"Fooled us? How?" "They let us watch by day, an' they come an' robbed by night! Another bunch of steers gone!" "Well--by Zip Foster!" cried Bud, slamming his hat down on the ground. "I'm getting tired of this!" CHAPTER XIII THE SIGNAL "What's the matter?" cried Dick, hastening from the tent where he had been making a new loop on his lariat, in preparation for practicing some of the stunts worked by Four Eyes. "Have you discovered something from the tower?" asked Nort. "Yes, I've discovered that the tower isn't any good!" exclaimed Bud with emphasis. "Oh, it isn't your fault, Dick," he went on, as he saw that his cousin looked a bit crestfallen. "The tower is all right." "Then you saw some rustlers from it?" asked Nort. "No, that's the trouble," said Bud, ruefully. "We didn't see them but they were here all right--last night. Tell us about it, Billee," he requested. "Well, there isn't an awful lot to tell," said the veteran cow puncher. "I was just prospectin' around, over on that new growth of Johnson grass, like you told me to, an' I saw where a steer had been killed, an' they had eat most of it, too, by th' signs." "You mean the rustlers?" asked Nort. "Rustlers, Greasers, Del Pinzo's bunch--anything you like t' call 'em," asserted Billee. "Somebody, that hadn't any right t' do it, druv off our cattle!" "And I say it's about time it was stopped!" declared Bud with as great positiveness as before. This time he picked up the hat he had dashed to the ground and dusted it off. "I'm going to do something desperate!" he declared. "What, son?" asked Old Billee mildly. "They's allers been rustlers in this cow country, an' they'll allers be some, I reckon. Course if you can git 'em in th' _act_, they's nothin' t' do but shoot 'em up. But when you can't git 'em--" "That's what I'm going to do!" declared Bud. "I'm going to get on the trail of these rustlers and clean 'em out! Tell us more about it, Billee. No use getting up in the watch tower now," he added, gloomily enough. "We've got other work cut out for us. Go ahead, Billee! Shoot!" "Let me give you a word of advice first, Buddy boy," spoke the veteran cowboy as he slowly got off his pony, an act of grace for which the animal was, doubtless, duly thankful. Billee was no featherweight, though he was as active as need be, in spite of his bulk. "What's the advice?" asked Bud good-naturedly. His first hot anger was beginning to cool. "Well, my advice is to leave these rustler alone," said Old Billee. "They's allers been rustlers here an' they'll allers be here. Every cow country has 'em. They're like th' old pirates that used t' hold up th' ships. Taking tribute, so t' speak." "But our country didn't pay that tribute long!" exclaimed Dick, remembering the brilliant exploits of Decatur against the corsains of Algiers, Tunis and Tripoli. "'Millions for defense, but not a cent for tribute'!" quoted Dick in a ringing voice. "That's what I say!" chimed in Nort.