FAIRVIEW BOYS ON A RANCH

"Say, boys, this is the best ever! We've got a chance to go out on a ranch and play cowboys!"

It was Frank Haven who spoke, and if he had hoped that his words would make a sensation he was not disappointed.

Sammy Brown jumped as though he had been shot, and Bob Bouncer almost choked on a sandwich he was eating. Part of it went down the wrong way, and his chums had to give him a good thumping on the back before he was himself again.

Then he and Sammy backed Frank up into a corner.

"Now, say that again and say it slow," commanded Sammy.

"And no fooling, mind," added Bob. "Give it to us straight."

"Who's fooling?" asked Frank indignantly. "You're a nice one to say that, Bob Bouncer, when you're playing tricks on everybody around you all the time!"

"That's right," agreed Sammy. "Who was it that slipped that crab between the sheets the other night?"

Bob tried to look innocent but it was not a great success.

"He could have climbed there himself, couldn't he?" he ventured weakly. "But never mind about the crab," he went on hurriedly, as he saw the look on his companions' faces. "Go ahead, Frank, and tell us what you meant when you were talking about cowboys."

Frank shook before their eyes a letter that he held open in his hand.

"It's from my brother George," he explained. "It came in the first mail this morning."

Then he paused and pretended to read the letter over again, watching, out of the corner of his eye, his companions fairly dancing with impatience.

"What are you so slow about?" wailed Sammy.

"Get a move on!" Bob fairly shouted.

"What's your hurry?" drawled Frank, as he pretended to puzzle over the writing.

"I guess I can make it out," he said at last, hopefully.

"Of course you can make it out," fretted Sammy, wild with impatience.

"You didn't have any trouble reading it before," grumbled Bob, suspiciously.

"This light isn't any too good," remarked Frank, squinting up his eyes.

This was the last straw that broke the camel's back.

Bob reached over and snatched the letter out of Frank's hands, and together with Sammy ran over to a large rock near the shore of the cove, with Frank in hot pursuit.

Bob and Sammy reached the goal first and dodged around, keeping the rock between themselves and Frank as the latter tried to recover his letter.

"Oh, come, fellows, that isn't fair," protested Frank. "It's my letter, you know. Hand it over."

"We'll read it for you first," chuckled Sammy.

"So you won't have to hurt your poor eyes," mocked Bob.

Frank saw that the odds were against him, so he tried to compromise.

"I won't tease you any more," he said. "Give it to me and I'll read you every word of it right off."

Frank was as good as his word, as the others knew he would be, and without any further nonsense read the letter aloud.

Bob and Sammy listened with the utmost eagerness, their hearts beating fast as they realized all the letter meant.

Frank finished reading and folded up the letter with a flourish. Then the three boys stared at each other.

"On a ranch!" gasped Bob.

"With the cowboys!" shouted Sammy.

"It sounds too good to be true," breathed Frank.

It was no wonder that the news should almost take their breath away. No group of jolly, happy-go-lucky small boys on earth could help being excited over it.

Frank's brother George, who was several years older than he, had written, saying that he and Frank had received an invitation to spend the rest of the Summer on a far Western ranch. The owner of the ranch, Mr. Claxton, was a distant connection of the Haven family; and a year before Mr. Haven had been able to do him a great service in connection with a business matter. Mr. Claxton was very grateful, and in a recent letter he had urged the Haven boys to come out and visit him on his ranch. In the breezy way of Westerners he had told them to bring along some of their friends if they wanted to, as there was plenty of room on the ranch and he liked to have lots of boys around him.

"And George hasn't waited a minute to let us know about it," said Frank. "He only got the invitation yesterday and he sat right down and wrote this letter."

"That's bully of him," remarked Bob.

"I wonder if he knew what a rumpus it would make when we got it," observed Sammy.

"I guess he knew pretty well," laughed Frank. "But say, fellows, isn't it the best thing that ever happened?"

"You bet it is!" agreed Bob, fervently.

"A real ranch!" exulted Sammy. "Up to now I've seen them only in moving pictures."

"I never thought I'd see the real thing in all my life!" said Bob, as he danced a jig.

"And cowboys!"

"And Indians, maybe!"

"And Mexicans!"

"And bucking bronchos!"

"And rattlesnakes!"

"And panthers!"

The exclamations tumbled over one another as they came from the lips of the delighted boys.

"Maybe we'll find some treasure out there," ventured Sammy, who was always looking for some mystery. "A deserted gold mine or something like that."

"Why should any one desert a gold mine?" asked Bob.

"That's a thing people usually stick to instead of running away from," added Frank.

"The man who owned it might die, mightn't he?" defended Sammy, stoutly. "Or Indians might have come upon him in the night and driven him away."

"Well, you may have my share of any gold we find," said Bob, skeptically.

"Mine, too," echoed Frank, who, like Bob, had not much faith in Sammy's dreams.

But Sammy, although most of his hopes so far had come to grief, was not a bit discouraged by the gibes of his chums.

"You fellows would be mighty sore if I took you up," he said stubbornly.

"I'm not worrying," said Bob, grandly.

"Don't hold your breath until you get hold of that gold mine, Sammy," advised Frank.

"But say!" exclaimed Sammy, changing the subject as a new thought occurred to him, "how do we know that our folks will let us go so far away?"

This was like a dash of cold water on the little group. Had they been taking too much for granted?

Frank was the first to rally.

"Of course they will!" he ejaculated. "I know that my father and mother will anyway, for George must have talked with them about it before he wrote this letter, and if they weren't willing he would have said so."

"That's all very well for you," said Sammy. "But how about Bob and me?"

"Well, you have tongues in your heads, haven't you?" said the practical Frank. "We can find out about Bob, anyway, by going in right now and asking his mother."

They trooped eagerly into the house where they found Mrs. Bouncer busily engaged in clearing up the breakfast dishes.

"Mercy me!" she exclaimed, with a smile, as they rushed in, "you boys come in like a herd of wild elephants. What's the matter now, I'd like to know?"

All began to talk at once, Frank waving his letter as though it were a flag.

Mrs. Bouncer made a comical gesture of despair and put her hands to her ears.

"One at a time," she begged. "Frank, you seem to be the most sensible of this noisy crew. Now the rest of you boys keep still and let Frank tell me what it's all about."

"We all want to go out West on a ranch," blurted out Frank.

"Out West? A ranch?" gasped Mrs. Bouncer. "What on earth do you mean?"

"This letter will tell all about it better than I can," replied Frank, handing over the important sheet of paper.

Mrs. Bouncer read with the utmost interest while the boys watched her face hopefully. After she had finished she turned back and read it all over again. Then she handed the letter back to Frank.

"How about it, Ma?" asked Bob, who was bursting with impatience. "You're going to let me go, aren't you?"

"Please say yes, Mrs. Bouncer," coaxed Frank.

"We'll all have such a splendid time," added Sammy.

Mrs. Bouncer looked around smilingly on the eager faces.

"The whole thing has taken me so by surprise," she said, "that I hardly know what to say yet. And, of course, I shall have to talk it over with Mr. Bouncer when he comes home to-night."

The boys' faces fell a little at the prospect of delay.

"But I don't mind saying," continued Mrs. Bouncer, "that as far as I'm concerned I'm willing that Bob shall go."

A jubilant shout rose from her small audience.

"That means I can go," cried Bob, cavorting around the room, "because dad always is willing to let ma do as she likes in things like this."

"Don't be too sure," warned Mrs. Bouncer with a laugh, but Bob felt that his cause was won.

"Now, I'm going to shoo you boys out," said Mrs. Bouncer, rising to resume her interrupted work, and the boys capered out into the sunshine of the late July morning.

"That settles it for two of us anyway," exulted Frank.

"It doesn't just exactly settle it, of course," remarked Bob. "But I'm 'most sure that dad will let me go. He hasn't forgotten that he was a boy once himself."

"Now all we have to do is to make sure that Sammy can go, too," said Frank.

"And find his gold mine," put in Bob, slyly.

"I'll write home right away and find out," declared Sammy.

"Do you think your folks will let you go?" asked Frank.

"Of course they will," put in Bob, confidently. "They let him come from Fairview to this place, didn't they? Why won't they be willing then to let him go out West?"

"That's quite another thing," said Sammy, doubtfully. "They know that if I got sick here or anything happened to me they could get to me in a few hours. Then, too, they know your mother and feel perfectly safe as long as I'm staying here with her. But out West, it's hundreds of miles away——"

"Hundreds!" exclaimed Bob, scornfully. "It's thousands of miles away, that's what it is!"

"How many thousands, smarty?" asked Sammy, a little roiled at the interruption.

"It must be ten thousand anyway," returned Bob positively.

"Ten thousand, your grandmother!" retorted Sammy. "It isn't half as far as that to the Pacific Ocean."

Bob would have liked to contradict him, but geography was not one of his strong points and he thought it might be a little better to stay silent.

"As I was saying," went on Sammy, throwing out his chest a little, "there isn't any telling what the folks may think about my going so far away. But I'll get some paper and a pen and write to them this very minute."

"Why not send a telegram?" suggested Frank. "It'll take a day for the letter to get there and another day to get an answer. But you might get an answer to a telegram in an hour or two."

Bob seconded this idea and Sammy himself at first was strongly inclined toward it. But after thinking it over, he shook his head reluctantly.

"No good," he decided. "I couldn't say enough in a telegram. They couldn't get the straight of it and they'd telegraph back telling me to write a letter and tell them all about it. So I might as well write it first as last."

Although to wait two days seemed like that many years to the impatient boys, they saw the sense in what Sammy said, and the latter, having obtained a pen and a sheet of paper, was about to begin his letter, when Bob was struck by a happy thought.

"I tell you what, Sammy," he suggested eagerly, "you've got to write to them, but there's no reason why they can't telegraph back to you as soon as they've written the letter and made up their minds. That'll save a whole day of waiting, anyway."

"That's bully!" put in Frank, delightedly.

"So it is," agreed Sammy. "That is, if the answer's what I want it to be. But if the telegram says 'No' I'll wish I'd waited for the letter. I'd have had another day of hoping, anyway."

"There isn't going to be any 'No,'" declared Bob. "It's going to be a great big 'Yes' and don't you forget it!"

"I hope so," said Sammy, fervently.

He grasped his pen firmly, thrust his tongue into his cheek, as was his habit when composing, and set to work with all the earnestness he could muster to persuade his parents to let him go westward with his chums. They sat by sympathetically, putting in a word or an idea here and there to make the case stronger, and as a final clincher, Frank gave Bobby the letter from George to be enclosed with his own.

When at last Sammy had finished, he read his letter over to his friends and they agreed that it was a masterpiece.

"That'll fetch 'em," declared Frank with decision.

"They can't say No to a letter like that," was Bob's verdict.

To make sure that it was all right, they submitted the letter to Mrs. Bouncer, and though she smiled at some of the grammar and spelling, they took the smiles to be approving ones, and their pride grew that they all had shared in such a work of art.

"Isn't it a dandy letter, Ma?" inquired Bob, proudly.

"They all helped me with it," said Sammy, generously.

"It sounds pretty good to me," added Frank.

"It's all right, boys," said Mrs. Bouncer, warmly. "And from what I know of your mother, Sammy, I feel pretty sure she will let you go. Here's a stamp for you to put on the letter; and you'd better take it right over to the post-office so that it will be sure to go out by the next mail."

The boys scurried away like so many young rabbits, and Mrs. Bouncer looked after them with a smile in her eyes.

The boys soon reached the village post-office, which was less than a five-minutes' walk from the Bouncer cottage, and deposited the letter in the box for the outgoing mail as carefully as though it were glass and they were afraid it might break.

Then, after leaving a little of their pocket money in the village candy store in return for some jujube paste and everlasting suckers, they made their way back to the cottage on the beach, chattering as well as they could with their mouths full of candy.

"It'll be dandy to go out on the ranch," mumbled Sammy; "but we surely will miss some of the fun we've had around here this Summer."

"That's so," replied Bob, a little regretfully. "I wonder if there'll be any place to swim out there."

"There must be plenty of water somewhere around," said Frank, thoughtfully. "I've read a lot about prairie schooners, and, of course, they can't sail without water."

"Listen to him!" shrieked Bob. "Why, you goose, don't you know that prairie schooners are only big wagons?"

"I don't believe it," said Frank, stoutly.

"Bob's right," declared Sammy. "I saw a picture of one a little while ago. It had four horses hitched to it and a man was driving."

"Maybe that was another kind of schooner," suggested Frank, though weakening somewhat before the positive statements of his chums. "Anyhow, there must be ponds or lakes or rivers of some kind. How could the cattle get water if there wasn't?"

"Maybe we'll run across some underground river that will lead to a robber's cave or something," broke in Sammy, eagerly. "You know, the kind that's running along all right and then suddenly sinks down in the ground and people think that's the end of it until they find it starting up again a good many miles away. But what's it been doing while it's been out of sight? Running through a cave of course. Robbers choose just that kind of place——"

"Oh, forget it, Sammy," broke in Bob with a tired expression. "You're thinking of nothing all the time but robbers and mysteries."

"And if he ever saw a robber," added Frank, "he'd run hard to get away from him."

"Of course I would," admitted Sammy. "And so would you, too. But they can't hang around their caves all the time, and we might keep watch and slide in when there was nobody there. There's no telling what we might find."

"Well, we won't count the money just yet anyway," said Bob with a grin. "But speaking of water has made me so hot that I'm going in for a swim. Come along, fellows, and see who'll get his bathing suit on first. Maybe we won't have many more chances and we'd better make the most of them."

They broke into a run, reached the cottage, and soon had slipped into their bathing shirts and trunks.

"The last one in is a Chinaman," sang out Bob, gaily, as the three made a dash for the beach.

They struck the water so nearly at the same time that each denied being a Chinaman and none of the others could prove it.

The water was delightfully cool and refreshing after their trip to the village in the hot sun, and they splashed around merrily.

"Say, fellows, let's swim over to the place where the pirate ship was wrecked," suggested Sammy, as he rose, puffing and blowing, from a longer dive than usual.

"Pirate ship nothing!" snorted Bob. "There you go again, Sammy."

"Well, you don't know that it wasn't," retorted Sammy. "There's part of a ship of some kind wrecked there, and it might just as well have been a pirate as any other kind."

"Cut out the scrapping, you fellows," advised Frank. "You waste more time talking about things you don't know anything about than any fellows I know."

"There are others," Bob came back at him. "Who was it that was talking a little while ago about prairie schooners?"

Sammy opened his mouth to laugh at this, but regretted it the next moment when Frank sent a dash of salt water full in his face. Sammy choked and spluttered and Frank laughed uproariously. But the laugh stopped suddenly, for Bob, who had dived behind him, had caught his legs, and the next instant Frank, too, was swallowing his fill.

There was a good-natured scuffling when he got back again to the surface, and then they came back to Sammy's suggestion to swim out to where the framework of a ship's hull showed above the rocks in which it had been wedged many years before.

"Isn't it a pretty long swim?" asked Frank a little doubtfully.

"It would be if we had to swim all the way," agreed Bob. "But we can wade out a good piece before it gets so deep we'll have to swim."

"I'd like to take a look at the old ship," said Sammy. "Who knows what we might find? I'd made up my mind, anyway, to go out there before the Summer was over. But if we're going away so soon, this may be our last chance. The water may be too rough for us to come in again to-morrow."

It seemed an easy enough swim, and as they had never been expressly forbidden to visit the old wreck they decided to do as Sammy wanted.

They found they could wade for fully a third of the way. Then the water got so deep that they had to swim.

Sammy and Frank were a little in advance when suddenly they heard a frightened shout from Bob.

They turned just in time to see him wave his hands desperately and then sink from sight!

For a moment Frank and Sammy were in a panic. Their hearts seemed to stop beating and they looked at each other in dismay.

"What's the matter with Bob?" shouted Sammy, wildly.

"Perhaps he's only fooling us," yelled back Frank, clutching at a shred of hope.

"No, he isn't!" cried Sammy. "Oh, Frank, let's hurry."

They turned and swam with all their might to the place where their comrade had disappeared.

And while they are trying desperately to rescue Bob, I am going to tell those readers who have not read the earlier books in this series just who the boys were and what fun and adventures they had had together up to the present time.

The boys had all been born and brought up in the town of Fairview, a pleasant little place situated on the edge of a large body of water called Rainbow Lake. There were a number of islands in the lake, the largest being called Pine Island. With such a fine body of water close at hand, the boys had great sport both in Summer and in Winter.

