"I'll have a try," volunteered Bud. Stepping to the side of the house he peered in the casement. "Too dark," he reported. "Can't see a thing!" "Must be somebody around," Hawkins declared, as he knocked again, this time more loudly. Within all was quiet. "Funny," he commented. Then suddenly he turned the doorknob. The door swung open. After a quick glance the deputy walked in. "Not a soul in sight!" he called after a minute. "The place is sure deserted. Not only have they got no sheep on this place, but even the men are gone now!" CHAPTER VIII CYCLONE Following the deputy into the house, Bud looked about. The place _felt_ vacant. It had an atmosphere of emptiness. The furniture in the rooms had a tossed-about appearance, as though the occupants had made a hurried exit. A cheap vase lay on the floor by the mantel, broken. Rugs were kicked up. "Well, what do you think of that?" Bud said slowly. "They're gone! Vamoosed! And quick, too. Must have done some tall hustlin' to get out in that short time. Wonder what the idea was? Do you think Delton might be around back, or somewhere outside?" "Better look, anyway." Hawkins stepped to the doorway and suddenly let out a yell. "Yo-o-o-o, Kid! Over here!" "Yo-o!" came the answer. "Right there!" and Yellin' Kid, together with Billee Dobb, rode to the ranch house. "What'll you have!" the Kid called as he came up. "Take a ride around the place and see if you can locate someone; will you? The house is empty." "Right! Billee, you ride to the left and I'll go this way. Back in two shakes." "Mighty queer where everyone has disappeared to," Hawkins commented. "When you were here before, Bud, did they look as though they were getting ready to light out?" "Nope--just the opposite. As I told you, Delton insisted that he was going to stay. I can't imagine what scared them off. Unless Delton decided discretion was the better part of valor. It certainly doesn't seem logical that they'd make tracks like this, after what Delton said." "Here comes the Kid. Got someone with him; hasn't he?" asked Bud. "He sure has--a Mex, I'd say." "The lone survivor!" the Kid yelled as he rode toward them. "Bud, recognize him?" and he pushed the Mexican, whom he held by the collar, forward. "Why, he's the fellow we saw in the restaurant! Remember, Mr. Hawkins? The one you pointed out; isn't he?" "You mean Pete Alvido? Come 'ere, son--let's have a look at you." The deputy peered closely. "Nope! Sure looks like Pete, but it isn't. 'Nough like him to be his brother, though. Hey, Mex, what's your name? What are you doin' around here?" The Mexican didn't answer. He simply shrugged his shoulders, and stood silent, his face expressionless. "Speak up, boy! What's your name?" Still no reply.