"Do you suppose that signalling could have meant an Indian uprising?" asked Nort. "Cracky! If it does we'll have to fight 'em, won't we?" asked Dick, with sparkling eyes. "I don't imagine the Indians around here have any notion of rising," said Bud. "They have done such things, years ago, but I doubt if they have enough spirit left for it now. They are too well satisfied with their lot. But of course it's possible, though Buck Tooth says he doesn't look for anything of the sort. But then he's been with white men so long he isn't really much of an Indian any more." "Well, if there's any Indian fighting to be done I want to do my share!" declared Dick, and his brother nodded in confirmation. But as several days passed, and nothing more happened than the usual hard work on the ranch, the apprehensions of the boys began to disappear. They made inquiries about Four Eyes, but no one on the neighboring ranches had seen him. Mr. Merkel expressed himself as greatly disappointed in the character of the cowboy he had sent to his son. "Maybe you got off lucky, with only a cut tent," the ranchman observed. "But better be on your guard, son." "We will, Dad," replied the western lad. It was about a week after the signal lights had been observed, the disappearance of Four Eyes coinciding, that, as Bud and his cousins were eating "grub" in camp one noon, they heard shots fired off to the north, and in the direction of the trail between Happy Valley and Diamond X ranch. "What's that?" asked Nort, starting from his seat. "Stampede, maybe," suggested Dick, for the boys knew that the older cowboys were in that direction, rounding up a small herd which had been purchased and that was to be shipped east. Bud hurried to the entrance of the tent and what he saw caused him to cry: "Come on, boys! It's the rustlers again! They're making a raid! Get your guns!" In less time than you would have deemed possible, unless you had seen it, the boy ranchers were in the saddle, and were galloping toward the scene of the shooting. The sounds were more plain, now, and as they straightened out on the trail they could see where a fight was in progress. CHAPTER XVI ON THE TRAIL Yellin' kid, Old Billee and Snake Purdee were standing off the attacks of more than double their number. This was the spectacle that greeted Bud, Nort and Dick as they swept up the trail and toward the sound and sight of the firing. For now they could see the little puffs of smoke which preceded the discharges of the guns. Light, traveling faster than sound, brought to the eyes of the boys the puffs of burned gunpowder before the report echoed. "This is the meaning of that night-signalling!" cried Nort, as he galloped beside his cousin. "Looks so," was the answer. "They're getting bold and desperate to try to rustle our stock in the day time." "You said it!" exclaimed Dick, as he looked to make sure he had a good supply of cartridges.