Stratemeyer Edward
The Rover Boys on the Plains: or, The Mystery of Red Rock Ranch

CHAPTER XXII
IN A SNAKES' DEN

"Just in time, and no mistake," remarked Songbird as he surveyed the scene outside. "No use of talking, when it rains down here, it rains!"

"Well, a rainstorm isn't a picnic party," returned Tom. "I wouldn't care so much if I wasn't so anxious to hear from Sam and Dick."

"Dot is vot ve all vonts," broke in Hans.

They crouched in the back of the shelter, so that the rain might not drive down upon them. It was a steady downpour for half an hour, when it began to slacken up, and the sun looked as if it might break through the clouds once more.

"We won't be detained so long, after all!" cried Fred.

"I am just as well satisfied," began Tom, and then gave a jump. "Boys, look there! Did you ever see anything like it?"

They looked in the direction pointed out, and each one sprang up as if he had received an electric shock, while Wags began to bark furiously. And small wonder, for directly in front of the shelter was a collection of snakes numbering at least thirty or forty. They were black, brown and green in color and from two to four feet in length. Some were lying flat, while others were curled up in various attitudes.

"Snakes!" faltered Fred. "And what a lot of them!"

"Dere ain't no choke apout dis!" gasped Hans, his eyes almost as big as saucers. "Vot shall ve do?"

"Get your pistols, boys!" came from Songbird, and he drew his weapon.

"Don't shoot!" and Tom caught the other by the arm. "If you kill one snake, the others will go for us sure. What an awful lot of them! This locality must be a regular snakes' den."

"If they come in here, we'll all be bitten, and if they are poisonous – "

Fred tried to go on, but could not.

"There is no telling if they are poisonous or not," returned Tom. "One thing is sure, I don't want them to sample me," and the others said about the same.

What to do was at first a question. The snakes lay about ten feet from the front of the shelter and in a semicircle, so that the boys could not get out, excepting by stepping on the reptiles or leaping over them.

"They are coming closer!" exclaimed Fred a moment later. "It looks as if they were going to tackle us, sure!"

"I have a plan," cried Tom. "Come here, Hans, and let me boost you up."

The others understood, and while the fun-loving Rover gave the German boy a boost, Songbird did the same for Fred.

The edge of the cliff of rocks was rough, and, when hoisted up, Hans and Fred were enabled to grasp at several cracks and projections. They laid hold vigorously and soon pulled themselves out of harm's way.

By this time, the snakes had wiggled several feet closer to the shelter. Evidently, it was their den and, while they wished to get in, they did not know exactly what to do about the intruders.

"Can you get a hold?" questioned Songbird as he stood on a flat rock and raised himself into the air a distance of two feet.

Tom was already trying to do so, and soon he was crawling up the edge of the cliff. As the rocks were slippery from the rain, it was by no means an easy or sure task. But he advanced with care, and soon joined Fred and Hans at the top.

"I am glad we are out of that!" exclaimed Fred. "Ugh! how I do hate snakes!"

"I think everybody does," returned Tom. "Hi, Songbird!" he called out. "Coming?"

"I – I guess I am stuck!" was the gasped-out answer. "The rocks are too slippery for me."

"We'll give you a hand up," sang out the fun-loving Rover, and got down at the edge of the rocks.

"Look out that you don't slip over," came in a warning from Fred.

"Of you go ofer, you land dem snakes your head on," put in Hans.

The words had scarcely been uttered, when there came a wild shriek from Songbird. The poetic youth had lost his hold and slipped to the ground below. He came down directly on top of three of the snakes, and with an angry hissing they whipped around him.

"Songbird has fallen on the snakes!"

"Run for your life!" sang out Tom. "There goes Wags!"

And Songbird did run the moment he could regain his feet. One snake got tangled up in the boy's legs and was carried along, whipping one way and another. But it soon lost its hold and then wiggled through the grass to rejoin its fellows. In the meantime, the dog had disappeared.

"Are you safe?" called out those at the top of the cliff.

"I – I – guess so," came in a panting answer. "But two of them did – did their be-best to bite me!"

"Bring the horses around while you are about it," said Tom, and then the three on the cliff walked around to rejoin Songbird. When they reached him, they found the poetic youth trembling from head to foot.

