

"Horse thieves, Ike! Save me!" was the quick reply. "There are three of them after me!"

"Saul Mangle, as I'm a nateral born sinner, and Darry Nodley and Jeff Jones! Wall! wall! wall! Turn about, before it is too late, ye sarpints!"

The loud cry from Ike Watson caused the gang of horse thieves to come to a sudden halt. Every one of them knew old Ike Watson only too well—knew him for a man of quaint humor, but with a sense of justice that no one dared to question.

"Hang the measly luck!" muttered Saul Mangle. "There's Ike Watson!"

"Then the jig's up for the present, and we had better vamoose!" returned Nodley.

"Clar out, do ye hear me?" yelled Ike Watson to the crowd of three. "Don't wait for me to git riled up."

"Come on!" whispered Saul Mangle, with a scowl, and like magic the trio of villains turned about and disappeared down a side trail, leaving poor exhausted Allen safe in friendly hands at last.

"By the grasshoppers of Kansas, but ye look fagged out, Allen!" exclaimed old Ike Watson as he sprang down and caught Allen in his arms. "What's the matter with ye, boy?"

"I've had an awful experience, Ike," replied the young ranchman as soon as he could recover sufficiently to speak. "I've been underground several miles, and I haven't had a mouthful to eat since yesterday morning!"

"Gee shoo, Allen! Wall! wall! wall! If I didn't know ye so well I'd be apt ter think ye war tellin' me a fairy tale. But I allow as how Granville Winthrop's son couldn't lie if he tried."

"I speak the truth, Ike. But where are those villains?"

"Gone, boy, gone. They knowed better nor to stay whar Ike Watson was, ho! ho!"

"They are horse thieves, and ought to be locked up."

"Thet Saul Mangle ought to be strung up, ye mean. And Darry Nodley and that coon, Jeff Jones, ain't much better. But they are gone now."

"Well, I have Paul's horse and Chet's, too, anyway," returned Allen, with a slight smile of satisfaction.

"Whar's your own horse?"

"Dead, I reckon. We went off the Upas Pass bridge together into the river, and I suppose she was drowned. Poor Lilly!"

"Off the bridge! Gee shoo! Then ye war carried down the Black Rock River?"

"Yes!" Allen gave a shudder. "It was fearful, Ike. But come, let us get to the ranch, and I can tell my story to all at once!"

"That's the best way, sure. But down that air stream! Great snakes and turkey buzzards!"

"I know it hardly can be believed, but that is not the worst or most wonderful part of it. But come; I am nearly famished."

"Here's a bite I have in my pouch; eat that," returned Ike Watson, and he passed over some crackers and meat which Allen devoured with keen relish.

CHAPTER XII.

The Boys Talk It over

Allen and Ike Watson were soon on the way back to the ranch. Fortunately Ike Watson knew every foot of the ground, and led by the most direct route.

As the reader knows, Paul and Chet heard them approaching and received their elder brother with open arms.

"You look like a ghost!" declared Chet, starting back on catching sight of Allen's pale face.

"And I feel like a shadow," responded Allen with a weary laugh. "But a good dinner and a nap will make me as bright as a dollar again."

"He has our horses!" cried Paul.

"Yes, but not my own," returned Allen.

He walked into the house and was here introduced to Noel Urner. The table was at once spread, and soon both Allen and Ike Watson were regaling themselves to their heart's content.

During the progress of the meal Allen related all of his wonderful story of the fall from the bridge, the journey on the underground river, and of his struggle to reach the open air once more. He said nothing about the wealth which lay exposed in the cavern or of the fact that it was Uncle Barnaby's mine, for he felt he had no right to mention those matters before Ike Watson and Noel Urner, friends though they might be. Uncle Barnaby had guarded his secret well and he would do the same.

All listened with deep interest to what he had to say.

"It was a wonder the fall into the water didn't kill you," said Paul. "Such a distance as it was!"

"Lilly saved my life—but it cost her her own," returned Allen, and he sighed, for Lilly had been his favorite for several years.

Chet and Paul were eager that Allen should hear Noel Urner's story and the young man from New York related it without delay. Allen was as much surprised as his brothers had been, and so was Ike Watson.

