CHAPTER XV

JOHNNY LEARNS SOMETHING

For several weeks after Hopalong got back to the ranch, full of interesting stories and minus the grouch, things went on in a way placid enough for the most peacefully inclined individual that ever sat a saddle.  And then trouble drifted down from the north and caused a look of anxiety to spoil Buck Peters’ pleasant expression, and began to show on the faces of his men.  When one finds the carcasses of two cows on the same day, and both are skinned, there can be only one conclusion.  The killing and skinning of two cows out of herds that are numbered by thousands need not, in themselves, bring lines of worry to any foreman’s brow; but there is the sting of being cheated, the possibility of the losses going higher unless a sharp lesson be given upon the folly of fooling with a very keen and active buzz-saw,—­and it was the determination of the outfit of the Bar-20 to teach that lesson, and as quickly as circumstances would permit.

It was common knowledge that there was a more or less organized band of shiftless malcontents making its headquarters in and near Perry’s Bend, some distance up the river, and the deduction in this case was easy.  The Bar-20 cared very little about what went on at Perry’s Bend—­that was a matter which concerned only the ranches near that town—­as long as no vexatious happenings sifted too far south.  But they had so sifted, and Perry’s Bend, or rather the undesirable class hanging out there, was due to receive a shock before long.

About a week after the finding of the first skinned cows, Pete Wilson tornadoed up to the bunk house with a perforated arm.  Pete was on foot, having lost his horse at the first exchange of shots, which accounts for the expression describing his arrival.  Pete hated to walk, he hated still more to get shot, and most of all he hated to have to admit that his rifle-shooting was so far below par.  He had seen the thief at work and, too eager to work up close to the cattle skinner before announcing his displeasure, had missed the first shot.  When he dragged himself out from under his deceased horse the scenery was undisturbed save for a small cloud of dust hovering over a distant rise to the north of him.  After delivering a short and bitter monologue he struck out for the ranch and arrived in a very hot and wrathful condition.  It was contagious, that condition, and before long the entire outfit was in the saddle and pounding north, Pete overjoyed because his wound was so slight as not to bar him from the chase.  The shock was on the way, and as events proved, was to be one long to linger in the minds of the inhabitants of Perry’s Bend and the surrounding range.