CHAPTER XXX.

WHEN THE SHERIFF CAME--CONCLUSION.

Quickly following these shouts the two boys could see moving figures, that presently developed into galloping horses. They seemed to be riderless until one looked more closely, when possibly a knee might be discovered above the saddle, or it might be an arm was disclosed.

Every fellow kept shouting at the top of his lungs, undoubtedly with a two-fold object in view; for by this means they hoped to not only excite the penned-up cattle, and work them into a fit condition for a stampede the moment an opening was provided, but at the same time such a racket was apt to alarm the defenders of the corrals, as well as bring their confederates into the game.

As they started to swing back and forth, now coming closer, and anon falling more to the rear, these wild riders started shooting their revolvers at a rapid rate. If there is one thing that a cow-puncher dearly loves above all others it is an opportunity to pull the trigger of his gun in quick succession, while he is shooting up some unlucky town where they sell strong drink.

And these rustlers were of that breed to a certainty, for they kept things going at a pretty lively gait.

"Let's start in some ourselves!" cried Adrian in the ear of his chum; for they had simply crouched there, watching what was going on, as though it might be a free show organized for their especial benefit.

Donald was only waiting for this word. He dropped his head close to the butt of his rifle, and like a flash the report came. There was a horse on the ground immediately, with his rider taking a flight through the air so that he landed fully fifteen feet ahead.

"Watch and see if he gets up; if he does let him have it!" said Donald, already filled with the enthusiasm such a situation was apt to bring about.

The fellow could not have been badly hurt by his tumble, for he at once started to scramble to his feet, as though meaning to either make off, or else try and run for the shelter of the nearest corral, bent on doing certain work that had been assigned to him beforehand.

Adrian, seeing a good chance to disable him, fired so as to hit the rustler in the leg. He went down in a heap, and the last glance they cast his way they could see him hugging his injured limb as though all the fight might have been taken out of him after that disaster.

"Don't stop there!" urged Donald. "We must teach the fools a lesson. Wait till that fellow mounted on the big bay comes along again; because somehow I've got a notion it may be Hatch Walker himself on that horse. I've heard he rides a magnificent bay; and that animal sure is a dandy!"

"Look there, you're some too late!" shouted Adrian, himself full of animation.

"Yes, somebody else got ahead of me, and bowled the horse over as neat as you please. But did you notice that shot, Adrian; didn't it have a sort of familiar ring to you? If I didn't believe our chum Billie was asleep in the bunk house right now I'd be willing to say that was his rifle!"

"And you'd hit the bull's-eye plum center!" laughed the other; "because there he is right now, standing up, and swinging his hat to let us know he's in the swim. And Donald, look at that fellow lying there where he fell. It must be Hatch Walker, and he's had his neck broken by the tumble, or else is knocked senseless. Now, our game would be to play safe; don't let any of them swoop down and carry him off."

"I see what you mean," echoed the other; "if so be we could get Hatch in our power this business would stop right short. Without his guiding hand the rustlers'd throw up the job, and never have the heart to stampede another herd. There's one fellow heading that way, and he's just got to be told to stop, or he'll find himself hurt the same way as those others!"

Donald took a quick aim and fired. This time he could see well enough to try and strike the leg that projected over the back of the galloping horse. The conditions were all against him; but he must have touched the rider enough to give him cause to change his mind about trying to carry off the stunned leader; for the fellow suddenly whirled aside and went furiously past.

"There's Billie running out to bag his game!" cried Donald, suddenly; "he may be a fool, but we've just got to back him up, Ad; so let's rush it. When they see us coming perhaps the rest'll get cold feet and skip out!"

It was a bold act, but by such tactics has many a battle been decided. Seeing the three boys starting out toward the riders who were circling around, others of the defenders of the corrals started after them.

"Listen! what's all that shouting going on?" cried Adrian, as he paused; "can the rustlers be getting reinforcements?"

"Not much, if I know what a cheer sounds like!" answered Donald; "but it must be that sheriff's posse, come up just in the nick of time. Give them an answering whoop, Adrian, Billie, and then let's capture that man who rode the bay hoss; because unless I miss my guess that's the king pin of the lot, Hatch Walker himself!"