All three boys were between ten and eleven years of age. They were good friends with most of the boys in town, but were especially fond of each other. They attended the same school and were in the same class, and whether in school or out were almost always together.

Frank was a bright boy with plenty of push and go, and was perhaps the leader among the three, if they could be said to have a leader.

Bob Bouncer was full of fun and mischief and always playing pranks. But with all his joking, there was nothing mean or small about him and he was a general favorite.

Sammy Brown was the dreamer of the three. Give Sammy the least idea of a mystery, and he was on it like a cat on a mouse. The fact that most of his so-called mysteries did not amount to anything in the long run did not discourage Sammy a bit. He was always sure he would hit the mark the next time. Then, too, while Sammy did not, as a rule, find what he set out to look for, he had once or twice made some other interesting discovery, so that he did not feel altogether cheated.

One time the boys were sailing on Rainbow Lake in a small craft called the Puff that belonged to George Haven, Frank's brother. The boat was wrecked and the three boys had to live for several days on Pine Island until help came. How they made the best of it and the adventures they had you will find set down in the first volume of the series, named: "Fairview Boys Afloat and Ashore; Or, The Young Crusoes of Pine Island."

Sammy had his chance to show what a lucky or unlucky detective he was in the second book of the series called: "Fairview Boys on Eagle Mountain; Or, Sammy Brown's Treasure Hunt." Sammy found a curious old document in a trunk in the attic that he was sure would lead him to a treasure, and the three chums set off in a great hurry to Eagle Mountain to try and find it.

There is plenty of excitement, though of a different kind, in the third book of the series named: "Fairview Boys and Their Rivals; Or, Bob Bouncer's Schooldays." The jewelry store was robbed and there was a fire in the school. It looked for a time as if the robbery would never be cleared up, but Bob played a clever part in getting back the stolen things and solving the mystery.

Soon after this the boys were invited to visit a hunter who lived on a part of Pine Island that they had never been over. While they were there, for of course they accepted the invitation, they ran across a crabbed old hermit who did his best to drive them from the island. Why he did this and what part was played in the story by an unexpected explosion is told in the fourth book of the series, which is called: "Fairview Boys at Camp Mystery; Or, The Old Hermit and His Secret."

All this had occurred in Winter. But when the Winter had gone and had been followed by Spring, the boys naturally began to plan for the Summer vacation. Mr. Bouncer had taken a cottage at a seaside resort called Lighthouse Cove, and Sammy and Frank had been cordially invited to go with Bob. They had had a splendid time, and Sammy had been greatly stirred up by the strange actions of a man who in Sammy's opinion was certainly digging for pirate gold. The boys, too, had a very dangerous adventure when a motor launch on which they were broke from its moorings in a storm and drifted out to sea. The exciting story of their rescue can be read in the fifth volume of the series, named: "Fairview Boys at Lighthouse Cove; Or, Carried Out to Sea."

As Frank and Sammy reached the point where they had last seen their chum, Bob's head appeared above the surface, his face a kind of grayish green and his eyes filled with terror.

His arms slapped the water aimlessly and he was going down again when Sammy grabbed him by the shoulder, while at the same time Frank got a grip on the other arm.

"What's the matter, Bob?" panted Sammy.

"C-cramps, I guess," responded Bob, weakly.

"I'll tell you what to do," said Frank. "Turn over on your back, Bob, and try to float. Then Sammy and I will take turns in towing you to shallow water."

Luckily, Bob had sense and self-control enough to do this, though for a moment he felt a wild temptation to grasp his comrades frantically. But he knew that this might make all three of them drown, and he did as Frank had directed. They were soon back in the shallower water, and then the tired and frightened boys found a foothold and all dragged themselves up on the sand where they fell in a heap.

Sammy was the first to speak.

"Lucky thing we heard you yell before you went under, Bob," he remarked.

"How did it all happen?" asked Frank. "I never knew you to have cramps before. And the water wasn't cold this morning."

"I can't understand it myself," said Bob. "One minute I was swimming along all right, and the next I was as weak as a rag. I couldn't straighten out my legs to kick and the first thing I knew I went under. I guess you boys got to me just in time."

"It must have been something you'd eaten," suggested Frank.

"You've just been cramming yourself with those everlasting suckers," said Sammy, severely.

"Huh," snorted Bob, "you're a pretty one to talk! I bet I didn't eat any more candy this morning than you did."

"Never mind what the reason was," broke in Frank. "The only thing we care for now is that Bob is safe and that we're all on solid ground."

"Are you going to tell your mother about it?" asked Sammy.

"What's the use?" answered Bob. "It would only scare her half to death and perhaps she wouldn't let me go in swimming again."

"Still I think you ought to tell her," advised Frank.

But, as it turned out, it did not make the least difference whether he had decided to tell or not, for as soon as Mrs. Bouncer's eye rested upon him and his colorless face, she gave a little shriek and pounced upon him, gathering him up in her arms and making him tell the whole story. Then Bob, much to his disgust, was packed off between blankets and dosed with hot lemonade, although he protested that it was all nonsense and he did not need a thing.

"There's one good thing about it all, anyway," said Sammy later on, as he and Frank sprawled out on the hot sand. "Mr. Bouncer will be so scared over Bob's accident that he'll be only too glad to get him away from the water by letting him go to the ranch."

"That's so," agreed Frank. "I wish this had happened before you sent your letter, Sammy. You could have told your folks about it and that would have been a clincher."

"It sure would," admitted Sammy. "But I guess maybe they'll let me go without that. I'll be mighty glad when I get that telegram. It doesn't seem as if I could wait till to-morrow."

"Well, half of this day is nearly gone anyway," observed Frank. "There's that much to the good. I think—ouch! What was that?"

He had suddenly felt a sharp, stinging pain in the back of his neck.

He put his hand to the spot and rubbed it vigorously.

"It must have been a sand fly," said Sammy. "Those little green ones bite like the mischief sometimes. Just rub the spot a minute and the smart will go away."

The next minute, he, too, sat up with a convulsive jerk.

"Jiminy!" he cried. "I got it myself that time. But it felt more like a bee than a sand fly."

"I don't believe it was a bee," said Frank, "or we'd have heard the buzzing. Ouch——"

This time he sprang to his feet and fairly danced about as the same sharp, stinging sensation caught him in the forehead.

Sammy laughed at the figure Frank was cutting.

"I never knew you were such a good dancer, Frank," he mocked. "Give us a Highland——"

But at this instant something struck him on the tip of the nose and he, too, jumped up and down while he grasped his nose with his hand.

"Who's dancing now?" asked Frank gleefully.

But Sammy's eyes were fixed on a little pellet that lay on the sand at his feet. Stooping down, he picked it up and looked at it solemnly. He pinched it and handed it over to Frank who regarded it curiously.

"There's the sand fly that stung us," said Sammy.

"A putty ball," declared Frank. "Somebody's been shooting at us with a putty blower."

They looked at each other for an instant and then by common consent they looked toward the window of the room where Bob had been put to bed.

"Don't you think you saw that curtain move?" asked Sammy.

"It looked like that," agreed Frank. "But, of course, it might have been the wind."

"Wind nothing!" retorted Sammy, scornfully. "The wind that moved that curtain is named Bob Bouncer."

"Let's go in and rough house him," suggested Frank.

"We surely will," replied Sammy. "A fellow that isn't too sick to shoot a putty blower isn't too sick to have a pillow bounced on his head. Come along."

The two boys marched up to the cottage where Mrs. Bouncer was sitting on the porch shelling peas for dinner.

She smiled at them.

"Where are you going, boys?" she asked.

"Just going in for a minute to see how Bob is getting along," replied Sammy.

"Perhaps he's a little lonesome in there all by himself," added Frank.

"It's very nice of you boys to want to cheer him up," said Mrs. Bouncer. "But if he's asleep, I think perhaps that will do the poor boy more good than company. Wait a minute and I'll see if he's awake."

She went in and Sammy nudged Frank.

"The poor boy!" said Frank, gritting his teeth.

"He needs his sleep!" remarked Sammy. "He'll be tired enough to need it when we get through with him."

They heard Mrs. Bouncer knock on Bob's door.

There was a moment's silence and then a voice piped up:

"Is that you, Ma?"

"Yes, Bobby, dear," was the response. "Frank and Sammy want to come in to cheer you up."

The boys listened breathlessly for the answer. When it came, the voice was very weak and tired.

"I think I'd better try to get to sleep, Ma," Bob said. "But thank Frank and Sammy just the same."

Mrs. Bouncer came back with a genial smile.

"The dear boy isn't feeling quite himself yet," she remarked. "I think perhaps we had better leave him to himself for a time. You can see him later."

"Yes ma'am," replied Sammy. "We'll see him later."

"We'll see him later," repeated Frank, mechanically.

They forced their faces into a smile and went out. And it was not till they were well out of range of Mrs. Bouncer's sight that the frozen smile thawed out.

"Stung!" exclaimed Sammy, dropping heavily on the sand.

"Good and plenty," agreed Frank.

"Bob put one over on us that time all right," continued Sammy.

"He surely did," rejoined Frank. "But our time will come. We'll get him yet."

"You bet we will!" declared Sammy with emphasis. "But there he is now," he went on, looking up at Bob's window.

Frank followed the direction of Sammy's finger and saw the invalid with a broad grin on his face standing at the open window.

Both boys shook their fists at him, at which Bob's smile broadened. Then he yawned, closed his eyes and with long breaths made his chest rise and fall as though in peaceful slumber.

"Oh, if I only had that putty blower with me now," muttered Sammy, "I'd take that peaceful look off his face in a hurry."

"Wouldn't we just!" snapped Frank.

They started to find something to throw at the tantalizing figure at the window. But Bob, though shamming sleep, was keeping a sharp lookout beneath his lowered lids, and before the boys could find anything to throw the window came down, and with a last grin and a mocking flourish, Bob disappeared.

Bob thought it best to stick close to his room for the rest of the day. Part of this decision was due to his mother's advice and to the fact that he really did feel tired after the fright and excitement of the morning. But part was due to the feeling that he had better let the boys cool down from the putty blower incident.

As a result of his long rest, he appeared at the supper table that evening as bright and gay as a lark.

"Bob seems to be quite like himself again to-night," remarked Mrs. Bouncer. "You see, boys, there was no real reason for you to be so anxious and worried about him as you were this morning."

Bob grinned all over his face.

"It was mighty good of them just the same," he said. "I suppose they wanted to read to me or talk to me or something."

"'Or something' is right," murmured Frank to Sammy as he nudged his knee under the table.

"You're right there!" responded Sammy in the same low tone.

Of course there was much to tell Mr. Bouncer about the events of the day. He was greatly startled when he learned of Bob's narrow escape from drowning, and very hearty in his gratitude to the boys for the way they had kept their heads and saved their chum.

"Many boys much older than you would have been completely rattled," he said warmly. "I can't thank you boys enough for what you have done and I'll never forget it. I'm sure that Bobby, too, will remember it as long as he lives."

"Sure I will," replied Bob.

"Oh, Bob has already thanked us," responded Sammy.

"Over and over again," added Frank.

"That's right," said the unsuspecting Mr. Bouncer. "And now what is all this I hear about your going out on a ranch?"

All three talked at once in explaining the proposed trip, but Mr. Bouncer finally got a clear understanding about it.

He was not quite so quick as his wife had been in agreeing to the idea. He saw a good many difficulties in the way.

But one obstacle after another yielded before the begging of the boys and the arguments of his wife. As the boys had foreseen, the accident of the morning was as strong an argument as any.

"I don't think they'll be in any more danger there than they are here," Mrs. Bouncer said. "I'm getting almost afraid of living so near the sea. I'd feel after this as though I ought to watch the boys all day long."

"The young rascals will bear a lot of watching," grinned Mr. Bouncer. "But I believe you're right about the trip, my dear, and I'm willing to let Bob go if you are."

"Hurray!" yelled Bob. "I knew you'd do it, Dad!"

"That's bully!" cried Sammy, warmly.

"It's dandy," agreed Frank.

"Now that fixes it up for two of us, but I'm left out in the cold," said Sammy a little forlornly. "I don't know yet whether I can go or not."

"Don't worry about that, Sammy," said Mr. Bouncer, cheerily. "I'm pretty sure your folks will let you go."

"I hope so," said Sammy. "I'd feel like a cat in a strange garret if I had to hang around these parts while the rest of the boys were away."

"Well, we'll know all about it in the morning anyway," remarked Frank.

"I wish that letter could have got to them to-day," observed Bob. "Then we might have got a telegram before we went to bed."

"What time was it posted this morning?" asked Mr. Bouncer.

"Just a little before ten o'clock," answered his wife.

Mr. Bouncer consulted a time table that he took from his pocket.

"In that case," he said after a pause, "it might possibly have reached your folks this afternoon. They are back in Fairview now, as well as Frank's people, I believe. It all depends on whether this local train made connection at the Junction. Half the time it doesn't, but once in a while it does; and to-day may have been one of those times."

"Good!" cried Sammy, clapping his hands. "We've got a chance then."

He had scarcely finished speaking when there came a knock at the door and Bob sprang up to answer it. A shock-headed boy who did odd jobs about the village was standing there with a blue and white envelope in his hand.

"Come in," cried Bob.

The messenger came in.

"A telegram for Sammy Brown," he announced.

"There it is!" shouted Frank.

"It came in a hurry," laughed Bob.

Mr. Bouncer signed for the telegram and then with a smile handed it over to Sammy.

"First one I ever got in my life," grinned Sammy, nervously, as he fumbled with the envelope, hardly daring to tear it open for fear the news might not be to his liking.

"I think it has good news in it," remarked Mrs. Bouncer with a smile.

"What makes you think so?" asked Sammy, eagerly.

"Well, for one thing, because it came so soon," replied Mrs. Bouncer. "Your parents know that you would feel bad if you couldn't go, and they wouldn't be in a hurry to get bad news to you."

"That's so!" came in a chorus from his chums. "Open it, Sammy, and don't stand there like a wooden Indian."

Thus encouraged, Sammy at last mustered up nerve to open the envelope. He unfolded the slip it contained and glanced at the contents. The next instant he had dropped it on the table and was doing a war dance around the room.

"I can go, fellows!" he yelled. "I can go!"

"Isn't that glorious?" cried Frank.

"The best thing that ever happened!" shouted Bob.

They joined Sammy in his excited caperings, while Bob's parents looked on with sympathetic smiles.

"May I read it, Sammy?" asked Mr. Bouncer, picking up the paper that had caused all the hubbub.

"Of course," replied Sammy. "Read it out loud so that all of us can hear it."

Mr. Bouncer complied.

"You may go," the telegram read. "Come home and get ready. Letter follows."

It was some time before the boys quieted down and got in shape to discuss the next thing to be done.

"Of course, Frank and Sammy will have to get back to Fairview right away," remarked Mrs. Bouncer.

"Of course," assented her husband. "It will take some hard work to get these chaps ready in time."

"And we'll have to go back, too," continued Mrs. Bouncer. "Not half the things that Bob will need have been brought down here with us. We'll shut up the cottage for a week and, if we can get ready in time, we'll all go back to Fairview to-morrow afternoon."

While their elders talked over the details of the journey, the three boys got together in another room of the cottage and chattered excitedly over things that interested them more.

"They're talking about outfits," half whispered Bob. "I wonder just what they will get for us."

"I hope there'll be a pair of buckskin breeches," said Frank.

"Or sheepskin with the wool showing on the outside," suggested Sammy. "Then we'll look like real cowboys. If we wear our regular clothes they'll think we're tenderfeet."

"I'd like a Mexican sombrero," remarked Bob. "You know, the kind with a broad brim and a row of bells or silver pieces as a band. They're the real thing."

"I'd rather have a band of rattlesnake skin around mine," put in Sammy.

"Maybe you'd have to kill a rattlesnake to get it," observed Frank.

"What if I did?" answered Sammy, with perfect assurance.

"I suppose some of those cowboys will be pretty tough," guessed Bob.

"I shouldn't wonder," agreed Frank. "Maybe they'll shoot into the ground at our feet and make us dance."

"Huh, what would we be doing?" asked Bob, without the slightest idea of what they would be doing on such an occasion.

"We might disarm them," suggested Sammy, a little doubtfully. "Or one of us might keep on dancing while the others slipped behind the cowboys and snatched the pistols from their hands. That's been done many a time."

"I wouldn't like to be captured by Indians while we are out there," put in Bob. "I wouldn't like to have 'em tie me up to a tree and shoot arrows at me."

