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diff --git a/old/53666-0.txt b/old/53666-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c9976dc..0000000 --- a/old/53666-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8072 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of George in Camp, by Harry Castlemon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: George in Camp - or Life on the Plains - -Author: Harry Castlemon - -Release Date: December 4, 2016 [EBook #53666] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GEORGE IN CAMP *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing, David Edwards and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -[Illustration: SHOOTING THE CATTLE.] - - - - - _ROUGHING IT SERIES._ - - - - - GEORGE IN CAMP: - OR, - LIFE ON THE PLAINS. - - - BY HARRY CASTLEMON, - - AUTHOR OF “THE GUNBOAT SERIES,” “THE FRANK NELSON SERIES,” “THE BOY - TRAPPER SERIES,” &C. - -[Illustration] - - PHILADELPHIA: - - PORTER & COATES. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - FAMOUS CASTLEMON BOOKS. - - - =GUNBOAT SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 6 vols. 16mo. - Cloth, extra, black and gold. - - FRANK THE YOUNG NATURALIST. FRANK ON A GUNBOAT. FRANK IN THE - WOODS. FRANK BEFORE VICKSBURG. FRANK ON THE LOWER MISSISSIPPI. - FRANK ON THE PRAIRIE. - - =ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 3 vols. - 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold. - - FRANK AMONG THE RANCHEROS. - FRANK AT DON CARLOS’ RANCHO. - FRANK IN THE MOUNTAINS. - - =SPORTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 3 vols. - 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold. - - THE SPORTSMAN’S CLUB IN THE SADDLE. - THE SPORTSMAN’S CLUB AFLOAT. - THE SPORTSMAN’S CLUB AMONG THE TRAPPERS. - - =GO-AHEAD SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 3 vols. 16mo. - Cloth, extra, black and gold. - - TOM NEWCOMBE. GO-AHEAD. NO MOSS. - - =FRANK NELSON SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 3 vols. - 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold. - - SNOWED UP. FRANK IN THE FORECASTLE. BOY TRADERS. - - =BOY TRAPPER SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 3 vols. 16mo. - Cloth, extra, black and gold. - - THE BURIED TREASURE; OR, OLD JORDAN’S HAUNT. - THE BOY TRAPPER; OR, HOW DAVE FILLED THE ORDER. - THE MAIL-CARRIER. - - =ROUGHING IT SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 16mo. Cloth, - extra, black and gold. - - GEORGE IN CAMP. - - _Other Volumes in Preparation._ - - - - - Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, by - - PORTER & COATES, - - In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - CHAPTER I. - - Among the Texans Page 5 - - CHAPTER II. - - A Neighborhood Row 19 - - CHAPTER III. - - Ned’s Experience in Camp 30 - - CHAPTER IV. - - A Discontented Boy 49 - - CHAPTER V. - - The Clerk’s Ruse 70 - - CHAPTER VI. - - A Frontier Hotel 87 - - CHAPTER VII. - - Zeke’s Letter 109 - - CHAPTER VIII. - - Ned’s New Horse 128 - - CHAPTER IX. - - A Visit from the Raiders 150 - - CHAPTER X. - - The Two Friends 172 - - CHAPTER XI. - - Gus Hears from Home 192 - - CHAPTER XII. - - A Narrow Escape 215 - - CHAPTER XIII. - - George has Company 236 - - CHAPTER XIV. - - Good and Bad News 257 - - CHAPTER XV. - - What Happened at the Rancho 282 - - CHAPTER XVI. - - Caught at Last! 304 - - CHAPTER XVII. - - Conclusion 325 - - - - - GEORGE IN CAMP; - - OR, - - LIFE ON THE PLAINS. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - AMONG THE TEXANS. - - -“I don’t like the way things are going at all, and I just wish those two -people were back where they came from. They have turned the ranche -upside down since they have been here, and now I begin to feel as though -they were the masters, and that I have no more rights than a tramp who -had dropped in to beg a night’s lodging!” - -The speaker, a sturdy, broad-shouldered youth, about fifteen years of -age, was sitting on the porch in front of the house in which he lived, -busily engaged in mending a broken bridle with an awl and a piece of -waxed-end. His name was George Ackerman, and he was one of the boys whom -we introduced to the notice of the reader in the concluding volume of -the “Boy Trapper Series,” and of whose adventures and exploits we -promised to say something more than we said then. We find him now at his -home in Texas, where he had been born, and where he had always lived, -with the exception of the two years he had passed in a distant city -attending school. He was dressed, as all the boys and men in that -country were dressed, for hard work; and he had done a good deal of it -during his comparatively short life—not because it was necessary, but -because he had been brought up to it. His father was very wealthy—no one -knew how many horses and cattle he owned—and he had left a property -worth between thirty and forty thousand dollars a year. - -If money is what makes people happy, one would suppose that George -Ackerman ought to be one of the happiest boys in the