CHAPTER XXI

Teddy and Roy sank back into the shadows. Peterson! And the others were Mob Jamisson and the Lefton boys! There were two strangers with them.

“Well, I wanted to express my opinion of this bird,” Peterson growled. “I’m getting the raw end of this deal, and I take the most chances, too. Suppose that Manley bunch finds out I’m in with you? I’d walk right into their hands and it ’ud mean a nice long jail sentence for me. The rest of you can keep out of sight, but I’ve got to play close to the ground.”

“All right, all right! We know all that. Let’s have the plan now!”

“Pipe down and I’ll tell you. Here’s the dope.” He lowered his voice, and the boys crept closer, listening eagerly. Chance had given them this opportunity to foil the rustlers, and they were going to make the most of it. Roy, seizing his brother’s arm in a firm grip, leaned forward.

“This herd we want is about three miles from here, in a little valley,” Peterson went on. “It’s the only herd they left out of the round-up, for which we’re duly grateful.” And he chuckled meaningly. “We’ve got to work fast, because old man Manley will start for that herd first thing in the morning. Of course it won’t be where he expects to find it, but it won’t take him long to locate it, unless we follow the plan I’ve outlined.”

“Well, tell us about it. Mike an’ Ginger haven’t heard it yet.” Jerry Lefton nodded toward the two strangers.

“Here it is. From this valley to the Jarmey place is only a short distance. I found that out, and I’m not even a Westerner. We shoot those cattle through there soon as it gets daylight.”

“That means no sleep to-night,” the man called Ginger growled.

“Well, what of it? You’re not in this business for your health, you know. Now listen. We drive the cows to the Jarmey place. And right here I want to make sure of one thing. Jerry, how about those cars?”

“They’re O.K. Bill and I sent ’em down yesterday. We found a whole train of empties on the siding above Eagles, and simply rode ’em down grade to Jarmey’s. Nothin’ to it. Give you credit for thinkin’ of that idea, Pete.”

“How many cars?”

“Thirty-three. Enough?”

“Plenty. We can get ’em all in. Well, we load ’em as soon as we get there. From then on it’s a cinch. We simply run the cars as far as they’ll go—to the end of the line, that’ll be, and then unload ’em, eight miles from Jarmey’s.”

“There’s that eight-mile business!” Roy whispered. “Down grade from Jarmey’s, too! Snakes, we—”

Teddy cautioned him to silence by nudging him. Peterson was talking again.

“We’ll hide ’em there for a while, then drive ’em further on. We can alter the brands anytime. That Manley gang won’t have a chance of catching us, even when they do find out their cows have left them without saying when they’d be back. You see, they’d have to go all the way around Shock Mountain. We go straight through, following the railroad. Get it?”

“Sure do! That’s a sweet little scheme.” Bill Lefton waxed enthusiastic. “Haven’t got much to say against that, hey, Mob?”

“Sounds all right,” Mob answered grudgingly. “Wait till we see what happens. I don’t never count my chickens before they’re hatched.”

“You’ll get no hen to set by that plan,” Peterson laughed, pleased at Lefton’s compliment.

“Well, I guess that’s all. Now we might as well try to get an hour’s sleep. No more—we can’t afford to be late. Throw a few sticks on that fire, will you, Bill?”

“Sure thing.”

Bill arose suddenly, and plunged into the brush.

“Teddy! Lie low! We’re—”

“Mob! Pete! Come here, quick! Hi, Jerry! Here’s—”

Teddy drew back his fist and caught Bill Lefton full on the jaw. The boy turned to follow Roy, tripped over a vine, fought for his balance, and fell prone.

The next moment he felt the wind go out of him, and his head hit the ground with a thud.

“I’ve got this one! Chase the other! Come into the light, you!”

There was no need to go after Roy. When he saw his brother had fallen, he turned and lashed out furiously with his fists. But the darkness favored the rustlers, rather than Roy, for the boy could not see the faces before him. A blow on the body was of no avail, due to the heavy clothing worn by the cattle thieves.

“Sock him! Don’t shoot, you’ll hit one of us!”

Mob Jamisson and Jerry Lefton jumped Roy at the same instant. His senses reeled as the butt of a gun struck him a blow on the forehead, knocking off his hat. He felt his arms pinned roughly to his sides. The brief and uneven fight was over.

“Drag ’em in, an’ we’ll have a look at ’em,” someone said grimly. “Spies, hey? Know what we do with spies? We—well, for the love of sweet William! It’s the Manley boys!”

“What? Let’s see. By jinks, you’re right!” Bill Lefton tilted Roy’s head back by pressing up on his chin. “Roy Manley! And his brother Teddy! Well, well, well! Think of that! Lost your knife again, my lad?”

Roy answered nothing. He stared intently into the eyes of the man before him.

“Ain’t this luck!” Mob exulted. “Now maybe I can finish what I started a few days ago. I won’t miss this time, either.” He raised a gun menacingly.

“None of that, you fool! They may not be alone! Put that down!” Peterson seized the man’s arm angrily. “Want the whole country to know we’re here?”

Jamisson growled something, but lowered the weapon.

“Hand me a rope, Bill,” Peterson commanded. “We’ll truss ’em up for a while. We can decide later what to do with ’em.”

“I know what I’d do,” Jamisson said shortly. “An’ I will yet, if I can.”

The boys were bound and then thrown roughly to the ground. They lay there, dazed, with Peterson standing over them.

“Roy and Teddy Manley,” he said softly. “And they walked right into our hands! Well, boys, we’ll see what sort of entertainment we can furnish.”