“That was a time you got some news that looks like it staggered you, Adrian,” remarked Billie, after the three cow-punchers had dashed away, on their road west.

“Seems like it,” declared the one addressed, who was scratching his head in a puzzled way; “but do you know, it’s hard to believe that any sort of woman could get the whip-hand over my Uncle Fred. Why, there never was a more fiery and determined character. He ran things with an iron hand, even that puncher admitted as much. How he could be brought under a woman’s thumb is more’n I can understand.”

“Oh!” spoke up Donald, sagaciously, “you don’t know how some women can manage. And from the way that fellow mentioned Mrs. Fred I reckon now that she’s that big she can just fling her hubby around like a cat, when she’s riled up. Two black eyes is going some, and for a whole month too! Looks like you might be getting a little closer to an explanation of the queer things that have been going on up here on your Bar-S Ranch, Chum Adrian.”

“Yes, it looks like it,” agreed the other; “but I’ll never believe Uncle Fred is ruled by a petticoat till I see it with my own eyes. He’s a small man, but a masterful fighter. I can remember him flinging a fellow twice his heft in a wrestling match; for Uncle Fred has been in Japan, and learned the ju jitsu way of doing an antagonist up.”

“Mebbe he has,” remarked Billie, who was taking pains to search his pack for the bottle of witch-hazel, meaning to get to work easing the pain of the lame back Jupiter had; “but seems like it don’t work with a female scrapper; or else your unk is too gallant a gentleman to apply such strong tactics against the wife of his bosom, so he lets her get the best of every scrimmage, till his spirit is broken—leastwise that was what our cowboy friend seemed to imply just now.”

“It’s something to think about, anyhow,” observed Donald; “and for one I’m right glad we ran across those punchers. And we know about the Walkers, too. Fine bunch to have around, ain’t they, now? And Mrs. Fred, he took pains to tell us, was one of the Walkers before she got married! There’s a nigger in this woodpile somewhere, Adrian, and looks like it might be up to us to find out just where.”

“We will, before we head back South again, depend on that,” said Adrian, with the set look about his mouth that his chums knew so well, and which spoke of a grim determination before which every obstacle must give way.

They now set about making themselves as comfortable as possible, meaning to camp there in among those few trees for the night, which was only a couple of hours distant. As this was a very old story with both Adrian and Donald, and even Billie now came to look upon it as a lesson well learned, they knew just how to go about it in order to get the best results.

The ponies were staked out, not that it was expected that any one of the well-trained animals would stray far away while cropping the grass; but on account of wild animals, or possible horse thieves, it was thought best to have them within reach, and so fastened that they could not be stampeded in any way.

Then came the duty of starting the cooking fire. This was usually Billie’s job, for he had shown considerable ability along the cooking line, and moreover relished being placed in a position where his allowance of “grub” could not be cut down by ruthless hands.

On this particular occasion Billie was so much taken up with doctoring the sore back of his pony that Adrian took the duty of making the fire on his shoulders.

In lieu of stones with which to build a fireplace where coffee-pot and frying-pan could rest, he simply dug out a hole in the ground, and started his blaze there. Later on, when this became half-filled with glowing embers, it would be time to commence the business of getting their camp supper.

No matter where they might happen to partake of a meal, or how good the fare at some of the taverns they had struck in towns along the way, Billie loved the genuine camp meal best of all. They had found chances to do some shooting when on the trail, so that it was seldom they were without fresh meat for supper. On several occasions Billie had even insisted on purchasing a big generous beefsteak in some town through which they happened to pass along about the middle of the afternoon, when it was decided that they would keep on and camp out, the weather conditions seeming favorable.

There was some venison still in the larder, for on the previous day Adrian had managed to creep up close enough to several feeding antelope to attract their attention by waving his red bandanna, while he lay sheltered from their view among a patch of rattle-snake weeds; the timid animals had started to run away at first, and then that fatal gift of curiosity began to get in its work, so that they had stopped, come back a little, run off again, and repeated these hesitating tactics until the sportsman, believing they were within easy rifleshot, had taken aim and knocked over a youngster.

And there was plenty left for a full meal all around, even counting on Billie as two persons, which the others generally did.

“We’re going to have a decent night of it, I reckon,” observed Donald, as the three of them sat around, just before sunset, and discussed the tender venison that had been cooked, and which along with coffee, and plenty of crackers, made up their supper.