THE THREE YOUNG RANCHMEN TALKED IT OVER

"I am afraid somebody has played Uncle Barnaby foul," cried Allen, his face full of anxiety. "If he had left of his own accord we would have heard from him."

"That's just my idea of it," said Paul. "But the thing of it is, who met him in San Francisco, and what did they do?"

To that question Allen could only shake his head.

"I am too tired to say much about it to-night," he said at last. "I must sleep on it."

Allen wished to retire early, but before he did so Chet told him of Captain Grady's visit.

"We won't stir," said Allen, briefly. "Let him sue Uncle Barnaby. We have nothing to do with it. Our first duty is to find uncle."

And both Paul and Chet agreed with him on this point.

Ike Watson was on his way up the Salmon River to visit a new gold diggings. He refused to stay all night, and set off in the dark, with Allen's thanks ringing in his ears for what he had done.

Despite the excitement through which he had passed, Allen slept "like a log" that night, and did not awaken until long after the others were up and Chet and Paul had the morning chores done.

"Now I feel like myself once more," he said when he came down. "And I am ready for business."

"So am I," laughed Noel Urner. "But the trouble is, I do not know how to turn without horse or conveyance. I am not used to tramping about on foot."

"If we had horses we might lend you one," said Allen. "But two nags for four people are two short," and he laughed.

During the morning Paul went out on horseback, accompanied by Noel, to see if the cattle were safe. While they were gone Allen told Chet of the hidden mine.

"It is worth a million," he said. "But it is Uncle Barnaby's secret, remember."

"I will remember," said Chet, "but we must tell Paul."

"Certainly; tell him after I am gone."

"Gone? Why, Allen, what do you mean?"

"I am going to leave home this afternoon, Chet."

"You are fooling," remarked the younger brother.

"Never more serious in my life, Chet."

"And you are going——" Chet hesitated.

"Direct to San Francisco to hunt up tidings of Uncle Barnaby."

Of course, Chet was taken completely back by Allen's announcement.

"To San Francisco!" he ejaculated.

"Yes, Chet. I feel that it is my duty to discover what has become of uncle, if possible, at once."

"I know, but it's such a journey——"

"I am not afraid to take it. I will ride to the nearest station on the railroad, which is not over a hundred and forty miles, and then take the train. The journey on the cars will not take over a couple of days, all told."

"And the cost——"

"I will have to take what we have saved from the thieves. But surely, Chet, you do not regret taking that for such a purpose?"

"No! no! take it all! I was thinking if it would be enough."

"I will make it do. I will buy a cut-rate ticket from Ogden, if I can."

"And what shall Paul and I do in the meantime?" questioned Chet in some dismay.

"Do nothing but guard the cattle and the place generally. I will be back, or let you hear from me just as soon as I can."

Paul was equally astonished at Allen's sudden determination. It was, however, what Noel Urner had expected.

"Yes, I would go if I were you," said the latter. "And if you want me to, I will go with you," he added. "I must confess I am deeply interested in this strange case."

"I would like you to go with me first rate," returned Allen. "And whether uncle is found or not, I will promise that you shall be well paid for all the trouble you will be put to."

"I want no pay for helping you. I will enjoy the bit of detective work, as one might call it. But how am I to get to the railroad station without a horse?"

"You can take both horses, if necessary," suggested Chet.

"That's so; although we ought to have at least one animal on the ranch," added Paul.

"We can both ride one animal as far as Dottery's ranch," said Allen, "and there we can either borrow or hire another animal."

"How far is Dottery's?"

"Only about twenty-five miles. We ought to reach it by dark, if we start shortly."

"We can start at once, as far as I am concerned," laughed Noel.

So it was decided to lose no time, and Chet at once set to work to prepare dinner and also some food to be carried along.

CHAPTER XIII.

Caught in a Cyclone

Less than an hour later Jasper was brought out and Noel Urner sprang into the saddle, with Allen behind him on the blanket.

"Keep a close watch for more thieves while I am gone!" cried Allen.

"We will!" shouted Paul. "And you take care for more doctored bridges!"

A parting wave of the hand and the ranch was left behind, and Allen was off on a journey that was to be filled with adventures and excitement from start to finish.

