wipe them off."
"Step lively, then," said Jack, "for I've an engagement to dance the
next waltz."

"I'll waltz you all you'll need this evenin'."

But before he had finished speaking Ben Tremont stepped around the
corner.

"Hello, Jack! What is this I see?" said Ben. "Disgracing yourself by
talking with these hoodlums."

"Yas, deah boy," drawled Jack. "This--er, what shall I call
him?--stopped me to tell me he was going to rub the marks off me, at the
same time wittily making a pun on my name. I was just telling him to
hurry, or I'd miss the next waltz."

"Well, I'll take the job off your hands. Stella was asking for you a
moment ago."

"Yes, run along to your Stella," said the hoodlum. "I reckon she's
pining for the sassiety o' another dude."

That was where he made the mistake of his life.

It didn't really make much difference what these fellows said about
themselves, but the boys would not permit Stella's name to be bandied
about by the roughs.

So swiftly, that they didn't know what had happened to them, both Ben
and Jack sailed into them.

They went sprawling like tenpins before the ball as Ben jumped in among
them and mowed them down with his powerful blows, while Jack, hovering
like a torpedo boat around a battleship, sent in several of the telling
blows Ted had taught him during the boxing lessons at Moon Valley.

The fight was soon over, and Ben and Jack slipped quietly back into the
ballroom, leaving a well-thrashed crowd to stanch bloody noses, and
patch up swollen lips and black eyes as best they could.

Meanwhile, a diversion had been created in the hall by the joshing that
the Suggs' ranch outfit had directed toward the fiddler, who knew only
one tune, and sawed that off for a waltz, quadrilles, and two-steps,
without fear or favor.

The musician had been engaged because he was a friend of the
beneficiary, and had volunteered his services. As the ball grew more and
more hilarious the cow-punchers felt the restraint of the folks from the
fort and Moon Valley the less, and began to take it out of the fiddler,
who paid no attention to them, but kept on scraping.

Suddenly there was a crack from a revolver and the top of the fiddler's
bow was knocked off, and the playing and dancing stopped simultaneously.

There was more or less commotion, but the women did not scream or get
panic-stricken. They were used to that sort of thing.

Nobody knew who had fired the shot, but the cowboys and soldiers were
mad clear through because there was no more music to dance by.

The shot had come from the part of the hall in which the coatroom was
situated, and directly afterward two slender young fellows climbed out a
rear window, and a few moments later Billy Sudden and Clay Whipple came
calmly through the front door and joined the throng about the musician,
who said:

"Honest, folks, I don't blame no hombre fer takin' a shot at thet fiddle
bow o' mine, fer I never could make it work right. I know it was bum
music, but it was the best I could do."

Ted Strong had observed the quiet entrance of Billy and Clay directly
after the shooting, and he put this and that together. He knew that both
of them were finished musicians. Clay Whipple was an exceptionally good
violin player, and Ted had often heard Billy Sudden make a piano fairly
sing. Evidently they had got to the point where they could stand the
fiddler's music no longer, and had put a stop to it.

But for all the badness of the music the people should not be deprived
of their dance.

He hunted up the culprits, who were hovering on the outskirts of the
crowd, listening to the threats against and denouncing the vandals who
had "shot up" the fiddler.

"See here, you hombres, I'm on to you," said Ted. "Now you've got to do
the square thing. You've beaten the dancers out of the music, and you've
got to get in and furnish it, or I'll tell these punchers who plugged
the fiddler's bow."

"How did you get on to it?" said Clay, with a grin.

"Never mind. Is it a go?"

"I reckon it'll have to be," said Clay, looking suggestively at Billy
Sudden.

"All right," said Billy.

The cow-punchers, who had come to dance with the girls from the ranches,
were growing angry, and were telling what they would do to the fellow
who had spoiled their fun if they caught him, when Ted Strong stepped
upon the platform, and, holding up his hand for silence, said:

"Gentlemen, please do not get obstreperous. You shall have all the
dancing you want. Ladies, please be patient; the music that is to follow
is such as has never been heard at a dance in this part of the country.
Mr. Clay Whipple, of the Moon Valley Ranch, and Mr. Billy Sudden, of
the Dumb-bell Ranch, will play the violin and piano respectively. Both
of them are cow-punchers, so don't take any liberties with them, or some
one will get hurt."

There was such cheering that the roof almost went off as Clay hunted up
a violin and tuned it.