"Never had such an experience in all my life," said he. "Why, I came down almost headfirst on those snakes! I never want such a thing to, happen again."

"I've got no use for snakes," said Tom. "I don't know what they are good for, excepting to scare folks."

"I believe they rid the land of many insects."

"Say, Songbird, I tole you vot," put in Hans, with a twinkle in his eye now that the danger was past. "You vos make a nice poem up apout dem snakes, hey?"

"A poem on snakes?" shivered Songbird. "Ugh! the idea is enough to give one the creeps!"

The rain had now ceased completely, and soon they were leading their horses forward as before. It was very wet in the brushwood and, as far as possible, they kept to the open spaces. The outlook was certainly a dismal one, and the boys felt in anything but a good humor.

"Our little trip to Mr. Denton's ranch isn't panning out so beautifully, after all," remarked Fred. "I thought we were going to have the nicest kind of an outing. All told, I rather think I would prefer to be back on the houseboat."

Presently they came' out on a road in the rear of Red Rock ranch. There was a ditch to cross, and then a line of thorns, which gave all more than one scratch.

Suddenly they were startled by a shot, fired at a distance. Another shot soon followed.

"What does that mean?" cried Fred. "Where's the dog?"

"Perhaps Sam and Dick are trying to escape," returned Songbird.

"I hope nobody is shooting them," put in Tom. "I must say," he added,

"I don't like this at all. The dog is gone."

"Hadn't we better place the horses in the woods and investigate?"

"No, we'll take the horses along, and if there is trouble, we'll use our pistols," answered Tom firmly.

They advanced with caution, and soon came to where the road made a turn westward. Tom uttered an exclamation of surprise, and not without good reason.

"Man – on the road – flat on his face!"

"Is he a spy?"

"Is he dead?"

"I don't know," answered Tom. "Go slow – we may be running into a trap."

They advanced with caution. Not another soul seemed to be in sight, and presently they stood over the man. He was breathing heavily.

"Looks like a planter," observed Fred, noticing the apparel the stranger wore. "What's the matter with him?"

"Perhaps he was shot. Let us turn him over."

This they proceeded to do, and then, without warning, the man sat up and rubbed his eyes. His wig and beard fell off, and to Tom's astonishment there was revealed James Monday, the government detective.

"Mr. Monday!" cried the boy. "How in the world did you get here?"

"Wha – who are you?" stammered the man. "Wha – what hit me?"

"I don't know what hit you. I am Tom Rover. Don't you remember me?"

The government official looked perplexed for a moment, and then his face brightened.

"To be sure I remember you, Rover," he stammered. "But I am all in a twist." He brushed his hand over his face. "I thought I was down and out, as the saying goes."

"Did you fire those shots?"

"I fired one shot. The other was fired by a man who ran away. I believe the villain wanted to take my life. The bullet struck a rock and then struck and stunned me, and I keeled over."

"And the man ran away?"

"I suppose so. You didn't see him, did you?"

"No."

"Where are you bound?" went on the government official curiously.

"We are looking for my two brothers, Sam and Dick. They went over to the ranch yonder, and we have heard that they are being held prisoners."

CHAPTER XXIII
JAMES MONDAY TAKES A HAND

After that, there was nothing to do but to tell their story in detail, to which the government official listened with close attention. Then he asked them many questions.

"You are certainly in hard luck," said he when they had finished. "Beyond the slightest doubt, those men at the ranch are desperate characters, and I don't know but what I ought to summon help and arrest them on the spot."

"Den vy not do dot?" asked Hans. "Ve vill hellup, too."

"If those men are what I take them to be, I want to catch them red-handed,'' responded James Monday.

"What do you take them to be?" asked Tom.

"Can I trust you boys to keep a secret?"

"Yes," came from each of the crowd.

"Then I'll tell you. Unless I am very much mistaken, the men at Red Rock ranch are counterfeiters."

"Counterfeiters!" came in a chorus.