"We'll have to keep our eyes peeled," said Sammy. "If we see any signs of Indians we'll have to drop to the ground and wriggle our way like a snake until we can get near enough to hear what they are talking about. That's the way to do, I've heard."

"How about guns or pistols?" asked Frank. "Do you suppose our folks will let us have them?"

"Sure they will," said Bob, confidently.

"I'm pretty sure they won't," sighed Sammy. "My mother says I'm too young for the rifle I asked for not long ago. Huh!"

"How can we defend ourselves then?" asked Frank.

"I guess we'll have to depend on Mr. Claxton and his cowboys to look after us," said Sammy, dolefully. "Still," he added hopefully, "if our folks won't give us guns at the start there's a chance to get 'em from some one that's been killed in a scrimmage. Or we may run across some place where outlaws have hidden 'em. There's lots of such places out there, and if we only have a little luck we're likely to find one."

"If," sniffed Frank.

"Some more of Sammy's mystery stuff," mocked Bob.

"All right," said Sammy, "you fellows just keep on with your knocks. When we all get rich you'll be glad enough to say that you were chums with me."

"We're glad enough to say that now, even before you've found any treasure, aren't we, Bob?" said Frank.

"You said it!" agreed Bob, emphatically.

Sammy's ruffled feathers were smoothed down at once.

"That's all right, fellows," he beamed. "But now about those guns we were talking of. I'd like to know really whether our folks will let us have 'em at the start, or whether we'll have to depend on picking them up after we get out there."

"Suppose we get Bob to ask his father right now," suggested Frank. "He's right in the other room, and if we find out the way he looks at it, we can feel pretty sure that our fathers will feel the same way about it. And you're already older—a little—than when you asked for that rifle, Sammy."

Bob, being thus chosen as a committee of one, went into the other room, from which he soon returned with a look on his face that told the whole story.

"Nothing doing, boys," he announced briefly. "Dad said that if I were a little older he might take a chance, but he's afraid just now to let me handle a pistol or a rifle."

The boys groaned in sympathy.

"We might make blowguns though," said Bob, brightening up. "They say you can learn to shoot with them just as well as with a rifle."

It was an unlucky reference, as Bob saw as soon as he had spoken.

"Just like a putty blower," suggested Frank.

"Bob won't need any practice," remarked Sammy, as he and Frank bore down on their victim.

There was a good-natured scuffle as Sammy and Frank rolled Bob over and over on the carpet. Then Mrs. Bouncer's smiling face appeared at the door, and she drove the madcap lads off to bed.

The next morning was clear and bright and Bob was awakened by the sunlight streaming into the room. He looked about and saw that his companions were still sound asleep.

"Here, get up, you sleepy heads," he cried, giving each a vigorous shake.

But as this brought nothing from them but muffled grunts, he took harsher measures. He pulled off all the bedclothes.

This might have worked in Winter, but on this warm Summer morning it was no hardship and the drowsy boys refused to budge.

"No help for it," muttered Bob to himself, and filling a glass with water, he divided it impartially, throwing half on the face and neck of each sleeper.

There was a howl and a jump as Frank and Sammy started from their beds in chase of their tormentor, but Bob had his clothes ready at hand and darted off into the adjoining room, where he turned the key in the lock just as Frank and Sammy, hot in pursuit, banged up against the door.

"What's the matter, fellows?" called Bob from the other side. "You seem to be excited about something."

"It'll be a pitcher full for you instead of a glassful, the next time we wake up first," threatened Sammy.

"It certainly will," confirmed Frank, rattling vainly at the door knob.

"Then I'm safe enough," mocked Bob, "for you lazybones will never wake up first in a thousand years."

They did not answer and retired to their room, muttering dire threats against mischief-making Bob, while that youth, with a happy grin on his face, finished his dressing. He then looked carefully through the keyhole to see that the coast was clear and made a dash for the stairs.

He did not get off scot free, however, for Frank had a slipper near at hand and sent it down the stairs after him. It struck Bob plump on the shoulder and brought a grunt from him that pleased Sammy and Frank immensely.

"Now I feel better," grinned Frank.

"Yes," laughed Sammy. "Bob's pretty slick but he can't always get away with it."

A truce was declared while they gathered around the breakfast table. Mrs. Bouncer had prepared an especially good meal in honor of the boys' last day in Lighthouse Cove.

They were to leave on the early afternoon train, and as there was a good deal to do before that time, Mrs. Bouncer sent the boys out of doors right after breakfast so that she might have a free hand.

The boys wandered around taking a last look at the places where they had had such a happy time that Summer. To be sure they had had times, too, that were full of danger and anxiety. But these, at any rate, had kept their experience from being tame, and now that they were safely over they were not unpleasant to look back upon.

"We certainly have had a bully time here," remarked Sammy.

"Yes," said Frank. "I half hate to leave the old place."

"We'll have lots to tell the boys when we get back to Fairview," observed Bob.

"Won't their eyes stick out when we tell them about our drifting out to sea and picking up the Mary Ellen?" said Sammy.

"I'll be almost afraid to tell them everything for fear they'll think we're making some of it up," put in Frank.

"Well, if they do, we can show 'em the newspaper stories, and I guess that will hold 'em for a while," crowed Bob, triumphantly.

Before long they ran across the old fisherman, Hamp Salina, sitting on an overturned boat on the beach and mending his nets.

"Howdy, boys," he greeted them, taking his pipe from his mouth as they came up. "What's this I've heerd about your folks goin' away? I kind o' thought you was goin' to stay here all Summer."

"We did mean to when we came down," replied Bob, "but we boys have had an invitation to go out West on a ranch for the last part of the Summer, and we've made up our mind to go."

"Dew tell!" exclaimed Hamp. "Well, that beats all! I shall be sorry to hev you boys go. You've brought a bit of life into this sleepy old place, and I like to hev you around."

This was an unusually long speech from Hamp, and the boys appreciated the old sailor's friendly feeling.

"We're sorry to go too for lots of reasons, Hamp," said Sammy.

"We've just been talking of the fine times we've had here this Summer," put in Frank.

"Even if ye haven't diskivered any pirate gold?" said Hamp with a chuckle and a sly glance at Sammy.

"We haven't found any yet," Sammy replied, sticking to his guns. "But, just the same, we might have run across some if we'd been able to stay here all Summer. We don't know what there may be in that old wreck over yonder. We started to swim over there yesterday but Bob got a cramp and we had to give it up."

"That's too bad," said Hamp, gravely. "But that wreck hez been there a good many years and it's likely t' be there fer some time yet. Maybe if ye come down next Summer ye'll hev another chance to take a hack at the gold."

There was a twinkle in his eye that showed he was not banking very much on the boys' chances, and Sammy thought it might be just as well to change the subject.

They chatted a little while longer and then parted with mutual good wishes. Hamp, with a sigh of regret, went back to his net mending, while the boys went back to the Bouncer cottage to make final preparations for their journey.

They had been so used to going round in their bathing suits and loose, comfortable clothes, that it was quite an ordeal to be dressed up stiffly in their best, but they took it as a necessary evil and made the best of it.

They caught the train in plenty of time, and Mrs. Bouncer gave a sigh of relief after the noisy, tumultuous group had found seats and settled into place.

Sammy had received his promised letter by the morning mail, but had been too busy so far to open it. The main thing with him was that his folks were going to let him go, and he could wait to find out the details. But now that he was comfortably settled in his car seat he opened the letter and read it over.

It told him of the surprise that his father and mother had felt when they had received the news that upset all their plans for Sammy for the Summer. There had been a good deal of hesitation and doubt before they had finally decided, but the knowledge that the other boys were going and the thought of how Sammy would feel if he were left behind had turned the scale. So they had hurried to send the telegram, and now were anxiously awaiting his return home.

"It's all right, is it, Sammy?" asked Mrs. Bouncer, who had been studying his face while he read.

"It's more than that," grinned Sammy, handing over the letter for her to read.

Bob took advantage of his mother's absorption in the letter to snatch Sammy's cap and throw it into one of the racks on the other side of the car. But Sammy got back at him by snatching his cap in turn and holding it out of the open window.

"You get that cap of mine back mighty quick, Bob, unless you want me to drop yours alongside the railroad track," threatened Sammy.

Bob's face lengthened.

"Aw, you wouldn't do that, Sammy," he pleaded.

"Wouldn't I?" retorted Sammy. "Just watch me."

Bob hesitated a moment.

"My fingers are getting kind o' cramped," said Sammy, calmly. "The cap may slip out of them any minute."

Bob still hesitated. He hated to eat humble pie.

"You'd better hurry up," warned Sammy. "If I don't get my cap back before we pass the next twenty telegraph poles alongside the track, I feel it in my bones that something's going to happen."

Bob held out till he counted fifteen poles. Then as Sammy said nothing further but kept his lips moving as he counted each pole, Bob thought it was best to take no chances. He reluctantly went over, reached up and got Sammy's cap and threw it in his lap.

"There's your old cap," he remarked. "Now give me back mine."

"Sure thing," said Sammy, with a grin of satisfaction at having carried his point. "Here's your cap, Bob; and you'd better put it on. I'd hate to have you catch cold on my account."

"Honest to goodness, Sammy," inquired Frank, who had been a grinning spectator of the little byplay between his chums, "would you have dropped the cap anyway?"

"Of course not," laughed Sammy. "That was just a little bluff and Bob fell for it."

The rest of the journey passed without special incident, and all the party were delighted when just before dark they found themselves once more in Fairview. After all, this was home, where most of their happiest hours had been spent, and though they liked to get away from it at times for a change of scene they were always glad to get back again to the old home town.

Sammy and Frank got a loving welcome from their folks and each home became at once a beehive where every one was kept busy preparing for the trip. There was a lot to do and not much time to do it in.

Frank, and even Sammy, had still cherished a sneaking hope that their parents might look on the gun question a little more favorably than Bob's parents had, but they soon found out that they were mistaken. Both families cried out in horror at the idea, and it began to look as though the Indians and outlaws were safe as far as the boys were concerned.

"There's no use," said Sammy, shaking his head mournfully when he met his chums the next morning. "Our only chance will be to pick up some guns after we get out there."

"Well, perhaps after all there'll be more fun getting them that way than if our folks bought them for us," put in Bob, who usually saw the bright side of things.

"Yes," agreed the practical Frank. "Only if our folks bought them we'd be sure of having them, while the other way is only a chance and not much of a chance at that."

But whatever disappointment the boys had on this score was more than made up for by the sensation they created among the other boys of Fairview the moment it became known they were going out on a real ranch among real cowboys. The news spread like wildfire and whenever they appeared on the street they found themselves the center of interest and the recipients of a lot of eager questions.

"I suppose you'll be riding those bucking bronchos we see in the movies," said Hank Blair in an envious voice.

"I suppose so," said Bob with a rather bored air, as though bucking bronchos were an old story with him.

"Maybe you'll have some scalps to bring home," suggested Jim Eaton.

"Maybe so, if the red fiends don't get ours first," said Sammy, darkly.

"Maybe road agents will hold up the coach you ride over to the ranch in," put in little Johnny Jones.

"We'll have our money hidden in our shoes," declared Frank. "We know how to get the best of those fellows."

"Trust us to keep our eyes wide open," observed Bob, impressively.

"I wish I were going along with you fellows," said Jed Burr.

Jed had formerly been something of a bully and the boys had not liked him at all. But there had been a great change in him lately, and he seemed to be trying to do the right thing. Ever since he had risked his life in trying to save one of the smaller boys when it was thought that the school was on fire, Frank and his chums had felt very friendly toward him.

"I wish you were, Jed," responded Sammy, warmly.

"So do I," came from Frank and Bob.

"We'll tell you boys all about it when we get back anyway," continued Sammy. "That is if we get back at all."

He folded his arms in a gloomy manner that spoke volumes of the possible danger of the trip, and the other boys felt rather shivery. In imagination they could see the bones of the young adventurers bleaching on the western plains.

"If we do get back," went on Sammy, when he had let this sink in far enough, "we'll bring you fellows something that we've picked up out there. Maybe it'll be the rattles of a snake——"

"Or the teeth of a grizzly bear," put in Bob, hopefully.

"I'd rather have a scalp," put in Hank Blair.

"The claws of a panther would be good enough for me," said Jim Eaton.

The boys began to feel that with all these commissions they were getting into deep water. Still they kept a stiff upper lip and promised vaguely that they would do their best, and with this their admiring audience was forced to be content.

In various ways during the next day or two Sammy and his chums tried to live up to their rather misty ideas of cowboys and ranch life.

Frank had heard that the legs of most cowboys were slightly bowed because they were so much in the saddle, and he began to turn his toes in until his family remonstrated.

"What's the matter with you, Frank?" asked his brother George. "You're waddling like a duck."

His mother's comment was less brusque but went right to the point.

"Now look here, Frank," she said. "I've taught you to walk straight and turn out your toes. But I declare to goodness, this last day or two you're actually walking bandy-legged. Now stop that or I'll get you a pair of braces."

And Frank, with an inward sigh at the extremely practical and unromantic views of his family, was forced to yield.

Sammy's folks, too, were not without troubles of their own. Somebody had told Sammy that trappers and hunters had wrinkles under their eyes from constantly straining their sight and looking off into distant spaces, and Sammy right away began to develop quite a squint.

"Stop drawing your eyes together that way, Sammy," commanded his observant mother, "or I'll have Dr. Wilson up here to take a look at you. It looks to me for all the world as though you were getting a case of St. Vitus' dance."

As for Bob he had gone no further than to get hold of the kitchen carving knife as often as he could without detection, and practise hurling it at the back yard fence. About one time out of ten he was able to make it stick, and he was in high feather over his progress until the knife went over the fence, nearly slicing the ear off the neighbor's cat.

This brought a quick remonstrance from the unsympathetic neighbor, and Bob's activities were suddenly cut short.

"Never mind," said Sammy, when the boys were discussing the obstacles their families put in their way. "Let's get to work practising calls and signals. We ought to get the call of the cuckoo and the whip-poor-will down fine. Then if any one of us should be captured by outlaws the others could creep up at night and tell him by the calls that help was near."

This seemed reasonable and had the further advantage that here at least their families were not likely to interfere. They practised until they were hoarse, and if their relatives surmised the meaning of the unearthly noises they smiled wisely and said nothing.

While the boys were thus getting ready for their trip their parents had been as busy as beavers in a more practical way. The trunks were packed and tickets bought and by Wednesday night in the week following their return from Lighthouse Cove everything was ready for the start. On the following morning they were to take the local train which would connect at the Junction with the flyer for Chicago, and their long journey two-thirds of the way across the continent would have begun.

George Haven, as the oldest, was to be in general charge of the party, and many were the injunctions showered upon him by the anxious parents. Each one of the young travelers came in too for a lot of advice from his parents. The fathers clapped them on the shoulders and told them to behave themselves and be careful. The mothers hugged and kissed them and gave last words of advice.

The boys felt a little tightening at their throats when they came to say good-bye to father and mother and clamber on the train. They thrust their heads out of the window and waved their hands and handkerchiefs to the loving faces that looked after them as long as the train was in sight. Then they sank back in their seats and looked at each other.

At last the Fairview boys were off for the ranch!

For several minutes after the local train had got under way, the boys were inclined to be less noisy and boisterous than usual. They kept thinking over the parting from their parents.

All their previous trips had been short, seldom taking them more than a few hours' journey from home. But this trip marked an epoch in their lives. They were to travel not dozens of miles but thousands. They would be three days and more on the train, and when they finally reached their journey's end they would be as far away from Fairview as though they were in Europe. It almost took their breath away when they thought of it.

But before the train had gone ten miles they were in their usual spirits and all stirred up by the prospect of what lay before them.

"Just think of it," sighed Sammy, happily, "three whole days of railroad riding!"

"And nothing to do but to eat and sleep and look at things out of the window," added Bob.

"And the best of it is that most of the time we'll be on a splendid big train and not on such a rattlety-bang as this," put in George, looking around with some disdain at the shabby little car.

"They say there's everything on those flyers," said Frank in an awed voice. "Libraries and shower baths and barber shops and typewriters and a whole lot of things besides."

"And then the eats!" gloated Sammy, hugging himself gleefully. "Just like a big hotel with everything you can think of to eat and as much dessert and pie and ice cream as you want."

"And nobody to tell you that you've had enough and mustn't pass up your plate for more," added Bob. "Oh, cricky, we won't do a thing to those dinners!"

