CHAPTER XXII

“You know ’em?” Mike asked, pointing with his thumb to the two boys.

“Know ’em? Listen, brother!” Peterson paused impressively. “These are the sons of old man Manley who owns the X Bar X. Does it penetrate now?”

“It sure does! Well I’m locoed! It’s their cattle we’re—”

Peterson seized the man by the shoulder and spun him around.

“Quiet, you idiot!” he whispered angrily. “If they don’t know about it, what’s the use of telling them?”

“They know, all right,” Mob Jamisson growled. He knelt down, and, seizing Teddy’s arm, pulled him to a sitting posture. “Listen, you! How long you been hidin’ out there?”

Teddy stared straight at the man.

“It’s none of your business,” he said deliberately.

“Isn’t, hey? Talk up, now, or—” He clutched the boy by the throat and shook him savagely. “You’ll answer me, an’ sudden, too!”

Roy, his head spinning from the blow he had received, heard Teddy gasp in agony. He struggled to one elbow.

“Let him alone, you coward!” he shouted, tears of rage coming to his eyes. “Let him up—”

Bound as he was, he crawled nearer. Oblivious of consequences, realizing only that his brother was in pain, he kicked out with both feet, as hard as he could. They caught Jamisson in the small of his back, bowling him over, and causing him to release his hold on Teddy’s throat.

“Thanks, Roy,” the boy gasped. “Guess this is the finish for both of us. So long—”

Jamisson, inarticulate in his anger, leaped to his feet and drew his gun.

“Try an’ stop this one!” he yelled. “I’ll blow you so far—”

Without a word Peterson stooped, picked up a stick, and brought it down solidly on Jamisson’s gun arm. The weapon fell to the ground.

“When I say a thing, I mean it,” he said calmly. “There’ll be no gun-play. You got only what you deserved. What good would choking him do? Now you pipe down. Get over on the other side of the fire. I’m not going to have this deal spoiled by you, just because you can’t keep your temper. Jerry, watch him. If he starts anything let him have it.” He stopped, and Jamisson, like a beaten dog, walked slowly away. “That’s it. Now you pay attention to me, you two boys.”

He motioned to the others to move to one side, so that he might have a clear view of the captives.

“You know me,” he continued. “And now you know something else, and that is that we’re after some cattle of your father’s. I suppose you heard our plans. No use trying to pretend any longer. I aim to get the cattle, and that forfeit, too, when he can’t deliver. Figure out why I’m telling you this?”

Teddy shook his head. He could not trust himself to reply.

“It’s because you’ll never make use of the information until it’s too late. Oh, don’t get scared—I don’t mean any killing. We’re not all fools.” He glanced toward Jamisson. “But we’ll keep you tied up here until the whole thing is finished. Ginger, you’ll have to stay and guard ’em. Reckon you won’t mind that. Relieves you of a lot of work.” Ginger grinned, and nodded. “After two or three days we’ll turn you loose.”

“You going to keep ’em here?” Bill Lefton asked in surprise.

“Well, where else? What’s the matter with this place?”

“It’s too near their friends, that’s what’s the matter with it! We’ll have to shift ’em. There’s a spot four miles from here in the timber where they won’t be found for ten years. I say we drag ’em over.”

Peterson paused, and thought.

“You’re right,” he said finally. “That means we’ll have to start now. Come on, break camp. Bill, bring up the broncs. Where are your ponies?” He looked intently at Roy.

The boy thought swiftly. Would it be better to refuse to tell him? If Flash and Star wandered into camp riderless, Mr. Manley would know something was up and send out a searching party. But if they did get a chance to escape, they would be helpless without horses. Best to have the ponies brought along.

“Near a bush, over that way,” Roy replied.

Peterson nodded. “Round ’em up, Jerry, and bring ’em in. Ginger, don’t forget what I told you. You’re responsible for these boys.”

His orders were obeyed promptly and without question, except by Jamisson, who declared he would not “play no val-let for no fool of an Easterner.” But he was wise enough to confine his objections to talk.

Mounted once more on Flash and Star, with their hands bound firmly behind them, Teddy and Roy rode into the darkness, guarded by horsemen riding on each side of them and in the rear. Their way led through underbrush and into a forest, so deep that the light of the moon scarcely penetrated. For about half an hour they rode, then Bill Lefton, who was leading, called a halt.

“This is it. Couldn’t find a better place. O.K.?”

The boys saw that they had come to a small clearing in the bottom of a gully. Roy thought bitterly that Lefton’s words were true—that no one would find them here in ten years.

“This’ll do,” Peterson said, with satisfaction. “Help ’em off, someone. I’ll mosey around and find a good place to tie ’em.”

He selected a tree with a thick trunk, and the boys were forced to sit, one on either side of it, while ropes were bound around them, encircling the tree. The tree was thick enough to prevent either from reaching back and untying the other.

“There, that’s over,” Peterson muttered, and straightened. “About time we started. Ginger, remember what I told you!”

“We’re goin’ now—without no sleep?” Jamisson asked, his face expressing disgust.

“We are. You’ll get plenty of sleep later. Look, Ginger—here’s water and food. Feed ’em when they’re hungry and give ’em water when they need it. And stay right here all the time! Get me? Don’t move till you hear from us, which will probably be to-morrow some time. Get me?”

“Sure thing. An’ they won’t get away. I got somethin’ here that’s a great little pacifier.” He patted his gun significantly. “So long. Good luck.”

Peterson nodded in answer, and remounted.

“Let’s go, boys. We’ve got plenty to do. Ginger, watch your step. See you later.”

Teddy and Roy heard the horses crash their way through the brush. One by one the riders filed into the woods. For many minutes the boys could hear the sounds of their departure. Then, silence.