"So I believe. I may be mistaken, but all the evidence I have points in that direction. I have been following this trail from Philadelphia, where I caught a fellow passing bad twenty-dollar bills. He confessed that he got the bills from a fellow in Washington who claimed to be printing them from some old government plates. That story was, of course, nonsense, since no government plates of such a bill are missing. I followed the trail to Washington, and there met a crook named Sacord. He, so I discovered, got his money from two men, one the owner of this ranch. Where the bad bills were manufactured was a mystery, but, by nosing around, I soon learned that the owner of the ranch never allowed strangers near his place, and that he sometimes had strange pieces of machinery shipped there. Then I put two and two together and came to the conclusion that the bad bills were printed here. Now, I want to prove it, and not only round up the gang, but also get possession of the bogus printing plates. If the government don't get the plates, somebody may keep on manufacturing the bad bills."

"In that case, it is just as important to get the plates as the criminals," put in Songbird.

"Well, this stumps me," declared Tom. "No wonder they kept chasing us off."

"And no wonder Sam and Dick were made prisoners," added Fred.

"I hope the rascals don't do them harm," said Tom. "If I thought that, I'd be for moving on the ranch without delay."

"I think your brothers will be safe enough for the time being," came from James Monday. "I am sorry that you let that dolt get away from you."

"If we had thought it of such importance, we should certainly have kept him a prisoner," replied Songbird.

"I was watching my chance to get into the ranch house unobserved," continued the government official. "That shot rather floored me. But I am going to get in, some way," he added with determination.

"Listen, I think I hear somebody coming!" cried Songbird.

"Let us get to the side of the road," said James Monday.

They did as advised, the boys mounting their horses and the government official donning his wig and false beard and taking Sam's steed. Soon they were stationed behind a pile of rocks.

"It's a wagon that is coming!" said Tom a minute later. "I can hear the wheels scraping on the rocks."

"I think I'll investigate on foot," said James Monday, and slipped to the ground once more. Soon the wagon came in sight. It was pulled by a team of strong looking horses and was piled high with boxes. On the seat sat an old man.

"Hullo, there!" called out the government official, stepping along the trail in the direction of the turnout.

The old man was evidently startled, and he pulled up with a jerk. As he did so, the boys rode a little closer.

"Hullo, stranger! What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you," responded James Monday.

"What about?" and the old man began to grow uncomfortable.

"Where are you bound?"

"What do ye want to know fer?"

"I am curious, that's all, friend. Are you afraid to answer me?"

"No, I ain't. I'm bound fer Red Rock ranch."

"What have you on the wagon?"

"All sorts o' supplies that came in on the railroad."

"What's your name?"

"Bill Cashaw. It seems to me you're a curious one, you are."

"Do you belong in town, or out here?"

"In town, o'course. Hain't I lived there nigh sixty-four years?"

"Do you work steadily for Sack Todd?"

"No. I do a leetle drivin' now an' then, that's all. But, see here – "

"Do you know all the others at the ranch?"

"Most on 'em. I don't know the new fellers much."

"Did you intend to stay at the ranch?"

"You mean to-night?"

"Yes."

"Not unless Sack asked me to stay. He's queer about that, you know."

The old man glanced at the boys. "Quite a party o' ye, hain't there?"

"You state positively that you do not belong to the crowd at the ranch?" resumed the government official.

"I said so. But, see here, stranger – "

"Please get down off that wagon," went on James Monday quietly.

"Eh?"

"I said get down off that wagon."

"What fer?"

"Because I want you to."

"Say, are this a hold-up?" cried the old man in renewed alarm. "If it are, I hain't a-goin' to stand fer it, an' let me say that Sack Todd will be after you-uns bald-headed fer it!"

"This is not exactly a hold-up," said the detective with a faint smile. "Get down and I will explain. If you try to resist, you'll only get into trouble."

"Suppose I'll have to obey," groaned the old man as he climbed down from the seat. "You-uns are five to one on this. I'm like the coon an' Davy Crockett – I know when ter come down out o' the tree. But I don't understand your game, stranger."

"As I said before, I don't intend to hurt you, Mr. Cashaw. But I am after certain information, and I rather think you can aid me in getting it."

"What you want to know?"

"In the first place, I want you to tell me all you know about Sack Todd. What does he do at his ranch?"

"Humph! Don't ask me, fer I don't know. An' if I did – "

"And if you did – "

"Sack's been a putty good friend ter me, stranger. Lent me a hundred dollars onct, when a fire had cleaned me out. A feller don't feel much about hurtin' his friend."

"That is so, too. Then you really don't know what is going on at the ranch? Come now, speak the truth," and James Monday's voice grew stern.

