dreaming that he was at a football game, and that his brother Nort had hold of him and was trying to pull him through the line of opposing players to make a touchdown. Then the dream seemed to become confused with reality, and Dick felt some one tugging at the blanket in which he had rolled himself so snugly.
Half awake and half asleep Dick's brain struggled to clear itself and get the right impression of what really was going on. Then he became aware that his blanket was actually being pulled – this was no dream.
"Here! Who's that? What you doing?" he cried, and instinctively he began groping for his gun, which was in its holster in the belt he had taken off for the night.
Something cold and clammy touched Dick on the cheek, causing a shudder to run through him.
"Snakes!" he yelled. "Rattlers! Look out!"
His frantic cries roused the others, and Nort and Bud struggled to free themselves of their enveloping blankets as they sat up near the smouldering blaze of the camp fire.
"What is it?" cried Bud, who had only half heard what his cousin shouted.
"Snakes!" again yelled Dick.
"Snakes nothing!" disgustedly grumbled Billee Dobb, who did not relish having his slumbers broken. "It's too cold for snakes to be out to-night." Then the plainsman tossed on the fire a bit of wood which, when it blazed up, revealed the cause of the disturbance.
"It's your horse!" cried Nort with a laugh. And it was Dick's faithful pony who, having slipped his tether, had wandered over near human companionship, and had been pulling at Dick's blanket with his teeth. Then the animal rubbed his cold and clammy muzzle on Dick's face, giving the lad the impression that a scaly rattlesnake had tried to crawl over him.
"Well, I'll be jiggered! Blackie!" gasped Dick, when he saw that it was his horse. "Whew, but you gave me a fright!"
"You oughter look fust an' yell afterward," commented Billee as he turned over to go to sleep again.
The boys laughed and again wrapped up in their blankets, after Dick had secured his horse with the others. A dim light was now showing in the east, indicating that morning was not far off. But it was cold and cheerless, even with the fire, for it was not a very large blaze, and Dick was glad to follow the example of his brother and cousin and roll up for a final doze before daylight.
"Well, now we'll see what happens," commented Nort, as they were preparing a simple breakfast, over the replenished campfire. "Think we might catch 'em to-day, Billee?"
"It all depends," was the old cow puncher's answer. "We can't spend too much time chasin' these scamps. There's work to be done at the ranch. Hang that perfesser, anyhow!"
"Why?" asked Bud.
"Well, if he hadn't crossed the trail last night when we fust started out, we'd a' had them as we was after by now!" declared Billee.
"Maybe and maybe not," remarked Bud. "It wasn't the professor's fault, anyhow. He just got lost."
"Well, he picked a mighty inconvenient time to do it in," snapped Old Billee, who was always a bit raspy before breakfast.
The sun soon shone warm and glorious, a little too glorious in fact, for it was very hot after 9 o'clock when the trail was again taken up. Daylight did not make the "signs" any more plain – in fact, there was absolutely no trail to follow. All they could do was to keep on, making inquiries here and there at different ranches about suspicious characters.
"We haven't seen any signs of the professor's party," remarked Nort, when they stopped at noon for a "snack."
"No, I fancy they're off in the other direction," remarked Bud. "They will probably be at the ranch when we get back."
"Speaking of getting back, I don't see much use in keeping on," commented Billee. "Those rascals have given us the slip."
"Guess we might as well hit the back trail," agreed Bud. "Dad will have to tell Hank Fowler about this, and Hank can rustle up a posse and see what he can do."
Hank Fowler was the local sheriff and on him, and such men as he might swear in as deputies, devolved the duty of looking after law and order in that part of the west where Diamond X was located, not far from the Mexican border.
The boy ranchers and Billee kept on for another mile, to top a certain high piece of land, over which they could have a good view, as they thought from this vantage point they might see some signs to guide them. But from the eminence they only viewed an endless rolling prairie with here and there a clump of trees. They saw bands of roving cattle and a few horses – their own stock or that of some neighbor, and Billee decided that nothing could be gained by going any farther along the cold trail.
Turning their horses' heads, the members of the little party swung back toward Diamond X. On the way they stopped at the ranch of Bud and his boy partners in Happy Valley, learning that everything was in good shape there, being in the efficient hands of a capable foreman and some cowboys. News of the robbery of Mr. Merkel's safe had already been telephoned to Happy Valley, but though the cowboys had ridden out for several miles in a number of directions, they had seen nothing and no one suspicious they reported.
"No luck, boys?" asked Mr. Merkel as his son and nephews turned their weary horses into the corral and entered the house.
"No luck, Dad," answered Bud. "What's new here?"
"Nothing much. Professor Wright's party came up and he has taken them into camp over near the place where they dug up the monster fossil bones some time ago."
"You didn't hear anything about the fellows who took your papers then? What are you going to do, Dad?"
"Well, I don't know what I can do. It isn't as if this was the east, where such things are a matter of record, and where you have the courts and judges right at hand to put a stop to anything unlawful. It's almost as if an unregistered government bond was stolen. I've got to prove my property against those that have it, and I can't do it very easily, because the men I bought it of originally are all dead or moved away. It's just as if the Spur Creek land was owned by no one, and the first comer has a chance to take it, now that the government has thrown open the tract."
"But you aren't going to sit down and let 'em frisk you that way, are you, Dad?" cried Bud, surprised at what he thought was the supine and non-combative attitude of his parent.
"I should say not, son!" was the vigorous answer. "I'm going to fight!"
"That's more like it!" cried Bud.
"Hurray! We're with you!" exclaimed Nort.
"When does the fighting begin!" Dick wanted to know, and almost unconsciously he looked at his "gun."
"We're going to start a camp at Spur Creek right away, and keep some one on guard there constantly," declared Mr. Merkel. "If signs and past performances go for anything, some Mexicans, a few Greasers and a bunch of sheep herders will pour in through the pass and pre-empt everything along Spur Creek any time now. Certain land along Spur Creek did belong to the Indians and as such the government can throw it open to those whose other holdings don't bar them – as I am barred.
"But I don't intend any Greasers or sheep herders shall take the land I bought and paid for, even if they have managed to steal my title deeds and other papers, without which I can't prove my claim. I'm going to fight!" said the ranch owner vigorously.
"And we're with you!" cried Nort, as he tapped his gun.