world; and so he -was, up to the time his only parent died, which was about a year and a -half previous to the beginning of our story. He had everything a boy -could possibly wish for—good health, a kind and indulgent father, a -comfortable and happy home, and all the other aids to complete happiness -so dear to the heart of most boys, and for which Bob Owens and Dan Evans -so impatiently longed—such as horses, dogs, jointed fish-poles and -breech-loading guns. He had made a start in business for himself, and -was thought by the boys of his acquaintance to be pretty well off in the -world. He began when he was only nine years old, by herding cattle for -his father at forty dollars a month, taking his pay in young stock which -he selected himself. These increased in numbers and value during the two -years he was away at school, and now he was the owner of three hundred -head of cattle which he had paid for by his own labor, and which he -could have sold any day for twenty dollars apiece. He had a herdsman of -his own and colts enough to mount all the cronies he had left at school, -and who had faithfully promised to visit him at no distant day in his -far-away home. It was two years and more since he parted from those same -cronies, and not one of them had ever been to see him. He never heard -from them now. His correspondents had dropped off, one after the other, -until he had not a single one remaining. His father was gone, too, and -poor George felt much as he would have felt if he had been dropped -suddenly on Robinson Crusoe’s lonely island, without even a man Friday -to keep him company. - -It is true, that there were plenty of people around him. His Uncle John -and Cousin Ned lived in the same house with him, and there were a score -or more of men, Americans and Mexicans, employed on the ranche as -house-servants and herdsmen. He had four playmates close at hand—that -is, two of them lived five miles east of him and the others eight miles -west—and they were jolly fellows and he liked to be in their company. -The time never hung heavily on his hands, for he was very industrious, -and could always find something useful to do; but still he was lonely -and homesick every hour in the day. The old house was not the same now -that it was during his father’s lifetime. Uncle John had built additions -to it, rearranged the inside of it to suit himself, and filled it with -the most expensive furniture, such as had never been seen in the wilds -of Texas before. - -Uncle John and his son, who dressed as fashionably now as they did when -they came from the States, and who took as much pains with their toilet -as a couple of city dandies would have done, were very much pleased with -the new order of things. They seemed to have been made for no other -purpose than to idle away their time on the luxurious sofas and -easy-chairs with which the old rancho was now so plentifully supplied; -but George, with his heavy cowhide boots, coarse clothing and -sun-browned face and hands, was sadly out of place among them. - -Uncle John Ackerman lived somewhere in the state of Ohio. He was a poor -man, and, up to the time of the death of his only brother, George’s -father, was obliged to work hard for his living. That sad event, which -brought so much sorrow and trouble to George, was the making of Uncle -John, for the time being. It took him and his scapegrace of a son from a -life of toil and placed them just where they had always wanted to be—in -a position to live without work. Uncle John was made his nephew’s -guardian and the executor of his brother’s will, and to him the property -was left in trust, to be cared for and managed for George until the -latter became of age, when it was to be turned over to him, less a -certain sum, which Uncle John was at liberty to keep in payment for his -services. If George died before reaching his majority, Ned Ackerman, -Uncle John’s son, was to be the heir. - -As soon as the terms of the will were made known, Uncle John and Ned -hastened to Texas, and took up their abode at the rancho. At first, -everything passed off smoothly. George could see nothing to admire in -either one of his relatives, whom he had met but once before; but still -he did not absolutely dislike them, until Ned began to show, both by -words and actions, that he considered himself the lawful master of the -ranche and everything belonging to it, and that George had no rights -that he or his father were bound to respect. One change after another -was introduced, in spite of all the rightful owner could say or do to -prevent it, until at last the old house was so changed in appearance, -both inside and out, that George could hardly recognise it as his home. -Then he grew angry and almost made up his mind that he would strike out -for himself, and live on the prairie, with his cattle and his herdsman, -as a good many of the early settlers had done before him. - -But the fact that his cousin Ned was gradually crowding him to the wall, -and usurping the place that George himself ought to have held