The Rover Boys at Big Horn Ranch: or, The Cowboys' Double Round-Up

CHAPTER XX
AT BIG HORN RANCH

The way lay along a flat stretch of prairie bordering the river, and then up into the hills. The brushwood in the immediate neighborhood was scanty, but in the distance they could see some scrub timber backed up by a stretch of forest. Far to the westward they could see the distant mountains over which the sun was now setting.

“Come on, you fellows, come on! Don’t lag behind!” shouted Spouter, and set off at a brisk pace along the well-defined trail leading to the ranch.

Joe Jackson, having seen that all of them could ride well, was quite willing to let them set their own pace.

“Only look and see where you’re going!” he shouted. “And remember at the split in the trail to take the one on the right.” And then he allowed them to plunge on ahead, but kept his eyes on everything they were doing.

Two miles from the station the boys found they had quite a climb, and here they were forced to slow down. A little later they reached the top of the first hill.

“There off to the eastward you can see a bit of our range,” said the ranch foreman, pointing with his finger. “And those cattle yonder are our cattle.”

By the time they reached the foot of the first hill the sun was setting beyond the mountains in the west and the long shadows were creeping across the trail and over the forest beyond.

“This must be some dark trail at night,” remarked Jack.

“Dark as a tunnel,” answered Joe Jackson. “You have to carry a lantern or a flashlight when you try to ride it after dark.”

“Ever get held up?” questioned Fred curiously.

“Nary a hold-up, lad,” answered the foreman, with a grin. “We leave all that to the movie men.”

“Did you ever have a moving picture company out here?” asked Gif.

“Yes, we had one crowd out here last year. They stayed around about six weeks taking some sort of a drama, as they called it. It was funny,” added the foreman, with a chuckle. “The leading lady was scared to death of horses, and yet she had to do a little riding. The man who was having the pictures taken wanted her to smile while she was cantering along. But that smile, believe me, wasn’t anything to brag about. They ought to have brought along some leading lady who liked horses and knew all about ’em.”

“Did they use any of your outfit?”

“Oh, they used a few of our cowboys in a round-up. They wanted me to go into some of the pictures, but I told ’em there was nothing doing – that I was here to manage the ranch and not make moving pictures.”

“How many men on the place?” asked Randy.

“We have six at present. But the boss is thinking of getting some more and increasing the herd.”

“Did dad get his Chinese cook?” questioned Spouter.

“Yes. He’s got a Chink named Hop Lung; a pretty good sort of a chap, too.”

They crossed two more hills and then passed through a patch of tall timber. Here there was a rough wagon road, and the foreman explained that it was used for hauling firewood to the ranch house and the bunkhouse.

It was growing dark when the party on horseback approached the ranch. Already lights were streaming from the windows and the automobile stood in front of the wide veranda which ran around two sides of the building.

“They got here ahead of us,” announced Jack.

“I thought they would,” answered the foreman. “The river road is in pretty good shape just now, so I suppose the boss made fast time in driving over.”

“The trail to the ranch was rougher than I expected,” put in Andy. “If you tried to run a horse over it he would most likely break a leg and maybe you would break your neck.”

“I’ve known one of our boys to go over to the station inside of twenty minutes,” returned the foreman. “But he only did it to catch a train and on a bet. I’d rather take my time and save my horseflesh.”

When they reached the ranch Mrs. Powell came out on the veranda to greet her son and his chums. She was a round-faced, motherly woman, and she immediately did all she could to make the young folks feel at home.

“You must be thoroughly tired out from your long trip,” said she. “So we will have supper right away, and then if any of you want to go to bed you can do so.”

“I can’t say that I’m tired,” answered Jack. “But I suppose the girls are and maybe Aunt Grace is, too.”

The travelers were shown to some rooms and then told where they could wash up if they so desired.

“Supper will be ready in ten minutes,” announced Mrs. Powell. “So don’t take too much time in primping up,” she added, with a smile to the girls. “Remember, you are on a ranch now and you can dress exactly as you please.”

“I’m going to slip on a plain gingham right now,” declared Martha.

Their hand baggage had been brought along on the running-board of the touring car, and a little later one of the cowboys came in with their trunks, which had been brought over from the station in a wagon. In the meanwhile the crowd sat down to a somewhat elaborate supper which Hop Lung had prepared under Mrs. Powell’s supervision.

“He’s a very good cook,” the lady of the ranch confided to Mrs. Rover. “But he occasionally tries to turn out some very funny concoctions, so that I find it advisable to keep my eyes on him.”

