CHAPTER II
ONE GRAY THIEF LESS
“There he goes; and it is a wolf, sure pop, Frank!” shouted Bob.
“And if you look close,” remarked his chum, “you’ll see that he wobblesjust a little with that left hind leg of his. Reckon he got a thorn inhis paw, or cut it on a sharp rock. After him, Bob!”
They gave the horses free rein. Both animals were comparatively fresh,and eager for a mad gallop over the open country that cool day in theFall.
The steer did not seem to have sighted the fleeing wolf, or else musthave decided that, with the two mounted boys in swift pursuit, there waslittle need of his exerting himself to overtake the hated enemy. At anyrate he remained in the vicinity of the timber, as though bent onkeeping the animal from again seeking refuge there.
“He’s heading for that swale near the rocky point; and if he reaches itwe’ll have a hard time getting him!” exclaimed Bob, after a few minutesof racing.
“Don’t worry, he isn’t going to get there,” said Frank; “because we’reoverhauling him right now. Look at him run! Lame or not, he can lopealong as well as any wolf I ever chased. He knows he’s running for hislife, the sly varmint. And he has hopes of giving us the slip.”
“I can see him look back every little while, Frank,” Bob remarked, as hebent low in the saddle, and felt his pulses thrill with the excitementof the chase. “What do you suppose he does that for?”
“Looking for the flash of the smoke of a gun, perhaps,” came the reply.“Some of these old prowlers are as wise as they make ’em. The boysdeclare they can dodge a bullet, if they happen to be looking back whenyou fire. Remember that, Bob, and be ready to shoot at the drop of thehat after I’ve let loose. Perhaps we can catch him napping that way.”
Bob was aware that he had much to learn about shooting while on the fullgallop. Still, he would like to make a try. If he failed, then ratherthan see the wolf escape, he meant to be the one to take first shot, andlet Frank try to nip the gray robber of the herds before he couldrecover.
Already had they decreased by one-half and more the lead with which thefleeing animal had started. Things were getting serious with the wolfnow. His observations became more frequent. Evidently he expected thatat any moment firing might begin; and he wanted to be ready to dodge.
“How about it now, Frank?” asked the Kentucky boy, as he held his riflein readiness for instant use.
“We might give him a try,” came the reply; and as he spoke Frank threwhis gun up to his shoulder, allowing the bridle to fall upon the neck ofBuckskin.
The sharp report of the weapon sounded; but apparently there was noresult. Quickly, after the first shot, came a second. Bob had pulledtrigger, too; but the fleeing wolf did not show the least sign of havingbeen struck.
“I missed him clean, Frank!” cried Bob, in dismay. “Hardly thought I’dbe smart enough to hit such a flying target while going at this pace.But Frank, you were right; I plainly saw him dodge when you shot!”
“Well, let’s give him another round then, and see if you can do better,Bob.”
“I’m ready; let him have it,” yelled Bob, eagerly, his sporting instinctnow fully aroused.
Again did Frank fire; and, seeing that the gray animal was stillbounding along uninjured, Bob in turn discharged his gun.
“Poor shooting; that’s what!” he exclaimed; “I mean mine, of course,Frank; and now, you’ve just got to take your turn.”
“If you say so, all right!” answered the other.
“Something ought to be done, because we’re getting closer to that swaleall the time; and I say it’d be a shame if the old wolf got clean awaythrough trickery. Ready, Frank?”
“Let her go!”
Bob took a quick aim at the animal, and fired. Of course he had not theremotest idea of hitting the wolf; but by causing him to dodge it wouldopen the way for his more experienced chum to get in a shot when thebeast was off his guard.
The report of Frank’s gun came so close upon that of his own that Bobcould hardly believe there had been two shots. Yet he had seen that thewolf kept on after his discharge. It was different when Frank shot hisbolt.
“Wow! you got him that time, Frank!” shouted Bob, with great glee. “He’sdropped in his tracks, as sure as anything. Tried that trick just oncetoo often, didn’t he? Look at him kicking his last! He’s paying now forthe veal he carried off all these years, the villain!”
Frank laughed, for he felt particularly well pleased because the wolfhad been kept from reaching the rocks where he might have eluded them.
They drew rein, and looked down at the now motionless form of the gauntanimal. Even in death the big wolf had a sinister appearance, for thelips were drawn back, exposing his cruel fangs.
“Ugh! I’d hate to meet a critter like that alone, and without more’n aknife to defend myself with, Frank!” Bob exclaimed, as he sat in thesaddle, pushing several cartridges into the magazine of his rifle, andlooking down at the hated quarry that had rewarded Frank’s last shot.
“Oh! he’s an old one, all right,” remarked Frank. “I can see the scarsof many a fight on his hide, and about his muzzle. But wait till I flinghim across the horse. Watch Buckskin prance! No horse likes to come intouch with a wild animal like a panther, wolf or bear, dead or alive.The scent of blood makes ’em wild, too. Whoa! Buckskin! don’t be sofunny now. You’ve just got to carry this chap back to the ranch, becauseI want dad to see him.”
“Then we head toward home, now?” remarked Bob.
“Yes, but by way of that timber. I want to take a look at Old Baldy.When the boys hear of his return, there’ll be some tall talking. He usedto give heaps of trouble in the past; yet they all liked the old chap.And when he disappeared, in company with a dozen head of stock, therewas more range riding to find him than I ever heard of.”
“Old Baldy is waiting for us,” remarked Bob. “Seems like he just knewwhat we went for, and he wants to see what luck we had.”
