CHAPTER VIII.

THE CORRAL IN BITTERSWEET COULIE.

"Thank goodness!" Billie was heard to mutter in the rear, which remark plainly proved that he must have caught what his comrades were saying.

"We seem to be overtaking them faster now, Donald," Adrian spoke up several minutes afterwards, when he could hear the shouts ahead more plainly, as well as the confusion attending the rush of the bunched cattle.

"Yes, because they've slackened up, and looks like they might be close to the end of the run. P'raps we'd better draw rein some too, Ad; because it won't do for us to get too close, you know. I notice that the country changes around here."

"We've run on the rough section, where coulies and ravines can be found," the owner of the Bar-S Ranch told him. "I remember this place pretty well; because, unless I'm mistaken, I once had something of an adventure near by, when a wild bull suddenly swung on me, upset my pony, and came near giving me a nasty dig with his horns. Only for a swift fling of a rope on the part of a puncher I might have been badly hurt."

"Well, I wondered if we wouldn't run across some rough country soon," Donald remarked; "because it's always been my experience with these rustlers that whenever they do run off with a bunch of cattle, they want to get away from the open plain, in order to do their dirty work of altering brands. If there's a big coulie near by, take my word for it that's where they are heading for right now."

"Then they'll pull up inside of ten minutes," announced Adrian; "because they'll have reached Bittersweet Coulie by then."

"You ought to know the place right well; and how would it answer for a hide-out, where they could keep the cattle till they'd given every one the Walker brand?" Donald wanted to know.

"All they'd have to do would be to drive them in, and then hang out around the neck of the bottle; for the coulie is so narrow at the mouth it can be closed as easy as anything," was the reply Adrian made.

"Then take it from me that's the place we're going to bring up at, Ad."

"The sooner the better," Adrian told him.

"Ditto!" came in a grunt from the rear; for Billie liked to let people know he was alive, and able to enter into the game, as well as the next one.

Gradually they kept pulling in their ponies, because it was plain to understand that they were drawing up on those whom they pursued. The sound of yells came very distinctly to their ears, and Donald was even able to tell the shouts of one puncher from those of his mates; so that his former impression that there could not be more than a quartette of the rustlers was confirmed.

The two who led the chase were fully aware of the tremendous task they had undertaken. They did not lightly dash into this thing as though it would turn out to be a regular picnic. But Adrian was so filled with anger and indignation, over being made a witness to his own loss of valuable stock, that he was ready to take considerable risk in order to attempt their recapture.

As for Donald, he had all his life been raised in just such an atmosphere of daring, and it was not so remarkable that he should throw himself into this hazard heart and soul.

Whatever they did, Billie was bound to join in also; with such leaders he would have plodded after, no matter what the risk; for he never stopped to count the cost, if only he did not have to be left alone.

"There! it's come at last!" exclaimed Donald, suddenly; and somehow the very fact of his lowering his voice announced that in his opinion they must begin to exercise due caution.

"They've stopped running, for a fact!" echoed his chum, alongside.

"Course they have," added Billie, just for all the world like a poll parrot.

Donald immediately pulled his pony up sharply.

"Time we called a halt, then, and figured things out," he announced.

"Oh! joy beyond measure!" murmured a faint voice from the rear--Billie talking to himself, of course.

When they had pulled up they sat there in their saddles with heads bent forward, trying to catch further sounds from ahead that would tell in some measure what the rustlers were doing.

The shouts still continued but had changed more or less. Both ranch boys could tell that the punchers must be driving the stock steadily ahead of them now, and in all probability into the gaping jaws of the big ravine known throughout that section as Bittersweet Coulie. If this proved to be true then Donald's guess had been along correct lines. This little fact seemed like a good omen to begin with. Now, if it turned out that this further prediction regarding the limited number of the rustlers also came to pass, and they could only catch them off their guard before dawn arrived, it would not be strange if they turned the trick, daring as their plans might appear.

"Now, first of all we've got to muffle our ponies' heads so they can't betray us by neighing," announced Donald.

