Attentively the boys waited on him, impatient to hear his story.

“It was night before last it happened,” said Nails, after having eaten more than it seemed possible for one man.  “All during the day the cattle had been restless and we boys were kept on the jump holding ’em together.  But with the darkness they quieted down and we all turned in.

“When morning came, nary a steer was in sight.  It didn’t take us long to get after ’em, and in about an hour we found them.  But the short-horned Durhams were missing.”

“The best cattle in the herd,” interrupted Mr. Wilder.

“Just what Pete said, but not in the same words,” grinned Nails.

“But how do you know they were stolen?” asked Bill.  “Perhaps they only wandered off.  You said the herd had been restless.”

“A hundred head don’t all go together,” replied the cowboy.  “Besides, after looking around, we found the hoofprints of seven ponies.”

“Which way did they drive?” demanded the ranchman.

“Toward old Mex.  But I reckon that’s only a bluff.  It’s my idea the headquarters of this gang are right in these mountains, somewhere.  Pete thinks so, too.  That’s why he set the pool as the meeting place.  There’s an old trail he knows and he wants to strike it, you agreeing of course,” he added, looking toward the ranchman.

“We’ll decide about that later.  But if Pete suggested it, he has some good reason.  Still, I can’t see the necessity of getting any of the neighbors.  It will only take time, and we can save twenty-four hours by riding straight to the pool from here.”

“The reason for getting others is because the Half-Moon isn’t the only herd that’s been raided.”

At this statement the Wilders were amazed.

“By the tracks from the direction of the Three Stars there must have been two hundred, at least, lifted from them.”

“Then Jim Snider and his outfit are on the trail by this time,” declared the ranchman.

“No, they aren’t.  I saw Sandy the other day, and he said they were all going up to Tolopah to bring down a herd Snider brought from Montana, It’s my idea the thieves knew this and planned a wholesale raid.”

“H—­m.  That sounds likely,” commented Mr. Wilder.  “Who do you think is at the head of it, Nails?”

“Gus Megget.  He’s the only one with the nerve to pull it off.”

At the mention of the ruffian cow-puncher the boys looked at one another and then at their father, who said: 

“That can’t be, Nails.  Megget tried some of his funny business with these two boys, Larry and Tom Alden, up in Oklahoma the other day.”

“And they made a monkey of him,” interposed Horace gleefully.

“What, them two?” returned the cowboy, looking at the brothers with keen interest.

“They certainly did,” smiled the ranchman.  “So I reckon we can’t blame Megget for this raid.”