Donald had brought his lariat along, under the belief that it might come in handy one way or another. As he thus stood up, just a little way back of the sentry who was sitting there, he had this rope in his hands, Adrian holding both rifles meanwhile.

Billie saw this and drew a long breath, while his glittering eyes were fixed upon the man with the enormous appetite. It was just as though he might be saying bitterly to himself; “now see what you get for hogging it all; and serve you just about right, too!”

Donald was a clever hand with the lariat. He had learned all the ordinary cow-puncher tricks in making use of a rope; and often bewildered Billie with some of his astonishing throws, back-handed, side ways, and with the queer little jerking movement that adepts can make to serve their purpose without coiling the lariat again.

This was as easy a job as ever came his way; and indeed, Billie himself would have thought it no difficult feat to toss that well-balanced loop directly over the head of the unconscious sentry.

It was done like a flash. The man instinctively knew he was a prisoner the very instant he felt the touch of the descending rope; indeed, he must have heard the whistle of it through the air, for Billie saw him plainly try to duck his head as though he hoped to dodge the cast; but he was too late.

All punchers understand that their only chance when “roped” is to instantly start toward the point from which the loop springs. In this way they may get a slack line, and be able to throw off the noose before it is too late.

As he was instantly jerked over, the sentry had no chance to run or even crawl; but he proved that he knew his business by trying to roll toward Donald, who was taking in the slack rope hand over hand.

When the proper second came he leaped forward and threw himself on the prostrate sentry, whipping the rope around him several times so as to render him helpless.

All this happened in what Billie afterwards described as “three shakes of a lamb’s tail.” Up to that time the man who had been so taken by surprise had not thought to give a shout; he had followed out the instinct a cowboy always has actuating him; but now that he was in the toils beyond any possibility of freeing himself through his own exertions the fellow remembered that he had companions.

He let out a whoop that would have awakened men in even a more drunken stupor than those who lay there.

Adrian had not been idle, however, during these few seconds of time. Having mapped out his little plan of campaign beforehand he knew what was expected of him. Jumping across the space that separated him from the fire he pounced upon one of the rustlers, and snatched his gun the first thing. That rendered a second fellow next to helpless, for a bad man without his gun is never very dangerous.

Adrian threw the rifle forward, and covered the next man as he was trying to get to his knees.

“Lie down, you, or it’ll be the worst job you ever tackled!” he cried out; and the swing of that rifle convinced the rustler that he had better do as he was told; so he flattened himself out on his face, and remained there motionless, possibly trying to collect his muddled wits and reason it all out.

There was still one more, but Billie had looked out for him. Making threatening motions with his extended rifle as he pushed forward the fat boy confronted this rustler, still sitting there on the ground, and blinking like an owl might on being thrust into an electric glow.

When he saw that it was a boy in front of him, a fat good-natured lad at that, the puncher made as if to reach for his weapon, whereupon Billie thrust out his rifle still closer and shouted:

“Don’t you dare touch it, do you hear! I’ll pull this trigger as sure as my name’s Broncho Billie, and whiff you go into the next world! Hold up both hands before you’re riddled! Want me to give the signal for a dozen guns to blaze away all around you? Don’t you know you’re surrounded by an army? Hold ’em up, higher than that, mister, if you know what’s good for you.”

Donald put an end to the anxiety by suddenly darting forward and whipping the gun out of the rustler’s holster. He had already secured the weapon belonging to the fellow whom Adrian had subdued, so that the enemy was now powerless to do them any immediate injury.

Billie gave a screech in order to relieve his overwrought nerves.

“Victory! We came, we saw, we conquered! Bully for the Broncho Rider Boys; they’re a whole team and a dog under the wagon. Told you we could do ’em, fellows! Why, it was as easy as falling off a log. Hope you’re going to hog-tie the lot, Donald, now that we’ve got ’em, so we won’t have to be sitting up to keep the same from vamosing the ranch; because there might be some other things more pleasant we’d like to be at.”

Donald had prepared for just such an emergency beforehand, so that he had plenty of stout cords in his pocket, with which to make the rustlers secure.

