“As I said, if there are enough boys on hand when the trouble breaks, they can get them to milling, which is going round and round in a circle until the cattle get tired out.  But it takes a mighty lively bunch of cow-punchers to do it.”

After riding for two hours they came in sight of the cattle, and the two brothers quickened their pace, eager to see them at close range.

“Steady now.  Don’t go riding at them like a pack of Indians or you will have all the stampede you want to see,” exclaimed Ned.  “My, but they surely are restless!”

This last remark was caused by some of the steers which raised their heads at the approach of the riders, then turned and dashed back to the body of the herd.

“Oh, dear!  I’m afraid we’ve started them,” said Horace.

“Pull in your horses!” commanded Ned.  “The main bunch is all right.  If we come up to them slow, there won’t be any trouble.”

Obeying instantly, the boys reined their horses to a walk and reached the pool without causing further alarm among the cattle.

“So this is where the ghosts live, is it?” asked Tom, gazing from a little knoll at a placid body of water about one hundred feet long by twice as many wide, surrounded by reeds.

“Maybe you won’t laugh so much to-night,” declared their friend and then, because he did not like to be joked about his belief that the place was haunted, he added:  “Come on, let’s see if we can find which direction father and the boys took.”

The chance to try if they could track any one on the prairie appealed to the others, and they started to ride around the pool.

“I can see where they had a camp fire!” cried Tom, pointing toward a pile of white ashes.

“Here’s where the grass is all tramped down.  Look, there’s a regular path right for the mountains.”

“No, this is the way they went, to the south, here,” returned Larry.

Each boy was firm in his declaration that he had found the trail and to prove it they dismounted and began to examine the ground.

“I’m right.  I can see horse tracks!” cried Larry.  “This is the way they took, isn’t it, Ned?” Thus appealed to, both Horace and the man rode up.

“Larry’s right,” announced Ned, after a few moments observation,

“Then what caused my tracks?” demanded Tom.  “Here are horse tracks, too, only most of the hoofprints are made by cattle.”

“Oh, you can’t tell a cow from a pony print,” taunted Horace.

“Come over and see for yourself,” retorted Tom.

Examination proving that he was right, his friend exclaimed: 

“That was made by the boys coming up.”

“But the tracks are all going toward the mountains.  They certainly wouldn’t drive any cattle away with them.  You don’t—­you don’t suppose it’s another raid, do you?” and Tom glanced at Ned.

“Yes.”

CHAPTER XV