The Boy Ranchers on the Trail | Page 7

of
Mr. Merkel and the boy ranchers.
"Well, this is a stethoscope all right," went on Nort, as Bud turned
toward his pony, with the evident intention of mounting.
"And I'd give a lot to know what it's doing here, and who dropped it,"
spoke Bud. "Let's look around a little more. I'm not at all satisfied with
this. I sure saw, some one here, and this proves it," and he stuffed the
doctor's instrument into his pocket.
"It doesn't prove that the man you saw--or thought you just saw--
sneaking around here dropped it," spoke Nort. "We've been away for a
week, and it may have been dropped any day within that time."
"Yes," agreed Bud. "But who was monkeying around here as we rode
back to camp? That's what I want to know!"
However, search as the boy ranchers did, they found no midnight
visitor. All was quiet at their camp, save for the distant howl of a
coyote, and the splash of the water into the reservoir. All the stock had

been driven away from Happy Valley to the big round-up at Diamond
X, but soon the fertile glade would again be dotted with hungry cattle.
"Well, I reckon we'll have to give up," said Bud, when a thorough
search had been made, and no one discovered.
"The tunnel door doesn't show any signs of an attempt having been
made to bust it; does it?" asked Dick.
"Not as far as I can see, in this light," Bud replied. "We'll take a stroll
up here in the morning," he went on as he thrust the stethoscope into
his pocket. "Now for a little grub, and then to hit the hay. Oh, boy! But
I to tired!"
So were the others, and after rummaging among their camp stores, and
eating some crackers and canned peaches, the boys, having picketed
their horses, turned in, rolled up in their blankets, and were asleep
almost as soon as their heads were on the pillows, which were, as a
matter of fact, stuffed with hay.
An examination, next morning, disclosed nothing more in the
neighborhood of the tunnel entrance than their own and, their ponies'
feet marks, until Bud, with an exclamation, pointed to several cigarette
stubs on the ground, and a number of half- burned matches.
"Some one was here last night--or yesterday!" he declared. "And they
stood in this one spot for some time--either resting or spying."
"What would they be spying on!" asked Dick.
"Search me!" frankly admitted Bud. "But since we had that water fight
I'm suspicious of everything. Those cigarette stubs are fresh, and were
dropped last night, or yesterday. None of us use 'em, and though some
of our cow punchers do they haven't been here lately enough to have
left this fresh evidence. The stubs are new ones."
"Well, maybe there was some one here last night," said Dick.

"I'm positive of it!" declared Bud. "Let's take another look at the big
door lock."
Even a close inspection, however, failed to disclose any signs of the
great portal, or its heavy padlock having been tampered with. Nor were
there any marks tending to show where an effort had been made to
force boards off the frame in which the door was set.
"Well, we'll just have to wait," said Bud, as he turned to go back down
to the tents. "Hello," he suddenly added, as he gazed off up the valley.
"Here comes somebody, riding like all possessed, too!"
The boy ranchers watched the approach of the solitary horseman, and,
as he drew nearer Bud exclaimed:
"It's Buck Tooth!"
It was, in fact, that same Zuni Indian, who had been engaged as a sort
of camp cook and ranch hand by Bud's father, later being transferred to
Bud's service. Buck Tooth was devoted to the boy ranchers.
"What's matter, Buck! What for you ride so pronto fashion!" asked Bud
as the Indian, a superb horseman, drew rein close to the boy ranchers.
"You race, maybe, Buck Tooth!"
"Yep--race tell you bad news!" half--grunted the Zuni.
"Bad news!" faltered Bud. "Is it my mother--dad---"
"Them all well," said Buck Tooth. "But got bad news all same. You see
anybody out here?" and he slipped from his saddle to rest his almost
winded steed.
CHAPTER IV
THE SCRATCHED SAFE
Eagerly the boy ranchers gathered about Buck Tooth. The Indian, as if

rather ashamed of the hurry and emotion that had possessed him, grew
quieter as he threw the reins down over his pony's head, as an
intimation to the animal not to stray. Then the Zuni turned toward Bud
and his cousins.
"This is the second time you gave me bad news, Buck," remarked the
western lad. "Remember?"
"How?" asked the Indian sharply.
"I say this is the second time