"You make me hungry just talking about them," put in Frank. "By the way, fellows, where are those sandwiches that our folks put up in case we got hungry before dinner time?"

"Here they are," replied Bob, producing a paper box from the rack where he had placed it. "We might as well get rid of it now, so that we'll have a better appetite when the time comes for the big eats."

"Well, you deal them out, Bob, since you've got them there," directed George. "You'll find some little papers of salt and pepper to season them with and there's a can of mustard down in the corner of the box."

"All right," responded Bob. "Leave it to me. I'll have them ready in a jiffy."

He busied himself at getting the sandwiches ready while the rest looked out of the window. If they had been less interested in the scenery they might have thought that Bob was bestowing an unusual amount of care on such a simple bit of work.

"Here you are, fellows," he sang out finally.

They turned toward him eagerly and he handed out a chicken sandwich to each.

Sammy grabbed his like a dog snatching at a bone and took a big bite out of it.

The next instant he was choking and sputtering while his eyes bulged from his head.

"What is it, Sammy?" cried George in alarm, while the others looked on with open mouths and sandwiches untasted.

"It must have gone down the wrong way!" exclaimed Frank.

Sammy shook his head vigorously at this although he could not speak.

"I'll thump him on the back," said George. "And you, Frank, run down the aisle and get a glass of water."

Frank ran to the water tank and was back in a moment. Sammy tried a swallow or two and was soon able to speak, though his eyes were streaming from coughing.

"Now tell us just what the matter was," said Bob with the greatest earnestness.

For reply Sammy glared at him.

"You're a nice one to ask that," he almost shouted.

Bob looked back at him in innocent surprise.

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded. "How is it my fault, Sammy, if you are so greedy that you bolt your food whole and almost choke yourself? You know that the teacher says you ought to take thirty-two chews with every mouthful."

"Cut that out!" exclaimed Sammy, wrathfully. "Take a look at your sandwiches, fellows, and you'll know why I choked."

Frank and George took off the upper slice of bread from their sandwiches and stared.

The layer of chicken was fairly black with pepper and yellow with mustard. No one could say that Bob had been stingy with his seasoning.

For a moment no one said a word while all three stared at Bob with accusation in their eyes.

Bob stared back, but though he called on all his nerve to help him, he at last wavered and lowered his eyes.

"That's queer," he murmured.

"Mighty queer," retorted Frank.

"I must have got too much seasoning on," said Bob, brightly.

"What a good guesser," said George, sarcastically.

"Perhaps I was a little absent-minded," went on Bob. "I get that way sometimes."

"Yes, I've noticed that," said Sammy, severely. "I suppose you were absent-minded the other day when you stung us with the putty balls."

"Let's see if he was absent-minded enough to dose his own sandwich that way," observed Frank, making a grab at the sandwich which Bob had on his lap.

Bob tried to head him off but Frank was too quick for him. He opened the sandwich and showed it to the others. There was only the faintest sprinkling of pepper and the merest little dab of mustard.

"That shows!" cried Frank, triumphantly.

"Caught with the goods," added George.

"The dear little absent-minded boy!" said Sammy.

Bob twisted uneasily.

"It's funny how those things happen sometimes," he ventured. "But say, fellows," he added briskly, "don't let's mind a little mistake like that. There are plenty of other sandwiches and you can fix them this time to suit yourself."

"Listen to him!" shouted Sammy.

"Of all the nerve!" muttered George.

"He really thinks he's going to get away with it!" cried Frank.

"Well, he's got another think coming," said George. "What will we do to him, fellows?"

"He ought to be hung by the neck until he's dead," declared Sammy, whose eyes were still watering and throat smarting.

"Killing's too good for him," put in Frank.

"I'll tell you what we'll do," declared George. "We'll give him a dose of his own medicine. Each of you grab one of his arms and I'll get the pepper and the mustard."

In a flash they had pounced upon Bob and held him powerless. Then George took a part of Bob's sandwich and fairly plastered it with mustard and added a liberal share of pepper.

Despite Bob's struggles, his mouth was forced open and the food thrust in. George held his hand over his mouth, and though the stuff was like so much fire Bob had to gulp it down or choke. He chose to do the first, and then when his chums released him he made a wild dash for the water cooler, where he drank half a dozen glasses of water before he came slowly and sheepishly back to his seat.

The other boys were grinning from ear to ear, and Bob, after moping a minute or two, was forced to laugh, too. He was sportsmanlike enough to know that he deserved what he had got and to take it in good part. He knew that those who danced must pay the fiddler.

They all attacked the remaining sandwiches and had cleared up every crumb before they reached the junction where they were to transfer to the flyer.

They were in ample time. In fact, they had to wait ten minutes before the long through train came thundering into the little depot. To the boys the splendid train seemed almost endless, with its smoking car and day cars and big Pullman coaches.

The special Pullman car for which their tickets called was named the Niagara and was placed half-way down the train. By the time they had found it and climbed aboard the bell was clanging, and a moment later the monster train started slowly out of the station, but gathered speed with every yard until it was tearing along at a rate of nearly sixty miles an hour.

The speed was a revelation to the boys, who had rarely traveled at a rate exceeding thirty miles an hour, and their faces were glued in fascination to the windows.

"Talk about traveling!" exclaimed Frank, gleefully.

"It isn't riding, it's flying," declared Sammy.

"I'd hate to be in front of it," observed Bob.

"Well, there'd be one comfort if it struck you," said Frank. "You'd never know what hit you."

"Back of the locomotive is plenty good enough for me," said George with a grin.

"Just suppose the thing should run off the track," suggested Frank with a half shiver.

"We won't suppose anything of the kind," said Bob. "We've got lots of pleasanter things than that to think about."

They made a pilgrimage through the great train, investigating every nook and corner with ever increasing interest and delight. To their young eager minds it was a revelation. The chief thing they regretted was that they could not climb over the tender and get into the cab with the fireman and engineer.

They would have liked, too, to investigate the mysteries of the baggage car which always figured so largely in what they had read of train hold-ups in the West.

"I suppose that baggageman has millions of dollars worth of gold in his safe," remarked Frank.

"Well, hardly that much," replied George, whose mind on that point was better informed; "but there isn't any doubt that he's got a good many thousands."

"Maybe there are men on the train now who are planning to rob him," suggested Sammy.

"It isn't likely," answered George. "For every train that's held up, there are a thousand that get through without any trouble."

"That doesn't prove that this isn't the one train that won't get through," persisted Sammy.

"Just listen to him," gibed Bob. "Any one would think that Sammy was hoping that the train would be held up."

"Nothing of the kind," persisted Sammy. "But if any train were going to be robbed, anyway, you wouldn't mind being along and seeing the hold-up, would you?"

"But how about yourself?" put in Frank. "Sometimes they're not satisfied with just robbing the safe, but they go through the train and take all the jewelry and money that the passengers have. Maybe you wouldn't be so glad then that you happened to be on the train."

Sammy had to admit that this would be a different thing and that it would not be quite so interesting. But he still craved mystery and excitement, and was inclined to think that he would be cheated if things ran along in the usual way.

He was in this mood when they returned to their own car and dropped into their seats.

The train had made one stop at a large city and several passengers had come into the Niagara. Two men had taken the seat just in front of that in which Sammy sat.

The boys were the least bit tired after all the stir and movement of the day, and were snuggled up in their seats without doing much talking. But Sammy's imagination was running riot with what might happen if fate chanced to be good to him, and he sat bolt upright and very wide awake.

He amused himself by studying the men in front of him. He could get only an occasional side view of their faces, and from what he saw they looked pleasant enough. But then, Sammy reflected, you never can tell. He had seen a picture of a murderer in a New York paper not long before, and the man looked so frank and smiling that one would not think he could harm a mouse. Sometimes a good face was a bad man's stock in trade.

Suddenly Sammy heard a remark from one of the men that made him prick up his ears.

"Yes," he said, "he tried to make it, but Billy was too quick for him. He killed him right then and there."

"Good work," said the other approvingly.

"You ought to have seen him kick," continued the first man. "I had to laugh when I saw his face."

Sammy was horror stricken!

Here seemed to be a clear case of murder. And murder, too, of the most brutal kind.

What kind of men could they be who would not only kill a fellow creature but laugh at his dying struggles? It seemed almost unbelievable.

Sammy racked his memory to recall anything he might have read or heard that would fit this case. He did very little reading of the newspapers, and his parents were careful to keep from him any shocking details of crime. Yet sometimes he would overhear his father talking with the neighbors about some dreadful thing with which the country was ringing.

Yet try as Sammy would, he could not recall anything that seemed to apply to the especial cold-blooded murder which these men were evidently discussing.

Sammy glanced at his chums to see if they were listening. But they were not, and for this he was glad. He wanted to unravel this mystery all by himself if possible and only then reveal the matter proudly to the others.

He strained his ears now as he never had before. He did not want to miss a single detail.

"Yes," one of the men was saying, "he was badly cut up but his squealing did no good."

Sammy shuddered. In imagination he could hear the groans and shrieks of the victim.

He leaned forward in his seat, for the roar and rush of the train made it hard to catch the words especially as the speakers' faces were turned away from him.

Sammy wondered at their hardihood in discussing the crime so openly. Probably they thought that the noise of the train would be their protection. Or they might have noticed that those seated right behind them were boys instead of men, and this might have made them careless.

"They never made a bigger mistake," Sammy said to himself. "I'll show them that boys are not to be trifled with."

Already Sammy saw his name in big headlines in the papers, accompanied by his picture. He thought of the sensation this would make, not only with his own immediate chums, but with the other boys of Fairview. They had often laughed at what they called his "fake mysteries," but now they would laugh no more. Instead, they would be filled with envy and admiration.

But now the men had either changed the subject of conversation or else what they did say was so disconnected that Sammy could not make head or tail of it. He did catch the word "stealing," however, and that gave him another thrill. Probably the men were not only murderers but hardened thieves as well. Perhaps their victim had been killed while they were attempting to rob him.

But while he was considering the case from this new angle, the porter passed through the car giving the first call for dinner.

"Dinnah's ready in de dinin' cah," he announced.

The words came like a trumpet call to three of the boys at least, and they were astir in a moment. There was no inclination on their part to wait for the second or third call. The first call was none too early for them.

"Come along, fellows!" cried Frank.

"Will we?" sang out Bob and George in chorus.

Sammy would usually have been as eager as the rest, but just at this minute, when he was hot on the trail, he would have been willing to wait a little while.

"What's the matter with you, Sammy?" asked George, struck by his unusual slowness.

"I never knew you to hang back on a call to dinner before," put in Frank.

"Get a move on," suggested Bob, giving Sammy a vigorous poke in the ribs.

Sammy would have protested, but just at this moment the two men in front rose with the evident intention of going into the dining car, and Sammy decided that it would be well to keep them in sight.

The boys were lucky enough to get a table together, while the two men seated themselves at a table a few feet away on the other side of the car. Sammy so arranged his own seat that he could have the men in view all through dinner, promising himself that he would do more watching than eating.

But his resolution failed before the good things that were heaped by the smiling waiter on their table. There was soup and fish and oysters and chicken and delicious fried potatoes and olives and relishes of all kinds. Despite himself Sammy forgot for the time all about the criminals and waded into the good things just as eagerly and voraciously as the rest of the boys.

The colored waiter watched them with a grin that displayed all his white teeth.

"Ah clah's to goodness," he confided to one of his mates, "ah wouldn't want to have dem young gemmen as stiddy boarders. Dey suah would eat me out of house and home."

But the boys' capacity had a limit, and at last they had finished the solid part of their meal and were sitting happily back in their seats waiting for their dessert of pie and ice cream.

Then it was that graver affairs than mere eating pressed upon Sammy. He fastened his eyes upon the two men and kept them there without blinking.

"What are you staring at, Sammy?" asked George.

"He looks like a cat watching at a mousehole," remarked Bob.

"I bet he's working up another mystery," mocked Frank. "I know the signs."

"Never you mind," said Sammy, impressively. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

"That's something new for Sammy, then," gibed Frank. "Most of the time he thinks he knows but he doesn't."

"What would you say," said Sammy, stung out of his resolve to keep the matter quiet for the present, "if I told you that in this same car where you're eating there are two murderers?"

This came to the boys like an electrical shock.

"What do you mean?" asked Frank.

"Stop trying to fool us," said Bob.

"Is that a joke?" demanded George.

Sammy was delighted at the sensation he had made.

"I mean just what I say," he declared with fitting solemnity. "I heard them confess it with my own ears."

"When?" came breathlessly from the others.

"While you dubs were half asleep a little while ago," Sammy got back at them.

"Who are they?" George demanded.

"Keep your eyes down on the table now," said Sammy, "and then after a while look carelessly over at the two men at the third table on the other side of the car. If you should all look at them at once, they might think that we were on to them and that the jig was up."

It was the hardest kind of work to keep their eyes glued to the table when the boys were trembling with eagerness to look at the desperate characters whose crime had been revealed to Sammy, but they did it and then looked furtively in the direction that Sammy had indicated.

It must be admitted that the Fairview boys were disappointed. They had expected to see low brutal foreheads, shifty eyes with a wicked glow in them and faces seamed with the marks of vice and dissipation. But instead they saw two pleasant-faced men, not unlike those they were accustomed to see in Fairview, and those men instead of being oppressed with guilt were laughing and joking with each other as though they had not a care in the world.

"I don't believe it," muttered George.

"There's nothing bad about those fellows," pronounced Bob.

"One of them looks like Mr. Tetlow," observed Frank, referring to the principal of the Fairview school.

Sammy smiled a wise smile into which he tried to put a little contempt for the judgment of his chums.

"You judge things from the outside," he said in a superior way. "But I'm not going by the way they look. I've got something better than that. I know what I heard them say."

"What was it they said?" asked George.

"I'll tell you when we get back in our own car," promised Sammy, importantly.

The ice cream and pie were brought in just then, and the boys applied themselves to them, but not as whole-heartedly as they had to the rest of the meal before Sammy had told them his startling news. Over every mouthful they cast swift glances at the malefactors who were now sipping their coffee with quiet enjoyment.

George, who, being the eldest, carried the purse for the party, paid the check, not forgetting a modest tip to the grinning waiter who had served them so bountifully, and the little party with one last glance at the pair of alleged culprits filed their way back to their own car. There they fell on Sammy at once and demanded that he tell them from start to finish all that he had heard.

Sammy complied, doling his news out bit by bit, so as to keep their appetites sharp, and when he was through they had to confess that it certainly looked very serious.

"But it doesn't seem that either one of them did the actual killing," objected George. "It was this Billy, whoever it was, that they say killed him."

"Yes. But they were all in it and that makes one as bad as another. Billy may have been the one to use the knife—I heard him say that the man was all cut up—but the others were there and laughed when the poor fellow squealed and kicked."

"It must have been something awful to hear him," shuddered Bob.

"I wonder what they did with the body?" queried George.

"Buried it or burned it, I suppose. I guess when the detectives get hold of these fellows they'll be able to get out of them what they did with the body."

"Well, what are we going to do about it?" asked Frank.

"It seems to me that we ought to tell the police about it right away," replied Sammy.

"But how can we do that?" asked Bob.

"Oh, I don't know exactly," confessed Sammy, vaguely. "I suppose, though, that one of us could get off at a station and send a telegram to the police of some town ahead of us."

"We wouldn't need to get off the train for that," said George. "There's a telegraph office in one of the cars ahead. But I think it would be better to tell the whole thing to the conductor. He'll know what's the best thing to do."

"But don't tell him just yet," put in Frank. "Perhaps the men will give themselves away more yet if we wait a little while. We'll all keep our ears open to-night and see what we can find out."

Further conversation stopped just then, for the two men came back from the dining car and settled into their seats. They seemed in especially good humor after their dinner. One of them even turned part way round in his seat and tried to get into conversation with the boys.

"Where are you youngsters going all by yourselves?" he asked in a friendly way.

"Out on a ranch," George answered promptly.

"Near Grand Forks," put in Sammy.

"We're going to stay all the rest of the Summer," added Bob.

"Is that so?" said the other genially. "Quite a long trip for boys of your age without any grown-ups with you. I was born and brought up on a ranch myself."

He went on to tell them many interesting things about ranch life, and they listened with the most absorbing interest. There was a shiver and yet a delightful thrill in the feeling that they were actually talking to a real criminal. How the boys in Fairview would envy them when they should tell them about it!

The man talked with them for perhaps fifteen minutes and then turned again to his companion.

"Did you notice his hands?" Sammy whispered to George.