in the -house, was not the only thing that troubled the young rancheman. That -was bad enough, but it was accompanied by something worse. If he was -snubbed and kept in the background by his relatives while at home, he -was treated but little, if any, better by the people, both young and -old, who lived in the settlement, and that was what hurt him. He was -acquainted with almost every farmer and rancheman in the county, and, -until lately, he had always been very popular among them; but when Uncle -John and his son arrived his troubles began. The neighbors would have -nothing whatever to do with the newcomers. They would not even notice -them when they met them on the highway, and it was not long before they -began to extend the same treatment to George himself. - -The young cattle-herder could not imagine what it was that caused this -change, until one day, while he was riding to Palos, to purchase some -supplies for himself and his hired man, he met one of his young friends, -who, instead of stopping to talk with him, as he usually did, simply -bowed and put spurs to his horse, as if he were in a hurry to pass by -him; but George reined his own nag across the trail and stopped him. - -“Now, Hank Short,” said he, “I want to know what you mean by such work -as this? What’s the reason that you and the other fellows never come to -see me any more, and that you take pains to pass me in this fashion? Do -you take me for a horse-thief?” - -This, according to a Texas boy’s way of thinking, was the worst term of -reproach that could be applied to anybody. In Nantucket, if they want to -convey the impression that a man is utterly detestable, they say he is -mean enough to “mix oil.” In Massachusetts, he will “rob a hen-roost,” -and in Texas, he will “steal horses.” - -“Everybody in the settlement seems to have gone back on me since my -father died,” said George, bitterly, “and I don’t know what to think of -it. Now, Hank, you can’t go by here until you tell me what I have done -to make all the folks angry at me. As soon as I know what it is, I will -try to make amends for it.” - -“You haven’t done anything,” was Hank’s reply. “We don’t take _you_ for -a horse-thief!” - -“Then why do you——Eh? You don’t take _me_ for a horse-thief! What do you -mean by that?” - -“Well, I—you know——” faltered Hank, “those northern relations of yours -sling on a good many frills, and folks who wear store clothes and boiled -shirts are not wanted in this country. We’re afraid of them.” - -“Whew!” whistled George. - -He looked steadily at his friend for a moment, then down at the ground, -and finally he reined his horse out of Hank’s path and went slowly on -his way toward Palos. It was all plain enough to him now. Uncle John and -Ned wore store clothes and boiled shirts, and the settlers took them for -horse-thieves and treated them accordingly. That was the English of it, -and George wondered why he, knowing the customs of the country and the -habits and opinions of the people as well as he did, had not been smart -enough to see it without asking any questions. This was what he thought -at first, and then he suddenly grew so angry that he could scarcely -control himself. He drew up his horse with a jerk, faced about in his -saddle and called after his friend. - -“Look here, Hank,” he shouted, shaking his fist in the air, “you may -tell those people who shun my relatives because they would rather wear -good clothes than shabby ones, and who go back on me because I live with -them—you can tell those people that we are just as good as they dare be -any day and just as honest!” - -“All right,” was Hank’s response. - -“And bear another thing in mind,” cried George, growing angrier every -minute, “and that is, I am boy enough to make you, or any fellow like -you, who says anything against them take back his words. I am going to -stand by them, no matter what happens.” - -“I haven’t said anything against them,” answered Hank. “I think too much -of you to do that. I’ll talk to you the next time I see you. Perhaps you -will be better natured then.” - -This reply completely disarmed George, who promptly turned about, -intending to ride up to his friend and take back every harsh word he had -uttered; but Hank touched his horse with his spurs as soon as he ceased -speaking, and was now almost out of earshot. So George was compelled to -face about again and go on his way toward Palos, without making things -straight with his friend. - -“Hank is a good fellow, that’s a fact,” said he to himself, “and I might -have known that he wouldn’t say a word that he thought would offend me. -But here’s one thing I can’t understand,” continued George, growing -angry again. “If the settlers don’t want anything to do with Uncle John -and Ned, is that any reason why they should give me the cold shoulder? -If they don’t want to come to our rancho, they might at least treat me -civilly when they meet me away from home. This is the strangest world I -ever saw or heard of. If I should walk into Foxboro’, where Uncle John -came from, with