CHAPTER VII

FOUR EYES


For a moment Bud Merkel seemed unable to comprehend the bad news
thus brought to him by his cowboy helpers and friends. Nort and
Dick, also, were shocked by the intelligence. But Bud quickly
recovered. Perhaps it was because of his heritage of the west--
the ability to face danger and disaster with grim courage, part
of his father's stock in trade.

"Rustlers, eh?" repeated Bud, and his voice was steadier than
Yellin' Kid or Snake Purdee expected to find it. "Did they get
many?"

"Quite a bunch," answered Yellin' Bad. "We rounded up as many as
we could, and--"

"You mean you rounded up the _rustlers_?" asked Nort,
eagerly.

"No, what was left of the steers," answered Snake. "Guess we
wouldn't be back here alone--that is, just us two, if we'd had a
run-in with the rascals. We didn't see 'em, but we did find
traces of 'em. What are you going to do, Bud? Get on their
trail?"

"Let's talk it over, first," suggested the boy rancher, and he looked