“The cowboys are quite excited over the idea of having visitors here all summer,” said Songbird Powell during the course of the meal. “And two or three of them are especially excited over the fact that there are going to be so many girls and ladies. You see, the brothers who used to own these combined ranches weren’t married, and all they had around the houses were an Indian woman and a real old Dutch woman who was almost entirely deaf.

“Joe Jackson told me that one of the cowboys, a fellow named Hank Minno, was very bashful and had almost been on the point of giving up his job when he heard so many skirts were coming here.”

“Oh, dear, I think I’d like to make the acquaintance of Mr. Hank,” said Martha mischievously.

“Perhaps if he saw you coming he’d run away,” returned Mary.

“Oh, I think he’ll get over his bashfulness, and so will some of the others,” answered Songbird Powell. “And let me tell you one thing – when I first got here I thought the men were a pretty rough crowd, but the more I get to know them, the more I’m satisfied they’re all right at heart.”

“Your foreman certainly seems to be a fine fellow,” said Jack. “We got well acquainted with him riding over.”

“He was well recommended by the former owners of the ranch, Jack. And so far I’ve had no occasion to find any fault with him. He seems thoroughly trustworthy.”

The Powells had given their visitors their choice of what to do concerning rooms. They could either crowd themselves a little and remain in the one ranch house, or otherwise the boys could take rooms in the other house, which was located about two hundred yards away.

“If we went over to the other place we could have things all our own way,” whispered Andy to his brother and Fred. “We could come and go to suit ourselves.”

“I think you boys had better stay in this house with us,” said Mrs. Rover. “Then we can keep an eye on you.”

“But there is no sense in all of us being crowded,” returned Sam Rover. “And the boys are certainly old enough to take care of themselves. I think we had better let this matter rest until to-morrow, and then we can see how we can arrange it.”

“If the boys go over to the other ranch house I’ll have Joe Jackson stay there with them,” said Songbird. “He’ll know how to make them line up if anything goes wrong.”

Several days later it was arranged for all the boys to take their belongings and settle down in the other ranch house so far as rooming was concerned. They were to have their meals in the main house. The foreman of the ranch went with them, taking a room in a corner where he could watch what was going on if it became necessary to do so. The boys took three connecting rooms, the twins occupying one, Jack and Fred another, and Spouter and Gif the third.

On the second day at the ranch the boys began to feel quite at home. Accompanied by the men, they had visited many points of interest and had become acquainted with all the cowboys, and also with Hop Lung, the cook.

“Wellee nice boys,” remarked the cook, after they had been chatting with him and gone their way. “Wellee nice boys. Me cookee heap good dinner for ’em.” And then he dived into his kitchen to start his preparations for the next meal.

The boys found all the cowboys friendly. One of them could do some marvelous stunts with a lasso, and, urged by the foreman, gave an exhibition which interested the lads exceedingly.

“Why, that fellow is as good as anybody on the vaudeville stage,” remarked Fred. “I never dreamed so much could be done with a rope. Just see how he whirled it around his body and between his legs and over his head!”

“Yes, and how he lassoed those three running horses all in a bunch,” added Fred. “That’s what got me.”

“He ought to be in a Wild West Show,” put in Jack.

“I’ll have the boys give you an exhibition of shooting this evening,” said the foreman, and he was as good as his word.

Some of the cowboys proved to be remarkable shots both with the rifle and the pistol. But here the boys, especially Fred and Jack, felt at home, and they, too, showed what they could do.

“Rattlesnakes and tarantulas!” exclaimed one of the cowboys, Hank Minno, the fellow who was supposed to be so bashful. “You kids sure kin shoot some. I s’pose you learned it at that there military school you’ve been goin’ to.”

“Yes,” answered Fred. “Although we sometimes do a little practicing when we’re at home. Down in the long cellar of our house.”

“Well, it’s a good thing to know how to shoot, lad. Sometimes it comes in mighty handy like,” answered Hank Minno.

CHAPTER XXI
HOP LUNG AND THE FISH

By the end of the first week all of the boys felt thoroughly at home on Big Horn Ranch. They had visited many points of interest, including the cowboys’ bunkhouse and also the big range to the eastward, and they had likewise tramped over a number of the hills and tried their hand at fishing in the river.

“It certainly is one dandy place,” remarked Jack to the others one day when they were coming up to the house from the river, each with a fair-sized string of fish to his credit.

“We certainly never had such fishing as this in the East,” answered Gif, as he looked at his string admiringly. “Just look at the size of ’em, will you?”