Billie made wonderfully fast time in trying to reach the fallen man first.

"Surrender! The game is up, Hatch Walker!" he panted, as he presented his rifle at the man, who was now beginning to move a little.

"I'm all in, so don't shoot!" called the other, feebly.

Out from the darkness dashed a body of at least a dozen bold riders; and as if they grasped the situation instantly each one seemed to pick a certain rustler, and put after him at full speed. And to the delight of the boys, the fickle moon thought best to sail out into an open space above just then, allowing the pursuit to go on with more or less success.

Sheriff Jo Davies must have picked up the right kind of a posse for his first trial of strength against the infamous Walkers, for they scattered the band to the four winds of heaven; five were brought back as prisoners, and the boys afterward learned that two had been badly wounded, so that they were carried to the ranch to be looked after for the time being.

It certainly was the chief offender, Hatch himself, whom Broncho Billie had dismounted by that lucky shot. He fell into the hands of the sheriff who was determined to do his duty; and it might as well be said right here that Hatch and all of his men who were captured received good long sentences for rustling cattle; while the band was broken up for good, never to come together again in that county while Jo Davies carried the star of his office on his left breast.

Of course the three who were hiding in the strong room were also taken in hand, and would at least be warned never to show their faces again around that cattle section. It was the sheriff himself who took the key, and escorted the inmates of the store-room to the outside air. They happened to arrive just when Mr. Thomas was begging Mr. Comstock to allow him the use of a horse taken from the rustlers so that he could accompany the posse back to town, in order to keep an engagement he had just thought of.

As the three renegades and the lady of the house suddenly appeared in view the ragged pilgrim tried to escape observation; but there was a shriek from Mrs. Fred, who, rushing forward, penned him in a corner; and to the wonder of all the rest clasped her arms about him, voicing her astonishment and delight:

"Why, Thomas Smeed, then you ain't dead after all, and that report was a lie! I actually believe you got it up a purpose to deceive your lawfully wedded wife, and make her believe she might be a widow. But after all I reckon I was happier with you than I've been since I married that fightin' stockman, Fred Comstock. Course since you're alive, and there ain't been no divorce, I'm still your own wife. No use trying to get away, Thomas; you just _got_ to go with me, d'ye hear? I own a little farm away down in Kansas that I bought with my savings; and there we'll go and try it all over again. So that's settled, and a good riddance I say. I likes a husband as don't fight back when a lady wants something done."

And sure enough, when she did leave Bar-S Ranch on the next morning, with a wagonload of stuff which Mr. Comstock only too gladly allowed her to take away, poor Thomas was sitting alongside on the seat, looking the most forlorn man on earth.

Of course all his actions were explained now, for as soon as he discovered that the woman who had once made life miserable for him was installed as the mistress of the ranch, his desire to take service with Mr. Comstock had oozed from the tips of his fingers; and his only thought was to escape without his identity being disclosed.

But Fate had been too much for him; and Thomas had to be resigned.

The stockman was acting like a boy, such was his delight at the way things had turned out. Once again he was free, and a bachelor, with no one to please but himself and his employer. Of course he immediately made a new contract with his nephew; and from the way he took hold it was certain that things would boom from that hour, until the Bar-S Ranch far exceeded its most productive year.

Before the three boys left things had all been cleared up, and peace reigned in the county which had fast been becoming known as the most riotous in all Wyoming.

As Billie had many more months still ahead of him before he would be expected to return home--and he might conclude to remain in the Wild West, since it seemed to agree so well with him--it can be set down that the three Broncho Rider Boys were bound to see further adventures in company. Some day in the near future it may be our pleasing task to again introduce these tried and true chums to the reader, and chronicle some of their doings in the form of another series of stories that will vie with these present ones in interest. Until such time then we will have to say good-bye.

THE END.

_SAVE THE WRAPPER!_

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Footnote:

[1]: Mule-skinner is a name given to teamsters in the West, and as they prove to be pretty hard cases and tough citizens as a rule, it is sometimes used to contemptuously refer to one who deserves terms of reproach.