these clothes on, folks would look at me suspiciously, -lock their back doors and keep an eye on their smoke-houses. He and Ned -came into the country, dressed as I suppose all city folks dress, and -every body is down on them, and ready to take them for anything in the -world but an honest man and boy.” - -Yes, it is a fact that Uncle John and Ned had been received by the -settlers in about as cordial and friendly a manner as a couple of -ragged, ill-looking tramps would be received if they suddenly made their -appearance in the streets of some retired village in New England. It was -just the sort of reception that these rough frontiersmen always extend -to people of that stamp. This may seem like a strange statement, but it -is nevertheless true. If you want to be certain of it read the following -paragraphs, which have been condensed from a recently published book[1] -written by two men who have spent long years in the wilds of which we -write. - -Footnote 1: - - Two Thousand Miles in Texas on Horseback; by McDanield and Taylor. - -“The men who follow this business of stock raising are peculiar. They -are a stalwart, sinewy race, bronzed and bearded, and always go armed to -the teeth; but they wear their weapons just as other people wear coats -and vests, mainly because it is fashionable. A more peaceably-disposed -people I never saw; and they seem to vie with one another in hospitality -to the stranger. They are nearly all young or middle-aged men. To subdue -the wilderness and stand guard over the watch-towers of civilization, do -not belong to the old; and yet I see a few strong old men here whose -heads are as white as if a hundred winters had sprinkled their snows -upon them—old men youthful in everything except years. They are a sharp, -quick and intelligent people, and there are some who are evidently of -superior education. These are doubtless stray young gentlemen whom a -restless spirit of adventure decoyed from their homes in the old states, -finally stranding them on the shores of this far-away country. They are -appreciated here, for these rough frontiersmen dearly love to have -educated and sensible young men settle among them. But let no -pin-feather youth think that he can come here and be made a lion of at -once. A pretentious, foppish young fellow would be heavily discounted by -them, in spite of all his book learning and elegance of manner. He must -have a good store of common sense and understand how to adapt himself to -the situation. He must throw on no airs, for these frontiersmen are -nearly all men of as much sharpness of wit as boldness of heart. They -have seen a good deal of the world and quickly detect the spurious. The -newcomer must show a heart for honest, manly work, be companionable, -bear himself toward all respectfully and courteously, and he will soon -find that he has a noble army of friends around him who will always be -glad to advance him, and who will feel proud of him as one of -themselves. - -“I have often thought of my first appearance among those frontier people -with considerable amusement. When a boy, almost beardless and just from -the schools, I came on horseback to San Saba, wearing a nice silk hat, -carrying a silver-headed cane, and dressed as young gentlemen generally -dress in the best communities of the older states. The old frontiersmen -looked upon me with almost intolerable scorn, and there was some serious -talk of hanging me as a suspected horse-thief, for no other reason in -the world than because I was well-dressed, well-educated and decidedly -well-behaved, though rather a reserved young fellow. - -“One old chap, rough and bearded, and to my eye quite a monster in -appearance, actually talked of this within my hearing. The look of scorn -he cast upon me was sublime. I was quick to perceive the drift of -things; and as the Indians were then stealing and scalping at a great -rate, I threw aside my nice clothes, and silver-headed cane, put on a -rough suit and went Indian hunting with the frontiersmen, sleeping with -them in their houses, in the woods and on the prairie. They soon grew -fond of me, and I have never been in a country where I had so many warm -friends; but they never ceased to joke me about my three-story hat and -silver-headed cane. Had I not thrown aside these articles it is not at -all impossible that I might have been hanged.” - - * * * * * - -This was the kind of people among whom Uncle John and Ned lived now. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - A NEIGHBORHOOD ROW. - - -What was true of the people who lived in San Saba, during the days when -the incident we have just recorded happened, was equally true of the -people who lived in Palos and the surrounding country, at the time of -which we write. They were nearly all rich—there was hardly a man among -them who could tell how many horses and cattle bore his brand,—but every -man and boy of them kept busy at something, and strangers who came to -that country, and sported their fine clothes and did nothing, were -always objects of suspicion. All the settlers knew that Uncle John and -Ned were the brother and nephew of one of the most popular men who had -ever lived in the county, but that did not alter the facts of the case. -If the newcomers expected to be kindly received and hospitably treated, -they must come down from the high position they had assumed and act like -other folks. - -George mourned in secret over this disagreeable state of affairs, but he -knew that it could not be remedied in any way, unless his relatives -could be prevailed upon to conform to the customs of the people among -whom they lived. When he returned from Palos, after his interview with -Hank Short, he waited and watched for an opportunity to give them a -little advice, and one morning, at the breakfast-table, the chance was -presented. - -“I have always heard that Texans were a friendly and hospitable set of -people,” said Uncle John, as he pushed his chair away from the table; -“but I have learned that they are just the reverse. I have been among -them a good many months, and there hasn’t been a person here to see -me—not one.” - -“They’re a set of boors,” observed Ned. “You and I want nothing to do -with them, father. We must live entirely within ourselves, while we stay -here, and we’re able to do it.” - -“But they won’t let you,” said George. - -“They! Who?” demanded Ned. - -“The settlers about here.” - -“How are they going to help themselves, I’d like to know? Isn’t this a -free country?” - -“Yes, it’s a free country,” answered George, with a smile, “almost _too_ -free, you would think, if you had seen what I have. If you are going to -live among these people, you must be one of them.” - -Ned ran his eye over his cousin’s sturdy figure taking in at a glance -his copper-colored face, large, rough hands and coarse clothing, and -then he looked down at himself. - -“How must I do it?” he asked. - -“You must pull off that finery, the first thing you do,” was George’s -blunt reply. “Throw it away. It is of no use to you in this country.” - -“I found that out long ago,” sneered Ned. “These people look upon a red -shirt as a badge of respectability.” - -“And so it is, in one sense of the word,” returned George. “When you are -dressed for work, you are ready for it; and when people see you at work, -they know that you have an honest way of making a living. People who do -nothing are of no more use here in Texas, than they are in Ohio.” - -“That’s just what I have been trying to drum into his head ever since we -have been here,” said Uncle John, who had not been known to do a stroke -of work of any kind during the long months he had lived in the rancho. -“Go on and tell him what to do, George.” - -“It must be something that will bring me money,” chimed in Ned. “I -shan’t work for nothing.” - -“There are plenty of things that will bring you money,” replied George. -“You can rent a piece of ground, fence it in and go to farming; or you -can be a cattle or pig-raiser.” - -“Pig-raiser!” exclaimed Ned, in great disgust. - -“There’s money in it, I tell you. These post-oak belts that run across -the state, afford the finest pasturage in the world—hundreds of bushels -of acorns to the acre,—and all you would have to do would be to build -you a little hut in some place that suited you, and call up your pigs -twice a day and feed them a little corn, to keep them from straying away -and going wild. If you want to make money without work,” added George, -who knew very well that that was just what his cousin _did_ want, “you -can’t select a better business.” - -“I’m not going to live among pigs!” declared Ned, emphatically. “That’s -settled. If I had a herd of cattle like yours, I might take some -interest in it.” - -“You can get it, if you are willing to work for it, as I did.” - -“That would take too long. If I go into any business, it must be -something that will yield me immediate returns. I think the easiest -thing I could do would be to put in fifty or a hundred acres of wheat. -That is a crop that will require the least work.” - -“Well, there is land enough at your disposal,” said George. “There are -ten thousand acres in this ranche. But where are you going to get the -money to fence your field?” - -“I don’t see why I should fence it at all. Our own cattle (Ned and his -father always spoke of the ranche, and everything belonging to it, as -though it were their own property) will not trouble it, for I shall tell -the herders to keep them at a distance.” - -“But they couldn’t always do it. Besides, suppose some of the neighbors’ -cattle should stray away from the herdsmen and trespass on your field: -what would you do?” - -“I should tell those neighbors, whoever they were, to keep their cattle -at home; and if they didn’t do it, I should watch my field and shoot the -first steer that came into it. That thing has been done in this -country.” - -“Yes, it has,” returned George, “and what was the consequence?” - -“O, it created a neighborhood row, I believe,” answered Ned, -indifferently. - -“It certainly did; and you would never want to