The Indian Horse Mystery. Mary Adrian

you pull critters out of old water holes,” said Hap. “And you taught us how to rope a calf. Why, there’s no cowboy on this reservation who can rope better than you.”

      “That’s right, Mr. Tom,” added Jim. “You’re the best roper on the Yakima Indian Reservation. Joe Wilson at Elkhorn Ranch told my grandpa that the other day in the post office.”

      “He did!” Tom’s weather-beaten face broke into a pleased smile. “Well, what do you know. I thought that old cowpoke hated the sight of me. Now you boys had better get on your horses and start moving. There’s plenty to do on this ranch. So go ahead and ride bog.”

      “We sure will!” cried the boys together.

      “Well round up the rustlers too,” added Hap.

      “What put that into your heads?” asked Tom. “I didn’t say anything about cattle thieves.”

      “I’ll bet you were thinking it,” said Hap with a mischievous twinkle.

      Tom’s bushy eyebrows came together in a straight line. “I’m not accusing anyone until I have evidence. Something could have happened to that calf. Anyway, get along with you. I’ve got work to do. You ride White Sock, Hap. That young stallion needs some exercise.”

      Hap was delighted, for White Sock was a good cow pony, one of the best on the ranch.

      “And Jim Hawk, you take Maud,” continued the foreman. “She’s still good on her feet even though she is an old horse.”

      Jim’s face fell with disappointment. He had hoped to ride Sandy, a handsome tan-colored stallion.

      “Couldn’t I . . . er . . .” He stopped. Tom had turned on his heel and was walking away.

      “Don’t feel bad, Jim,” said Hap. “We’ll swap horses after we’ve rescued our first critter.”

      The Indian boy perked up. He pommeled Hap in the ribs and raced him to another corral. Then they walked up to their horses slowly so as not to alarm them. After talking to them in a friendly way, they put on their bridles, led them to the saddling block, and tied them there.

      It was time for a good brushing now. So Jim said to Maud, “Hold still, old girl, and let me make sure there are no sticks or burrs on you. I don’t want you to give me a bad time when I put on your saddle.”

      Hap was going to skip brushing White Sock, but when he saw Jim staring at him with a reproachful eye, he went to work. As soon as he had White Sock’s coat shiny and clean, he put on the saddle blanket, but he left it hanging way over to one side.

      “Mr. Tom won’t like it if he sees your blanket hanging like that,” Jim warned him. “No, sir. He won’t.”

      Hap groaned. “For Pete’s sakes, Jim. You spy on me like an old hawk. Why don’t you let me alone.”

      The Indian boy shrugged. “It’s nothing to me. I don’t care what you do.”

      Hap waited until his friend wasn’t looking. Then he made sure the saddle blanket hung even on both sides of White Sock.

      After the horses were saddled and untied, the boys mounted them and picked up the reins. They were ready to go now, so they gently pressed their heels against their horses’ sides. White Sock and Maud walked out of the corral, and soon the boys were riding the range at a slow pace. In the far distance a ridge of mountains went up and down like a hump on a camel’s back. Close up were hills—some barren, others covered with new grass. Small groups of cattle were grazing here and there.

      Finally Hap said to Jim, “We’d better get a move on. Poking along like this is hard on a horse.”

      “You’re right,” agreed Jim. “We might have to ride a long way before we find a critter in the mud, because this is a big ranch.”

      “I’ll say it is,” answered Hap. “Dad said it’s too big for Tom, Bill, and him to handle.” (Bill was the other cowboy working on the ranch.) “Of course we’re giving them a hand right now.”

      “We sure are,” replied Jim. “Riding bog is important work.”

      After that the boys rode on in silence. A breeze came up. It felt good on their faces warmed by the sun.

      Presently they crossed a ridge and then dropped down on a slope to Crystal Creek.

      With a loud whistle a ground squirrel darted out of their path and disappeared into a nearby burrow.

      Hap laughed and whistled back. He watched a garter snake slither away in some brush. Then he looked around for rattlesnakes, since they were common in this country and he did not want to meet one. But he saw nothing to alarm him, so he began examining the banks of the stream.

      “You know something?” he said to Jim. “This creek would be a perfect place for rustlers to stop and let their horses drink. I wonder if there are any clues around here?”

      “It wouldn’t surprise me if there were,” answered Jim.

      Immediately he started searching along the banks for some evidence, but all he could see was a frog staring at him from a rock. Jim did not disturb the tiny creature. Instead, he said, “Come on, Hap. Let’s go. If we don’t ride bog, it will be lunch time before we know it.”

      Hap was reluctant to leave. “Shucks. I wish we could find one clue. Do you suppose our calf could have wandered over to Elkhorn Ranch without its mother?”

      The Indian boy appeared doubtful.

      “Well, maybe it did,” continued Hap, “because most of the ranges on this reservation are open. Dad said he’ll have to fence in ours soon. Of course, it costs a lot of money to do that. If he does it, though, our cattle won’t go over to other ranches. Besides, I heard Tom say it’s a good thing there are not many open ranges left in America because rustlers like to operate on land that is not fenced in. So if Tom feels that way, he must think that rustlers took our calf.”

      “And our job is to find a clue to convince Mr. Tom,” added Jim, looking as serious as Hap. Then he frowned. “We’ve got work to do. Remember?”

      Hap sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

      It was not long, however, before Hap was riding with his friend. They jogged along on their horses for about a mile and then turned into an old dirt road that was seldom used. It wound through some flat, rough country.

      “Look!” exclaimed Hap. “Here are tire tracks! Maybe we’ve found some evidence.”

      Jim was just as excited. He jumped down from Maud and tied her to a tree. Hap did the same with White Sock. Then the boys began examining the tire marks in the road. On hands and knees they peered at the tracks in the dust.

      After a while Hap leaned back and said thoughtfully, “These tire marks show that they came from a truck with dual wheels—you know, two tires on each rear wheel. But they’re not from our cattle truck.”

      “How do you know?” asked the Indian boy in surprise.

      “This truck has a tire with a broken block, and ours doesn’t. See, you can tell from the marks. A rock or something sharp must have cut the front tire.”

      Jim looked at the tread marks again and then back at his friend in amazement. “You’re keen to catch that.”

      Hap was pleased. He loved to be praised by his friend. “Let’s hunt for some more evidence,” he suggested.

      The boys searched around, but all they could find was the tire marks continuing down the dirt road. So they untied their horses, hopped on them, and followed the tracks until they came to the main highway.

      “I’ll bet the rustlers went off with our calf in a truck with a cut front tire,” said Hap. “Now what we must do is track down that truck.”

      Jim blinked hard. “That’s not going