"They were awfully strong looking, but some of the fingers were crooked as though they had been broken some time," returned George in a low voice.

"I'd hate to have them holding on to my throat," murmured Frank with a shudder.

"He seems so good-natured that I am almost sorry to have to give him over to the police," put in Bob.

"That's so," said Sammy, solemnly, "but it's our duty."

If they had hoped to hear any more confessions that night, however, the boys were disappointed. The men talked politics and business and there was nothing to indicate that their crime was hounding them.

Pretty soon the porters made up their berths and the boys tumbled in, deferring until the morning any further steps they might feel it necessary to take.

They slept like tops and when they awoke in the morning a shock awaited them.

The two men had left the train!

Sammy was the first to notice the absence of the strangers. After he had washed and dressed he saw that the berths in the neighboring section had been put up and the seat prepared for the day. But the seat had no occupants.

This did not disturb Sammy very much at first. The men might have gone forward for an early breakfast in the dining car. Even when he failed to see them there, he concluded that they might have finished their meal and might be enjoying an after breakfast smoke in the smoking car. Or they might be out on the observation platform of the last car. These theories kept him content for a while, and with them he quieted the growing uneasiness of the other boys.

But at last, as the men failed to show up, he grew nervous and called to the porter as he was going through the aisle.

"Do you know where the gentlemen are who had this seat in front of us yesterday?" he asked.

"Don't know where dose gemmen are now," answered the porter with a grin. "Dey got off de train jest befo' daylight dis mornin'."

There was a stir among the Fairview boys at this announcement and Sammy's heart sank within him.

"Do you know who the men were?" was all he could think of to ask at the moment.

"Nebbeh saw dem befo'," smiled the porter. "But dey wuz suttinly mighty fine gemmen. Gave me a dollar tip befo' dey got off."

The porter waited a moment longer, but Sammy had no further questions to ask of him and he passed on.

"What do you think of that?" groaned Sammy to his mates.

"We're stung for fair," remarked George, disappointedly.

"We ought to have told all about it last night," commented Bob.

"The birds have flown!" exclaimed Frank, dramatically.

"I think we ought to tell the conductor anyway," remarked Sammy, after a moment's bitter contemplation of the way his chance for fame had disappeared.

"Pretty late now," observed George. "Still, I suppose the best thing we can do is to tell him."

They waited till that official came along. He was a fat, jolly man and had taken quite a liking to the boys.

"Good morning, boys," he said with a smile. "Did you sleep well last night?"

"Pretty well, thank you," replied Sammy for himself and his chums. "I've got something I'd like to tell you if you have a minute to spare."

"Sure thing," replied the conductor, sitting on the arm of the seat. "Fire away."

"It's this," began Sammy, putting as much impressiveness in his tone as possible. "We believe there were two men on the train last night who've been mixed up in a murder."

The conductor gave a genuine start and this evidence of shock pleased the boys immensely.

"What do you mean by that?" asked the conductor.

"Just what I say," replied Sammy, solemnly. "I heard them talking of a man that had been killed with a knife and how they had laughed at his kicks and squeals."

The conductor was really agitated.

"Who were the men," he asked sharply, "and where are they now?"

"I don't know where they are now," answered Sammy. "The porter says that they got off the train before daylight this morning. But all yesterday afternoon and evening they were sitting in the seat right in front of us."

The conductor taxed his memory for a moment. Then to the amazement of the boys he almost doubled up with laughter.

The boys looked at each other, amazed and offended.

"I don't see what there is to laugh about," ventured Sammy, severely.

The gravity of his tone sent the conductor off into another spasm.

"Why," he said as soon as he could speak, "I know those men and have known them for years. They're two of the finest fellows I know. They wouldn't commit murder any more than you or I would."

"I only know what I heard," replied Sammy, sulkily.

"Just what did you hear?" rejoined the conductor. "Try to remember the exact words."

The words had been graven so deeply on Sammy's memory at the time that he had no trouble in recalling them.

"One of the men said," he began slowly; "'He tried to make it but Billy was too quick for him. He killed him right then and there.' Then the other man said: 'Good work.' Then the first man said: 'You ought to have seen him kick. I had to laugh when I saw his face.'

"That's all I could hear just then, but a little later I heard one of them say something about 'stealing.' Then they must have meant the man who had been killed when one of them said: 'He was badly cut up but his squealing did no good.' That's how I knew they must have killed the man with a knife."

While Sammy talked, the conductor was evidently piecing the sentences together. Then a light dawned in his eyes and he was about to let himself go into peals of laughter when he caught sight of the bewildered look in Sammy's eyes, and, being a kindly man, tried to control himself.

"Look here, my boy," he said. "I can see just how this whole thing has come about.

"One of those men was Bud Tyson, the best umpire in the Tri-State League, and the other was Tom Benton, catcher of the Buffaloes. They were talking about baseball. One of the men in the game had tried to steal a base. The catcher had been too quick for him and got the ball down to Billy, the man who was playing second base. He touched the runner and put him out, or killed him, as baseball players often call it. Sometimes they say that a man died at second. The man who was put out made a big kick or squeal about it, because he was so cut up about being put out. But the umpire just laughed at him and he had to go back to the bench."

Sammy felt the sickening sensation at the pit of his stomach that he had sometimes felt when an elevator started down with a rush. So this was all his great discovery amounted to! Another bubble of his had burst.

"So that was it," he said slowly.

"That's all it was," replied the conductor. "Both of those men have boys of their own and are good citizens and fathers. But don't feel a bit bad about it, my boy," he added kindly. "Anybody who isn't up in baseball slang might easily have made the same mistake. You might have been on the track of a real murder and you did just right in telling me about it."

With a friendly pat on the head he went on through the car. The boys looked at each other sheepishly. But this time none of them felt that they had any right to joke Sammy about it. They had believed as fully as he that they were on the track of a mystery and had been worked up to the same pitch of excitement. So that they were all in the same boat.

"So they were only baseball players," said George, disappointedly.

"That explains the crooked fingers that one of them had," remarked Frank. "I suppose they've been broken again and again."

"That was certainly one on us," said Bob, dejectedly.

"Well, after all, we ought to be glad I suppose that they aren't murderers," Sammy comforted himself.

"I'm glad that we're near Chicago," said George. "I don't want to see this conductor any more than I have to, and I'll feel better when we change trains."

In another hour they had reached Chicago, and the brief glimpse they got of the great city by the lake made them wish that they could stay over a day and explore its wonders. But their tickets called for a continuous trip and in a little while they were leaving the city behind them and rushing over the last stage of their journey.

The cities were less frequent now, great stretches of prairie land became more and more common, and the boys realized that they were getting into the heart of the real West, the region of boundless plains as contrasted with that of crowded towns.

Little else occurred outside of their own plans and fun to interest the boys until they were getting close to Grand Forks, where their railroad traveling would come to an end.

But when they were two hours east of Grand Forks, four men, who aroused Sammy's curiosity at once, boarded the train at a little station.

They were rather rough-looking men, and Sammy thought that one of them in particular had a villainous look. The other boys set them down as surveyors or prospectors, but such a commonplace idea had no charms for Sammy.

"I tell you there's something queer about them," Sammy persisted. "Do you see that black box they're so careful about?"

"Well, what of that?" said George, carelessly. "That may have some of their instruments in it."

"It looks more to me like an infernal machine," said Sammy, darkly. "That's why they handle it so carefully. It might go off if it got a hard knock. I tell you I believe those fellows are up to something."

"Some more murderers perhaps," put in Bob. "You'd better listen mighty close, Sammy."

"Never mind," said Sammy, stubbornly. "Because I made a mistake once doesn't say I'm wrong this time. I'm going to keep my eyes on those fellows until we get to Grand Forks."

But nothing startling developed, and the men were still guiltless of any crime as far as Sammy really knew when Grand Forks was reached and the boys tumbled out glad to stretch their legs after the long journey.

It was only a way station and no other passengers besides themselves got off. At the end of the station was a big buck-board with two stout mustangs attached.

A tall, lean man with a bronzed face came down to the place where they were standing.

"I suppose you are the Fairview boys that Mr. Claxton is lookin' fur," he said with a pleasant smile. "He sent me down to bring you over to the ranch. My name is Hank Thompson an' I'm one of Mr. Claxton's help. I'll jest bring the team down here an' we'll hist yer baggage on an' then we'll set sail for the ranch."

The boys liked Hank Thompson at once, and soon they were all as busy as bees getting their luggage on the back of the conveyance. Then the boys climbed in wherever they could find room and the mustangs started off at a spanking gait.

There was no real road, only a well defined trail leading over what seemed to be an endless prairie. As far as the eye could reach, nothing broke the view to the horizon except a range of hills to the north. The earth was carpeted with heavy, lush grass, and in places there could be seen herds of cattle grazing, whose number seemed to run into the thousands.

It was a long ride, but the lads had so much to see that was novel and their tongues ran on so endlessly that it hardly seemed they had traveled twenty-five miles when Hank pointed with his whip to a large group of low-lying buildings that appeared in front of them.

"Thet's Bar-Z Ranch," he said, "an' there's the boss and missus out on the porch to meet you."

A few minutes later they passed through a gate and drew up in front of the ranch house. Mr. and Mrs. Claxton hurried down the steps to greet them, and the next moment the young travelers were almost smothered in the hearty hugs and hand shakings that told them how welcome they were at the Bar-Z Ranch.

"So you've really got here at last!" exclaimed Mr. Claxton, a big burly man of over fifty whose face bore the marks of kindliness and good nature.

"I've worried a little about you boys making such a long trip all alone," said Mrs. Claxton, a motherly looking woman, who made the boys feel at home at once. "But all's well that ends well, and now that you're here it's all right. We're going to do our best to give you a good time while you are here."

"We're very sure of that," laughed George, who, as the oldest, was the natural spokesman of the little party.

"We've been looking forward to the trip for a long time," put in Frank.

"And we're tickled to death to get here," added Bob.

"It's awful good of you to ask us to come," said Sammy.

"You aren't half as glad to come as we are to have you," said Mrs. Claxton. "We haven't any chick or child of our own, and we get fairly hungry for the sight of young faces. But come right along now and I'll show you your rooms and you can get washed and freshened up after your journey. By the time you do that, I guess supper will be just about ready."

She hurried into the house, followed by the boys to whom the word supper had a magical sound, and led the way to two big rooms on the second floor. One of them was for Frank and George and the other for Bob and Sammy. They were very comfortably furnished and the windows gave a splendid view of the surrounding country.

There was plenty of water and fresh towels and for the next few minutes there was a vigorous splashing and rubbing as the Fairview boys removed the dust of travel.

"Don't they seem nice, kind people?" said Sammy, between rubs. "They make you feel right away as though you'd known them for a long time."

"Mother said we'd feel at home the minute we got here," answered George.

"She thinks there's nobody like Mr. and Mrs. Claxton," put in Frank.

"It certainly looks as if we were going to have a dandy time here," prophesied Bob.

They had scarcely finished their dressing when the call came to supper, and they trooped down without needing a second summons. The long ride over the prairie had sharpened appetites that never needed sharpening anyway.

There was a royal abundance of deliciously cooked meats and vegetables together with hot biscuits and honey on the table, and the boys fairly gasped with pleasure as they saw what awaited them.

"You don't expect us to eat all this do you, Mrs. Claxton?" asked George with a grin.

"I certainly expect you to do your share," laughed Mrs. Claxton, "and I shall feel bad if you don't."

"Well, rather than make you feel bad, we'll do our very best," said Sammy.

"Mother said we were to mind you and do just what you said," smiled Frank, "so I guess we'd better start right in now."

Starting in was easy enough. It was when it came to finishing that the boys found it hard. Everything tasted so good that they hated to stop, and Mrs. Claxton beamed with pleasure as she saw the inroads they made upon the meal.

But the best of things must come to an end and the boys at last reached the limit of their capacity. And to any one who knew these four boys that meant a great deal.

"Huh," grunted Sammy, "I don't believe I ever ate so much in all my life before."

"Same here," echoed Bob. "I'd be like the fat boy in the circus if I lived out here all the time."

The table had been waited on by Tom Lee, a Chinese servant who had been with the Claxtons for a long time. He was a short, fat Chinaman with a face that was like a mask. He glanced out of his almond-shaped eyes at the boys every once in a while, but there was no expression in his glance. He walked as softly as a cat as he went to and fro.

The boys had not seen many Chinamen. There was no Chinese laundry in Fairview and they had only caught a glimpse of a Chinaman once in a while in other places. His dress and ways were a novelty to them, and now that their appetites were satisfied they watched him with a great deal of interest as he moved about clearing the table.

"Maybe he's a highbinder," said Sammy in a low tone to Frank, who was seated next to him.

"What's a highbinder?" asked Frank.

"Oh, I don't know exactly," answered Sammy. "But I think they're a kind of bandit or murderer that other Chinese hire when they have somebody that they want to put out of the way."

"There you go again," murmured Frank. "Can't you ever get over guessing about people, Sammy?"

"I didn't say he was a highbinder," retorted Sammy. "I only said that he might be."

"Well, he can be a highbinder as much as he likes if he only keeps on cooking dinners like this."

They arose from the table and went into the sitting-room. Mrs. Claxton brought out her sewing and all settled down for a pleasant hour or two of conversation.

The Claxtons had a host of questions to ask about the parents of George and Frank. Then they questioned the boys about the incidents of their trip and listened with great interest to their replies.

It is needless to say that Sammy was careful to say nothing about the baseball incident, and it must be put down to the credit of the others that they were equally silent on that point.

While they were talking, Sammy's eyes had been fastened upon a great skin that lay on the sitting-room floor. At the first lull in the talk, he asked what it was.

"Oh, that," said Mr. Claxton, "is the skin of a grizzly bear."

The boys were all excitement in an instant.

"A grizzly bear!" they exclaimed in one breath.

In an instant they were down on hands and knees, examining the shaggy fur, the enormous paws and the pointed head, small out of all proportion to the huge body.

The Claxtons watched the eager boys with an indulgent smile.

"Whew, but he must have been a sockdolager!" exclaimed George.

"A lallapaloozer!" declared Bob.

"How big was he, Mr. Claxton?" asked Frank.

"Oh, I should say about ten feet from nose to tail," returned Mr. Claxton.

"Did you kill him yourself?" asked Sammy.

"Yes," replied their host.

"Tell us about it," begged Bob.

"Oh, there isn't very much to tell," rejoined Mr. Claxton. "I came on him one morning just when he had pulled down one of my calves and was making his dinner of it. I opened up on him with my rifle and was lucky enough to get him before he got me."

The boys looked at him with awe and envy. Here was a man who had done things. He had had a fight with a grizzly and brought the grizzly down. From that moment their quiet host rose many degrees in their estimation.

"Are there really grizzlies around these parts?" asked Sammy, hopefully.

Mr. Claxton shook his head.

"Not now," he replied. "There used to be up to ten years ago. It's just about that long since I got this fellow. But they keep moving further and further west as the settlers keep coming in, and now I don't think there are any within a hundred miles of here."

Sammy's face showed his disappointment, and Mr. Claxton smiled.

"You needn't feel bad about it," he said. "Take it from me, the best place to see a grizzly bear is behind the bars of a cage in a menagerie or in the Zoo."

"How about wolves?" asked George. "Do they trouble you much out here?"

"Not at all in the Summer time," replied the ranchman. "Sometimes during a hard Winter they get desperate and come around trying to get a calf out of the herd. But they don't succeed very often at that. The old bulls form a circle around the herd and catch the wolves on their horns when they try to get through. But in the Summer the nearest thing we have to the wolf is a coyote. But he's a cowardly brute and jumps at the sight of his own shadow."

"Are there any Indians out this way that ever go on the warpath?" asked Bob.

"Hardly," grinned Mr. Claxton. "The only Indians we ever see in these parts are those that hang around the saloons in the towns doing odd jobs for the sake of a drink."

It was not a very dignified picture of the noble red man, and the boys sighed in spirit. Hank Blair's hope that they would bring him a scalp seemed very far from being realized.

"Do the Chinese ever give you any trouble?" asked Sammy, desperately. If this hope failed him where was he to find material for the gallant exploits with which he hoped to dazzle the boys of Fairview?

This time Mr. Claxton laughed outright.

"The only trouble I have with them," he said, "is that sometimes the men get to teasing and browbeating Tom Lee and I have to stop it for the sake of fair play."

"I thought some of them were highbinders," said Sammy, feebly.