“I wonder what Hop Lung will say when he sees them,” remarked Fred.

“I’ve got a scheme!” cried Andy. “Let’s have a little fun,” and thereupon he unfolded to the others what he had in mind to do. They readily agreed to his suggestion, and all came up to the ranch house by a roundabout way. Then Spouter called out loudly:

“Hop Lung! Hop Lung! Come out here a minute!”

A moment later the Chinese cook appeared, a long soup ladle in on one hand and a carving knife in the other.

“You callee me?” he queried.

“Yes,” answered Spouter. “I want you to come around to the front of the house and tell me what you know about this,” and he motioned to the cook to follow him around to the big veranda.

No sooner had their chum and the cook disappeared than the others ran into the kitchen. Here at one side was a home-made kitchen cabinet, the top within a foot of the ceiling.

“See if you can find the big bread-board,” said Randy. “I guess that will answer our purpose.”

“And here is the fishing line,” added his twin. “We can run it from the ceiling over to the window and then outside.”

The line was run to the window as mentioned, then fastened to the ceiling back of the cabinet, and then to the back end of the board, which was placed flat on the top of the cabinet. On the board the boys placed the fish, laying them out in a row from front to back. One fish was placed on the pulled-out shelf of the lower part of the cabinet.

“Now then, clear out before Hop Lung catches us,” said Andy. And the lads lost no time in disappearing.

In the meanwhile Spouter had taken the Chinese cook to the front of the ranch house and then to an out-of-the-way corner where there was a large spider’s web.

“Hello, he’s gone now!” exclaimed Spouter, in a tone of disappointment. “Do you see him anywhere, Hop Lung?”

“Hop Lung see what?” demanded the puzzled cook.

“Why, that great big blue and gold spider with white feet!”

“Blue an’ gol’ spide?” queried Hop Lung. “See black spide.”

“Oh, no, I don’t mean the black spider. I mean that great big blue and gold spider about that long,” and Spouter showed up his two forefingers six inches apart.

“Noee see spide so long dat,” answered the Chinese cook, shaking his head doubtfully. “Sploutel maybe see catpillal.”

“No, it wasn’t a caterpillar. It was a spider. Although I think it might have had wings.”

“Um, wings! Spide he all the samee buttelfly,” announced Hop Lung. “No see him,” and he got down on his hands and knees to peer up into the corner to make certain.

Spouter continued to engage his attention until he heard the boys coming around the corner of the house. Then he turned to them as if in surprise.

“Hello! I thought you fellows were off fishing,” he remarked.

“So we were,” answered Gif calmly.

“I got a nice little fish, Hop Lung. I laid him in the kitchen for you,” remarked Andy.

“You git only one flish?” queried the cook in surprise.

“Well, maybe you can catch more,” put in Randy.

“Hop Lung no go flishee. Hop Lung cookee,” was the calm reply. And then the cook walked back to the rear of the ranch house.

Watching their chance, the boys stole back, some to the window where was located the string which had been attached to the board on the top of the cabinet, and others to another window from which they might see what would take place. Hop Lung had gone inside and picked up the fish left on the cabinet shelf. He looked it over, wiped off the shelf carefully, and then took up the fish and disappeared into the pantry with it.

“Now then, Andy!” whispered his twin. And thereupon Andy gave the string in his hand two or three little jerks. From the board on the top of the cabinet a fish fell down to the shelf below.

It had hardly fallen in place when Hop Lung came from the pantry. He looked to see how matters were going on the stove, and then turned again to the cabinet.

A queer look came over his face when he saw the fish lying in the same place that the first had occupied. He looked toward the door to find no one there.

“Him funny,” he murmured in his Pidgin-English. “Him vellee funny.” Then he took up the second fish and walked into the pantry with it.

No sooner had he done this than Andy, doing his best to control his laughter, jiggled the string again. This time, as luck would have it, two fish came down, to light side by side on the cabinet shelf.

Again Hop Lung entered the kitchen and again he looked at what was cooking on the stove. He stirred the mass in one of the pots carefully, and then came back to his cabinet to get some seasoning.

When he saw the two fish lying there his eyes nearly started out of his head. He jabbered something in his native tongue and then looked around wildly, first to one side of the kitchen and then the other. Then he looked toward the door leading to the dining room and then he came to the door leading to the yard.

“Duck!” was all Andy said, and he and the others lost no time in getting out of sight.