“He’s a smart one, all right,” laughed Frank. “And if those rustlershave had him penned up all this while, he’s managed to break out atlast, and come home.”
“Say, wouldn’t it be a great stunt now, if some of the boys could followhis trail back to Where he was kept in a corral. That would tell us,Frank, just how Pedro Mendoza manages to disappear, whenever he runs abunch of cattle off.”
“Well, perhaps it might be done yet, impossible as it seems,” observedFrank.
“What makes you say so?” demanded the other.
“You see, Old Baldy has a marked hoof,” Frank went on.
“Different from those of other steers, you mean?” asked his chum.
“Yes. It’s got a queer twist that makes it look much longer than hisother hoofs. The boys all know it, too. Spanish Joe used to say theanimal must have got caught in a cleft of the rocks when small, and hishoof grew that way.”
“But, Frank, could any cowboy track Old Baldy all the way across plainand desert to the mountains, if he came from there, perhaps all of fortymiles?”
“Under ordinary conditions I’d say no,” Frank answered promptly; “butyou remember that we had a rain two days ago, which is quite remarkablefor this country. That laid the alkali dust; and eyes trained to thatsort of thing might do wonders. But that we’ll have to put up to dad andBart Heminway, the foreman of Circle Ranch.”
“Here’s Old Baldy, looking to see if you got the wolf,” remarked Bob.
The gaunt-looking old steer did indeed seem to be beset with curiosity.Standing there, with head thrust out, he was sniffing the air, as thoughpossibly the scent of blood came to his nostrils. Frank tossed the bodyof the wolf down on the ground, and then with his chum rode back alittle distance to see what the steer would do.
“Watch!”
“He’s going up to smell of the wolf, Frank!” exclaimed the Kentucky boy.
“That’s what he is!” echoed Frank, as he watched the big beast approach,and finally bend his horned head to sniff at the gray-coated r
obber whohad, in times past, stolen many a calf, and partly grown heifer, fromthe herd, as the animals grazed in some dangerous spot.
“How about the brand; has it been changed?” asked Bob, seeing the flankof the returned steer turned toward them.
“It’s been burned out entirely; but no new one made yet,” Frank replied.
“How was that, do you suppose, Frank?”
“Perhaps Old Baldy was too much for the Mexican ropers,” the otheranswered; “and they just had to give up the idea of putting anotherbrand on him. Then again, if Spanish Joe or his nephew Abajo happened tobe in the bunch of rustlers, they would recognize Old Baldy, and warnthe others that it would be dangerous to try and slip him through. Nomatter, here he is, right side up with care, and as ready as ever to dobattle.”
“Look at him going to horn the dead wolf,” said Bob. “He’ll spoil theskin for you, Frank, if you don’t watch out.”
“Oh! I don’t care much about that,” Frank remarked; “because it’s an oldand sunburned pelt at best; but I’d like dad to see the thief intact. Solet’s ride forward, and induce Old Baldy to stop his sport.”
The steer retreated at their advance, still shaking his headthreateningly, as though not quite convinced that he had better keep thepeace. Possibly he recognized Frank as an old acquaintance, and was sorejoiced to be back again amid the associations of his earlier yearsthat he decided not to attack them. Had he tried anything of the sort hewould have rued the day, because Frank could throw the rope as well asany cowboy, and he would speedily have rolled Old Baldy over on hisback.
Once again the dead wolf was tossed across the back of the plungingbuckskin pony. No matter how well trained a horse may be, he will neverbecome accustomed to the presence of a beast of prey. Even circus horsesshow their nervousness, after drawing a cage containing a tiger or alion for weeks and months at a time.
Old Baldy trotted along after them as they rode off.
“That proves he was on his way home when he scented that lame wolf; andperhaps chased him into that bunch of timber,” remarked Frank, as heturned in the saddle and saw the following steer.
They soon sighted the white-washed buildings of Circle Ranch. Trees gavea grateful shade in places; but from far off on the plain a travelercould catch glimpses of the home of the Haywoods, and the headquartersof the largest stock-growers in all Arizona.
When the two boys drew up in front of the ranch house they found Frank’sfather sitting in a chair on the piazza. He had not as yet fullyrecovered from his broken leg.
“Hello! Frank, back again so soon?” he called out, as the boys drew reinand jumped to the ground. “What brought you back in such a hurry? And itseemed to me I heard some sort of firing away out to windward. Was thatyou?”
“Just what it was, dad,” replied Frank. “We were chasing a wolf, andtrying to beat him at dodging. He was an old chap; but after a fewtrials we knocked him over; and he’ll never pull down another calf forus.”
“I wish we could get rid of all our troubles as easily as that, Frank,”remarked Colonel Haywood, as he glanced at the dead animal which his boydragged up near the steps of the piazza.
“We never would have seen him, I reckon, sir,” Bob spoke, “only for asteer that had him cornered in a little bunch of timber and brush, andwas daring him to come out. Frank guessed the wolf might be a littlelame, which was why he didn’t appear. That proved to be so when wescared him into running. But Frank nailed him, all right, you may besure—caught him just back of the foreleg, when he turned aside at myshot. It’s a trick I hope to learn some day.”
“So a steer held him up, eh?” went on the stockman. “It isn’t often anyof them will do that, Frank.”
“Well, you can expect anything of Old Baldy!” remarked Frank, quietly.
The stockman started, and showed great interest.
“What’s that, Frank?” he exclaimed. “Old Baldy come back again, after webelieved the rustlers got him? That’s some interesting news, now. Theboys will be tickled to know that. And perhaps Old Baldy may help uslocate Mendoza the Rustler’s secret corral!”