"I suppose there are some of that kind," assented Mr. Claxton with a careless nod; "but they stick pretty closely to the big cities, like Sacramento and San Francisco, and we never have to worry about them out here."

"I suppose you have rattlesnakes out here?" said Bob.

Mr. Claxton's face grew grave.

"More than we want," he said. "We've cleaned out a good many nests of them, but there are still enough of them around to make it necessary to be careful. I'm glad you spoke about them, for I want to warn you boys to keep your eyes about you while you're going around the ranch. If you hear a rattle, don't stop to look. Jump back out of the way first and look afterward."

"Will they chase you?" asked Frank in an awed voice.

"No, as a rule they're perfectly satisfied to let you alone if you let them alone. But they're quick as lightning, and they've got a mighty hot temper. Every once in a while a horse or steer is bitten by one, but my men have a healthy respect for them and keep their eyes open. I haven't had a case of snakebite among them for many years past."

"You boys will be dreaming of bears and wolves and snakes if we talk about them much longer," said Mrs. Claxton, smiling on them. "And I'm going to send you off to bed. You all must be dead tired after your trip."

"It will feel good to get into a regular bed after three nights in sleeping-car berths," agreed George.

They took the lamps that were furnished by their hostess, and after a hearty good-night went up to their rooms.

"Well," said Sammy, as they were undressing, "maybe we can't take any scalps back to the boys, but I shouldn't wonder if we might get a bunch of rattles for them."

"You'll have a case of rattles yourself if you ever catch sight of a snake," joked Bob.

In reply Sammy threw a pillow at him. The others joined in and there was a spirited pillow-fight for a few minutes. But the snowy beds looked too tempting to keep away from them long, and a few minutes later all were in the happy, healthy sleep of tired boyhood.

The Fairview boys slept hard and long on that first night they spent at the ranch, and when they awoke the next morning the sun was high in the heavens.

"Jiminy!" exclaimed George, looking at his watch. "It's after ten o'clock. I don't know what they'll think of us keeping breakfast waiting so long."

The rest were speedily on their feet, and after a hurried wash and combing they dressed and hastened down to the main floor.

Mrs. Claxton met them with a smiling face.

"Don't say a word," she protested, as they tried to apologize for being so late. "I know how tired you poor boys must be and I made up my mind not to call you if you slept all day. But now that you are down I'll have breakfast on the table for you before you can turn around."

It was not long before she summoned them to the dining-room.

"Mr. Claxton and I had our breakfast some hours ago," said their hostess. "He's down at the bunk-house now and he left word that you were to come down and find him as soon as you were through your meal. But there's plenty of time, so don't hurry."

They ate till they could eat no more, and then took their hats and went out into the glorious Summer morning. They turned their steps toward the bunk-house, which Mrs. Claxton pointed out to them from the porch.

It was a long, low structure with a long table in the middle at which the men ate their meals. Around the sides were twenty or more bunks that furnished sleeping quarters. Everything about the place was simple and plain but scrupulously clean.

Most of the men had scattered long ago to their work about the ranch. The only ones in sight were Hank Thompson, their driver of the day before, who smiled in a friendly way at them as they passed, and a powerful, wiry man to whom Mr. Claxton was talking just outside the door of the bunk-house.

The ranch owner greeted them cordially and turned to the man with whom he had been talking.

"These are the young lads from the East I was telling you we expected, Bill," he said. "Boys, this is my foreman, Mr. Bixby."

The boys acknowledged the introduction, and Bill took the hand of each and squeezed it cordially in his great paw.

"I shore am glad to meet you youngsters," he grinned. "Mr. Claxton has told me to see thet you hev a good time while you're out here an' I'm goin' to do my best to give it to you."

The boys thanked him heartily.

"To begin with," said Mr. Claxton, "how would you boys like to have horses of your own to ride while you're here?" The boys gasped with delight, and Mr. Claxton smiled.

"Tell Hank to go down to the corral and bring the horses up here," he directed his foreman. "Have you boys ever had any experience in riding before?" he asked, when the foreman had gone to execute his mission.

They had to confess that outside of an occasional ride on one of the sedate old horses of Fairview that could hardly get up enough spirit to break into a trot, they had had no experience.

"I thought as much," said Mr. Claxton, "and for that reason I've had Bill pick out horses that were gentle and thoroughly broken. I feel that I'm responsible to your parents to see that you take no risks. You can practise on these, and after you've learned to ride well, I may let you have some that are younger and friskier."

In a few minutes Hank came up, leading four horses by ropes. They were good looking and strong limbed and they had been groomed until their coats shone like satin. They were not of the bucking-broncho type, but steady and reliable.

From the bunk-house Hank brought four saddles and the bridles and fitted them into place. Then he gave a lift to each of the boys and they settled on the horses' backs.

"Now, Hank," directed Mr. Claxton, "you've got nothing else to do this morning but teach these lads how to ride. Go slow at first and show them all there is to know about managing a horse. Nobody knows more about that than you do."

Hank grinned at the compliment.

"Jest leave it to me, boss," he said. "I'll make regular hoss wranglers outen these kids if they stay here long enough."

There was a perfectly level space of several hundred yards in front of the ranch buildings, and here Hank instructed his pupils for the next two hours. He taught them how to sway with the motion of their mounts, how to guide them by the pressure of their knees as well as with the bit, how to hold the reins loosely yet firmly, and how to pat and talk to the horses until they won their confidence and affection.

The boys were apt pupils and paid the closest attention to his teachings, so that when the dinner gong sounded Hank was able to report to his employer that they had made very satisfactory progress.

They practised a little that afternoon also, though Mr. Claxton would not let them keep at it too long on the first day. They were frightfully lame and sore that night from the saddle and found it difficult to sleep. But this wore away after the first day, and in two or three days more they were able to ride about at a good degree of speed and Hank announced that they would "do."

That first week at the ranch was one of unalloyed delight for the Fairview boys. They hobnobbed with the cowboys, who they found were a rough but friendly lot, accompanied them on their rounds, watched them as they roped and branded, gasped with delight as they saw the way they tamed and rode the bucking bronchos in the corral, and soon were familiar with all the mysteries of ranch life that up to now had been a sealed book to them.

One cloudy morning, George proposed that they should go fishing in a stream that ran about five miles distant from the ranch house.

"You won't mind if we do, will you, Mrs. Claxton?" asked George.

"We'll bring you home a great big mess of fish for supper," said Bob, coaxingly.

"I know there are lots of bullheads and catfish there," remarked Sammy, "and I shouldn't wonder, too, if there were perch and pickerel."

"You boys have got such a wheedling way with you that I can't refuse you anything," laughed Mrs. Claxton. "I guess it will be all right for you to go, but you must be sure to get home before dark. I'll have Tom put up a nice lunch for you."

They thanked her and gaily made their preparations. They had not brought reels or rods with them from home, but it was easy enough to rig up a sufficient number of lines and hooks. They dug up a big can of bait and after a hearty breakfast mounted their horses and rode off.

They raced their horses, laughed and shouted, and acted altogether like a party of young maniacs. The five miles were covered almost before they knew it, and they found themselves on the border of the little river they sought.

It was a small stream not more than thirty feet wide at any place and narrowing sometimes to ten. It ranged in depth from two feet to five. The almost impossibility of being drowned in it was one of the reasons that had led Mrs. Claxton to let them go so readily.

"I wonder what the name of this river is," said Frank, as they leaped from their horses' backs and led them to near-by trees to tie them.

"Bill said it didn't have any regular name," replied Bob.

"In that case we'll name it ourselves," grinned George.

"I'll tell you what we'll do," suggested Sammy. "The one that catches the first fish will have the right to name the river."

"That's a go," agreed Bob, "and I'm going to be the one."

"Don't crow too soon," warned Frank. "I don't see any medals on you as a fisherman."

"If you fellows don't stop your chinning, you'll scare the fish away and none of us will be able to catch anything," warned George.

"And then the poor old river will have to go without a name a little longer," mocked the irrepressible Sammy.

George tried to squelch him with a look but with no success.

"Here goes for the first fish," murmured Bob in a half whisper, as he baited his line and threw it into the stream.

The others had soon followed his example and a hush fell on the group as they settled down for business.

For a few minutes there was not even a nibble. Then Frank's line was almost jerked out of his hand.

He pulled in excitedly and had almost brought his catch to shore when the line suddenly broke and Frank fell over on his back.

He gave a howl of vexation as his line without the hook came out the water.

"And that was a whopper, too," he complained. "I'll bet he was the daddy of them all."

"It's always the biggest fish that gets away," consoled George. "Never mind, Frank, better luck next time."

A new hook was fastened to the line and baited, and Frank grumblingly threw it in. Just as he did so, Bob gave a shout and pulled a big catfish out on the bank.

He rushed to take it from the hook but started back with a cry of pain.

"It stung me," he yelled, holding up his finger from which blood was flowing.

"Of course he did," replied Sammy. "They always get one of their horns into you if you're not careful. I'll bet that fellow's tickled to death at the way he put one over on you."

"Wash your finger well in the water," counseled George, "and then come over here and I'll put some peroxide on it that Mrs. Claxton gave me to bring along."

Bob did as directed, and then with exceeding care took the catfish from the hook.

"It's a beauty anyway," he said as he surveyed it, "and it's the first one caught. Didn't I tell you that I'd be the one to name the river? I'll name it right now the Fairview River."

Sammy was about to reply when all his energies were called into play to land a perch that had grabbed his line. At almost the same time George pulled in a bullhead, and from that time on the fun was fast and furious. The stream was not often fished in, and so the fish were not as wary of human foes as usual. In less than half an hour the boys had as many as thirty fish lying on the bank, and then George called a halt.

"We've got the mess we promised Mrs. Claxton all right," he said exultingly, "and we don't want to catch a lot that we'll simply have to leave here on the grass. I'll tell you what let's do. We'll clean a few of these and broil them over a fire of oak twigs and have a fish feast right here. There's butter and pepper and salt in the lunch box, and I bet we'll have the dandiest fish fry you ever tasted in your life."

The other boys agreed to this and all set to work at once.

They feasted long and well, and when they were through had hardly enough energy left to move.

"I feel now like some of those Australian natives I've read about," said George. "They say that when a whale drifts ashore they eat steadily for about thirty-six hours. Then they sleep for a week."

"An anaconda hasn't anything on them," agreed Frank. "I feel myself as though I wouldn't half mind going to sleep."

"It wouldn't be any trouble for me at all," said Sammy, drowsily.

"Same here," assented Bob.

They lay stretched out on their backs, lazy and content. The only sound was the murmur of the river and the wind blowing through the trees. The sun stole through the leaves and flecked the green sward with bits of gold. It was a scene of perfect dreamy peace.

Suddenly, Sammy raised himself on his elbow.

"What are you doing?" asked George, sleepily.

"What are you getting up for?" growled Frank.

"Listen!" said Sammy. "Don't you hear anything?"

"I don't hear anything except you," fretted Bob.

"You're dippy, I guess," complained George.

"I tell you I hear something," persisted Sammy.

His earnestness impressed his mates and they sat up.

"It's coming nearer," went on Sammy. "It sounds like a rush of horses or cattle. Put your ear close to the ground."

They did so and now all could distinctly hear what sounded like the pounding of hoofs.

They looked at each other with growing surprise and a bit of alarm in their eyes.

"What can it be?" asked Bob.

"Maybe it's a stampede," suggested Frank.

"Whatever it is, we'd better get back out of sight," counseled Sammy. "We can get down close to the bank of the river and look through the bushes."

They followed this advice, and, crouching low, looked in the direction of the sounds.

These grew louder and louder until suddenly a horseman came in sight, riding at full speed. He held the reins of the powerful black horse he was riding with one hand, while with the other he held in front of him a girl. She seemed to have fainted and would apparently have fallen from the saddle without the rider's sustaining arm.

The horse drew nearer, plunged into the little river, struggled up the further bank and tore on with tremendous speed. It was evident that the rider was in deadly fear of pursuit.

And when the boys looked back in the direction from which the rider had come, they did not wonder at his fear.

Down the trail were coming ten or a dozen cowboys, spurring and lashing their horses and riding like mad in the direction the first rider had taken.

It was a thrilling sight, and the boys' hearts were beating like trip-hammers as they crouched lower behind their screen of bushes and took in every detail of the chase.

The riders reached the little river and plunged in without drawing rein. The water splashed high over horses and riders drenching them to the skin.

Through the shallows the horses struggled and climbed up the further bank. The trail left by the fugitive was broad and plain and the pursuers had no trouble in picking it up. Once more the cavalcade settled down into that swift, relentless pounding of hoofs, and a moment later had disappeared over a slight swell in the prairie.

The Fairview boys looked at each other with shining eyes. They had been eye witnesses of what promised to end in a tragedy.

"Do you think they'll catch him?" queried Bob in a voice that was shaking with excitement.

"They're sure to," answered George. "His horse had two to carry and the fellows after him had a horse apiece. A man can't get away under such odds unless he can throw his pursuers off his track."

"There doesn't seem much chance to do that," put in Frank. "The prairie seems open for miles."

"What do you suppose the fellow's done?" asked Bob.

"Maybe he killed a man and rode away with the man's wife or daughter," guessed Sammy; "and in some way or other the neighbors got wind of it and set out to get the girl back."

"She seemed to be dead," hazarded Frank.

"Only fainted I guess," said Bob.

"What do you suppose they'll do to him if they catch him?" asked Sammy.

"Likely enough they'll hang him or shoot him," replied George. "I wouldn't like to be in his place just now."

"I'm sure I've seen his face before," said Sammy.

"Where?" asked Frank.

"In the train near Grand Forks," answered Sammy. "I'm sure he was one of the men who had that black box. I told you that those fellows were bad ones."

"It may not have been the same man at all," said George. "He was riding so fast that you couldn't make sure of him."

"Well, I'd like to know whether they caught him or not," said Frank.

"Suppose we get our horses and follow them a little way," suggested Bob, eagerly.

The boys grasped the idea with enthusiasm.

"Come along!" cried George. "I don't believe we'll have to go very far anyway. Those fellows were so close behind that maybe they've caught him by this time."

There was a hurried mounting of their horses, and the boys set out in the direction taken by the fugitive and his pursuers.

But as they approached the swell in the prairie that amounted almost to a ridge, George counseled prudence.

"Perhaps we'd better get off the horses here and creep to the top of the ridge and look over," he said. "We don't know what those fellows might think about our butting in and we'd better keep out of sight as far as we can."

They followed his suggestion, climbed on foot to the top of the ridge and looked over.

The sight that met their eyes was fully as thrilling as the chase itself had been.

The pursuers had overtaken the man who had been trying so desperately to escape. The whole party were off their horses and gathered under a huge cottonwood tree. The girl had recovered from her faint and was standing with her head leaning on the shoulder of a stalwart young man who supported her tenderly.

"I'll bet that's her brother or her beau," whispered Sammy.

"He seems to be mighty glad to get her back," commented Bob.

"What's become of the fellow who was taking her away?" asked Frank.

"I don't see him," replied George, scanning the group. "Perhaps he's been shot."

"We'd have heard the sound of the shot if he had."

"There he is," cried Sammy, eagerly.

For just then the crowd gathered under the cottonwood had opened up a little, and, in the center of the group, the boys saw the fugitive with his hands tied behind his back.

But it was not this that caused the gasp of horror that came from them all at once.

Around the man's neck was a noose and the other end of the rope was thrown over a bough of the tree.

"Oh," exclaimed Sammy, growing pale, "they're going to hang him!"

"Looks like it," said Frank with chattering teeth.

"It's awful!" exclaimed George. "He ought to have a trial anyhow."

In their excitement the boys had almost risen to their feet, and just at that moment some one under the tree caught sight of them and pointed them out to his companions.

"They've seen us!" cried Bob.

"We'd better skip out," said Frank.

"They'll be sore at us for being witnesses," declared Sammy. "They want to keep this thing among themselves. Let's get back to the river as fast as we can."

They jumped on their horses and rode pell-mell back to the shelter of the fringe of woods along the river bank.

They looked back and were relieved to find that no pursuers were in sight.

"Still that doesn't prove anything," said George. "They may think that while they're about it they might as well get the lynching over with. Then they can come down here and attend to us afterward."

"They might make us take an oath that we wouldn't tell of anything we've seen," suggested Sammy.

"I don't suppose they'd do anything worse than that to us," answered George, "but that itself might get us into a whole lot of trouble. The safest thing just now is to keep out of their way."

"They'll have no trouble in finding us if we stay here," remarked Frank.