live through another if -you had lived through that one. You will need a fence around your field, -and it must be high and strong, too; and if anybody’s cattle break in, -as they will, most likely, no matter how good your fence may be, you -mustn’t take satisfaction by shooting them.” - -“You’ll see whether I will or not. If I can raise a fuss as easily as -that, I’ll do it. The people here seem to think that I’m a nobody, but -they will find that they are very badly mistaken. I can draw a trigger -as well as the next man.” - -“I hope you won’t draw it on anybody’s cattle,” said George, earnestly. -“If you do, you’ll set the whole settlement together by the ears. I’ve -seen one ‘neighborhood row,’ as you call it, and I never want to see -another. I can remember, for it was not so very long ago, when my father -did not dare go to the door after dark for fear that there might be -somebody lying in wait to shoot him. I can remember when I used to lie -awake night after night with my head under the bed clothes, starting at -every sound, and expecting every minute to hear the crackling of flames, -and to rush out to find the house surrounded by armed men, who would -shoot us down as fast as we came out. That very thing was threatened -more than once. You don’t know anything about it, for you were not here -at the time; but I do, and I—Whew!” exclaimed George, pushing his chair -away from the table and drawing his hand across his forehead, at the -same time shuddering all over as he recalled to mind some of the -thrilling scenes through which he had passed during those days and -nights of horror. “If you are going to bring those times back to us you -had better make arrangements to leave here at once, for the country will -be too hot to hold you.” - -There had indeed been troublous days in Miller county a few months -previous to the beginning of our story. In the first place the county -was settled by men who devoted themselves exclusively to raising cattle -and horses for market. Some of them purchased land, but the majority did -not own an acre. They lived in the saddle, slept in the open air the -year round and subsisted principally upon the game that fell to their -rifles. They followed their herds wherever they went, and the raising of -them never cost their owners a dollar, for the prairie afforded abundant -pasturage and was free to any one who might choose to occupy it. In -process of time other settlers came in, some turning their attention to -stock raising, while the others purchased farms from the government, -surrounded them with fences to keep their neighbors’ cattle from -trespassing on them, and put in crops. - -Unfortunately ill-feeling existed between these two classes of men, the -farmers and the ranchemen, almost from the very first. The latter did -not want the farmers there for the reason that every farm that was -fenced in took away just so many acres of their pasture; and the farmers -declared that the ranchemen were a nuisance and ought to be driven out -of the country, because their cattle broke through the fences and -destroyed the crops that had cost so much labor. - -These feelings of hostility grew stronger as the farmers increased in -numbers, and the ranchemen saw their limits growing smaller every year, -and the rich pastures they had so long occupied being turned up by the -plough. The fences that were hastily erected by the farmers were not -strong enough to keep out the half-wild cattle which roamed the -unoccupied territory, and when one of these immense herds gained access -to a cultivated field they made sad work with it. Whenever this happened -the farmers sued the owners of the cattle in the courts for damages; and -as they were by this time largely in the majority and could control the -juries, they always gained their cause. - -This made the stockmen very angry, and they had recourse to a law of -their own—that of force. They drove off cattle belonging to the farmers, -sold them and divided the proceeds among themselves. The farmers took -revenge by shooting the cattle that broke into their fields; the -ranchemen retaliated by shooting the farmers; and this led to a reign of -terror of which our readers may have some very faint conception if they -chanced to live in Chicago, Pittsburgh, Buffalo or Baltimore during the -riots that took place in July 1877. - -Things very soon came to such a pass that no man went abroad, even in -the day time, unless he was loaded with weapons, and even then he -expected to be bushwhacked by some angry neighbor. Every house was -converted into a little fortress, and people were very careful how they -ventured out of doors after dark, or showed themselves in front of a -window opening into a lighted room. - -This state of affairs might have continued until the present day, or -until the thinly-settled county was entirely depopulated, had it not -been for the interference of some lawless men who lived just over the -border. One dark night, a party of Mexicans, headed by renegade -Americans, made a raid across