Colonel Haywood was just in time to catch the falling figure of Andy. The poor fellow was indeed so weakened from all he had gone through, besides the loss of blood from his several wounds, that he had fainted.
No shouts arose from the gathered cowboys. Their feelings were too deep just then for utterance. As the late vidette was carried into the ranch house, the employees of Circle Ranch clustered there, talking in low but significant tones.
“Get in and finish dressing,” said Bart Heminway, the energetic foreman. “Then come back here again to take orders. And be sure you carry plenty of ammunition. It may be needed before we’re through with this business. For, take it from me, boys, the Circle Ranch is a-goin’ to get back that herd, if Pedro Mendoza has to be chased away down across the border into Mexico.”
Frank and Bob followed suit. When they came out again, bearing their repeating rifles, and dressed for a long ride, they found every fellow once more on the spot, only waiting for the Colonel to say the word.
“No need of any hurry, boys,” said the stockman, who had evidently been making his plans while completing his own dressing. “They can’t get that herd away as fast as we can follow. First it’s our duty to bring in the other two herds, and make sure of ’em.”
“That’s right, Colonel,” called one cowboy; “nice joke it’d be on us to have ’em drop down and get the rest of the stock while we was ridin’ ’round lookin’ for signs.”
“Then get away, and see that every animal is safe in the big corral by morning. Afterward we’ll settle on our plan. And rest easy, boys, this time nothing is going to keep us from running down Mendoza’s rustlers! They believe they’ll be able to hoodwink us again; but wait and see. Perhaps they can; but the pitcher may go to the well once too often. So can Mendoza. Success has made him bold. We must clips his wings, boys!”
At that sort of talk a cheer burst forth from the Circle riders. They already knew their part in the drive, and while about half of them galloped after the foreman, the others followed Ted Conway in an opposite direction.
“Sounds like it’s coming from the east, which means that herd is safe!” remarked Bob, as he and his chum stood in the faint light of early morning, listening eagerly to the sounds of cattle moving—the clicking of long-horns striking, the peculiar snap of hoofs, and every now and then a low bellow from some steer that had been prodded to keep him in line with the course leading to the big corral.