Hop Lung looked carefully around the yard and then came slowly back into the kitchen. He walked again to the stove to see that nothing was burning, and finally came back to the cabinet and picked up the two fish gingerly. Meanwhile, the boys tiptoed their way back to their original positions at the windows.

“He’ll begin to think the cabinet is haunted,” whispered Jack.

“Either that, or else he’ll think he’s bewitched,” answered Gif.

And both were about right, for the poor Chinaman looked all around the cabinet and even behind and under it, and then he looked under the table and the chairs. Finally, still bewildered, he walked into the pantry with the fish, which he carried before him at arm’s length, as if afraid it might bite him.

“Better give him a shower now, Andy,” whispered his brother, and thereupon Andy gave the string a strong pull which sent all the remaining fish tumbling down on the cabinet and the floor. The noise reached Hop Lung in the pantry, and he came forth on a run.

When he saw the quantity of fish that had appeared so miraculously he was nearly dumbfounded. With eyes and mouth wide open and hands up-raised he uttered a sudden yell of fright and dove through the doorway leading to the dining room and the living room beyond.

In the living room Mrs. Rover and Mrs. Powell were sitting doing some sewing. The sudden appearance of the Chinaman caused them to look up in astonishment.

“What is the matter, Hop Lung?” demanded Mrs. Powell, as she sprang to her feet.

“Flishee! Flishee!” screamed the cook. “Kitchen full flishee! Hop Lung no knowee where flishee come! One flishee – two flishee – two flishee more – whole blame kitchen flishee!” spluttered the cook, his eyes rolling from one side to the other.

“Gracious me! is the man crazy?” asked Mrs. Rover, rising. “What does he mean by ‘flishee?’”

“Flishee! Flishee!” repeated Hop Lung. “No flishee – all flishee!”

“I can’t imagine what he’s driving at,” remarked Mrs. Powell. “Where is the trouble, Hop Lung? In the kitchen?”

“Les, Miz Plowell. Kitchen all flishee!”

Without ado the lady of the ranch marched into the kitchen, followed by Mrs. Rover. All the ladies could see were the freshly-caught fish resting on the cabinet shelf and the floor.

“I don’t see anything the matter here except that some of your fish are on the floor,” remarked Mrs. Powell calmly. “You had better pick them up and wash them off.”

“Did the boys catch those fish?” asked Mrs. Rover. “They said they were going fishing a couple of hours ago.”

“Boys clatchee one flishee,” announced Hop Lung. Then a sudden idea entered his head, and he made a quick leap to the yard door. He was just in time to see the boys trying to retreat, all laughing merrily.

“You foolee Hop Lung! You foolee Hop Lung!” he shrieked wildly, and of a sudden came back into the kitchen, scooped up several of the fish, and ran outside again. Wildly he threw one fish after another at the lads.

“Hop Lung, stop that!” commanded Mrs. Powell sternly. “Those fish are too good to throw away!”

“Bloys fool Hop Lung,” was the reply. “One flishee – two flishee – four flishee – all whole lot flishee,” he continued, trying his best to explain. And then by pantomime he showed how he had found the first of the fish and placed them in the pantry.

“It’s nothing more than some of their tricks, Hop Lung,” said Mrs. Powell. “They had no right to play such tricks, and I’ll call them to account for it. But you had better pick up the fish which you threw outside. They’re too good to be thrown away.”

“Hop Lung flix bloys, play flishee tlick,” answered the Celestial. And then a little later he set about preparing supper.

The boys did not think it wise to return to the house just then, and so wandered off to the stable where the ranch horses were kept.

“It was certainly a rich joke,” remarked Fred, with a chuckle.

“I’ll bet Hop Lung will have it in for us for that,” returned Randy.

And Hop Lung did have it in for them, as they were to learn in the near future.

CHAPTER XXII
A HORSE AND A SNAKE

During the days which followed at Big Horn Ranch the Rover boys and their chums asked Joe Jackson if he knew Bud Haddon and the other men who had been with him.

“Yes, I know Haddon,” answered the foreman of the ranch. “He used to work for Bimbel on a ranch on the other side of the river; but I think he left there several months ago.”

“Well, if he did, I rather think he’s going back,” answered Jack. “Can you tell us anything about him?”

“Oh, I imagine he’s as good as the average fellow around Bimbel’s place,” answered Joe Jackson. “You see, none of our crowd have much to do with that outfit. Bimbel is a hard fellow to get along with, and some of the men working for his outfit have rather shady characters.” The foreman looked at the boys curiously. “How do you happen to know the fellow?”

