The visiting cowboys departed next day, leaving their animals mingled with those in which Bud, Nort and Dick had an interest. The doubled-up herd was not too large but what there was plenty of feed and water in Flume Valley. During the days that followed, matters at Diamond X Second, as Bud sometimes called his ranch camp, adjusted themselves smoothly. There was no further sign, or evidence, of mysterious warnings. The cattle throve, and those from Square M, which were not in as good physical condition as the animals that had been longer in the green valley, began to "pick up" and fatten. "I tell you what, fellows!" boasted Bud to his cousins, "dad'll be wishing he'd kept this ranch for himself! We'll beat him at his own game!" "It would be a big stunt if we could, not taking advantage of his bad luck at Square M, though," spoke Nort. "Well, you have to count on bad luck in this business," remarked Bud. "Not that black rabbits have anything to do with it," he laughed, as he looked at Old Billee. Bud and his cousins were returning, one hot afternoon, from having ridden to a distant part of the valley, where Snake Purdee had reported he had found a calf killed. There was a suspicion that rustlers had been at work, but Bud decided the animal had been separated from its mother and the main herd, and had been pulled down by coyotes. "What's that?" asked Nort, when they were within sight of the camp with its reservoir in the background. "What's what?" asked Bud, who pulled his pony aside quickly, to escape a prairie dog's burrow. "Looks like Old Billee waving his hat for us to hit up the pace," spoke Dick. "It is!" asserted Bud, after gazing beneath his hands held in front of his eyes as a sun-shield. "I hope nothing's wrong!" But when they had ridden up, the old cowboy riding out to meet them, it was made plain, in a moment, that something had occurred out of the ordinary. Old Billee Dobb was much excited. His eyes blazed and snapped and he shook the reins in addition to mildly spurring on his pony. "More mysterious warnings?" asked Bud. "Worse'n that," was the answer. "She's dry ag'in!" "The pipe line?" asked Dick. "You hit it!" cried the other. "Water's stopped runnin' ag'in, Bud!" "Whew!" whistled the boy rancher. "And with a double lot of stock on hand, too! This _is_ bad!" CHAPTER IX A SHOT IN THE NIGHT Wheeling his pony, Old Billee rode back with the boy ranchers, until they reached the bottom of the reservoir wall. Then, dismounting, Bud, Nort and Dick scrambled up the earth slope on one side until they could look into the storage tank, and at the pipe which, connecting with the old underground water-course, kept the reservoir filled. "She isn't spouting!" said Bud, in blank disappointment. "Just a dribble," added Nort, mournfully. "And if it does as it did before that'll stop in a little while," remarked Dick. "When did it start to stop?" asked Bud, unconscious of the double meaning of his words.