d toward the scene
of the disturbance. They saw the cattle running to and fro, and in the
slivers of light that leaped from the muzzles of guns which were shot
off at intervals, they descried figures swiftly riding backward and
forward, evidently trying to cut out bunches of cattle.

Action had followed rapidly on the heels of the sinister arrow warning.

CHAPTER XV

THE BRANDING IRON

"Come on, boys! Come on!" shouted Bud, as he spurred off in the
darkness, followed by Nort and Dick. "They're trying to drive 'em off
through the lower end of the valley! We've got to stop 'em!"

"You said it!" shouted Dick.

"Who are they?" yelled Nort

Bud had no time to answer. What was needed, then, was quick action to
prevent his own and his cousins', as well as his father's stock from
the Square M ranch, being driven off by unscrupulous rustlers.

For that this night attack was made by these marauders of the plains
was not to be doubted.

"Ride hard, boys! Ride hard!" shouted Old Billee as he galloped up
beside the boy ranchers.

And they were riding hard--all of them, including the cow punchers who
had come in from their night's duties, expecting to be relieved. It
was at this favorable--for them--moment that the rascals had made their
attack.

It was so dark that only, indistinctly, could the forms of raiders be
made out. But there were several of them, leaning low over the necks
of their galloping steeds, and endeavoring to create a panic among the
cattle so that a stampede would result. Once this started it would be
a comparatively easy matter for them to "cut out" as many choice
specimens as possible, driving them to some secret place. There the
brands could be "blurred," or changed, and Diamond X Second would be
out several thousands of dollars.

"There they are!" yelled Bud, as, riding between Nort and Dick, he saw
a group of men swinging their big hats and heard them shouting to
frighten the already thoroughly roused cattle.

But though Bud thus indicated the presence of the rustlers it was not a
very clear sight of them that he or his companions had. Only for the
fact that those of Flume Valley rode together, and saw the indistinct
forms ahead of them, could it be made certain that the unknown ones
were the enemy.

"Crack!"

Bud's gun shot out a menacing warning, for he had fired high in the
air, above the heads of the rustlers. He had borne in mind his
father's injunction never to sho