Three Young Ranchmen: or, Daring Adventures in the Great West. Stratemeyer Edward

at last. "When? By whom?"

      "We don't know," replied Paul. "We just got back from the river a few minutes ago and found the barn door broken open and both horses gone."

      "And no clew?"

      "We found this."

      Allen Winthrop caught up the silver cross quickly and gazed at it for the fraction of a minute. Then he muttered something under his breath.

      "Did you ever see this cross before?" asked Paul.

      "No, but I have heard father tell of it," was the answer. "It is the cross the old Sol Davids gang used to wear. Do you see those letters – D A F G? They stand for 'Dare All For Gold.' That was the gang's motto, and they never hesitated to carry it out."

      "Then we were right in thinking that the horse thieves might be some left-overs from the old gang," observed Paul.

      "Yes they are most likely of the same old crowd," said Allen. "The hanging of old Sol did not drive them out of this district."

      "But what of the initials S. M.?" asked Chet. "I never heard of any horse thief that those would fit."

      "We'll find out about that when we run the thieves down," said Allen. "You say you discovered the robbery but a short while since?"

      "Less than a quarter of an hour ago."

      "Have you been up to the house?"

      "I went for my gun," began Chet. "I wonder if it were possible – " he commenced, and then meeting his older brother's eyes stopped short. Not one of the trio said more just then. All made a wild dash from the barn to the house. They burst into the living room of the latter like a cyclone.

      "It looks all right," began Paul.

      "But it isn't all right," burst out Chet. "See the side window has been forced open!"

      Allen said nothing, having passed into one of the sleeping rooms. He began to rummage around the apartment, into the closet and the trunks.

      "By gracious!" he burst out presently.

      "What's up?" questioned his two brothers in a breath.

      "It's gone!"

      "Gone?"

      "Yes, every dollar is gone!" groaned Allen.

      He referred to three bags which had contained silver and gold to the amount of seven hundred dollars – the Winthrop savings for several years.

      Paul and Chet gave a groan. Something like a lump arose in the throat of the younger youth, but he cleared it away with a cough.

      "The mean, contemptible scoundrels!" burst out Paul. "We must get after them somehow!"

      "I'll go after them," replied Allen, with swift determination. "Give me my rifle. I already have my pistol."

      "You are not going alone, are you?" demanded Paul.

      "I'll have to. There is only my mare to be had."

      "It's foolhardy, Allen," urged Chet. "What could one fellow do against two or more? They would knock you over at the first chance."

      "I won't give them the first chance," grimly replied Allen, as he ran for his rifle. "As they used to say when father was young, I'll shoot first and talk afterward."

      "Can't two of us ride on the mare?" asked Paul. "I am not so very heavy."

      The older brother shook his head.

      "It can't be done, Paul; not with her all tired out after her morning's jaunt. No, I'll go alone. Perhaps the trail will lead past some other ranch and then I'll call on the neighbors for help."

      "Can you follow the trail?"

      "I reckon I can; leastwise I can try. I won't lose it unless they take to the rocks and leave the river entirely, and it ain't likely they'll do that."

      Chet and Paul shook their heads. To them it seemed dangerous, and so it was. But it was no use arguing with Allen when he had once made up his mind, so they let him have his own way.

      Three minutes later Allen was off on the trail of the horse thieves.

      CHAPTER II.

      Allen on the Trail

      Although Allen Winthrop was but a young man in years, yet the fact that he had had the care of the family on his shoulders since the death of his parents had tended to make him older in experience and give him the courage to face whatever arose before him in the path of duty.

      He was four years older than Chet and two years the senior of Paul, and the others had always looked upon him as a guiding spirit in all undertakings.

      Consequently but little was said by way of opposition when Allen determined to go after the thieves alone, but nevertheless the hearts of both the younger brothers were filled with anxiety when they saw Allen disappear on the back of his mare up the trail that led to the southwest.

      "It's too bad that we can't accompany him," was the way Chet expressed himself. "I'd give all I possess for a good horse just now."

      "All you possess isn't much, seeing we've all been cleaned out," replied Paul, with a trace of grim humor he did not really feel. "But I, too, wish I had a horse and could go along."

      "Still, somebody ought to stay on the ranch," went on Chet, "we might have more unprofitable visitors."

      "It's not likely that the gang will dare to show themselves in this vicinity again in a hurry. Like as not they'll steer for Deadwood, sell the horses, and then spend their ill-gotten gains around the gambling saloons. That is their usual style. They can't content themselves in the mountains or on the plains as long as they have the dust in their pockets."

      After Allen had disappeared the two boys locked up the barn as well as was possible, using a wooden pin in lieu of the padlock that had been forced asunder, and then went back to the house. Chet brought in the string of fish and threw them in a big tin basin.

      "I suppose I might as well fry a couple of these," he observed; "though, to tell the truth, I am not a bit hungry."

      "I, too, have lost my appetite," replied Paul. "But we must eat, and dinner will help pass away the time. I reckon there is no telling when Allen will be back."

      "No. I don't care much, if he only keeps from getting into serious trouble."

      In the meantime Allen had passed down the trail until the buildings of the ranch were left far behind. He knew the way well, and had no difficulty in finding the tracks – new ones – made by the hoofs of four horses.

      "As long as they remain as fresh as they are now it will be easy enough to follow them," was the mental conclusion which he reached, as he urged forward his tired mare in a way that showed his fondness for the animal and his disinclination to make her do more than could fairly be expected.

      The belt of cottonwood was soon passed, and Allen emerged upon the bank of a small brook which flowed into the river at a point nearly half a mile further on.

      He examined the wet bank of the brook minutely and came to the conclusion that here the horse thieves had stopped the animals for a drink.

      "I imagine they came a long distance to get here," he thought, "and that means they will go a long way before they settle down for the night. Heigh-ho! I have a long and difficult search before me."

      The brook had been forded, and Allen crossed over likewise, and five minutes later reached a bit of rolling land dotted here and there with sage and other brush.

      Allen wondered if the trail would lead to Gold Fork, as the little mining town at the foot of the mountains was called.

      "If they went that way I will have no trouble in getting help to run them down," he said to himself. "I can get Ike Watson and Mat Prigley, who will go willingly, and there is no better man to take hold of this sort of thing than Ike Watson."

      Mile after mile was passed, and the trail remained as plain as before.

      "It looks as if they didn't anticipate being followed," was the way Allen figured it, but he soon found out his mistake, when, on coming around a rocky spur of ground, the trail suddenly