This makes the third time some of my cattle have been stolen. The
thieves will find it is three times and out. I'll take their trail
this time and stick to it till I round them all up."

Never had Bill and Horace seen their father so wrought up, and they
wisely held their peace while the cowboy who had brought the news
of the raid busied himself removing the saddle and bridle and
wiping the lather from his pony.

Before Nails had finished the task, however, the ranchman had
regained control of himself.

"I am glad Pete is driving the cattle home," he said quietly.
"They will graze about the Witches' Pool without watching, so I can
take all the boys with me, and the more there are of us the less
trouble we will have. Sit down and eat breakfast, Nails, and then
tell me about the raid."

No urging did the cowboy need, for he had not tasted a mouthful
since he had left the herd, twenty-four hours before. He had
expected to find the ranchman at his home, and when he learned Mr.
Wilder had gone on a hunting trip he only stopped long enough to
change ponies and then started again to find him.

Attentively the boys waited on him, impatient to hear his story.

"It was night before last it happened," said Nails, after having
eaten more than it seemed possible for one man. "All during the
day the cattle had been restless and we boys were kept on the jump
holding 'em together. But with the darkness they quieted down and
we all turned in.

"When morning came, nary a steer was in sight. It didn't take us
long to get after 'em, and in about an hour we found them. But the
short-horned Durhams were missing."

"The best cattle in the herd," interrupted Mr. Wilder.

"Just what Pete said, but not in the same words," grinned Nails.

"But how do you know they were stolen?" asked Bill. "Perhaps they
only wandered off. You said the herd had been restless."

"A hundred head don't all go together," replied the cowboy.
"Besides, after looking around, we found the hoofprints of seven
ponies."

"Which way did they drive?" demanded the ranchman.

"Toward old Mex. But I reckon that's only a bluff. It's my idea
the headquarters of this gang are right in these mountains,
somewhere. Pete thinks so, too. That's why he set the pool as the
meeting place. There's an old trail he knows and he wants to
strike it, you agreeing of course," he added, looking toward the
ranchman.

"We'll decide about that later. But if Pete sugg