Then began a waltz such as they had never heard, and in a moment the
floor was covered with dancers, the officers in their uniforms, and the
ladies in their light dresses, adding beauty to the scene. But the
finest-looking couple on the floor was Stella and the leader of the
broncho boys.

Just before the dance began Bud approached Stella, and said:

"See that gal over thar? Ther one with ther corn-silk bang? She is mine,
an' I'm goin' ter dance this with her; see? She's ther kind o' girl I
admire. She's shore corn-fed, an' some woman."

"Don't you know who that is?" asked Stella.

"'Deed an' I don't, but I soon will. Who is she?"

"That's Sophy Cozak, from over on the Bohemian prairie. She's rich,
Bud."

"I don't care nothin' erbout thet. She's shaped up jest erbout right.
Yaller hair, and soft as feathers. Watch my smoke."

Bud sauntered over to the girl, who was really pretty and fat and pink.
Apparently he was talking his usual nonsense to her, for she smiled,
then arose from her chair, and went sailing around the room, Bud's
partner in the waltz, and every time they passed Ted and Stella in the
waltz Bud winked at them.

Later, however, he met the irate escort of the girl, when he took her
back to her seat, and they glared at one another for a moment; then the
escort walked off, leaving Bud master of the situation.

After this came the "sour-dough" quadrille, in which only old-timers
were permitted to dance, and Bud led it with Mrs. "Cow" Suggs to the
tune of "Turkey in the Straw."

But finally, as the ball was drawing to a close, Ted heard Stella utter
a slight scream, and saw her trying to draw her hand away from a young
fellow, whose back was turned to him.

He was across the room in an instant, and had the fellow by the
shoulders and swung him around. It was Wiley Creviss, who had been
drinking.

"What has this cur been doing?" asked Ted.

"He insisted on dancing with me, and when I told him I would not, he
said he'd make me," answered Stella. "Then he caught hold of me, and I
suppose I cried out, although I didn't mean to. That is what comes of
wearing these clothes. If I'd had on my others, I'd have had my gun with
me."

Ted had heard enough. There was a window close by, which was about ten
feet above the sidewalk. Ted rushed the struggling and cursing Creviss
toward it, and by sheer strength lifted him to the sill and threw him
out.

"I guess we've had about enough of this," he said quietly, when he
returned to Stella. "No more mixed balls for mine."

As Ted was escorting Stella to the carriage, Billy Sudden ranged up
alongside of him.

"Look out for Creviss and his bunch on the way home. They're telling
around what they're going to do with you. Want any help?"

"No, I reckon not, Billy. Our bunch can take care of them."

"They are going to try to kill you to-night."




CHAPTER V.

SHOTS FROM THE DARK.


As the broncho boys swung through the streets of Soldier Butte, after
leaving the ball, Ted Strong was in the lead, and Bud, Ben, Kit, and
Clay were riding on either side of the carriage, while Jack Slate, with
his black coat tails flapping in the breeze, brought up the rear.

They were passing an alley, at the corner of which an electric lamp shed
a path of light across the street, when a revolver shot cracked out, and
Ted's hat left his head.

The ball had just grazed his scalp, and the merest fraction of an inch
lower would have killed him.

Instantly every one pulled up, and Ted, wheeling suddenly, rode at full
speed for the mouth of the alley.

As he did so another shot came from the alley.

Ted's revolver was in his hand, and he fired at the spot where he had
seen the flash from the muzzle of the assassin's weapon.

He heard Mrs. Graham scream, and turned back to the side of the carriage
only to find that one of the horses attached to it had been hit by the
bullet, and was down, but that neither Stella nor Mrs. Graham had been
injured, and he rode straight into the dark alley, followed by Bud and
Kit, leaving Ben and the other boys to guard the carriage, for he did
not know from what direction another attack might come.

The alley was as dark as a pocket, and as Ted rode into it he well knew
that he was taking his life in his hands.

At the far end of the alley he heard the beat of feet running swiftly,
and fired his revolver several times in that direction, and heard a yell
of pain.

"Come on, fellows," he called. "I think I got one of them that time."

As he said this they saw two dark figures dart out of the alley into the
street at the end opposite that at which the boys had entered, and they
spurred in that direction.

But when they came to the street there was no one in sight, but
splotches of blood on the sidewalk testified to the fact that a wound
had been inflicted upon some one.

They rode up and down the block, but without discovering where their
attackers had taken refuge.