"Well, it's some sort o' patent, I guess. Sack don't want folks to git onto it. Reckon it's a new-fangled printing press – one to run by electristity – or sumthin' like that."

"He told you that, did he?"

"Yes. But I hain't goin' to answer no more questions," went on the old man, and started to mount the wagon seat again.

"Wait," said James Monday. "I am sorry, but you'll have to stay here for the present, Mr. Cashaw."

"You mean you are goin' to make me stay here?"

"For a while, yes."

"With the wagon?"

"No, I'll drive your wagon to the ranch."

"I ain't askin' you to do the job."

"I'll do it for nothing," answered the government official with a quiet smile.

"See here, I don't understand this, at all," cried Bill Cashaw. "What is yer game, anyhow?"

"If you want me to be plain, I'll tell you. I suspect the men at the ranch of a serious crime. For all I know, you are one of the gang and as bad as the rest. If so, you're face to face with a long term in prison."

"Crime? Prison? I ain't done a thing!"

"If you are innocent, you have nothing to fear, and you will do what you can to aid me in running down the guilty parties."

At this, the face of the old man became a study. He started to talk, stammered and became silent.

"Tell me!" he burst out suddenly. "Are you an officer?"

"I am – working under the United States Government."

"Oh!" The old man turned pale. "Then let me say, as I said afore, I ain't done nuthin' wrong, an' I don't want to go to prison. If them fellers at the ranch are criminals, I don't want ter work fer 'em no more, an' I'll help you to bring 'em to justice."

CHAPTER XXIV
TOM CARRIES A LETTER

After that it was a comparatively easy matter to get the old man to talk, and he told James Monday and the boys practically all he knew about Sack Todd and his followers.

He said it was commonly supposed that Sack Todd had some invention that he was jealously guarding. Some folks thought the man was a bit crazy on the subject of his discoveries, and so did not question him much concerning them. The machinery and other material which arrived from time to time were all supposed to be parts of the wonderful machine Sack Todd was having made at various places.

While he was talking, the old man looked at Tom many times in curiosity.

"Might I ask your name?" he said at length.

"What do you want 'to know that for?" returned Tom.

"Because you look so wonderfully like my son Bud – an' you talk like him, too. But Bud's skin is a bit darker nor yours."

"My name is Tom Rover."

"Talking about looking alike," broke in Fred. "There's a strong resemblance," and he pointed to the detective and the old man. "Of course, you don't look quite so old," he added to James Monday.

"I am glad that you think we look alike," smiled back the government official. "I was banking on that."

"What do you mean?" came from Songbird.

"I will show you in a minute. Mr. Cashaw, I'll trouble you to exchange hats, coats and collars with me," the detective continued, turning to the old man.

The latter did not understand, but gave up his wearing apparel a moment later, and soon James Monday was wearing them. Then the detective rubbed a little dirt on his hands and face and, with a black pencil he carried, gave himself a few marks around the mouth and eyes.

"How do you do, boys?" he called out, in exact imitation of Bill Cashaw.

"Wonderful!" ejaculated Tom. "That will do splendidly.

"Mine cracious! I ton't vos know vich been you an' vich been der old man!" burst out Hans. "You vos like two pretzels alretty!"

"That's a fine comparison," laughed Fred, and all had to smile over the German youth's words.

"I reckon I know what you intend to do," said Tom to the government official. "You want to take the old man's job away from him."

"Yes – for the time being. But I don't expect to get paid for it." James Monday turned to Cashaw. "Will you stay with the boys until I return?"

"Well, now – "

"I want you to stay."

"That means as how I'm to stay whether I want to or not, eh?"

"You can put it that way if you wish. I want to make no trouble for you."

"Sack Todd will make trouble if he hears of this," returned the old man dubiously.

"Then you had better keep out of sight."

"Will you return my horses and wagon?"

"Either that, or pay for the turnout."

"Then maybe I'd better go to town. I can say I stopped off at a tavern an' sumbuddy drove off with my rig."

"Very well," returned the detective. "But, mind you, if you dare to play me foul – "

"I won't! I won't!"

"Then you can go. But wait. Boys, let him stay here an hour. Then he can go."

So it was arranged, and a few minutes later James Monday was on the seat of the wagon and driving off in the style of the old man.

