and they wasn't no more fireworks."

"But we'd better keep pretty closely on the watch to-day," suggested
Dick. "Those rockets meant something."

"You're right," said Billee Dobb. "We'll stick right close to our
little old fort to-day, and, boys, be sure your guns are in quick
working order. There may be no shootin' and then, ag'in, there may
be," he drawled.

I suppose I need not tell you that the boy ranchers in their secret
hearts rather hoped there would be shooting. They had been under fire
before, and while they were not foolhardy nor inclined to take risks,
they felt that if there was to be a fight on the part of the sheep men
to get unlawful possession of Diamond X land, the sooner such a fight
took place the better. Suspense was worse than actual conflict.

So after the "chores" had been attended to about the Spur Creek fort
(and there were not many duties), it became a matter of waiting. Spur
Creek made a bend at this part of Mr. Merkel's holdings, and the fort
was situated on what was a sort of triangular peninsula, with the
stream flowing on two sides of it. In this way it was what, during the
World War, was called a "spearhead" into the country to the south, and
it was from this country that the Mexican, Greaser or other sheep
herders might be expected to invade the range long held sacred to
horses and cattle. But this land, by government proclamation, was now
thrown open to all comers.

Because of the peculiar formation of the land it lent itself readily to
defense, and also gave a good post for observation. The "fort" had
been hastily built on the extreme point, as near the creek as was
practical. Back, on either side, extended the banks of the stream, and
when breakfast had been served Old Billee, who was in command, selected
those who were to patrol the banks on each side of the cabin, for a
distance several miles back along the edges of the "spearhead."

The morning passed. The first contingent of scouts had come in to eat
and another body was about to go out to relieve them when Bud, who had
gone down to the edge of the creek, to clean a particularly muddy pair
of shoes, looked across the stream, and uttered a cry of alarm.

Riding up from the southland, Mexico if I may so call it (though the
actual country of the Montezumas was distant many miles), was a lone
horseman. He was coming along, "sweating leather," and was seen by
others of the Diamond X forces almost as soon as observe