Chet and Paul watched the horse and his two riders out of sight, and then with rather heavy hearts returned to the house. The place seemed more lonely than ever with both Allen and Noel Urner gone.

"It's going to be a long time waiting for Allen's return," sighed Paul.

"Perhaps not," returned Chet. "He left me with a secret to tell you, Paul."

And Chet lost no time in relating Allen's story of the hidden mine of great wealth.

"And perhaps we can explore the place during his absence," Paul said, after he had expressed his astonishment and asked half a dozen questions.

"I don't know about that, Paul. We may not be able to find the opening Allen mentioned, and then, again, he may not wish us to do so."

"Why should he object?"

"I don't know."

"We'll have ten days or two weeks on our hands, at the very least. We might as well take a look at that wealth as not."

"Supposing somebody followed us and found out the secret? They would locate a claim before we could turn a hand."

"We will make sure that we are not followed," said Paul, who was anxious to see if all Allen had told could really be true.

Chet continued to demur, but after Allen and Noel had been gone the whole of the next day he gave in, and seemed as anxious as Paul to do something which would make it less lonely. Apparently the horse thieves had left the vicinity, so there was nothing to be feared in that direction during an absence that they meant should not last more than one whole day.

Sunday came between, and on Monday morning they arose early and had breakfast ere it was yet daylight. They decided to take Rush, both to ride when on a level and each to take a turn at walking when on the uphill trails.

Allen had left Chet minute directions as to how the opening to the hidden mine could be located, he having fixed the locality well in his mind before leaving it.

It was rather a gloomy day, but this the two boys did not mind.

"It's better than being so raging hot," said Paul. "It makes my head ache to ride when it's so fearfully hot."

"If it only don't rain," returned Chet. "We need it bad enough, goodness knows, but it has held off so long it might as well hold off twenty-four hours longer."

"I doubt if we get rain just yet. It hasn't threatened long enough," replied his brother.

Before the two left the ranch they saw to it that every building was locked up tight, and an alarm, in the shape of a loaded gun, set to the doors and windows.

"That ought to scare would-be thieves away," said Chet. "They'll imagine somebody is firing at them."

The rest for a couple of days had done Rush much good, and he made no work of carrying the two boys along the trail that led to the second foothills.

Long before noon they reached the hills, and here stopped for lunch.

"And now for the wonderful mine!" cried Chet. Then, happening to glance across the plains below, he added: "Gracious, Paul! What is that?"

The attention of both young ranchmen was at once drawn to a round, black cloud on the horizon to the east. It was hardly a yard in diameter, apparently, when first seen, but it increased in size with great rapidity.

It was moving directly toward them, and in less than two minutes from the time Chet uttered his cry it had covered fully a third of the distance.

"From what I have heard I should say that was a cyclone cloud," exclaimed Paul. "And still——"

"Who ever heard of a cyclone up here among the foothills," returned Chet. "I don't believe they ever strike this territory."

"I certainly never heard of their doing so," returned Paul. "But still, you must remember, that cyclones are erratic things at the best."

"It looks as if it were coming directly this way."

"So it does, and I reckon the best thing we can do is to make tracks for some place of safety."

"That is true. Come on!"

Both boys sprang into the saddle and started up the trail. Hardly had a hundred feet of the way been covered than a strange rush and roar of wind filled the air.

"It's coming," shouted Paul. "Quick, Chet, down into that hollow before it strikes us!"

He plunged into the basin he had designated, which was six or eight feet below the level of the trail and not over ten yards in diameter. Chet followed, ducking low as he did so, for already was the air filled with flying branches.

"None too soon!" ejaculated Paul. "Down, Rush!"

Between them they managed to get the horse to lie down close to a wall of dirt and rocks. They lay near, waiting almost breathlessly for that awful time of peril to pass.

No one who has not experienced the dreadful effects of a cyclone can imagine it, be the description of it ever so fine. That strange rush and roar, that density of the air, accompanied by a feeling as if the very breath was about to be drawn from one's lungs, the flying débris, all unite to chill the stoutest heart and make one wonder if the next moment will not be the last.

The cyclone was short and sharp. From the time it first struck the foothills until the time it spent itself in the distance was barely four minutes, yet, what an effect did it leave behind!

