“Rustlers—­that sounds like greasers had been at work here.  Runnin’ hawses acrost the line.  For Lord sake, git a faster wiggle on than that limp, Bud!  If that poor little kid meets up with a bunch of them damn renegades—­”

Bud swore and increased his pace in spite of the pain.  Others were before him.  Already Tex had his loop over the head of a speedy horse, and was leading it toward his saddle.  Curley, the quickest of them all, was giving frantic tugs to his latigo.  Bill was in the saddle ready to direct the search, and Sudden was standing by his car, wondering whether it would be possible to negotiate that rough country to the eastward with a “mechanical bronk.”

Nothing much was said.  You would have thought, to look at them, that they were merely in a hurry to get back to the work.  Nevertheless, if it should happen that Mary V was being annoyed or in any danger, it would go hard with the miscreants if the Rolling R boys once came within sight of them.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

LUCK TURNS TRAITOR

Johnny Jewel, carrying the propeller balanced on his shoulder and his rifle in the other hand—­and perspiring freely with the task—­came hurrying through the sage brush, following the faint trail his own eager feet had worn in the sand.  His eyes were turned frowning upon the ground, his lips were set together in the line of stubbornness.

He tilted the propeller against the adobe wall of the cabin, and went in without noticing that the door was open instead of closed as he had left it.  He was at the telephone when Sudden stepped in after him.  Johnny looked over his shoulder with wide, startled eyes.

“Oh.  I was just going to call up the ranch,” he said with the brusqueness of a man whose mind is concentrated on one thing.

“What you want of the ranch?” Sudden’s tone was noncommittal.  Here was the fellow that had caused all this trouble and worry and loss.  Sudden meant to deal with him as he deserved, but that did not mean he would fly into a passion and handicap his judgment.

“I want the boys, if you can get hold of them.  I’ve located the ranch where they’ve been taking those horses to that they stole.  There’s some there now—­or there was.  I went down and let down the fence of the little field they had ’em in, and headed ’em for the gap.  There wasn’t anybody around but two women—­an old one and a young one—­and some kids.  They spluttered a lot, but I went ahead anyway.  There’s about a dozen Rolling R horses I turned loose.  The brands were blotched, but I knew ’em anyway.

“So I got ’em outa the field, and then we went back to the plane and circled around and come up on ’em from the south, and flew low enough to scare ’em good, but not enough to scatter ’em like that bunch up at the ranch scattered.  They high-tailed it this way, and I guess they’ll keep coming, all right, if they aren’t turned back again.  The boys can pick ’em up.