It was a low part of the town, and there was scarcely a house on either
side of the street into which a criminal would not be taken and
concealed.

"We'll have to give it up," said Ted, at last. "We could hunt here all
night without being any the wiser."

Disappointed, they rode back, after tracing the bloodstains along the
sidewalk to where they were lost in the dusty street.

They found that the carriage horse had been so badly hurt that its
recovery was impossible, and Ted mercifully put a bullet into its brain.

The carriage was surrounded by people from the dance hall, who had been
brought by the shots.

Among them was Billy Sudden.

"I reckon I called the turn," said he, as Ted came up.

"You sure did," said Ted.

"I ain't presuming to give advice none," said Billy, "but if it was me
that got his sky piece knocked off and had a horse shot I believe I'd
almost be tempted to round up this yere man's town and capture every
hoodlum in it, and sweat them to find out who fired them shots."

"It wouldn't do any good, Billy," said Ted. "The people in this town
have got it in for the ranch people. They think the ranches are taking
trade away from them. They'd sooner see the ranches split into farms of
forty acres each. They'd have so many more farmers to rob that way."

"I reckon so. But what are you going to do? I want to tell you that me
and my boys stand with you till the burning pit freezes over, whenever
and wherever you need us."

"May have to call on you one of these days, but not now."

"Ain't you going after that young imp, Creviss? Say, he's the meanest
boy I ever saw. If I was his father I'd make him behave, or I'd bust him
wide open."

"I understand his father thinks Wiley is just smart and spirited, and is
ready to back him up in anything he does."

"Ought to make the old man popular."

"Not so you can see it. But that boy is a tough citizen, and getting
tougher every day."

"I'm hearing a good deal about that kid these days. He trains with a
bunch of bad ones over at Strongburg."

"For instance?"

"Lately he's been running with 'Skip' Riley, a crook who has the
reputation of having made more money out of holding up trains than by
working."

"I know his record. How long has he been there?"

"Several months. He came there from the Nebraska penitentiary, and he
was smooth enough to work the reformed-criminal, first-offense racket on
the women there until they finally got him a job in the fire department.
He seems to be a hero in the eyes of a lot of tough young fellows here
and in Strongburg, and they follow him in anything he suggests."

"That's not a healthy proposition for a boy. Mr. Riley ought to be
conducted out of town."

"The worst of it is he has banded them into some sort of secret
organization."

"What do they call it?"

"I did know, but I've plumb forgotten. There's a young fellow uptown
whom I'm trying to keep straight on account of his folks back East. I
know his sister." Ted could see Billy's face get red as he said this.
"His name is Jack Farley. Perhaps you know him."

Ted shook his head.

"Well, he's a good kid, but he got into bad company at home and skipped.
I corresponded once in a while with his sister, and she wrote me about
him, and one day I run across him in a gambling house here. I hadn't
seen him since he was a kid, but I knew him straight off because he
looks so much like Kate--Miss Farley I mean--and I called him outside
and had a talk with him. He was mighty uppy at first, and threw it into
me so hard that I had to turn in and whale some sense into him."

"That's one way of doing it," said Ted dryly.

"It was the only way for him. He thought he'd get sympathy by writing
home about it, but all he got was that they reckoned he deserved it or
he wouldn't have got it. After that he was good. But he'd got in with
that Creviss bunch and didn't seem able to get out of it, so I let him
stay, only I made him come to me every day or two and tell me what he'd
been up to, and that's as far as I've got."

"Send him out to me."

"He won't work on a ranch, or I'd had him out at the Dumb-bell long ago.
He likes to work in town, so I got him a job, and so far he has stuck to
it. But the gang keeps him from doing any good for himself. He knows the
name of this organization of boys under Skip, and the next time I see
him I'll find out what it is. Then you keep your eye peeled for it, for
Creviss is one of the leaders, and I'm afraid, after to-night, he'll do
all he can to make things lively for you. He's a mean, vindictive little
cuss."

"I'll keep a weather eye out for him, never fear. Thank you for the tip.
This is the first time I've heard of the bunch, I've been away from the
ranch so much lately."

The boys had hitched Jack Slate's horse into the carriage, and he got on
the seat with Carl, and they were ready to start.

With an "Adios" to Billy Sudden and his boys, they were off, and arrived
at the ranch house without further incident.

Mrs. Graham and Stella had retired for the night, and the boys were
sitting before the fire in the living room, for the night was chilly and
Song had built up a good blaze against their return.