On all sides of them many trees were literally torn up by the roots, brush was leveled as if cut by a mowing machine, and dirt and pebbles which had been perhaps carried for miles were deposited here, there, and everywhere. Ranch boys though they were, and accustomed to many things strange and wonderful, Chet and Paul could only gaze at the work of destruction in awe, and silently thank heaven that their lives had been spared.

They had escaped with slight injury. Several sharp sticks and stones had scratched Chet's neck as he lay prostrate, and Paul's arm was greatly lamed by a blow from the branch of a tree which fell directly across the opening, pinning the horse down in such a fashion that he could not rise.

"We must liberate Rush first of all," cried Chet. "Poor fellow! Whoa, Rush, we'll soon help you," he added, and patted the animal on the neck to soothe him.

Evidently Rush understood, for he lay quiet. Then Chet and Paul, using all of their strength, raised up one end of the tree, which, fortunately, was not large. As soon as he felt himself free, Rush scrambled up out of harm's way, and they let the tree fall back again.

"That is the kind of an adventure I never want to experience again," said Paul when he had somewhat recovered his breath. "My, how the wind did tear things!"

"It was a full-fledged cyclone and no mistake," returned his brother. "Had that struck a town it would have razed every building in it."

"That's true, and oh!" went on Paul suddenly, "I wonder if it has destroyed the marks Allen left whereby the mine is to be found?"

Chet stared at him speechless.

"Perhaps!" he gasped at last. "Come, let us go on and see!"

There was considerable difficulty in getting out of the hollow into which they had so unceremoniously thrust themselves. Rush was somewhat frightened still, and instead of riding him, they led him out by a circuitous way which took them nearly a hundred yards out of their path.

They found the trail almost impassable in spots, and more than once were compelled to make a wide detour in order to avoid fallen trees and gathered brush.

"A cyclone like that can do more damage than can be repaired in ten years," observed Chet as they labored along on foot. "I wonder where it started from?"

"Somewhere out on the flat lands near the river, I reckon," returned Paul.

On they went around trees and rocks and brush, until the way grew so bad that both came to an involuntary halt.

"It looks as if the very trail had been swept away," said Paul. "I can't see anything of it ahead."

"Nor I. Whoever would have thought of such a thing when we left home?"

"We can't go on in this direction, that's sure. What's best to be done?"

Both looked around for several minutes and then decided to cross a rocky stretch to the right. They had to do this with great care, as the road was full of sink holes and crevices, and they did not want to break a leg or have the horse injured.

The stretch crossed, they found themselves on a little hill. All about them could be seen the effects of the cyclone, not a tree or bush had escaped its ravages.

"It looks as if the landmarks Allen had mentioned had been swept away," said Paul, as he gazed around hopelessly. "I can't see the first of them."

"It would certainly seem so," rejoined Chet. "If they are, they won't be able to locate the mine again, excepting to sail down the underground river."

"That is so—excepting Uncle Barnaby turns up with another and better way of locating it," replied Paul very seriously.

CHAPTER XIV.

Another Surprise

The desolation on all sides of them and the failure to locate the marks Allen had mentioned caused Paul and Chet to become much downcast. They had had their long and tedious journey from the ranch home for nothing.

"I suppose there isn't anything to do but to go back," remarked Chet dismally, as he thrashed around in the brush with a stick he had picked up. "We are as far away from the mine as we were when we started."

"Let us be in no hurry to return," rejoined Paul. "We'll give Rush a chance to get back his wind."

Leaving the trusty animal to roam about as pleased him, the two boys threw themselves on the grass and gave themselves up to their reflections.

"I'll tell you what I would like to do," remarked Chet. "I would like to find the chap who cleaned us out of that seven hundred dollars."

"I wonder that Allen didn't get Watson to stop the horse thieves and search them," mused Paul. "He must have known they had the money."

"He was too played out to think of much just then, I reckon. It was a good deal to escape with the horses without getting shot."

"The cross we found in the barn belonged to that Saul Mangle beyond a doubt. The initials prove that."

"I believe you."

"We must watch out for that Mangle, and if we can ever get our hands on him, make him give up our money and then have him locked up."

"It is not so easy to lock up a man when you are miles and miles away from a jail."

An hour went by, and the boys thought it time to start on the return. Rush was called back from a thicket into which he had wandered and both mounted, for the trail now lead almost entirely down hill.

