ve quiet that reigned during the
reading of the telegram. Cowboys rode to and fro, and Bud and his
cousins prepared to depart for Diamond X Second to arrange for taking
the trail against the Yaquis.

As the boy ranchers rode off down the trail, promising to return as
speedily as possible, to join with the bunch from Diamond X, their
eager talk over the recent events was interrupted by the noise of
shouting.

"What's that?" cried Dick, looking in the direction of the noise. It
appeared to come from a swale, or depression among some small, rounded
knolls.

"Sounds like a cattle stampede," remarked Bud, urging his pony forward.
"And yet it can't be that."

Nort and Dick followed as soon as they could swing their horses about.
The sound of shouting and the thunder of the feet of many
animals--horses or steers--came more plainly to the ears of the boy
ranchers.

CHAPTER IV

ON THE TRAIL

With Bud in the advance, urging his pony to topmost speed, Nort and
Dick followed. Bud shot along the trail, up one rise, down another,
all the while coming nearer to the noise which increased in intensity.
Clearly something was wrong either among a bunch of Diamond X cattle,
or with some of the horses belonging to the ranch outfit. And that
some human individual was concerned in the "fracas" was evident by the
shouts and yells that, now and then, punctured the air.

"By the Great Horned Toad! Look at that!" cried Bud, when he was
within viewing distance.

"He'll be killed!" added Nort.

"No, he's out of it now!" yelled Dick. "But maybe it's the end of him!"

As the three boy ranchers thus gave vent to their surprise, and almost
while they were in the act of exclaiming, a ragged figure of a man had
shot over a stout corral fence, and had fallen in a heap just on the
other side and out of the reach of the teeth and hoofs of a number of
half wild cow ponies. The thud of the animals' bodies, as they threw
themselves against the fence, in the stoppage of their mad race to get
the ragged man, could plainly be heard.

"Whew!" cried Bud, reigning his pony to a sliding stop, as he saw that,
for the present at least, the man was safe, though his inert form might
indicate serious injury. "That was a close call!"

"What was he doing in that corral?" asked Nort, and his hand, almost by
instinct, slid to the handle of his .45 protruding from the holster.

"And who is he?" asked Dick, who had followed his brother's lead.