Naturally, the conversation drifted to the shots fired at them from the
alley.

"While I wuz ambulatin' eround ter-night I overheard some conversation
what wuz interestin'," remarked Bud, who was sprawling on a bearskin in
front of the fire.

"What was it?" asked Ted, who had been turning over in his mind what
Billy Sudden had told him of the organization of tough boys under the
guidance of the ex-convict.

"I wuz standin' clost ter one o' ther winders what opens out onter ther
alley when I hears two fellers talkin' below me," said Bud.

"What were they saying?"

"I wuzn't aimin' ter listen ter no one's privut conversation, but I
caught your name, an' I tried ter hear what wuz said erbout yer."

"Naturally."

"One feller wuz talkin' pritty loud, ez if he'd been hittin' up ther
tangle juice, an' ther other feller wuz tryin' ter make him put on ther
soft pedal, what Clay calls talkin' pianissimo. But when the booze is in
ther wit is out, an' ther feller would shut it down some fer a while,
then he'd get a good lungful o' air an' bust out ergin."

"What was it all about?"

"Erbout runnin' us off'n ther reservation."

"They'd have a fine chance to do that," said Ted, laughing.

"It seems they hev some sort o' a club, ther 'Flyin' somethin' er
other'--I couldn't jest catch what. To hear them fellers talk they're
holy terrors."

"How do they propose to run us off? Did you hear that?"

"No; they didn't discuss ways an' means, but they said as how ther boss,
they mentioned his name, but it's clear got erway from me, hed riz up on
his hind legs an' hed give it out straight to ther gang thet ez long ez
we wuz in ther country they couldn't do no good fer theirselfs,
consequentially we must skidoo, ez they needed this part o' ther country
fer their own elbowroom. They wuz real sassy erbout it, too."

"I suppose they thought all they had to do was to serve notice on us,
and we'd vacate."

"I reckon thet's ther way they hed it chalked up."

"Well, that bears out what Billy Sudden told me to-night after we were
shot at."

Then Ted related what Billy had told him about Skip Riley and his
influence on the boys of Soldier Butte and Strongburg.

"Thet thar's ther very feller they wuz talkin' erbout, thet Skip Riley.
Now I recolict it, an' ther name o' their sweet-scented aggergation is
ther 'Flyin' Demons.'"

"Oh, mercy! Aren't they just awful?" said Ben, with a grin. "But which
way are they expected to fly, toward you or from you?"

"If they come monkeyin' eround these broad acres they'll be flyin' fer
home," said Bud.

"Or to jail, if we can prove what I believe against them," said Ted
thoughtfully.

"What is that?" asked Kit.

"You haven't forgotten the mysterious robbery of the Strongburg Trust
Company's office, have you?"

"Nope."

"You remember that a great many people to this day disbelieve that the
office was robbed at all, because everything was found locked and
barred, and the most careful examination showed that no one could have
broken into the room from which a box containing twenty thousand dollars
in currency and a package of negotiable bonds was stolen."

"Shore, I remember. That's allays been ther greatest mystery in these
parts."

"You haven't forgotten the robbery soon afterward of the Soldier Butte
post office and the disappearance of the registered mail pouch that came
in on the train at two o'clock in the morning. It was thrown into the
inner office by the carrier, and the office securely locked. Yet in the
morning it could not be found, and there was nothing to show that the
post office had been entered."

"I reckon I haven't. We lost a bunch o' money in it ourselves."

"But we got it back."

"That's so, but the carrier is still in jail, awaitin' trial fer
stealin' the sack, an' I don't believe he had any more ter do with it
than I had."

"And yet the most careful examination by the post-office inspectors
failed to show that the place had been forcibly entered, and, although
the carrier, Jim Bliss, had witnesses to show that he went into the post
office with the sack, and came right out without it, still he is in
jail, accused of stealing it," said Kit.

"There are several other cases of mysterious robberies which I might
cite, but those are enough," said Ted. "But the curious thing about it
all is that the robbers left not the slightest trace, not a broken lock,
not a mark to show that a window was forced or a hole bored. When the
place is closed up at night there is the money, when it is opened in the
morning the money is gone. And again, these robberies only occur when
valuables are accidentally left out of the vaults."

"It is curious. Everything yer say is true, but I never thought erlong
it ez much ez you, an' I didn't figger out how near they wuz alike."

"Well, what's your theory?" asked Ben. "You started to tell us."

