The Saddle Boys in the Grand Canyon Part 5

"What do you think of that slippery customer, Abajo?" Bob asked his chum, as the afternoon waned, and they were sitting on the long porch of the ranch house.

"I've never liked him ever since he came here; but dad was in need of help, and the half-breed certainly knows his business to a dot," replied Frank, who was examining the new girth his chum had attached to his saddle, mentally deciding that whatever the young Kentuckian attempted, he did neatly and well.

"Didn't I hear something about his being a relative to that Spanish Joe who gave us so much trouble a little while back, on Thunder Mountain?"

Bob continued.

"Well, I couldn't say for sure, but some say he is a nephew," Frank answered. "Both of them have Mexican blood in their veins; and, when you come to think of it, there is some resemblance in their faces."

"But do you really think Abajo was listening?" the other asked.

"It looked like it; that's as far as I've got," laughed Frank.

"But," Bob protested, "even if he knew that there was a big fortune connected with the paper this queer old professor carries on his person, what good would that do Abajo?"

Frank shrugged his broad shoulders as he replied:

"Well, you never can tell what crazy notions some of these schemers after a fortune will hatch up. He might make up his mind to start a little hunt for the hermit of Echo Cave on his own hook; with the idea of getting a transfer of that valuable paper."

"That's a fact!" declared Bob, looking interested. "Perhaps, after all, we won't have our work cut out for us as easy as we thought."

"Small difference that will make," Frank went on, with a shutting of his teeth that told of the spirit animating the boy when difficulties hove in sight.

"I agree with you, all right, Frank," his companion remarked. "And perhaps it'll only make the hunt all the more interesting if we believe we've got opposition. You know how it was when Peg Grant threw his hat in the ring, and tried to find out what made those queer sounds in the heart of Thunder Mountain?"

"Sure I do," came the quick reply. "It stirred us up to doing bigger stunts than if we'd thought we had it all our own way. Nothing like compet.i.tion to get the best out of any fellow."

"Correct you are, Frank. But speaking of Abajo, perhaps that's him coming back now," and as he spoke the Kentucky boy pointed across to a point where a single rider could be seen heading for the ranch house.

He was still far away, but the eyes of Frank Haywood were very keen.

Besides, he knew the "style" of every cowboy who was in the employ of his father, and was able to pick them out almost as far as he could see them.

"You're away off there, Bob," he remarked quietly.

"Then it isn't the half-breed?" asked his chum.

"I know the way that chap sits in the saddle," came the reply. "Only one man on the pay roll of Circle Ranch holds himself that way. It's Pete."

"Pete Rawlings, the fellow who went with Abajo to round up the missing cattle?" asked Bob.

"He's the one," Frank went on. "And from the fact that he rides alone, I take it he's bringing news."

"Of the seven head of cattle that have disappeared, you mean, Frank?"

"Perhaps. They may have found them, and Abajo is standing by, while Pete comes in to make some sort of report. There's that rustler bunch that comes from the other side of the Gila river once in a while, under Pedro Mendoza, you remember. But he'll soon be on deck, and then we'll know. Come along, Bob, and we'll let dad hear that Pete is sighted.

He'll be interested some, I reckon."

A short time later the single rider threw himself from his saddle after the usual impetuous manner of cowboys in general.

"Back again, Pete; and did you see anything of that seven head?" asked Colonel Haywood, who had come outside.

"Ain't run across hair nor hide of 'em, Colonel," replied the squatty cattleman, as he "waddled" up to the spot where the little group awaited his coming; for like many of his kind, Pete was decidedly bow-legged, possibly from riding a horse all his life; and his walk somewhat resembled that of a sailor ash.o.r.e after a long cruise.

"Where did you leave Abajo?" asked Frank, unable to restrain his curiosity.

"Didn't leave him," replied the other, with a grin. "He gave me the merry ha! ha! and said as how he reckoned he'd had enough of the old Circle. Got his month's pay yesterday, you see, an' he's even. I reckoned somethin' was in the wind when I seen him talkin' with that feller."

"Who was that, Pete?" questioned Colonel Haywood; and the prompt answer made Frank and Bob exchange significant looks, for it seemed to voice their worst fears.

"A gent as you had avisitin' here some time back, Colonel. Reckon as how he don't feel any too warm toward you, accordin' to the way he used to bring them black brows of his'n down, when he thought you wa'n't lookin'. And his name was Eugene Warringford."

CHAPTER V

STARTING FOR THE GRAND CANYON

No one appeared to be greatly surprised at this piece of news.

Apparently it had been already discounted in the mind of Frank, his father, and even Bob Archer.

"So, that's the way the wind sets, is it?" remarked the colonel, frowning.

"Anyhow, dad, that proves one thing," declared Frank.

"Meaning about that business of listening under the window?" observed the owner of Circle Ranch. "It certainly does. Abajo has been in the employ of Eugene Warringford from the start. But there must have been some other good reason why that schemer wanted to find Uncle Felix. He suspected that, sooner or later, the old gentleman would communicate with me, because I used to be quite a favorite of his, years ago."

"Yes, and he sent the half-breed here to get employment from you just to spy around," declared Frank. "All the time he was accepting your money, he had a regular income from Eugene."

"Oh! well, he earned all he got here," said the ranchman, quickly. "Say what I may about Abajo, he had no superior when it came to throwing the rope, and rounding up a herd. Those Mexicans make the finest of cowboys.

They are at home in the saddle, every time."

"Also in hanging around under windows, and listening to what is said,"

added Frank. "As for me, I have little use for their breed. And, dad, if ever you give me the reins here, no Mexican will ever get a job on old Circle Ranch."

"Well," remarked the stockman, laughing at the vigor with which his son and heir made this a.s.sertion, "perhaps I'm leaning that way myself.

After all, there's nothing like your own kind. We don't understand these fellows. Their ways are not the same as ours; and I reckon we puncture their pride often enough. But there's no trouble now about understanding why Abajo gave us the go-by to-day."

"Huh! he had some news worth while carrying to his boss," said Frank.

"And I can just imagine how Eugene's little eyes will sparkle when he hears about that valuable paper; eh, dad?"

"You're right, son," the ranchman replied. "Because, it stands to reason he couldn't know anything about it before. The mine was a dead one up to a few months back, when that lucky-find lode was struck by accident.

Eugene will put up a big chase to find this Echo Cave, now that he knows Uncle Felix is located somewhere in the Grand Canyon of the Colorado."

"But it won't make a bit of difference in our plans, dad; will it?"

asked Frank.

"That depends on you two boys. If you think you can carry the game along, even with Eugene against you, I see no reason to make any change," the stockman replied, with a look that spoke of much confidence.