the Rio Grande and drove off a thousand -head of cattle and horses. The robbers were so delighted with their -success that they came again and again, and the settlers, being divided -against themselves, could do nothing to protect their property. This -brought them to their senses, as nothing else could have done. Advances -and concessions were made on both sides; old differences were forgotten; -the farmers repaired their dilapidated fences; the stock-raisers -employed extra herdsmen to keep their cattle within bounds; and a -company of Rangers was promptly organized, composed of the very men who -had been bushwhacking one another for months. - -The Mexican raiders did not come again immediately, for their spies told -them of the preparations that had been made to receive them; and when at -last all fears of another visit from them had passed away, the company -which the settlers had called together for mutual protection ceased to -exist as an organization. But it had served more than one good purpose. -It had not only compelled the raiders to remain on their own side of the -river, but it had brought the stockmen and farmers into intimate -relations with one another, and led to the determination on the part of -all of them that the cause of their troubles should be carefully avoided -in the future. - -Since that time Miller county had been one of the quietest and most -orderly portions of the state. Peace and plenty reigned, and the farmers -and stockmen were the firmest of friends. But now it appeared that a -vindictive boy, who was too lazy to win a name for himself in any -honorable way, was willing and even eager to put an end to this happy -state of affairs just because he wanted the settlers to notice him—to -see that he was not a nobody. The shooting of a single steer that had -broken into a farmer’s field would have been like throwing a blazing -fire-brand upon a dry prairie while the wind was blowing a gale. George -was frightened at the bare thought of such a thing. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - NED’S EXPERIENCE IN CAMP. - - -It was plain enough to George that Ned wanted to take satisfaction out -of the settlers for their refusal to notice him and make much of him, as -he seemed to think they ought to have done. He said all he could to -induce him to give up the idea, but Ned was stubborn, and George finally -abandoned the attempt in despair, hoping that when the trouble came, as -it certainly would come if Ned held to his resolution, he could in some -way protect him from the consequences of his folly. - -“I can at least guide him out of the country, for it will not be safe -for him to stay here,” thought George. “Uncle John will go, too, if he -is wise; but I shall have to remain and shoulder the whole of it.” - -The conversation recorded in the preceding chapter was but one of the -many Ned had with his father and cousin on the subject of farming, and -the result was that the following winter saw him the owner, for the time -being, of fifty acres of rich bottom land, which had been fenced and -planted to wheat. By the terms of the contract made with his father in -George’s hearing, Ned was to pay the same rent for the ground that he -would have had to pay had he leased it from an entire stranger. “You -know the ranche doesn’t belong to me,” said Uncle John. “I am managing -it for George’s benefit, and must make all the money I can for him. You -ought to clear a nice little sum by your venture, and can afford to pay -the usual rent.” - -“O, I’ll pay it after my crop is sold; that is, if I feel like it,” said -Ned to himself. “George has money enough already. A boy who owns six -thousand dollars’ worth of stock ought to be willing to allow his only -cousin the free use of fifty acres of land. I shall have need of every -red cent I make.” - -Ned, who was extravagantly fond of company and pleasure, could hardly -endure the lonely life he was compelled to lead. He hoped that as soon -as it became known throughout the settlement that he had made up his -mind to go to work, he would be in a fair way to gain the favor of the -people; and perhaps he would, if he had gone about it in the right way. -He laid aside the objectionable broadcloth suit and white shirt, it is -true, and put on what he called “working clothes;” but they were more -gorgeous than any that had ever been seen in that part of Texas before -outside of an illustrated story paper. His boots were expensive -Wellingtons, and were made of patent leather, too. He wore gray corduroy -trowsers, a fawnskin vest, a finely-dressed buckskin coat, with silver -buttons, and a Mexican sombrero ornamented with gold cord and tassels. -It was a “nobby” suit, to quote from its delighted owner, and must have -astonished the natives, if one might judge by the way they stared at him -when they met him on the trail; but it did not bring him any more -company than he had always had. - -Ned led a lonely and discontented life all that winter. There were no -boys with whom he could associate except his