"Yes, who do you think committed these robberies?" asked Kit.

"Who but a gang of bad boys under the leadership and tutelage of a
criminal?" answered Ted. "Who but the gang of Strongburg and Soldier
Butte young toughs who go by the silly name of 'The Flying Demons'? If
they get gay around this ranch, we'll have to tie a can to them and head
them for the reform school or the penitentiary."




CHAPTER VI.

THE "FLYING DEMONS'" MESSAGE.


When Ted Strong stepped out on the veranda the morning after the ball he
found Stella staring curiously at a large, square piece of paper stuck
on the wall of the ranch house.

Nobody in the house had risen early, as they had all been up very late,
except Song, the cook, who, when he saw that no one was disposed to turn
out for an early breakfast, had gone out to work in the garden, in which
he had with much skill raised an abundance of vegetables that year.

"Good morning, Stella; what is so interesting?" said Ted.

"It beats me," answered Stella. "I wonder if this is one of Ben's
witticisms. If it is, he ought to be spanked."

Ted was standing by her side, reading what had been printed on the
paper.

"H'm! this is good," said he, and read aloud, as if to himself, the
following warning:

"TED STRONG AND BRONCHO BOYS: You ought to know by this time that
you are not wanted in this part of the country. Advise you to sell
out and skip. If you stay your lives will be made a hell on earth,
and we have the stuff that will do it. This is no bluff, as you
will find out if you disregard this word of friendly warning. You
will be given a short time to sell your stock, then git. This means
business.

"THE FLYING DEMONS."

"That's a pretty good effort for a lot of kids," said Ted. "Wait, here's
a watermark in the paper. Let's see what it is?"

Ted took the paper from the wall and held it up to the light.

In the paper was the representation of the fabulous monster, the
griffin, and woven into the paper were the words "Griffin Bond."

"That's as easy as shooting fish in a tub," said Ted, as he folded the
paper and put it in his pocket.

"The fellow who put that warning up certainly left his footprints behind
him," said Stella, with a smile.

"He did, but even without that I should have known the authors of it."

"How?"

Ted then told Stella the substance of the conversation between the boys
the night before, and of his suspicions as to the guilt of Creviss and
his gang in the mysterious robberies that had occurred in the two towns.
"But," he concluded, "it is not up to me to get at the matter. It is
work for the sheriff. However, if those boys try any of their
foolishness with us, we'll turn in and send them to the reform school,
where they belong."

"They're certainly a bad lot. I was talking to a lady at the 'rent rag'
last night, and she was telling me what a horrid boy young Creviss is."

"I wish I knew at what time this notice was put up here. It must have
been done in daylight, for it was getting light in the east when we
turned in."

"Perhaps some one was so quiet as to put it there while you were all
inside talking."

"I hardly think so, for we were all sitting near the fireplace, and the
room was so warm that Kit opened the door, and it stood open until we
separated to go to bed."

"Sure you could have heard them? Some of you were talking pretty loud,
for I heard you in my room just before I went to sleep."

"Well, of course, I couldn't be certain about it; but I came out on the
veranda to take a look at the sky just before I turned in, and I didn't
see it then. Surely, as I turned to come back into the house my eye
would have caught that big piece of white paper beside the door."

"What time was it that the most important part of your conversation took
place?"

"Just before we broke up. I remember we were going over the mysterious
robberies, and I expressed the opinion that they were the work of the
gang under Skip Riley and Creviss."

"That was probably the time the fellow who put up that notice was about.
You see, if he followed you from Soldier Butte he wouldn't get here much
earlier than that, for he wouldn't dare ride a pony the length of the
valley at that time of the morning, so he had to walk from the south
fence."

"By Jove! I believe you are right."

"If my theory is true, the fellow who brought the warning also carried
back your conversation to the gang."

"Then they surely will have something to fight us on."

"Yes, fear that you will get on their trail will compel them to try to
make their bluff good, as expressed in that message."

"I'd give something to know when this thing was put up."

"Let's see; it was about four o'clock when you turned in, wasn't it?"

"Just about."

"And just about that time Song gets up to cook for the boys in the bunk
house who get out to relieve the night watch in the big pasture. Doesn't
he?"

"Those are the orders."

"Then have Song in, and we'll ask him if he saw a strange man around the
place when he got up. He might have seen him and thought nothing of it,
and would never think of reporting it."

"Good idea. Wait here and I will call him."