After the cyclone the sun had come out strong and hot, and halfway back to the ranch the brothers were glad enough to stop beside the bank of a tiny mountain stream and obtain a drink and water the horse.

They were about to depart when Rush pricked up his ears and gave a peculiar whinny.

"Hush! What does that mean?" Paul asked in quick alarm.

"Draw behind the brush and see," replied Chet, cautiously. "Those horse thieves may be still in the vicinity."

"Oh, they would not remain here," said Paul.

Yet he followed his brother behind the brush. They tried to make Rush come, too, but for once the animal would not obey.

"Come, Rush, come," whispered Chet. "Why he never acted this way before."

"The cyclone upset his mind, I reckon," said Paul, with a faint show of humor. "Make him come."

But the more Chet tried the more obstinate did the animal become. Finally he broke away altogether and ran off, kicking up his heels behind him.

"Well, I never!" gasped Chet.

"Quick, after him! I believe he means to run away!" cried Paul.

"Rush run away!" said Chet reproachfully. It hurt him a good deal to have Paul speak in that fashion of the horse he so loved.

Both boys leaped from the thicket and after Rush, who was now running up the bank of the stream at top speed. A turn was made and the brothers burst out into a loud and joyous shout.

There, not fifty feet away, was Lilly, the faithful mare Allen had fancied was drowned in the Black Rock River. Rush stood beside her, licking her neck affectionately.

"Allen's horse!" cried Chet.

"And as well as ever almost," added Paul, as he rushed up and began an examination.

The mare was evidently glad to see both the boys and her mate. She stood trembling as Chet and Paul examined her.

"A few slight bruises, that is all," said Paul. "Won't Allen be glad when he hears of it?"

"Indeed he will be. He loves Lilly as if she was his best girl. It's a good thing for us, too, Paul," he went on. "Now each can have a mount home."

"Right you are—if Lilly can carry me."

Paul was speedily on the mare's back. She seemed willing enough to carry him; in fact, glad to be in the keeping of a human being she knew.

"If she could only talk what a tale she would have to tell," observed Paul as they rode homeward. "I wonder how she got out of the river?"

"I reckon we'll never know, unless Allen makes her talk. He can make her do most everything," laughed Chet.

On they went over the rocks and the level prairie beyond. The sun was now sinking in the west, and ere long the evening shadows would be upon them.

"Well, we found a horse even if we didn't find a mine, and that's something," said Paul, as they reached the trail beside the river.

"But I hope that the mine isn't lost for good," replied Chet, quickly. "The mine is worth a good deal more than even Lilly."

"Maybe you can't tell that to Allen."

"Oh, yes I can; for he saw the wealth there, you know."

"If only he finds Uncle Barnaby," sighed Paul. "Do you know, the more I think of it, the more I become convinced that something dreadful has happened to him."

"And that is the way I look at it, too, Paul. If we could——"

Chet stopped short and stared ahead. They had come in sight of the semi-stockade around their ranch house.

"Our furniture and trunks!" gasped Paul, following the direction of Chet's stare. "What on earth does it mean?"

There on the grass lay their furniture in a confused mass—tables, chairs, trunks, clothing, one on top of another. And in another heap were the farming implements from the barn.

"Captain Grady's dirty work!" cried Paul. "He has come here and taken possession during our absence."

Paul was right, for at that moment Captain Grady appeared at the stockade gate, gun in hand.

The sarcastic smile on the captain's face told plainly that he rather enjoyed the situation. He gazed at the boys without saying a word.

His left hand was tied up in a bandage, showing that he had not entirely escaped the gun traps which had been set. As a matter of fact, half a dozen bird shot still remained in the fleshy part of his thumb.

"What does this mean?" demanded Paul at length. He spoke as calmly as he could, although tremendously excited.

"Reckon you have eyes an' can see," growled Captain Grady. "I told you that you hadn't seen the end of this, an' that I would have this place in my possession putty quick."

"You had no right to break into our house and fire our things out!" cried Chet.

"I deny as how it's your house, youngster. It belongs to me, as does the whole ranch property. There be your traps, an' the quicker you git them off this ground the better it will suit me."