He started in to do this. The men had recovered their wits enough by now to display considerable ugly temper. They may even have begun to dimly suspect that they had not been made prisoners by a large company of punchers after all, but that this trio of lively lads represented the sum total of their adversaries.

Donald knew that when they came to understand this humiliating fact they might become so desperate that they would go to any lengths in the endeavor to turn the tables again. That was one reason why he made such haste in getting bonds on the prisoners, with his two chums standing there, guns in hand and constantly on guard, lest one of the others leap upon Donald.

After the last man had been secured, and they were beginning to growl and swear in a horrible way, Billie thought he might claim a little of his own time in order to carry out some idea he was hugging to his heart.

But when he knelt down where that enormous feeder had been sitting it was only to give a grunt of disgust, for the very last bite of cooked meat had vanished. They had played their hand just a little too late to please Billie, who had such a stubborn way of trying to carry out any scheme he may have conceived, no matter how foolish it might be.

Adrian looked at Donald, and then the two of them shook hands. If ever they experienced the delight of having accomplished something worth while it was then and there, when they found that the four cattle rustlers were in their power, and the way stood open to recover the stampeded herd belonging to Bar-S Ranch.

Billie was not to be left out when the congratulations were going around; and accordingly he insisted on also shaking hands with his chums.

“We got ’em, didn’t we, fellows? If they’d been a dozen ’stead of four we could have done the little trick just as easy. Ain’t they a sorry bunch, though; and now I wonder if they happen to have any more of that fresh meat along with ’em; because I’m a bit peaked for a bite, and time’s apt to hang heavy on our hands between this and daylight, when we can get busy, and pull out of here.”

Sure enough he did find that there was still a small portion of meat uncooked. After learning this Billie was inclined to allow his chums to do all the planning and figuring while he busied himself by the fire; the four men glaring at him, and in turn reviling and entreating him to let them loose, as they had only been playing a practical joke on Colonel Morrison, since the cattle had been bought the day before and they thought to give him a scare.

But Billie paid no attention to either threats or blandishments, but went steadily about his self-appointed task of preparing a midnight supper for himself and companions, a congenial task it was too, as any one who knew Billie’s weakness would easily understand. There was to be no sleep for the boys on this night, after the little they had enjoyed. They could not guess what the plans of the rustlers might be, and that in itself gave them cause for anxiety. If another lot of the Walkers should turn up before morning, and catch them napping, things would go hard with the youngsters. And then again, with prisoners of that type on their hands Donald and Adrian dared not relax their vigilance a particle lest one of the men manage to get loose, and freeing his mates, pounce upon their late captors.

Donald was used to sizing up cow-punchers, and could see good in most any chap who followed that profession; but he had to admit that these four were about as hard looking specimens as he had run across for a long while. If they ever found a chance to turn the tables on the Broncho Rider Boys it was easy to guess how they would act. The thought did not afford Adrian any pleasure; but it did make him the more determined that he would neglect no precaution in order to make such a possibility less likely to happen.

Well, Billie finally called the others to sit down and have a bite of late supper; and more to oblige him than because they were really hungry they did eat a little. That satisfied the cook, however, and if his chums chose to partake so lightly of the fare, that only left the larger portion for him to make way with.

“What is the time?” asked Donald, when things had sort of simmered down to a condition of quiet, the prisoners ceasing to talk because they had come to realize that it was a useless expenditure of breath.

“Going on two now,” was the answer.

“That means about four hours of it before us,” said Donald; “well, we’ve got heaps to talk about, and can pass the time away all right. Then we must keep a lookout for signs of trouble, or the coming of any more rustlers, as well as watch this tough bunch.”

“And,” added the other, “if we have any extra time we could put it in looking to see how the cattle are coming on close by here. If all’s well in the morning we’ll take the greatest pleasure in starting back for the ranch house, driving this lot of long-horns that carry the Bar-S brand.”

Donald began chuckling at that.

“What do you find to laugh at?” asked Billie, who looked unusually sober for him.

“I was just thinking,” replied the ranch boy, “what a tremendous surprise it’ll be for Uncle Fred, yes, and Aunt Josie too, when they see us coming along whooping, with the lost herd in our charge. That would make a picture worth keeping, if only Billie here could snap it off, which he can’t, more’s the pity!”