The lads had come to like the foreman very much and felt that they could trust him thoroughly, so they told their story in detail, to which Jackson listened with interest.

“Looks to me as if Haddon was trying to blackmail that kid Bangs,” was his comment. “That is unless there was something in the talk about that barn being burned with the horses. It’s just possible that fellow Bangs had something to do with it and Haddon was making him pay for keeping his mouth shut.”

“Do you know anybody by the name of John Calder whose barn burned down?”

“No. That couldn’t have been anywhere around here or I certainly would have heard about it. But there’s one thing I do know,” added the foreman suddenly. “There’s a man named Jarley Bangs who owns a ranch on the other side of the river – a small place next to the one run by Bimbel.”

“Jarley Bangs!” exclaimed Fred. “Do you suppose it could be Brassy Bangs’ father?”

“I don’t think so,” answered Gif. “I believe Bangs’ folks live in Wyoming.”

“But this Bangs may be some relative of his,” put in Spouter.

The matter was talked over a while longer, but the boys could learn little further from the foreman.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said Joe Jackson at last. “I’ll put it up to some of the cowboys. They may know more about Bimbel and his outfit and about Jarley Bangs than I do. Bangs has a reputation for being a very queer and miserly man, but that’s about all I can say of him.”

The boys, and even the girls, spent quite a little of their time in the saddle. Both Mary and Martha had learned to ride while at home, using the bridle path in Central Park, so they felt at home when galloping over the plains.

“This outing is going to do Mary a world of good,” confided Mrs. Rover to Mrs. Powell. “She has always been so timid.”

The river in which the boys went fishing and also bathing was a broad, shallow stream which could be forded in many places with ease. So far, however, the lads had remained on their side of the watercourse. But one day Jack proposed that they go off on horseback and do a little exploring on the other side.

“We might ride past the Bimbel place, and also the one Jarley Bangs owns,” said he. “Who knows but what we may catch sight of Bud Haddon and his crowd.”

“We don’t want to get into any trouble with those fellows,” put in Fred quickly.

“Oh, they can’t touch us!” exclaimed Andy. “They don’t even know us. And we’ve as much right to use the trails around here as anybody – the land isn’t fenced in.”

“Yes, but you know what Jackson said,” went on Fred. “He said the Bimbel outfit wasn’t a very nice one and that Bangs was very miserly and peculiar. That sounds as if both places were good ones to steer clear of.”

“Oh, come on! Let’s go anyhow,” put in Spouter. “I’m anxious to know what sort of neighbors we have. They can’t find any fault with us for coming over when they find out that my father owns this ranch.”

The boys talked this matter over several times, and the next day obtained permission to take the horses and go off for a day’s outing along the river. They were to take their lunch with them, and did not expect to come back until evening.

“I wish we could go along,” sighed Martha.

“We’ll take you along next time, Martha,” answered her brother. “This time I’m afraid the ride will be a little too long for you.”

“Never mind, Martha and I will take a little ride of our own,” declared Mary. “We can go up to the edge of the woods and pick some wild flowers.”

“Let’s do it!” answered her cousin quickly. “One of the cowboys tells me there are all sorts of wild flowers up there near one of the springs.”

Hop Lung was told to prepare a lunch which the boys might take along with them, and set to work immediately. As he got the things ready the Celestial had a faraway look in his eyes and once or twice he stuck out his tongue suggestively.

“One flishee – two flishee – lot flishee,” he murmured to himself. “Hop Lung fixee boys,” and he smiled in his own peculiar way.

The day dawned bright and clear, and immediately after breakfast the boys leaped into the saddle and with good-natured shouts swung the sombreros they were wearing, and started off on their ride. Each had equipped himself with a pistol, although they expected to do no shooting, and several carried small saddlebags containing their food and drink, the latter placed in a couple of thermos bottles. They also carried feed for the horses.

“Whoop-la!” shouted Andy gaily. “Come on, fellows! let’s put distance between ourselves and the ranch.”

“Better take it a little easy at the start, Andy,” remonstrated Gif. “Remember we expect to cover quite a few miles, and we don’t want to wear out the horses at the start.”

“We’ll let Spouter set the pace,” announced Jack, for he had not forgotten that they were all guests of the lad mentioned.

They had questioned the foreman regarding the lay of the land, and he had drawn up a rough map for them which Jack carried. Inside of half an hour they reached the fording place he had mentioned, and there crossed the stream, coming out on the side of a small hill.