"He is certainly a good actor," murmured Tom, gazing after the government official. "I declare, the two look like two peas!"

"That's a mighty risky thing to do," observed Songbird. "If Sack Todd and his cronies discover the trick they'll stop at nothing to get square."

"Trust Mr. Monday to take care of himself," responded Tom. "I am only hoping he will be able to aid Sam and Dick."

"Oh, we all hope that, Tom."

The boys sat down on some partly dried rocks and began to ask the old man about himself. But Bill Cashaw was too much disturbed mentally to give them much satisfaction.

"Well, by hemlock!" he burst out presently.

"What's up now?" queried Tom, and all of the others looked equally interested.

"If I didn't go an' forgit all about it."

"Forget what?"

"This letter I had fer Sack. An' that was o' prime importance, too, so the trainman said."

As the old man spoke, he brought forth a letter which he had had stowed away in a pocket of his shirt.

"What's in the letter?" asked Fred.

"I don't know. It's sealed up."

"I think we'd be justified in breaking it open," put in Songbird.

"Those rascals are outlaws!"

"No! no! don't break it open!" burst out Tom, and snatched the communication from the old man's hand. "I've got a better plan."

"What plan?" came from his friends.

"Didn't you say that I looked like your son Bud?" asked Tom of Bill Cashaw.

"I did."

"Has Bud ever been to Red Rock ranch?"

"Three or four times, but not lately."

"Does Sack Todd know him?"

"Yes, but not very well."

"Then that settles it," announced the fun-loving Rover. "I, as Bud Cashaw, am going to deliver the letter at the ranch."

"Tom, that's too risky!" cried Fred.

"I don't think so. I can tell them that the letter was left for father" – pointing to Bill Cashaw – "after he started for the ranch. I don't see how they can help but swallow the story."

"Yes, but see here – " interrupted the old man. "This ain't fair. I want you to understand – "

"I know what I am doing, Mr. Cashaw, and you had better keep quiet.

Watch him, fellows."

Without loss of time, Tom made his preparations for visiting the mysterious ranch. He rubbed some dirt on his face and hands, disheveled his hair and turned up one leg of his trousers. Then he borrowed the rather large headgear that Hans wore and pulled it far down over his head.

"How will that do?" he drawled. "Say, is my pap anywhere around this yere ranch?"

"Mine cracious! of dot ton't beat der Irish!" gasped Hans. "Tom, you vos make a first-class detector alretty!"

"He certainly looks like an Alabama country boy," was Fred's comment.

A few touches more to his disguise and Tom was ready to depart for the ranch. He called Songbird aside.

"Watch that old man," he whispered. "He may not be as innocent as he looks. Don't let him get to the ranch. If he does, our cake will be dough."

"Of course you don't expect to catch up to the wagon," said Songbird.

"No, but if I do, I'll go ahead anyway – if Mr. Monday will let me."

It was not long after this that Tom left the others. He struck out boldly along the poorly defined wagon trail, which led over some rough rocks and down into hollows now filled with water. The marks of the wagon ahead were plainly to be seen, but, though the youth walked fast, he did not catch sight of the turnout.

It was dark by the time he came to the fence that surrounded the ranch buildings. He saw Bill Cashaw's wagon standing under a shed. Two men were unloading the contents. They were both strangers to Tom.

It must be admitted that Tom's heart beat rapidly as he stepped into view and slouched toward the wagon shed. The men started in surprise when they beheld him.

"Say, whar's my pap?" he called out. "Didn't he come in on the wagon?"

"It's Bud Cashaw," murmured one of the men. He raised his voice.

"Your old man is in the house with Sack Todd."

Tom turned toward the ranch proper and was close to a door when it opened and Sack Todd came out and faced him. At a distance behind the man was James Monday.

"Hullo, pap!" sang out Tom. "You forgot that letter from that train hand – or maybe you didn't see him."

The government official stared at Tom, wondering who he could be.

"What letter?" demanded the ranch owner quickly.

"Here it is," answered Tom, and brought it forth. Sack Todd ripped it open quickly and scanned its contents. It was short and to the point:

"Look out for government detectives. They are on your track. One is named James Monday. There is also a fellow named Rover – beware of him. – NUMBER 9."

Utterly unconscious of what he was doing, Tom had played directly into the hands of Sack Todd and his evil associates.