"A good idea, I say," Adrian went on to remark, approvingly. "I've known the best trained cayuse going to let out a neigh when it scented some of its own kind near by. That's a thing they just can't help, seems like. So, the sooner we get their muzzles tied up the better."

"You'll have to show me how," said Billie; "because that's where my education's been sorter neglected, so to speak. But I want to know, just stick a pin in that, please."

He soon learned just how this could be accomplished by the aid of their blankets. The horses objected to such treatment, but had to submit in the end. And when the job had been completed they were so muzzled that they could not have whinnied, no matter how hard they tried.

Mounting them again the three boys moved cautiously ahead. It was their purpose to cover a certain distance, and then again dismount, after which they would arrange to leave their steeds while they crept up toward the mouth of the coulie.

"That's fine!" Donald suddenly said in a low tone.

"They've started a fire, seems like," whispered Billie; "and I reckon now that's what you meant, Donald?"

"Yes, because it shows that they've got to the end of their run, and mean to take things easy for a spell. Couldn't suit us better, fellows, could it?"

"I only hope they feel like making merry over the grand success of their little raid, and take so many nips from their old bottles that they'll be dropping over in a sound sleep before long," Billie suggested.

"So say we all of us, Billie," Adrian assured him; "that would make things easy for our plans, you know."

"Ain't I glad I brought my reliable Marlin along," sighed Billie. "It got me that ferocious old grizzly down in that spur of the Rockies, you remember; and every time it's done the business. All I have to do is to aim straight, and pull the trigger, and it does the rest. And whenever I think of them rustlers getting away with the pick of Adrian's herds it kinder riles me, so that I feel as if I'd like to do something _terrible_--pink one of the same in the leg, mebbe, and make him sorry he ever embarked in such a measly game."

"Less mumbling, Billie; it won't do to talk after this, unless you've got something worth while to say."

"Huh!" grunted Billie, sorely perplexed as to what Donald might mean by these words; but at the same time falling into his wishes; for he feared that if he gave any trouble by being noisy or clumsy, his chums might take a notion to tell him to stand by and watch the ponies, a job Billie had no liking for at all.

At another time he might have taken exception to that remark about his "having something worth while to say," but just now he must swallow his indignation, and do whatever they told him, if he wanted to be in the hunt.

"How much closer had we better go mounted?" asked Adrian, speaking in a whisper of course.

"I'm hoping to run across a likely spot where we can leave the ponies," Donald told him; "something that is marked, so we can find it again later on without any trouble. And here it is right now. There's a tree growing alongside this rock that lies here on the open prairie, you note, Ad."

"Yes, and seems to me I remember that same rock too; fact is, it was right here that bull knocked my pony over, and wanted to impale me on his horns," Adrian told him.

They dismounted again, and made the animals secure by using their ropes, which could be readily fastened to the tree; and possibly Donald may have had some such idea in his mind when he persisted in looking for a landmark.

Being now free from their ponies, which could not betray them by any shrill neigh, the three boys could advance toward the spot where the fire flickered amidst the brushwood at the mouth of the big coulie.

Each of them gripped his rifle, and was filled with a grim resolution to use this weapon should necessity compel such tactics. At the same time Billie was wishing that they could overpower the rustlers while they slept, making it a bloodless victory; and this in spite of his bold threat made a short time back, too.

The nearer they drew to where the fire had been started the more convinced both ranch boys became that they had guessed the truth when figuring that the cattle thieves must have hurried the stolen herd into the coulie, and intended remaining there near the mouth of the ravine until daylight allowed them to get to work altering the brand of the Bar-S to that of the Walker ranches.

While Donald had expressed his vain wish that some of the husky punchers belonging to the Keytone ranch away down in Arizona could be with them, to make matters more interesting, Adrian on his part was also sorry they could not have the assistance of those three stout cowboys whom they had met and exchanged greetings with on the previous afternoon; and whose knowledge of the country, as well as ability to handle cattle, would be a strong factor in carrying out their game.

But this could not be, and as things now looked the three Broncho Rider Boys must depend entirely upon themselves for balking the evil designs of this Walker crowd of rustlers.