"Now he's moving off, for some reason or other," went on Frank Allen. "It might pay us to slip outside and see if we can't get a line on his scheme." "Bully! I was just wishing you'd say something that meant action," whispered Lanky Wallace. "But I hope you're not thinking of rousing a hornet's nest around his ears by poking a stick in the bunk-house and stirring up the Rockspur punchers?" "Nope. We'll play this game by ourselves, Lanky. Sorry Paul happens to be asleep and nursing his lame ankle. He's going to miss all the excitement." "Lucky for us we chanced to take a squint out of this window in the big living room before hitting the hay in our cubbyhole bedrooms." This being followed by a series of boyish chuckles, told plainer than any words could have done how pleased Lanky felt over the situation. "Come along, and we'll slip out by the back door." Saying this, Frank led the way, with his chum trailing at his heels. Mrs. Wallace and Minnie Cuthbert--a Columbia girl who had come West for the summer vacation, partly to be companion for Lanky's mother, and who was also a tried and true pal of Frank Allen's--had retired some time before, leaving the two boys to sit up and talk over their plans for the near future. Softly Frank and Lanky passed into the kitchen, which they found empty at that late hour of the night, Charlie Gin Sing, the slant-eyed Chinese cook, having joined the bunch over at the bunk-house to listen as the loud-speaker sent out weird jazz, which seem to appeal to his sense of music. "Wait while I take a peep first and make sure he didn't swing around to this side of the ranch buildings," Frank cautioned in his companion's ear. "Coast Clear?" queried Lanky, with bated breath, a moment later. "Yes. And I could just make him out moving toward the horse corral!" Frank informed him. "Say, you don't reckon he's got some funny game up his sleeve, do you, Frank?" "What kind?" "Oh, such as would set the saddle band of broncos streaking it out on the prairie, mad with fear, to leave the Rockspur punchers without a single mount to saddle." "What good would that do him, Lanky? Though perhaps he might hope to find a chance to steal that map while the men were all rushing after the stampeding ponies. But we'll try to look out for that sort of game. Come on!" The chums crept outside. One thing Frank Allen had already noticed that seemed to be in their favor--the rear part of the house was in shadow. Even the keenest of eyes could not discover that the kitchen door had opened to give egress to a couple of bent-over figures. "See him still?" asked Lanky eagerly. "He ducked into that bunch of cottonwoods over there," Frank informed him. "Just the same, you must remember that the corral lies at the far end of that patch of woods. Now for some scout work! And it'll pay us to keep as close to the ground as we can." "Whee! hope we don't run across any rattlers out here, Frank?"