"We won't move a thing until we put them back into that house," retorted Chet hot-headedly. "This is no way to gain possession, and you know it."

"Halt where you are!" Captain Grady raised his gun and pointed it at Chet, who was in advance. "You'll not come near this gate, mind that!"

"I'm going in, and you won't stop me," retorted Chet.

"Don't be rash, Chet," whispered Paul, riding up and plucking his younger brother by the sleeve.

"You try and cross this gateway and I'll fire on you, sure as fate," went on the captain.

Urged by Paul, Chet brought Rush to a stand. The boys were about thirty feet from where Captain Grady stood on guard.

"Now, the best thing you fellers can do," said the captain, sharply, "is to ride over to Dottery's ranch, an' git a wagon an' tote these traps away. If they are left more 'n a week I'll pitch them into the river, mind you. If you ain't satisfied at the way matters have turned, you can go to law, just as you advised me to do," and again the man smiled sarcastically.

"We certainly will go to law," replied Paul. "Are you alone here?"

"That's not for you to ask."

"I presume you hung around here and saw my brother go off first and then waited for us to go away."

"I ain't standing here as a target for questions," growled Captain Grady.

"You are a sneak and worse, Captain Grady!" burst out Chet. "If there is any law in Idaho you shall have your full dose of it, mark my word!"

"Hi! you young bantam, don't talk to me in that fashion," roared the man in a rage. "Come, I've told you what is best to do. Now clear out. I shall keep watch, an' if you attempt to play any trick in the dark on me you'll find yourself running up against a charge of buckshot."

That Captain Grady was in dead earnest was very evident. He scowled viciously and walked a step forward.

Yet the boys were not daunted. They held their ground, and Paul even took a slight move forward on Lilly's back.

"Supposing we go to Dottery's ranch," said the youth. "If we tell our story, don't you imagine Dottery will turn in and help us bounce you out of here?"

"No, you'll get no help at Dottery's."

"He is our friend, and he will not stand up for your doings, even if you do own the ranch over the river."

"Well, why don't you go an' see Dottery," snapped Captain Grady.

"We will—and some other people, too," cried Chet.

"And in the meantime, if any of our stuff is lost, you'll pay for it," added Paul.

"I won't be responsible for anything. Now clear out an' leave me alone."

The two brothers looked at each other. Neither knew exactly what to do. Paul finally made a sign to withdraw, and they turned and rode down the river trail to the belt of cottonwoods.

Captain Grady remained at the gateway, his baneful eyes on them until the trees hid them from view. Then he shut the heavy gate and walked slowly toward the house, rubbing his grizzled chin reflectively.

"They won't come back to-night, I'm pretty certain of that," he said to himself. "An' by to-morrow I'll be better fixed to hold my own."

CHAPTER XV.

At Dottery's Ranch

"It's a shame, Paul!" ejaculated Chet, almost crying with rage. "We ought to have shot him where he stood."

"I suppose many a man would have done it," returned Paul, somewhat moodily. "But we must get him out."

"He won't go out without a fight."

"I think he will—when we get enough of a crowd against him. I more than half believe he is totally alone, although the furniture and other stuff look as if he had had somebody to help him."

"He's been hanging around watching his chance," went on Chet. "Who knows but what he has been spying on us ever since his last visit."

"Oh, I trust not, Chet!" Paul looked much disturbed. "He may have overheard some of our talk about Uncle Barnaby's mine, you know."

"That's so! What if he did! He is rascal enough to try to locate it and set up a claim, eh?"

"Undoubtedly. Come on; the best we can do is to ride to Dottery's and try to obtain help. It's a long journey by night, but there's nothing else to do."

"I won't mind it—if only Dottery will turn in and help us. He ought to, but he always was a peculiar fellow. He may not want to make an enemy of Captain Grady, seeing as the ranches adjoin. But come on, while daylight lasts."

And off the two brothers struck, along the river trail, and then down the road Allen and Noel Urner had pursued on their way to the far-away railroad station. They realized that in another hour darkness would be upon them.

The boys knew the way well, having traveled it a dozen times in search of stray cattle. They rode on, side by side, urging on the tired horses and discussing the situation in all its various phases.