“Yes,” added Adrian, with a glance aloft as he spoke, “some clouds floating over, perhaps, but not enough to mean rain. And the moon ought to come up in less’n two hours from now.”

“Glad of it,” ventured Billie, wondering if he could manage to dispose of that last piece of meat in the pan, for it always distressed him to throw anything away; “because I just hate black nights. You never know what might lie close to you, out here on the big open, when it’s like the inside of your hat. But give me the jolly moonlight. I just love the nights when you can look out miles away, and tell when a measly old wolf is creeping up.”

At that the others laughed.

“Seems like you hadn’t learned your lesson yet, Billie,” remarked Adrian. “Just wait till the brightest night you ever saw comes along, and find out how far away you can say for sure whether it’s a stump you see, or a cow lying down. Moonlight is all good enough close at hand, but this thing of telling your best friend two hundred yards away is silly. It can’t be done, can it, Donald?”

“Well, I should say not,” agreed the other.

“You surprise me, fellows!” declared Billie; “and the first chance I get I’m going to put it to the test. But mebbe not tonight, because I’m that weary after my hot ride I feel like I could lie right down now, and never open my eyes till sun-up.”

“That wouldn’t surprise us any, Billie,” chuckled Donald; “fact is, it’s a regular habit with you, seems like. I’ve rolled you over as many as seven times, and only got a few grunts out of you to pay me for it. A dash of cold water in your face is often the only way we have of waking you up.”

“Yes, and every time I’m dreaming that I’ve fallen overboard in Niagara River, and find myself floating down the terrible falls!” declared the fat boy, “so please let up on that game, won’t you? Try sticking a pin in me if you want. P’raps then I’ll go and dream I’m bleeding to death; but even that’s better than to drop over Niagara Falls.”

They sat there as night fell, chatting, and occupying themselves in various ways. Adrian had his log to write up, and no doubt would do full justice to the wild ride that the fat chum had been forced to take that afternoon, all on account of the mean trick played by the village boy. Donald was writing a letter to his home folks, which he hoped to mail on the next day somewhere; while Billie wandered out several times to where Jupiter was tethered, wishing to put more soothing balm on the abrasion caused by the bunch of sand spurs weighed down under the saddle.

About the time the battered moon appeared above the level horizon in the east all of them were thinking of making their beds ready, being more or less tired after the long day’s journey.

It was not thought worth while to stand guard, for the ponies had been trained so as to give warning if anything out of the common came about. Both Adrian and Donald were light sleepers, and should the horses commence to snort, or strike the ground with their hoofs, the sound was sure to awaken one or both lads.

Each of them had a heavy double blanket along, which would feel very comfortable during these chilly nights. Wrapped up in this, Billie found it easy to shut off all sounds, and could be asleep in about three minutes, because he never worried over anything, leaving all this to his chums.

But then neither of the others was very long in getting to sleep on this night. Possibly Adrian lay there for a little while, puzzling his brain over the singular news he had received from those three cow-punchers, with reference to the remarkable change that had come to pass in the domestic relations of Uncle Fred; but in good time he too yielded to the demands of Nature, and slept peacefully.

It must have been some hours later when Donald lifted his head to listen. Then he gave Adrian a little punch, as he whispered:

“Wake up, Ad; something doing, I reckon, because our horses are acting queer and uneasy out here.”

Instantly the other sat up, throwing back his blanket, while his hand, perhaps unconsciously, reached out for the faithful rifle that had lain close beside him as he slept.

“Hear ’em?” inquired Donald, presently.

“I should say, yes,” came the reply; “and just as you say, Donald, it must mean danger of some kind. The moon’s behind the clouds, and p’raps we’re going to have some sort of a storm after all, because that sounds like thunder I hear.”

“Listen again, Ad,” said the other, quickly, “and perhaps you’ll change your mind about the kind of thunder that is. When a heap of hoofs come down chunketty-chunk on the hard prairie it always makes that thunder noise.”

At that Adrian jumped to his feet.

“What’s that, Donald?” he cried, excitedly, “do you mean long-horns?”

“Just what I do, and heading this way as fast as they can come. Sure you must know all the signs right well, Adrian; you’ve been on the range enough to understand when cattle get frightened, and start off on a stampede. That’s what’s happened; and as they go past this timber, p’raps we can see what it all means!”