ur Creek
where Mr. Merkel's land began.

The shack was made more comfortable, a telephone line was strung to it
from the main ranch at Diamond X, and it was well stocked with
provisions.

"And we'd better run in a pipe line so we can pump water directly from
the creek into the shack," said Billee when certain improvements were
being talked over.

"Why that?" asked Nort.

"Well, it's terrible thing in this hot weather to be cut off from your
water supply," said the old frontiersman. "And it might happen that
the Greasers and sheep men would get between our fort and the stream.
Then we couldn't get out for water without losing our scalps, so to
speak. But if we have a pump in here, and the pipe line concealed so
the scoundrels can't locate it, we can be assured of a never-ending
supply of water."

"It's good advice," decided Mr. Merkel when it was told to him, and,
accordingly the pump was installed. During this time no more was seen
of the solitary horseman, or, indeed, of any visitors or spies on the
Mexican side of Spur Creek. I say the Mexican side, though, as a
matter of fact the Mexican border was some miles away, and I merely
mention that country to identify the two sections, one on one side and
one on the other of the stream, which was wholly within the United
States.

Meanwhile Sheriff Hank Fowler had endeavored to trace the thieves who
had robbed Mr. Merkel's safe, but there had been no results. Professor
Wright and his men were busily engaged in further search for fossil
bones, and they were considered out of suspicion.

Mr. Merkel had engaged the services of a lawyer to take up with the
authorities in Washington the matter of his stolen deeds in an effort
to hold to his land. There were rumors that a number of the new
government claims had been taken up on the land that was once the
property of the Indians, and among them some of the claim holders were
sheep herders, it was said.

"Well, they'd better keep away from Spur Creek--that's all I got to
say!" cried Yellin' Kid in his usual loud tones.

So far, however, there had been no advent of the hated "woollies" as
they were sometimes called. But the boy ranchers and their friends did
not relax their vigilance. The sheep and their human owners might
drift in across the creek at any hour, day or night, so a constant
guard was maintained.

It was one rainy, disagreeable night that the alarm came. It was the
turn of Bud and Nort to stand wa