"I'll tell you what we'd better do," said George, after thinking for a moment. "Let's hunt up that old boat Mr. Claxton told us was hidden a little way up the river. Then we can get in that and row along the stream and lead the horses after us in the water. In that way they won't leave any tracks and these fellows can't tell in what direction we've gone."

The boys thought that this was a splendid idea. They scattered at once and soon found the hiding place of the old flat-bottomed boat. There was a serviceable pair of oars, and though there was a little water in the bottom of the boat, they speedily bailed this out. They pulled out into the middle of the little stream, George and Sammy handling the oars, while Frank and Bob sat in the stern holding the ropes they had attached to the horses, who splashed into the river and followed without holding back.

The Fairview boys pulled sturdily at the oars and the clumsy boat made fair progress. Their task was made easier by the fact that the boat was going in the same direction as the current. There were places where it was almost too shallow to use the oars and at one place the boat itself nearly grounded. But they kept on, and as the river made several windings they were soon out of sight of their first camping place.

Confident now that they were reasonably safe from pursuit, they relaxed their efforts, and Bob and Frank took their turn at the oars while the others took charge of the horses.

"I suppose they've hung that poor fellow by this time," said Bob with a shiver.

"I shouldn't wonder," replied George.

"Perhaps he deserved it," remarked Sammy. "He may have murdered somebody besides stealing the girl. His face looked as though he were bad enough for anything. I had another good look at it while he was standing under the tree with the rope around his neck, and I'm surer now than I was before that he was one of the men we saw on the train with that infernal machine."

"How do you know that it was an infernal machine?"

"I don't just know," admitted Sammy. "But a man who's bad enough to kidnap a girl and run off with her is bad enough to blow folks up!"

"I don't care how bad he was," replied George. "It doesn't seem right to hang him without letting him have a lawyer or a trial and giving him his chance."

"Maybe they weren't really going to hang him," put in Bob. "Perhaps they were trying to get him to confess or to tell on his pals or something like that."

This seemed a rather unlikely explanation, and they were having a lively interchange of guesses, when Sammy gave an exclamation.

"What is that over there?" he asked, indicating a place on the left bank of the stream.

"It looks to me like a hole in the side of a little hill," answered George. "Turn the boat's head that way, fellows, and we'll take a look at it."

A few strokes of the oars brought them to the bank and they all jumped out. It was the work of a moment to bring the horses up on the shore and then the boys hurried to the opening in the hillside.

"Why, it's a cave!" exclaimed Sammy in delight.

"A regular one, too!" added George.

"Perhaps it's a place where outlaws have hidden their loot," said Sammy. "Didn't I tell you fellows we might discover a robber's cave?"

"Hold your horses, Sammy," put in Bob. "Here's just a hole in the ground, and right away you have to make out that it's a robber's cave."

"Maybe it's the home of some wild beast," suggested Frank.

This suggestion, which was much more likely than Sammy's, made them recoil a few steps, while they looked anxiously in the direction of the boat as a possible way of retreat.

"I don't think so," said George, after a pause. "If there was any big wild animal like a bear or a panther as near the ranch as this, Mr. Claxton or some of the cowboys would be pretty sure to know of it."

"There don't seem to be any bones around, as there'd be likely to be if an animal had his den here," said Bob.

"But there may be snakes," cautioned Frank. "You know Mr. Claxton said there were too many near the ranch to suit him."

"They'd probably be outside sunning themselves," objected Sammy.

They talked over the matter for several minutes more. It seemed a rather risky thing to venture inside the cave, and yet every boy felt he could not leave such a fascinating mystery without an attempt to solve it.

"I'll tell you what we'll do," concluded George at last. "We'll get some branches together and make a fire. Then when it gets to burning well, we'll take some of the burning boughs and throw them in the cave as far as we can. That will light things up in there and we can see whether it's empty or not."

This seemed prudent and at the same time promised to satisfy their curiosity, and they hastened to carry out the plan. In a few minutes the fire was burning brightly. Then the boys picked up some of the burning brands and hurled them as far as they could inside the cave.

They retreated a little as they did so, in order to be in readiness to run if animal or snake should be disturbed and come out. But nothing of the kind happened. The brands lighted up the inside of the cave and it seemed to be perfectly empty.

"Let's go in," urged Sammy, who was burning with impatience.

"I'm willing," said Frank.

"So am I," declared Bob.

"Well," said George a little reluctantly, for being the eldest he felt more responsibility than the others, "I guess we can take a chance if we go very carefully. We'll get some big torches and each fellow will carry one."

It did not take very long to get the torches ready, and then with their hearts beating fast they went cautiously into the cave, George leading the way.

The cave broadened out as they proceeded until it was at least fifteen feet wide. The ground was dry and bore no marks of feet. They gathered confidence as they advanced.

"I don't see any loot," remarked Frank, with a grin.

"Of course you wouldn't, so near the opening of the cave as this," retorted Sammy, who felt that this was a fling at him. "The robbers would keep it as far back as they could. Maybe they've dug a hole in the floor of the cave and buried it."

They had gone for perhaps forty feet when they came up against a blank wall. They lifted their torches high and looked about for some path that might lead them in deeper. But there was no mistake about it. The cave ended abruptly right there.

Sammy was disappointed. There was no sign that any human being had ever made his home in the cave. Sammy had hoped to find an old bed or stool or blanket to hold up his theory. But there was absolutely nothing of the kind.

"Robber's cave, is it?" joked Bob.

"Gold and diamonds," grinned Frank.

"You fellows make me tired," said Sammy, put on the defensive. "Do you think I can have these things made to order? What do you boobs expect, anyway?" he snorted wrathfully. "Here you have a kidnapping, a chase by cowboys, a lynching and a big cave all in one day, and you're not satisfied yet."

"Any one would think that Sammy had brought about all these things by himself to hear him talk," laughed Bob.

"Never mind, Sammy," said George, consolingly. "We've certainly had one great big day just the same. And I can see a lot of fun that we can get out of this cave, too. What's the matter with our making it a kind of headquarters while we're on the ranch? It's as dry as a bone and maybe Mrs. Claxton will let us bring blankets and grub out here and stay over night once in a while. Think of sleeping in a cave. What do you think the boys in Fairview would say to that?"

"It'll make them crazy when they hear of it," said Frank, complacently.

"You bet it will," agreed Bob.

"And we can have a big fire outside the cave, and one of us will keep watch while the others sleep," put in Sammy.

"And we can catch our own fish and have them for breakfast fresh from the river," exulted Bob. "Yum-yum."

The surroundings were so romantic and the outlook for the future so rosy that they sat around for several hours, reluctant to leave their cozy shelter.

"Jiminy!" exclaimed George, looking at his watch. "It's getting on toward supper time. Mrs. Claxton will be worried if we are late. We'd better get a hustle on."

There was nothing further to be apprehended now from the group of lynchers and the boys hid the boat in a sheltered place under some overhanging trees. Then they mounted their horses and rode down to get the mess of fish they had promised their hostess for supper.

But to their great astonishment, not a fish was to be seen. Every one of the thirty or more had disappeared!

The Fairview boys were, as George expressed it, "knocked all in a heap."

"Well, here's a pretty kettle of fish!" exclaimed Frank.

"Nothing like that," corrected Bob. "There aren't any fish at all."

"Somebody's played us a sneaking trick!" exploded Sammy, angrily.

"I don't knew that you can call it exactly that," remarked George. "Anybody riding by might think that we had left them here because we already had caught more than we could carry. In that case you couldn't blame them for taking what was left. But it sure puts us in a bad hole. We promised Mrs. Claxton a mess for supper and now we'll have to go back with empty hands because it's too late to catch any more."

"It may not have been a man at all who took them," suggested Frank. "Lots of small animals are fond of fish, and one of them or several of them may have come along. Or a fish hawk may have spied them."

"I guess we haven't any one to blame but ourselves," observed Bob. "We ought to have taken them with us when we got into the boat."

"Well, it's of no use to cry over spilled milk," remarked Sammy. "Let's get a move on now and get home. I'm hungry enough to eat nails."

This seemed the only thing to do, and the boys had started in the homeward direction when George reined up his horse.

"Do you think we'd better go back to that cottonwood tree and see if they lynched that fellow after all?" he asked.

There was a shudder in the little group.

"It's getting pretty dark," said Frank, somewhat nervously.

"I guess we'd better not," judged Bob. "If there's nothing there it wouldn't prove anyway that they hadn't hung him and buried the body. And if the body is hanging there I don't want to look at it."

"I wouldn't want to have that to dream about either," said George, and again they started on their homeward journey.

"Do you think we ought to tell Mr. Claxton about what we've seen to-day?" asked Sammy, as they were riding along.

"I hardly know just what would be best to do," said George, hesitatingly. "The whole thing's over by this time, and his knowing about it wouldn't do any good. Perhaps it would get him into a peck of trouble. He might think he ought to look the matter up, and then in revenge those fellows might get after him, run off his stock or something like that. I guess for the present we'd better keep quiet and see if anything turns up. We can always tell him if we think it necessary."

They thought that this was, perhaps, the better thing to do. They quickened the pace of their horses and a little while later they reached the ranch.

The Claxtons met them on the porch and welcomed them warmly.

"Well, boys, what luck?" asked Mr. Claxton.

"Where's that big string of fish you promised me?" asked Mrs. Claxton, with a laugh.

The boys smiled rather sheepishly.

"Well, to tell the truth," explained George, "we had luck and yet we didn't have luck. We caught a splendid mess of fish. Then we left them on the bank while we rowed up the river a way and when we came back the fish weren't there. Some one must have come along and taken them, or else some bird or animal must have eaten them."

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Claxton. "That was too bad. I know how disappointed you boys must have felt. But never mind about the fish. I have a good hot supper ready for you and you can bring me a mess some other day."

"You can be sure we won't let them out of our sight again after we catch them," promised Sammy.

They washed hastily and sat down to the substantial meal which tasted even better than usual after their long day in the open.

"We found a cave on the bank of the river to-day," observed Sammy, after he had taken the first keen edge off his appetite.

"Sammy thought that it was a robber's cave at first and we didn't know but what we'd have some loot to bring home," grinned Bob.

Sammy shot a wrathful glance at him.

"Yes, I know all about that cave," replied Mr. Claxton, after they had described its location. "I've often wondered why some animal hasn't taken possession of it."

"We'd like first rate to camp out in it over night some time if you don't mind," put in Sammy.

Mrs. Claxton looked a little doubtful.

"Oh, I guess it won't hurt just once, perhaps," said Mr. Claxton, genially. "I know just how you boys feel about such things."

The boys were delighted at this endorsement of their plan, but after they had finished their supper and left the table, Mrs. Claxton turned a little uneasily to her husband.

"Do you think it perfectly safe to let the boys do that?"

"Why, yes, my dear, I think it is," replied Mr. Claxton. "But to make you feel comfortable, I'll arrange to have one or two of the men camp out that night a little way off from the cave, so that they can be within reach if anything happens. But don't say a word to the boys about that. There wouldn't be any fun in it at all for them if they thought that any one was looking after them."

After supper the boys were walking down near the bunk-house when they met Hank Thompson.

"Where are the rest of the men, Hank?" asked George, after they had exchanged greetings.

"All of them off on a round-up," replied Hank. "They won't be back till late to-night."

"You must be rather lonesome," said Frank, with a smile.

"I've got one fellow down there to keep me company," grinned Hank. "But he ain't what you might call real sociable like."

"What do you mean?" asked Sammy, with quick curiosity.

"Come along into the bunk-house and you kin see fur yerselves," answered Hank.

They trooped in after him. It was quite dark and Hank lighted a candle.

The boys looked around in the flickering light.

"Where's that friend of yours you were talking about?" asked Bob.

"I'll show him to you in a minute," laughed Hank.

He went over to a corner and lifted up a big box. It had a glass top and this was further covered with a wire netting.

As Hank placed the box on a small table, there was an angry whirring sound from within that made the boys jump back.

"Sounds like an electric buzzer!" exclaimed Bob.

"Maybe it's an infernal machine getting ready to go off," remarked Frank, giving Sammy a playful poke in the ribs.

"It's an infernal machine fur a fact," grinned Hank. "Jest take a squint at it."

He held the candle high and the boys peered curiously through the glass top. There was a hiss and a rattle, and a huge rattlesnake struck its head furiously against the glass top.

There was a chorus of excited cries from the boys.

"A rattlesnake!"

"An old sockdolager!"

"Isn't he a monster?"

"Look at his eyes!"

Hank looked on, grinning with satisfaction at the sensation his find had caused.

"Where did you get him, Hank?" asked George.

"Picked him up down the trail a piece," was the reply. "I was drivin' along when I seen him coiled up in the middle of the trail. I though first I'd get down an' break his back with my whip. Then I thought thet you kids might like to hev a squint at him. So I kept him striking at the end of my whip till I hed a chanst to pin his head down with a forked stick. I hed a bag in the wagon an' I jest chucked this feller into it and brung him along. This box is one thet hez held snakes before but it's never held a bigger one than this."

And as the boys stared at the writhing monster they could readily believe him.

The red tongue of the diamond back swept in and out of his mouth like lightning.

"I'd hate to have that thing sting me!" exclaimed Bob.

"That wouldn't hurt you if it did," explained Hank. "It ain't with that red tongue uv his he does the damage. His fangs are hollow an' there's a pizen bag at the roots of 'em. When he bites, the pizen is squeezed into them holler fangs an' thet's what sends you to kingdom come."

"I suppose it's sure death if you're once bitten," remarked Sammy.

"Wall, you might as well say good-bye," replied Hank, "especially with a big feller like this. Sometimes a man gits over it but he ain't ginerally much good fur the rest of his life."

"But I've got to go down to the corral now to look after my horses," Hank continued. "I'll be back in about ten minutes. In the meantime you kin be makin' friends with this feller. He seems to hev a right sweet disposition."

"He'll be right here when you come back," laughed George. "There isn't any one of us who wants to steal him to make a pet of him."

Hank went away, and again the boys turned their attention to the wriggling reptile.

"I've been half wanting to see one of these fellows out on the ranch," remarked Sammy; "but now I guess I don't. It's plenty good enough to see him in this strong box."

"I guess Hank has got him fastened in pretty tight," observed Bob.

"Sure he has," replied George, pointing to a hasp and staple that held the cover down. "He's as safe here as he would be in a cage at the menagerie."

In their eagerness to study the monster, Frank leaned too heavily on the edge of the small table on which Hank had set the box. There was a startled exclamation from the other boys as the table went over with a crash, putting out the candle and sending the box with a thud against the door.

"That was a clumsy thing to do, Frank," said his brother, in vexation. "Pick up that candle and I'll light it. Hurry now, so that we can see what we are doing."

With trembling fingers Frank picked up the candle and George struck a match and started to light it. But what he saw made him drop the candle with a wild yell.

The fall had broken the hasp on the box and the cover was released. And what George and the other boys saw was a huge gray body already half way out of the box!

For an instant they seemed stricken with paralysis. Then with frantic shouts they leaped for the nearest bunks.

"Get into the top bunk, boys," screamed George.

In a flash they were all in the upper bunks, where for the moment they could take breath. But none of them felt that they were safe. They didn't know but what the snake at any moment might wind its way up the supports on which the bunks were built. They could feel their hair rising on their heads with horror.

Now that the candle was extinguished, the whole bunk-house was in perfect darkness. They listened fearfully. Every thing was still as the grave except for the sibilant hiss and angry rattle that came to their ears as the enraged reptile ranged around the room, seeking some means of escape.

Then the rattling ceased and all they could hear was a dull gliding movement as the slimy body dragged itself over the floor.

It would have been a hideous situation for much older people than the four boys, and it is no wonder that they were terrified.

"What shall we do?" asked Frank, his teeth chattering.

"Keep perfectly still," commanded George, though his nerves were in not much better shape than his brother's. "The snake can't see us, and if you keep quiet he won't know where we are."

"If Hank were only back," moaned Bob.

"He will be back in a few minutes," whispered George. "And when we hear him coming we must warn him. He might come in and find himself right on top of the snake."

The next few minutes seemed like so many ages to the boys. Then they heard Hank coming. He was whistling, but the whistle suddenly stopped when he saw that there was no light in the bunk-house. At the same moment the boys raised their voices in a shrill yell of warning.

"Don't open the door, Hank!" shouted George. "The snake has got out of the box."

Hank gave a startled exclamation, and if they could have seen his face they would have seen that it had become the color of chalk.

