ir plans
were spoiled by my happening along."

"That's probably it," agreed Nort. "But what about that soda water
cylinder you say they shot at you?"

"I wouldn't call it soda water," stated Bud with a grim smile. "But it
contained some sort of gas and they must have shot it at me for it
knocked me out."

"How was it they could turn a stream of poison gas, or at least
knock-out gas, on you, Bud, and not suffer from it themselves?" asked
Dick.

"The wind was blowing straight from them to me, down the glen," was the
reply. "The breeze carried the stuff to me and it didn't bother them
at all for it floated right from them."

"Just like gas in the war," stated Snake, who had fought in France, as
had several of the other husky cowboys. "That's probably what it was,
too, some kind of gas they used in the war. It comes in tanks, and the
Germans used to lay a shallow trench full of these cylinders, with the
openings in 'em pointed our way. Then they'd open a faucet, let the
gas out and the wind would blow it right in our faces. If we didn't
put on gas masks it was bye-bye for us."

"But," exclaimed Nort, "Bud wasn't killed."

"No," agreed Snake with a grim smile, "and we're darn glad he wasn't.
Like as not they didn't use strong gas on him. There's lots of kinds
of gas, you know. I took some once to have a tooth yanked out and I
laughed to beat the band. Even in war all the gas wasn't sure death.
There was a kind that made you cry like you'd lost your best girl."

"That's the explanation then," decided Nort. "These fellows--call 'em
rustlers for the time being--have got hold of some kind of knock-out
gas and they used it on Bud."

"I sure was knocked out," murmured the young rancher.

"But what's their game?" asked Yellin' Kid in no gentle tones. "If
they're rustlers why did they just hold Bud a prisoner a while and then
light out and not take any stock?"

"They probably figgered the game was up," suggested Snake, "and wanted
to make their get-away. Anyhow they didn't get no stock."

"Are you sure of that?" asked Bud.

By this time nearly all the other members of the searching parties had
been gathered near Smugglers' Glen, the more distant ones having been
signaled to by shots previously agreed upon. And from the leaders of
these squads it was learned that no raid had been made during the
night. The whole range had been pretty well covered.

"Well, that's good," said Bud when the welcome news h