Slowly the sun faded from view behind the distant mountains, casting long shadows over the foothills and the level stretches beyond. The night birds sang their parting song, and then came the almost utter silence of the night.

"When do you suppose we'll reach Dottery's?" questioned Chet, after several miles had been covered.

"If all goes well, we'll get there by one or two o'clock," returned his brother. "You must remember we have Demon Hollow to cross, and that's no fool of a job in the dark."

"Especially if the Demon is abroad," laughed Chet. He was only joking, and did not believe in the old trappers' stories about the ghost in hiding at the bottom of the rocky pass.

When darkness fell the hoofstrokes of the horses sounded out doubly loud on the semi-stony road. Yet, to the boys, even this was better than that intense stillness, which made one feel, as Chet expressed it, "a hundred miles from nowhere at all."

So tired were the horses that the boys had their hands full making them keep their gait. They would trot a few steps and then drop into a stolid walk.

"I don't blame them much," said Chet, sympathetically. "It's doing two days' work in one. But never mind, they shall have a good rest when it's all over."

By ten o'clock it was pitch dark. To be sure the stars were shining, but they gave forth but a feeble light. The boys had to hold their animals at a tight rein to keep them from stumbling into unexpected holes.

"It will be nearer three o'clock than two before we get there at this rate," grumbled Paul. "Just look ahead and see how dark and forbidding the Hollow looks."

"Not the most cheerful spot in the world truly," rejoined Chet, as he strained his eyes to pierce the heavy shadows. "Let us get past it as soon as we can."

"Afraid, Chet?"

"Oh, no, only I—I would rather be on the level trail beyond the pass."

Paul said no more, having no desire to hurt his younger brother's feelings. To tell the exact truth, he himself felt a bit "off." It was growing toward midnight.

Down and down led the road, between two rocky crags. Soon the last trace of light was left behind, and they had to let the horses pick their own way as best they might.

Suddenly Chet gave a start and a cry.

"O, Paul, what is that?"

"Where?"

"Over to the left."

Paul turned in his saddle. As he did so an object not over two feet in length and of a gray and white color, with some black, swept to one side of them.

"Can it be a pig?" gasped Chet.

"A pig? No, it's a badger, out on the forage. Don't you smell him?"

Chet recovered and unslung his gun. He tried to take aim in the gloom.

"Don't fire!" said Paul. "What is the use? It's only a waste of ammunition. The badger isn't hurting anything, and he's a good distance from the ranch. Let him go."

By the time Chet had listened to all this the badger had disappeared. The animal was not used to being aroused and was more frightened than any one.

They passed on. The very bottom of the Hollow was at hand. The horses proceeded slowly, realizing the peril of the place.

Once Rush went down into a hole nearly throwing Chet over his head. But the youth held on, and Rush arose all right, with nothing but a slight scrape on his left foreleg.

They peered with watchful eyes up and down the silent pass. Not a sign of any life was there. The water flowed on with a muffled murmur and the wind sighed through the deep opening, and that was all. In another five minutes the pass was left behind.

For some reason both boys drew a long breath of relief when the high ground beyond was reached. The strain was gone, and now, by contrast, the road looked as bright to them as if the sun was about to rise.

"Come to think of it, we may as well take it easy," remarked Paul. "It isn't likely that Dottery will care to make a move before daylight."

"Yes; but if we get there sooner, we'll have a chance to rest up a bit, and we need that, and so do the horses."

"I didn't think of that. Well, forward we go."

An hour passed and then another. Soon after Chet gave a joyous cry.

"There are Dottery's outbuildings! We'll soon be there now!"

"Right you are, Chet. I wonder——" Paul stopped short. "Oh, look over there!" he cried.

He pointed to a barn not a great distance back from the road.

The door of the structure was open and within flashed the light of a lantern.

"Dottery must be up, or else——" began Chet.

"Horse thieves!"

Both boys uttered the word simultaneously. Could it be possible that the thieves were raiding their nearest neighbor?

"Wait. Let us dismount and investigate," whispered Paul. "Don't do anything rash," this as Chet started to run toward the barn.

Thus cautioned, the younger boy paused. The horses were tied up behind some brush, and, guns in hand, the pair crept across the road and over a wire fence into the field.

