"Then we'd better look for 'em before it gets too dark," declared
Bud. "Come on! Let's get our horses."

"Isn't it taking a chance, riding out to look for some one who
may have fired at us purposely?" asked Dick.

"Yes," agreed Bud, after a moment's thought, "but life out west
is all more or less of a chance and risk. You take a risk, every
time you ride at more than a foot-pace, of your pony stepping
into some prairie dog's hole and not only laming himself, but
killing you. But you don't stop riding on that account."

"No," agreed Nort.

"And we take a chance every time we ride herd," went on Bud. "The
steers may stampede, and before we can get 'em to milling, they
may rush over us. But I notice neither of you ever back out of
that job; do you?"

"No," agreed Nort, adding: "Well, then, I reckon going after this
unknown shooter isn't taking such a long chance."

"I'm with you!" exclaimed Dick.

Briefly telling Buck Tooth what had happened, the boy ranchers
rode off at a fast pace, to take advantage of what little light
of day remained. They headed, as nearly as they could ascertain
it, in the direction whence the single shot had come. But it is
hardly needless to say they found no one, and no sign that could
be construed into a tangible clue.