"Are any uv you boys hurt?" he queried, in a voice that was hoarse and unnatural.

"No," answered George. "We're all safe in the upper bunks. The snake is somewhere on the floor."

Hank's heart gave a great bound of relief.

"Stay jest where you are till I kin git a flashlight," he commanded. "I've got one down at the corral."

There was no need of the injunction to stay just where they were. It would have taken an earthquake to jar them from their lofty perches.

In a minute more they could hear Hank come running back.

Then a bright light flashed through the window and traveled over the floor. The boys watched its progress with wide-open eyes.

At first it failed to reveal what it sought, and the boys trembled as they thought that the snake was possibly somewhere in the bunks. But a moment later there was a shout from Hank and the diamond back stood out plainly. He was coiled in a corner of the room and was striking out savagely at the light that blinded him.

Holding the flashlight steady in his left hand, Hank, with his right hand, pulled his revolver from his belt and fired. There was a splintering of glass and the bullet went straight and true, striking the reptile's head and shattering it to bits.

The great coils relaxed and there was a tremendous thrashing as the snake's body beat against the floor. Then Hank flung open the door and rushed in. He put two more bullets into the snake to make perfectly sure. Then with trembling hands he struck a match and lighted the candle.

"Come down now, boys," he called and there was a great thanksgiving in his tone. "This old rascal is settled fur fair. He won't never rattle again."

The boys almost fell down rather than climbed down from their place of refuge.

"It was all my fault," said Frank. "I leaned too heavily on the table and upset it."

"It was my fault more than yours," said Hank, soberly. "I never ought to hev left you kids alone fur a minute with that old lump of pizen."

At this moment, Mr. Claxton, alarmed by the sound of the shooting, hurried into the bunk-house.

"What's all this?" he asked as he approached the group.

They separated, and he started back when he saw the lacerated head and body of the snake.

"None of you boys is hurt?" he asked with an anxious look around.

"Only scared," replied George, with what he tried to make a smile.

"How did this happen?" asked Mr. Claxton.

Hank told the whole story. Mr. Claxton was at first inclined to blame him severely, but forbore on account of the masterly way in which Hank had handled the situation.

"Well, I guess you boys have had enough of rattlesnakes as long as you live," remarked Mr. Claxton, turning to the boys.

There was an emphatic agreement.

"Once is enough for me," said George.

"Never again!" remarked Bob.

"Not even a stuffed one for me!" declared Frank.

"I'd like to have those rattles though," said Sammy, looking at the nine rattles that would never sound again.

"I guess you can have them all right," replied Mr. Claxton. "Hank will cut them off and cure them for you. But come along now and get to bed. If ever you youngsters needed a good long rest you need it now."

For a day or two after their adventure with the snake the Fairview boys felt a little jumpy. But the adventure after all had ended well, and they came before long to look back on it with satisfaction. It would sound well when they should tell it to their friends at home.

The days were passing now all too quickly. They had fallen in love with the free, breezy, open-air life they were leading, and they grudged every day that brought them nearer to the end of such a delightful vacation.

They had had their night in the cave as had been promised, and had enjoyed all the thrills that come to one under such circumstances. Their joy would have been dampened somewhat, if they had known that half a mile away, Bill Bixby and Hank Thompson were camping on the open prairie, ready to lend a hand if the boys should get into any trouble. But nobody ever told them and they enjoyed their outing to the full.

One day they started out for a long ride to a section of the ranch that they had not yet visited. The day was clear when they set forth, but Mr. Claxton was not wholly satisfied with the wind and the appearance of the sky.

"I think there's a storm brewing," he remarked, "but whether it will come before to-morrow I don't know. So you boys had better keep your weather eyes open and at the first sign of bad weather start for home."

They promised to be careful and set out gaily, provided with an abundant lunch that Mrs. Claxton had had Tom Lee put up for them.

"I don't feel sure yet that Tom isn't a highbinder or something bad," remarked Sammy. "Last night I saw him slide out toward the hen-house as though he didn't want any one to see him. Maybe he had an appointment to meet some other Chinaman there for all we know."

"More likely he went out to get some chickens so that you could have fried chicken legs for lunch," replied Frank.

"But why should he go out at night for that?" persisted Sammy.

"Because it's easier to pull chickens off their perch than it is to chase them round the yard in the morning," gibed Bob. "You can't make any mystery out of that, Sammy."

The laugh that followed silenced Sammy.

Their route on this morning led them over the little river that had been the scene of their stirring adventure. They splashed through it and over the ridge where they had almost been witnesses of the lynching.

Beneath the cottonwood tree they halted their horses and looked around them with a feeling of awe.

"Here's just where the poor fellow stood with the rope around his neck," observed George.

"And there's the bough that the rope went over," remarked Sammy, pointing upward.

"I wonder what they did with the body?" asked Bob.

"Carried it away with them, I guess," replied Frank. "There's no sign here of a grave having been dug."

They breathed more freely when they got away from the neighborhood of the fateful tree. To them it had all the appearance of a gallows.

They rode on slowly, dismounting at times to investigate bits of woodland where it would be difficult to take their horses, and the time passed so quickly in jest and laughter that they were surprised when George announced that it was time for lunch.

They chose a place in a grove of trees through which a little brook ran that furnished them with water. The horses were turned out to graze and the boys settled down to their lunch. It disappeared like magic and the deliciousness of the fried chicken legs made Sammy revise his opinion of Tom Lee.

They stretched out on the grass afterward, so comfortable and well fed that it was hard to resist the temptation to take a nap.

George was the first to be aroused by a drop of water falling on his face. He opened his eyes sleepily and was surprised and alarmed to see that a storm had come up while they were dozing and was just ready to break. Already the first drops were falling and they kept coming faster and faster.

Rumblings were heard in the distance and a jagged flash of lightning zigzagged across the sky.

"Wake up, fellows," cried George. "There's a storm coming. Get a move on."

They jumped to their feet in consternation. It was not good to be caught in a thunder storm so many miles from home.

They were moving toward their horses when there came a terrific peal of thunder accompanied by a lightning flash that almost blinded them. At the same instant a great tree, split to the base by the lightning, fell with a tremendous roar right back of the horses, narrowly grazing them as it fell.

The frightened beasts, with a neigh of terror, sprang forward and in a moment were running away. They were frantic and although the boys shouted to them they paid no attention.

The boys ran after their mounts but soon saw that this was useless. The horses were badly frightened, and would not stop until they were exhausted or had reached home.

The boys huddled together disconsolately under the trees. The rain now was coming down in torrents.

"We mustn't stay here, fellows," said George. "The lightning may strike another tree. We must get out into the open."

"We'll be drenched to the skin," grumbled Frank.

"Can't help that," returned George, decidedly. "It's better to be wet than dead."

There was no denying this, and they had to leave the shelter of the trees. They crouched down in the lee of some stunted bushes but these offered little protection.

"If we were only near that cave of ours," mourned Bob.

"Or any other old cave," amended Frank. "I'm not particular."

"I feel as wet as if I'd just been fished out of the brook," complained Sammy.

"You'll be wetter yet before you're through," was all the comfort George had to offer.

"Impossible," groaned Sammy.

"How far off do you think we are from the ranch, George?" asked Bob, despairingly.

"Fifteen miles if we're an inch," answered George.

"Jiminy!" exclaimed Frank. "Fifteen miles to walk and your shoes sloshing water at every step."

"It may not be so bad as that," observed George, trying to pick out what bright spots he could. "This storm may not last long, and if the sun comes out we'll soon be dry again. Then, too, the horses, when they get over their fright, will make a bee line for home. Mr. Claxton will know there's something wrong and he'll send out some of his men to hunt us up. They'll take us up behind them and we can ride double till we get to the ranch."

"How are we to know in what direction the ranch is unless the sun comes out?" questioned Frank. "I haven't any idea how to get home without the sun or a compass."

"Neither have I," George had to confess. "But I guess we'll make it somehow."

This was not very reassuring, and it became less so as the storm kept on with no sign of stopping. Two or three hours passed, and the boys were getting desperate. Then, at last, the rain ceased to fall. But it was well on in the afternoon, and there was no prospect of getting home till long after dark.

They set out, however, in what they thought was the right direction. But, as has been said, this was an unfamiliar part of the ranch to them and there were no landmarks to guide them. They soon grew utterly bewildered. The lowering sky gave them no indication of what was east or west.

Then, too, their hope of getting help from the ranch grew less and less. The heavy rain had washed out all traces of their horses' tracks, and the cowboys, who could easily have trailed them on a fair day, had no chance at all on this sodden ground. It began to look as though they would have to pass the night on the prairie, wet to the skin and without food and shelter.

They were trudging along dispiritedly, when George, who was in front, suddenly gave a joyous exclamation.

"Hurrah, fellows!" he shouted. "I see a fire!"

The boys knew how Columbus felt when his sailors raised the cry of "Land!"

There was a jubilant shout as they lifted their heads and followed the direction of George's pointing finger.

There was no doubt of it. There, in a sheltered spot in the lee of a little hill, was a great fire whose flames rose high into the gathering darkness. As they drew nearer, they could see a number of figures moving about in the firelight.

"Let's make a break for it," cried Bob.

"We can't get there too soon!" exclaimed Frank.

They were starting to run when Sammy called a halt.

"Wait a minute, fellows," he said. "I'm just as crazy to get near that fire as you are. But how do we know who those people are? What are they doing out here in the open? They may be outlaws or robbers for all we know."

"I don't care if they are," said Bob, desperately. "They can rob me of all I've got if they'll only let me get warm by their fire."

But George had been somewhat impressed by what Sammy had said and he stopped them.

"It won't do any harm to be careful," he said. "My father says it is always better to be safe than sorry. We'll creep up on them until we can see what kind of people they are."

It was hard to be careful when warmth and shelter seemed so near, but they did as George directed and stopped just outside the circle of the firelight, where they could see without being seen.

If the party was a criminal one, it was certainly a happy one. The boys could hear the members joking and laughing. There seemed to be about a dozen people in the group, and two of them were women. Bits of song and laughter floated out to the boys and the smell of steaming coffee and sizzling bacon made their mouths water.

Suddenly Sammy clutched George's arm.

"They're the fellows we saw chasing the man that day," he said in a hoarse whisper.

"And there's the fellow they hung on the cottonwood tree!" exclaimed Bob.

"Maybe it's his ghost," said Frank, with a feeble attempt at humor that did not hide altogether the shaking of his voice.

Sammy was about to reply when the fire suddenly flared up and brought the boys plainly into the zone of light.

There was a chorus of exclamations from the party around the fire, and several of the men started up and ran in the direction of the boys.

For a moment the boys hardly knew whether to stand or run, but while they were debating the matter the men had come up and surrounded them.

"Why, it's only a bunch of kids," said one of them. "And wet through to the skin."

"What on earth are you youngsters doing out on the prairie on a night like this?" asked another.

"Poor little bedraggled chaps," said a third in a deep, kindly voice. "Come right over here to the fire and let us dry you out."

Although these men might have been steeped in crime, there was nothing to indicate that they had anything but the kindliest feeling toward boys, and the forlorn wanderers followed them without much misgiving to the warm and cheery fire.

Here they were immediately surrounded and plied with questions. But the man who seemed to be the leader insisted that before the boys answered any questions they should be thoroughly warmed and fed.

This suited the boys to a dot. They were given seats near the fire and supplied with all the bacon and eggs they could eat and all the milk they could drink. Under this treatment their spirits revived. What a contrast between now and an hour ago when they were wandering over the cold, wet prairie!

"I don't believe they're outlaws," whispered Bob to Sammy.

"Maybe not," agreed Sammy, whose beliefs died hard. "If they are, they've got kind hearts, anyway."

"Now," said the leader, coming up to where the lads were sitting and dropping down beside them in friendly fashion, "tell us where you live and what has brought you out on the prairie to-night."

"We're stopping at Bar-Z ranch," said George.

"We came from the East and we're spending our vacation here," volunteered Frank.

"We went out for a ride to-day and our horses were scared by the thunder and lightning and ran away from us," added Sammy.

"And we've been wandering around trying to find our way home ever since," explained Bob.

"Well now, that's too bad," said the leader, while the rest of his party, who were listening eagerly, murmured their sympathy. "I'll get word to your folks right away so that they won't be worried about you. You can stay with us to-night and we'll see that you get home safe in the morning."

"But say!" he continued, as a thought struck him, "why was it that you were hiding out there when we caught sight of you? I'd have thought you'd have made a bee line to the fire the minute you saw it."

The boys looked at each other rather confusedly.

"Come," laughed the man with some curiosity, "tell us why you didn't make a break for the fire right away."

"Well, you see," began Sammy, with some embarrassment, "we weren't quite sure just who you were. You see we saw you chasing a man the other day and then we saw you had caught him and were getting ready to hang him and—and——"

"And what?" asked the leader with amusement in his eyes, while stifled laughs rose from others of his party.

"Well," said Sammy, in desperation, trying to tell the truth and yet be polite to his hosts, "we thought you were lynchers and maybe outlaws and——"

But here Sammy was stopped by a roar of laughter that rose from all members of the party. They choked and slapped each other on the back, and one or two of them rolled over and over in vain efforts to control their mirth.

"I'm going to strike the director for a raise in salary," cried one.

"We're too good for this business," chuckled another.

"Don't let any one ever tell me again that my acting isn't true to life," laughed a third.

The boys were bewildered and inclined to be offended.

"I don't see anything to laugh about," said Sammy.

This set the men off again until the leader silenced them with a wave of his hand.

"It's this way, my boy," he said kindly. "We're part of a moving picture company that has its headquarters about twenty miles from here. This special lot of us have been taking films over in this direction. One of our plays calls for the villain to steal a girl and ride off with her. The rest chase him and catch him and are supposed to lynch him. All this was acted on the day that you saw us. It must have been pretty true to life for you to be taken in by it. You were so excited watching us that you didn't notice the camera man. There he is now."

He pointed to one of the men whom Sammy recognized as one whom he had seen on the train near Grand Forks the day of their arrival.

"Yes," said this man as he smiled at Sammy. "All you saw that day of the chase is right here in this friend of mine." And he pointed to the camera box which Sammy had been so sure was an infernal machine.

"Stung again!" muttered Sammy to himself.

"That day we 'hanged' Tom," said the leader, "was the same day on which we found that mess of fish on the river bank. They had just been caught and were perfectly fresh. I tell you we had a glorious fish fry that afternoon. I wonder—I wonder——" and he smiled at the boys.

"So that is where our fish went," grinned George.

Just then there was a noise of hoofs and into the zone of light rode Mr. Claxton with half a dozen of his cowboys. They had been hunting for the boys and the light had attracted them.

The delight of Mr. Claxton in finding the boys safe and sound was only equaled by their own. The leader of the motion picture company received his new guests cordially and pressed hot coffee upon them. This they were very glad to take after their bleak ride, and half an hour was spent in pleasant conversation. Then the boys were taken up on the horses behind the cowboys and with a hearty farewell to their kindly hosts the homeward journey was begun. Mrs. Claxton mothered them and even cried over them a little, for she had been greatly alarmed by their absence.

A few days more and their vacation was at an end. The boys would have only too glad to stay longer, but schooldays were coming and they had to go. They had had a happy time on the ranch, and when at last they said good-bye to their kindly host and hostess it was with the hope on both sides that they would soon meet again. They had a cordial parting from all the cowboys, too, and the last thing that Hank Thompson did when he said good-bye at the train was to put into Sammy's hand the bunch of rattles that he had dried and cured for him.

"Well," said Bob, as they settled down in their seats for the long ride home, "we've had lots of good times in our lives but this beats them all."

And with this pleasant memory of a glorious Summer we will say good-bye to the Fairview boys.

THE END

Illustrated. Price, per volume, 75 cents, postpaid.

FAIRVIEW BOYS AFLOAT AND ASHORE
Or, The Young Crusoes of Pine Island

FAIRVIEW BOYS ON EAGLE MOUNTAIN
Or, Sammy Brown's Treasure Hunt

FAIRVIEW BOYS AND THEIR RIVALS
Or, Bob Bouncer's Schooldays

FAIRVIEW BOYS AT CAMP MYSTERY
Or, The Old Hermit and His Secret

FAIRVIEW BOYS AT LIGHTHOUSE COVE
Or, Carried Out to Sea

FAIRVIEW BOYS ON A RANCH
Or, Riding with the Cowboys

Copyright, 1917, by

CHARLES E. GRAHAM & COMPANY

Fairview Boys on a Ranch