Hardly had they advanced a dozen steps when three men came out of the barn, leading four horses. They made for an opening in the fence not a rod from where the boys flung themselves flat on the grass.

From the description they had received, the lads made up their minds that the men were Saul Mangle, Darry Nodley, and Jeff Jones.

CHAPTER XVI.

An Encounter in the Dark

Chet and Paul could hardly suppress their excitement as they saw the horse thieves move toward the opening in the fence. Chet drew up his gun and pointed it at the leader.

"Don't fire! Wait!" cautioned Paul. "There are three of them, remember."

"I wonder where Dottery is?" questioned the younger boy, with his hand still on the trigger.

"Asleep, most likely."

"We ought to arouse him. Run, Paul, while I keep watch."

"I will, but don't do anything rash during my absence," replied Paul Winthrop.

He sneaked along in the tall grass until the outbuildings were left a hundred feet and sped like a deer toward the ranch home, showing dimly in the grim shadows ahead.

Less than sixty seconds passed, and he was pounding vigorously on the front door of the heavy log building. Not content with using his fist he banged away with the toe of his cowhide boot.

"Who's thar?" came from within presently.

"Mr. Dottery!"

"That's me, stranger."

"Come out. It's Paul Winthrop. There are horse thieves at your barn."

"What!" roared Dottery. He was a heavy-built man, with a voice like a giant. "The same chaps ez robbed you?"

He unbarred the door and came out on a run, gun in hand and a long pistol in his belt. He was an old settler, and rarely took the trouble to undress when he went to rest for the night.

"Yes, the same, unless I am very much mistaken. My brother Chet is down there now on the watch."

"I'll fix 'em. Go back and call Jack, my man."

Paul hesitated and then did as directed. It took some time to arouse the cowboy, Jack Blowfen, but once aroused, the man quickly took in the situation, and arming himself, joined the boy in a rush after Dottery.

"The pesky rascals!" he muttered. "Yer brother told us about 'em when he stopped here on his way to the railroad station. It's a pity Ike Watson didn't plug every one of 'em when he had the chance. Next thing yer know they'll be runnin' off with a bunch o' cattle."

"Be careful when you shoot; my brother Chet is there," continued Paul, not wishing Chet to be mistaken for a horse thief in the dark.

"I know the lad, and I also know this Saul Mangle and his crowd," returned Jack Blowfen. "I owe Mangle one for the way he treated me in Deadwood one day."

He ran so swiftly that Paul had hard work to keep up with him. Dottery had already disappeared in the darkness of the night.

Bang! Bang! The shots came from behind the barn, while Paul was some distance away. It was Dottery firing at the thieves. Jack Blowfen was chasing them down by the wire fence.

"Paul! Paul! Hold on!"

It was Chet's voice. As he cried out the lad arose from the grass and caught his brother by the sleeve. Paul had passed so close that he had almost trodden on Chet.

"Come on, Chet."

"I'm coming. But hadn't we better look to our horses?"

"In a minute. Let us find out what that firing means."

Paul led the way in the direction of the barn. There, in the gloom, they saw two men struggling violently. They were Dottery and the negro, Jeff Jones. The other horse thieves and Jack Blowfen were nowhere in sight.

Two horses were running about wildly, alarmed by the shots in the dark. Both were bridled but had no saddles.

"Catch the hosses!" yelled Dottery, as he made out the forms of the boys. "Don't let 'em get out of that break in the fence!"

"Have you that man?" cried Paul.

"I will have in a second."

The brothers ran for the animals as directed. It was no light work to secure them. When it was accomplished they ran the horses into the barn and closed the doors. As they came out panting from their exertions, they heard a gunshot from the brush on the opposite side of the road, and then the voice of Jack Blowfen calling out:

"Let them hosses go, you rascals! Take that, Saul Mangle, fer the trick yer played me in Deadwood!"

Three Young Ranchmen

Or, Daring Adventures in the Great West

By Captain Ralph Bonehill

Author of "A Sailor Boy with Dewey," "For the Liberty of Texas," "The Young Bandmaster," etc.

Illustrated

New York and BostonH. M. Caldwell CompanyPublishers

Copyright, 1901

By The Saalfield Publishing Company

HORSE AND YOUTH WENT PLUNGING HEADLONG.

PREFACE

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS