“Hit her up, loop the sun,” Bob called as he climbed into the rear cock-pit. Kramer let the motor run for a moment, then managed to smile at her performance.

“That’s a motor what motes,” he announced. Soon they took off and they looked most war-like with the sheriff’s artillery added to their equipment. Through the minds of the Sky Buddies raced a varied assortment of possibilities regarding what they would find when they came down on the Gordon ranch. Jim rather wished that Bob was not along for if either young Arthur or any of his former associates were there no one would anticipate how much trouble awaited them. Although there was only a few months difference in their ages, Austin felt years older and was anxious that the younger boy be kept out of danger. He recalled the scheme the two Gordons had concocted and nearly brought to perfection at Don Haurea’s ranch a few months ago. While Caldwell had not been hurt physically the horror of what he had witnessed had almost taken the fun out of him.

In the back seat Bob too was thinking of that day. Through his brain flashed the vision of his step-brother lying wounded and bleeding on the steps of the Bar-Z ranch house. It wasn’t a picture a fellow could shake off easily and he was wishing that Jim was not going to be in this, whatever was ahead of them. To be sure, under the splendid care of the medical men and surgeons of the Don’s people, his Buddy had healed and recovered with remarkable speed, but just the same being a target was a hazardous business and one couldn’t expect to get off so easily very often. He whistled softly and determined that he would keep his eyes open and if possible shove Austin into the background. The plan looked good to the boy, and then he thought of something which seemed even better. When they came down he’d suggest that his step-brother fly on home and explain the matter to his father who could get a number of the men on the K-A together and join the deputies at the lower ranch. That was a great idea, and an even better one was to propose that Jim get in touch with Don Haurea. From this highly capable man’s laboratories something very effective could be accomplished. Bob had no thought of what the Box-Z owner would do, but since the difficulties of the summer he too had paid a visit to the subterranean department and had seen the workings of the super-television-radio. It was an awe-inspiring place and the young fellow knew that the proposal of getting in touch with its head would appeal strongly to his step-brother.

By this time the rugged peaks of lower Cap Rock were rolling swiftly toward them, and presently the buddies from their separate points of observation were examining the ranch through the glasses. Finally Jim located Carl Summers sitting on a projecting ledge from which he could keep a watchful eye on his territory. It struck the boy that the young deputy appeared very unconcerned. He had expected to discover Carl crouched in some out-of-the-way corner where he could not be taken by surprise, and surrounded with a battery of artillery. Touching Kramer on the shoulder, Jim pointed out the ledge where he had landed with Her Highness the day Lilly Boome and Ollie had inveigled him to give them a lift from Laville. Three minutes later the Pitcairn lighted perfectly on the strip of table rock, and Bob, eager to put his plan into operation, called:

“I say, Jim, I’ve got an idea!”

“Take off your hat and let your head cool,” Jim advised. The younger boy got out of the cock-pit with all possible speed and was standing by the forward door before it could be opened. Austin grinned at him cheerfully.

“I don’t need to, you nut. Listen, Old Timer, you fly on to the K-A and tell Dad what’s doing, then telephone Don Haurea. I bet a thin dime against the State of Texas that he’ll be able to do something worth while from his place—”

“But your brother can’t fly well enough yet!” Kramer interrupted.

“Say, you sent that wire to your firm, didn’t you, that you are going to stay here?” Bob demanded.

“Yes, but what’s that got to do with it?” “Nothing much, old man, but the Buddy and I know a lot more than you would suspect about airplanes. We’ll give you a demonstration when we’re not too busy. It’s this way, we thought you looked like a deserving lad, and we were sorry for anyone who never got real close to a good horse, so, when you said that your firm would give you permission to stay a while, we wanted to help you—we’re a pair of regular little helpfuls—ask our folks.”

“I’ll tell the world you are. Think I’m going to hang around here to teach you something you know? I’m not lying to my firm—”

“Gosh,” Bob’s face flushed. “That’s right, I didn’t think of it—you couldn’t do that—” then he grinned—“but, look here, if you do like Texas and horses and dogs—and us—I’ll bet you could sell a couple of planes to some of the ranchers. We’ll introduce you around—”

“I’ll bet the sheriff would buy one,” Jim added. Then the frown disappeared from Kramer’s face and he too grinned.

“Now you are talking. I’ll get in touch with the firm and see what my boss thinks. Much obliged, Buddy, for the tip, and much obliged too for the desire to give me a good time.” He held out his hand and Caldwell gripped it firmly in his own.

“Now that’s settled,” Jim put in—“the sheriff said that Summers has an instrument here and he has tapped the telephone wires. Your idea of getting in touch with Dad and the Don is great, I’ll do it by phone.”

“Oh—yes, sure you can do that.” Bob’s face fell and he sighed as he saw how quickly his perfectly good plan to get Austin away from the danger zone vanished into thin air. “Sure, you can do that and it will save time, too.”

“Hello there!” Carl Summers, who was a stocky little Texan, came swinging carelessly up the winding trail, his face wreathed in smiles.

“Hello yourself. We were at Crofton and the sheriff asked us to drop in and see how things are,” Jim explained.

“That’s fine. For a couple of days I sure have been doing some tall figuring without getting an answer. Guess I was sort of hipped with the snow and the emptiness of this place, but I wasn’t all goofy,” he said. “Did you find anything?” Jim asked. He and Kramer were out of the cock-pit ready to listen to the story, whatever it was.

“Yes, a spell ago. I’ve been feeling that I wasn’t alone on this ranch and it got me worried, not because I was afraid, but because I couldn’t come up with anyone. The first time was at night, I was asleep in a bunk I fixed myself in the old root house, that dugout, and I awoke thinking I heard prowlers. I couldn’t find anything, but dozens of times since then I was sure I was being trailed; then I found those bear tracks and I know bears are enjoying a siesta this time of year, but they were tracks and they went around in a circle. It didn’t make me feel too good trying to figure what made ’em.”

“It must have made you anxious,” Kramer remarked.

“Surely did, brother. I reported to the sheriff and he promised to get someone here as fast as he could, and he told me to keep watch. Now, you two know bear tracks, just for fun come and look at this set and see if you can tell what made them and where the animal came from or went,” he proposed. “Lead on, McDuff,” Kramer invited.

“You got my name wrong, buddy, it’s Summers—”

“I know, but that’s just a quotation,” Kramer hastened to explain.

“He wants you to show us,” Bob added.

“Oh, I see, he’s from Missouri. Well, come along.”

“Do we need the battery?” Kramer asked. He didn’t like toting a gun and seeing the two in the boys’ belts made him feel uncomfortable.

“We’ve got them on, and we might as well keep them,” Jim answered cautiously.

“Bring it with you, it will make you feel more as if you are in the woolly west,” Bob put in quickly. Both he and Jim were sure that leaving them behind would be foolish, and although all thought of danger had been effectively dispelled by Summers, they were not taking needless chances, at least until the ranch guardian had absolutely convinced them.

Carl made his way back down the slippery trail while the three followed single file. The descent was about a hundred feet and at the bottom they started to walk easily on the thick crust across a couple of acres of open space, then they reached the back of a row of sheds which had been used for machinery, tools, and also a smithy and general catch-all. Summers removed a loose board so they went through, and then proceeded by a winding way past the numerous ranch buildings until they came to the further end where the deserted home had been erected. There were a few scrub trees around it, their branches poking up through the snow, and here and there were layers of soft snow that had not frozen because it had been jarred from the branches or blown from near-by roofs.

“Here you are.” Summers stopped at the edge of a clear spot on the far side of the house, which was less exposed than the front, and protected from the colder winds by the elbow of the cliff. The three looked down quickly, and sure enough, they saw a set of tracks that must have been made by some large animal. It looked as if the beast had made the circuit twice, for most of the imprints were irregular, but many of them were distinct enough to show their form.

“I pass, what’s the joke?” Kramer asked. “They do look a little like a bear,” Bob hesitated, and a moment later Jim turned to their guide.

“Is it someone who has his feet wound up?” he asked.

“You go to the head, that’s it,” Carl grinned. “Reckon if I hadn’t been so blamed scary I’d a thought of it myself.”

“Whose tracks are they?” Bob demanded.

“And why do they go around in a circle?” inquired Jim.

“Come along and see the rest of the exhibit,” Carl invited.

They followed him to the root cellar, which, as they approached, looked like a long high mound of snow. At the further side, they saw the entrance, a short steep incline, with a heavy, old fashioned cellar door that fitted into a frame which was level with the ground. This opening was thrown back, so the three stepped down, Carl pulled another heavy door, and instantly the odor of a miscellaneous collection of vegetables which had been stored there for years, came to their nostrils. Coming, as they did, from the glaring white of the world outside, everything looked pitch black, but in a moment their eyes were adjusted to the change and they saw a long room with a sloping roof. Two lighted lanterns were suspended from the huge beams overhead. A rough attempt had been made at furnishing. There was an army cot in one corner, some bright blankets draped the walls, and the earth floor was almost concealed under a collection of dressed hides. A couple of home-made chairs and a table completed the items.

“Some palatial house. Where did you get this stuff?” Bob asked.

“Mostly from the bunkhouse,” Carl answered.

“What’s beyond that?” Kramer wanted to know. He nodded toward the further end where he saw a partition of wide planks.

“Just another hole. I went in to see. These root houses used to be divided off. When I was a kid I played here one day, and explored this place. My dad said that the first hole was small, but every year a new section was added to hold more, and some of them were used in hot weather to keep things cool,” Summers explained.

“Great idea—” “Who’s this?” Kramer asked, as he jumped back quickly.

“Pigeon Jute. You boys know him,” Carl chuckled. A tall slender Indian, wrapped in a grey blanket, had risen from the cot and stood staring at them gravely.

“Why sure we know him,” Jim laughed. “Haven’t seen you for a long time, Jute. How’re the pigeons?”

“Heap good,” the Indian grunted.

“When I first knew him he was trying to get a breed of birds that would be world beaters on long distance,” Jim explained.

“How did you make out, Jute?” Bob asked goodnaturedly, but the Indian merely grunted and shrugged.

“Real loquacious, isn’t he?” Kramer remarked softly, but he did feel as if he were getting a taste of the ancient west he had read of when he was a youngster.

“He’s all right. When I was a little kid he used to do things for my mother and he made enough bows and arrows to destroy an army,” Bob declared. He was genuinely glad to see his old friend.

“I suppose you made the tracks,” Jim laughed. “You thought you would have some fun with Carl so you hopped out of a tree, or started them by jumping from where the ice is clean.”

“Jumped!” came the brief explanation.

“So that finishes the mystery,” Bob sighed with relief.

“Surely does. He showed up today and wanted something to eat. I was as glad to see him as if he were a bouquet of spring flowers,” Carl assured them.

“I should have wanted to punch his jaw,” Kramer laughed.

“You wouldn’t if you hadn’t seen a human being for two weeks, besides, I’ve got a sense of humor,” Summers answered.

“We’ve brightened your day a lot, old man, but we’ve got to breeze along. Does the sheriff know what the answer is?” Jim asked.

“Yes. I just caught him when he was ready to start up here, so he called off the Reserves and went back to work. Much obliged to you all for dropping in and I hope you do it again.”

“Maybe it’s just as well if we stay on our side of the line a while longer, but you have skis, slide up and pay us a visit when things get too dull. You ought to rig up a radio; that would keep you in touch with a lot of fun,” Jim suggested.

“I’ve been building one, want to see it?”

“We’d better not linger any longer, it’s getting late,” Bob urged. Now that the mystery was solved he began to feel that he and Jim couldn’t get away from the place any too quickly, besides the short day was coming to a close and it would soon be dark. The Indian followed them outside, and strolled off unceremoniously.

“He’s got some traps set in the cliffs,” Carl explained. They watched the tall grey figure striding over the snow almost as swiftly as if he were on snowshoes, and soon he was lost from sight. He stepped so lightly that he didn’t leave an imprint.

