Being less tired than the night before, the boys sat round the camp fire after supper, talking and listening to the stories the ranchman told about his life as a soldier.

When at length they were ready to turn in, they rolled themselves up in their blankets and formed a circle about the fire.

Without adventure they passed the night, sleeping till long after sunrise, there being no occasion for getting an early start.

Indeed as they ate breakfast they were debating whether to push on or stay where they were and set a bear trap when they were surprised to hear Mr. Wilder’s name called.

Shouting in return, they jumped to their feet, trying to see who had hailed them.

“It’s some one on horseback.  I can hear the click of horseshoes on the stones,” declared Larry.

“Some one from the ranch probably,” asserted Mr. Wilder, and the next moment his opinion was confirmed by Horace, who had run to the trail and was returning, yelling: 

“It’s Nails!  It’s Nails!”

“He’s one of our boys,” explained Bill to the chums.  “What do you suppose he can want, father?”

“Wait till he tells us.  There are so many possibilities, it’s no use trying to guess.”

Their suspense was short-lived, for in a few moments the cowboy called Nails dashed into the basin, his pony in a lather.

Realizing from this condition of his mount that something serious was amiss, Mr. Wilder asked: 

“What’s wrong, Nails?”

“Cattle thieves!” gasped the cowboy.  “Cross-eyed Pete said to get everybody you could and meet him at the Witches’ Pool to-morrow morning.  He’s driving up the herds from the Long Creek bottoms.”

CHAPTER X

THE RETURN TO THE RANCH

The knowledge that his herds had again been raided by cattle thieves made Mr. Wilder very angry.

“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.