"But it was a trick!" declared Old Billee. "'Tw'an't straight ropin'!" "Yes, it's a trick, but not every one can do it," said the new cowboy. "Betcher I can!" declared Snake. He tried--more than once, but failed. It was not as easy as it looked, in spite of the fact that it was a trick. "No one can throw, with any accuracy, a loop big enough to take in four horses on the run," declared Four Eyes when it had been demonstrated that he alone, of all the "bunch" at the Happy Valley ranch, could do what he had done. "At least if they can, I've never seen it. Two, maybe, or three, but not four. Putting your rope on the ground, and snapping it up as the horses get in it, is the only way I know." "I wish you'd show me," spoke Nort. "I will," promised Four Eyes. "You don't often have need for a trick like it, but it may come in useful some day." Then he showed the boys the knack of it, though it was evident they were not going to master the "how" in a hurry. Other feats in roping were indulged in by the cowboys, but none was as expert as Four Eyes. He seemed to possess uncanny skill with the lariat, though some of his tricks could be duplicated by Snake, Yellin' Kid and even by the boy ranchers. But life on a western ranch is not all fun and jollity, though as much of this as possible is indulged in to make up for the strenuous times that are ever present. So, after the roping exhibition was over, and the newcomer had been assigned certain duties, Bud, Nort and Dick rode down the valley, intending to look over the place where the steers had been stolen, and the carcass of one left as a grim reminder of the raid. Otherwise all in Happy Valley was peaceful. The water was running into the reservoir, through the pipes that connected with the mysterious underground course, once utilized, it was thought, by the ancient Aztecs. Here and there, feeding on the rich bunch and Johnson grass, were the cattle in which the boy ranchers were so vitally interested. The most distant herd had been driven in by Snake and Yellin' Kid--the herd on which the raid had been made. Like black specks on the green floor of the valley were the cattle, dotted here and there. "If we have luck this season we ought to round up a good bunch this fall," observed Bud, as he rode with his cousins. "Yes," agreed Nort. "The water can't be shut off now, and we have nothing to worry about." "Except rustlers," put in Dick. "And the fellow who broke the bottle for us," added Bud. "I'd like to know who he was." "It was a bit queer," Nort admitted. "But I believe it was some passing cow puncher playing a joke on us. This cattle stealing is no joke, though, and it's got to stop!" "You let loose an earful that time," spoke Bud, in picturesque, western slang. "We'll have to let the bottle-breaker wait for a spell, until we size up this rustler question. We may have to get up a sheriff's posse and clean out the rascals." "If we can find 'em," grimly added Dick.