"What do you reckon it means?" asked Dick, who often dropped into the
vernacular of the plains.

"Well, it _might_ mean almost anything," admitted Old Billee. "Can't
be any of Uncle Sam's soldiers that far south, or we'd 'a' heard about
it. As near as I can figure it there must be some crowd down there
trying to give a signal to some crowd somewhere else."

This was sufficiently vague to have covered almost anything; as sport
writers spread the "dope," in talking about a coming football contest
between Yale and Princeton.

Yellin' Kid must have sensed this, for with a chuckle he said:

"You're bound to be right, Billee, no matter which way the cat jumps.
It sure is _some_ crowd signallin' to _another_ crowd."

"Do you suppose they're trying to signal us?" asked Dick.

"Don't believe so," remarked Bud. "I think it's some of the sheep men
getting ready to rush in here. That rocket is a notice to some of
their friends around here that they're going to start."

"Well, if they come we'll stop 'em!" declared Bud, and the others
murmured their agreement with this sentiment.

They waited a little longer after the sparks of the second rocket had
died away, but the signal--and it seemed positively to be that--was not
repeated.

"No use standing here," murmured Old Billee. "It will soon be morning,
and if anything happens we'll be ready for it. Let's get our rest out.
Is your trick up, Bud?"

"Not quite, Billee."

"Well, Dick and I go on next," remarked Yellin' Kid, "and we might as
well jump in now as long as we're up. Turn in, Bud and Nort."

Our young heroes were glad enough to do this, though they never would
have asked to be relieved before their time. Accordingly, after a few
moments of looking in vain toward where they had seen the rocket, for a
repetition of the signals, Bud and Nort went inside the cabin, and
stretched out for a little rest before day should fully break.

The remainder of the night--really a short period--was without alarm or
any sign that hostile forces were on their way to take possession of
land claimed by the owner of Diamond X.

"Grub's ready!" was the musical call of the cook, and soon those who
were holding the line at Spur Creek were gathered about the table.

"Well, nothing happened, I see, or, rather, I don't see," remarked Bud
to Dick and the Yellin' Kid who had come in off guard duty.

"Nary a thing," answered he of the loud voice. "Didn't hear a peep out
of anybody