Some time before the boy ranchers reached the scene of the grass
fire toward which they were riding, they caught the smell of the
burning fodder. That it was only grass which was aflame they had
known before this, for that was all there was to ignite in that
section of the valley. There were no buildings as yet, tents
taking their place. Though Bud and his father planned to erect
substantial structures if this year was successful.

"A lot of good fodder going up in smoke, Bud!" yelled Nort, as he
rode beside his cousin.

"If it isn't any worse than that we're lucky," was the answer.

"How do you mean?" asked Dick.

"I mean if we don't lose any cattle. The grass isn't any good
after it dries up on the ground, the way this has. But if the
fire starts a stampede of cattle--that will mean a loss."

"Do you think that's what the game is?" asked Nort, encouraging
his pony, Blaze, by patting the animal's neck.

"I can't see what else it is, unless the fire started when some
one threw down a burning match or cigarette, and most cow
punchers aren't that careless. Our fellows wouldn't do it, and I
don't believe any other ranchers around here would, except on
purpose."

"You mean the Double Z bunch?" asked Dick.