“I wonder if we’ll come across any wild animals,” remarked Fred, as they pushed along a well-defined trail leading to the top of the hill and through a small patch of scrub timber further westward.

“From what Joe Jackson said, I don’t think there’s very much left in this immediate vicinity,” answered Spouter. “You see, the cowboys have scared most of the animals away. Of course, they occasionally come across a bobcat or a mountain lion, and then we might come across a wolf or a fox or some jackrabbits, or even a bear.”

“Well, please don’t let ’em come at us in a bunch!” cried Randy, with a grin. “One at a time, please.”

“It’ll be our luck not to see a thing worth shooting,” declared Fred. “I wouldn’t give five cents for our chances of bringing down anything.”

Fred had scarcely spoken when the horse Gif was riding shied suddenly to one side, throwing Gif into some low bushes. Then the horse gave a snort and leaped ahead on the trail, not stopping until he had covered a hundred yards or more.

“Hello! what’s the trouble?” exclaimed Jack, bringing his own steed to a halt. “Are you hurt, Gif?”

“No. I’m all right. But what startled that horse?” demanded the other lad, as he scrambled to his feet. Then he gave a sudden yell. “It’s a snake! Look out!”

All looked in the direction pointed out by Gif, and there saw a black object wriggling away through the brushwood. As quickly as they could Jack and Spouter, who were close by, pulled out their pistols and fired at the snake. They saw the reptile rise up in the air, turning and twisting, and then disappear from sight between the rocks.

“What’s up? What are you shooting at?” cried Fred, galloping to the spot.

“A snake. He scared Gif’s horse and threw Gif into the bushes.”

“Where is he?”

“I guess he got away, although I think we wounded him,” answered Jack.

“It’s funny how that horse shied,” said Spouter. “Maybe he stepped right on the snake.”

“That might be,” put in Fred. “Maybe the snake was sunning himself and didn’t notice our approach until the horse stepped on him. Then he switched around, and that must have started the horse off. I wonder if we can catch him.”

“I think so,” answered Spouter. “Gosh! I’m glad no one was bit. That snake looked to be of pretty good size.”

While Spouter and Jack hurried forward to capture the runaway horse, Gif was assisted to the back of the steed Randy rode.

“I’m glad I didn’t go out on my head on the rocks,” remarked Gif, as the boys went forward. “I might have broken my neck.”

“Yes, you picked out just the right place to fall into,” answered Andy.

“I didn’t pick it out. I went where I was sent,” returned the other lad calmly. “After this I’m going to keep my eyes peeled for more snakes.”

“I think we had better all do that,” said Fred. “Gee! I’d forgotten all about those pests.”

When they reached the runaway horse they found him still somewhat skittish. But he was soon calmed down, and then Gif remounted him, and they set off along the trail as before.

“Well, we didn’t exactly meet a wild animal,” remarked Randy. “But we met something just as bad.”

Presently the boys came to a spot where the river wound around the hill, and beyond this was a broad stretch of plains, apparently many miles in extent. Far to the southward they could see some tall timber.

“The Bimbel ranch must be somewhere in this vicinity,” declared Jack.

“Yes, and the Bangs place can’t be so very far off,” returned Fred.

But distances in the open air are deceiving, and the boys rode along over the plains for the best part of an hour before they reached a spot where the trail branched in several directions. Here they came to a halt, wondering which way to turn next.

“It’s too bad they don’t put up a few signboards out here,” grumbled Randy. “How is a fellow going to know where he’s heading?”

“I suppose the natives know these trails just like we know the main streets of New York City,” answered Jack. “And that being so, they don’t need any signboards.”

Jack had consulted the rude map given to him by the ranch foreman, but this did not seem to have upon it the forks of the trail.

“I suppose those cowboys would know at once which was the main trail and which were only side trails,” said Gif.

The boys were still uncertain which way to turn when Fred set up a cry of amazement.

“Here comes an auto, boys! What do you know about that?”

“An auto!” several of them repeated. “Where?”

The youngest Rover pointed with his finger, and there, to the astonishment of every one in the party, they beheld a small touring car coming across the plains at a speed of twelve or fifteen miles an hour. It was running in a curiously haphazard fashion.

“What a way to run an automobile!” ejaculated Randy.

“Maybe the driver is getting out of the way of holes,” answered Jack. And then he added quickly: “There isn’t any driver!”

Completely mystified, the boys stared at the oncoming automobile. For a moment it seemed heading directly for them, but suddenly swerved and started off across the plains in another direction.