authorities prevents grave crimes, but no vigilance
can keep the dusky thieves from stealthily raiding upon the cattle and
property of their white neighbors.

One of the tasks, therefore, of the cowmen of Bowman's ranch was to
guard against aboriginal thieves. Since those fellows were sure to have
the same trouble as white pilferers in disposing of their stolen stock,
they were fond of stampeding the cattle when not under the eyes of their
caretakers. About all that resulted from this amusement was extra
exasperation and work on the part of the cowmen.

A more serious mischief was that of killing the animals. Having
satisfied themselves that they were safe from detection, three or four
Indians would entertain themselves for an hour or two in shooting down
cattle in pure wantonness, and then making off before they were seen.
True, this brought the dusky scamps no gain, but it served as a partial
outlet for their enmity of the white man, and that sufficed.

That this peculiar feature of ranch life sometimes assumed grave phases
was proved by several narrations made by the cowmen to the boys on their
first night at the ranch. Less than a year previous, Kansas Jim shot
from his horse an Indian whom he caught killing his cattle; and, not
many months previous, the five cowmen, under the leadership of Hank
Hazletine, had a running fight for half an afternoon with a dozen
Bannocks, engaged in the same sport. At that time Barton Coinjock and
Kansas Jim were severely wounded, but three of the marauders were slain,
and the mischief nearly ended for a time.

But Jack and Fred were tired, and, though interested in the
reminiscences of the cowboys, they longed for rest. The house consisted
of four rooms, one being generally reserved for visitors or to serve as
a spare apartment. This contained a wooden bedstead and some simple
furniture, for luxuries are not popular on cattle-ranches. Surely no bed
ever felt more luxurious, however, than the blankets upon which the
wearied youths flung themselves, sinking almost immediately into deep,
dreamless sleep. There were no wolves or dog Indians to guard against
now, and their sense of security was as strong as if in their own beds
at home.

The night was well past, when both lads were awakened by the sound of
rain pattering upon the roof, which, although they were on the ground
floor, was but a brief space above their heads. The storm foretold by
Hank Hazletine had come.

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