“How do you like being a ranch nurse?” Bob asked, just to make conversation as they hurried along.

“It hasn’t been so inter—” He stopped short in his answer, and for an instant the four of them stood in startled silence. To their strained ears came an unmistakable rumble.

“Is it a plane?” Jim asked softly, but he knew it wasn’t. The words were hardly out of his mouth before the rumble grew into a thunderous roar, the earth under their feet rocked as if it had a convulsion; there was a terrific boom, followed in quick succession by three more violent explosions which threw all four of them on their faces. Kramer struck an icy spot and slid twenty feet. The land behind them ripped open, a sheet of flame and smoke belched forth, carrying huge rocks, hunks of earth and ice which flew high, wide and handsome, then began to shower as far as the cliffs.

“Come on,” Bob gasped. He caught Jim’s collar and the two struggled to their feet. Carl was lying motionless some distance away, and Kramer was rolling as hard as he could roll toward the row of sheds.

“We’ll get Summers,” Jim snapped. Bending low, the Buddies raced to the prostrate guardian of the ranch, each grabbed him and then hauled him along with them toward safety. One lump of debris struck Bob’s hand a hard crack, forcing him to let go, but Jim dragged harder and after a breathless stampede, the three at last reached the open door of the shed where Kramer was picking himself up gingerly.

“Don’t go in there,” Jim shouted. “It may come down.” He thought it was safer to trust themselves to the rain of missiles than to a building which might also be destroyed and crush them under its weight. By that time Carl was gaining consciousness and he jerked himself to his feet.

“What’s the mat—”

“Can you walk, old man? We’ve got to get out of here,” Jim urged.

“Sure.” Carl took a hasty glance over his shoulder and the sight of the yawning root house, to say nothing of the hail of frozen earth that filled the air, fairly put wings to his feet and he ran as fast as they could carry him. The others followed, but keeping their footing was a difficult matter for most of the time they were sliding, and several times Carl sprawled in a frantic effort to stay upright. Then Bob noticed that the direction they were taking would fetch them up quite a distance beyond the trail they must climb in order to reach the plane on the cliff.

“Buddy, Buddy,” he panted. “We’re out of the course.” Jim heard, dug his heels to act as a brake, and skidded around. Glancing ahead he realized they could never scale the wall. He made a megaphone of his hands and bellowed.

“Summers!” But the deputy was going too strong to stop at once, so they panted after him until finally they managed to get him to listen. “We have to get to the trail.”

“Oh, yes, sure!” He seemed too dazed to understand what they really meant, so they each caught him by the arms and struggled to get in the right direction. For a moment they completely lost sight of Kramer, then suddenly they heard him shout.

“Hey—stop—” They heard his gun snap and the crack of a bullet as it struck the rocks. Then sputtered a half dozen shots in quick succession, and the three paused uncertainly.

“He’s attacked,” Jim shouted. “Come along.” They ran faster and presently they could see across to the trail. The air man was holding his right arm to one side, but he pointed with the other. The boys’ eyes followed where he indicated, and in a moment they caught a glimpse of a fleeting figure leaping up the rocks of the cliff. Once, when the fellow came to an open spot, he stopped and leveled his gun, but by that time Summers’ brain began to work. He fired three shots as fast as he could pull the trigger, and they struck dangerously close to the man on the trail. With a curse he leaped back into the shelter of a huge rock.

“Drop,” Bob shouted, but they kept on running and were surprised that the fellow did not fire again. He might have used all his ammunition or his gun jammed. Then, suddenly above the commotion and confusion, they heard another sound.

“Suffering cats,” Bob gasped.

“Sacred Cod—the plane—” Jim started to race in pursuit, and although he ran as he had never run before, he barely reached the trail before the plane moved. Bob, who could see it best, stopped to stare, and there in the cock-pit sat Arthur Gordon. He waved impudently as the machine lifted, and in less than a second he was soaring with a thundering roar of the engine into the sky.