cousin, and Ned had come to -the conclusion that he would much rather be alone than in George’s -company. The latter did not suit him at all. He was much too -industrious. He was in camp with his herdsman more than half the time, -and when he was at home he was always busy. Ned had expected to see -unbounded pleasure in living on the prairie and sleeping in the open -air, as his cousin did more than six months in the year, and once he had -spent two weeks with him in camp; but that was his first and last -experience in cattle-herding, and as it was not at all to his liking, we -must stop long enough to say something about it. This is a story of camp -life, you know. - -Ned had not been away from the ranche more than three days before he -found, to his great surprise and disappointment, that life in the open -air was not what his lively imagination had pictured it. Many a boy has -been deceived on this point, just as others have been deceived in -looking upon the life of a sailor as one of ease and romance. Ned -thought that those who lived in camp had nothing to do but sit on the -grass, under the spreading branches of some friendly tree, and dream -away the days which would be all sunshine; and that when they grew -hungry, some fat black-tail or antelope would walk up within easy range -of their rifles just on purpose to be shot. The nights would be mild and -pleasant, the fire would somehow keep itself burning all the time, -whether the necessary fuel was supplied or not, and cook his meals for -him without any care or exertion on his part. But one short week’s -experience banished all these absurd ideas, and taught him what a -cattle-herder’s camp-life really was. It was one of almost constant -drudgery and toil. George had three hundred cattle to watch, and as he -had only one herdsman to assist him, he was kept busy from morning until -night. He and Zeke (that was the name of his herdsman, of whom we shall -have a good deal to say by and by), were up and doing long before the -sun arose, and while one cooked the breakfast and performed the -necessary camp-duties, the other drove the cattle out to pasture and -watched them to see that they didn’t stray away. - -Ned, being inexperienced, and an invited guest beside, was not expected -to do anything except to eat his share of the rations, and enjoy himself -as well as he could. Sometimes he went out with the cattle-herder, and -then he stayed with the camp-keeper; but he soon grew tired of both of -them and of their way of life, too. George knew but little about the -city and cared less. He took no interest whatever in his cousin’s -glowing descriptions of the numerous “scrapes” he had been in, and -neither did Zeke, who bluntly told him that he might have been in better -business. Ned, on the other hand, cared nothing for the things in which -George and Zeke were interested, so there was little they could talk -about. - -But there was plenty of hunting, and in this way Ned passed a portion of -each day. He had no luck, however, for he never saw anything in the -shape of game larger than Jack rabbits, and he never bagged one of them. -The only thing he brought back to camp with him from these hunting -excursions was a ravenous appetite, and he had to satisfy it with fried -bacon, hard corn-cakes and coffee without any milk. The juicy venison -steaks and other luxuries he had expected to fatten on were never served -up to him. It rained, too, sometimes, and Ned could find no shelter -under the dripping trees. There was no fun at all in going to bed in wet -clothes, and Ned always shuddered and wished himself safe at the rancho -when his cousin said to him, as he did almost every night— - -“Don’t forget your lasso. The rattlers are tolerable plenty about here.” - -Ned knew that, for he had seen two or three of them killed in the camp. -George had told him that the neighborhood of a fire was a bad place for -rattlesnakes, and Ned could hardly bring himself to believe that his -hair lasso, laid down in a coil about the place where he made his bed, -was a sure protection against these dangerous visitors. - -A few days before he went home, Ned had an experience such as he had -never had before, and which he fervently hoped would never be repeated. -On this particular day he went out with George, whose turn it was to -watch the cattle. He soon grew tired of talking to him, so he mounted -his horse and set out in search of antelopes, which, so his cousin told -him, were often seen in that neighborhood. He rode slowly in a circle -around the place where the cattle were feeding, at distances varying -from a half to three-quarters of a mile from them (there was small -chance of finding an antelope so close to the herd, but Ned dared not go -any farther away for fear of the Apaches, concerning whom he had heard -some dreadful stories told by Zeke the night before), and he had been -gone about an hour when he was suddenly startled by hearing the faint -report of a rifle. Turning his eyes quickly in the direction from which -the report sounded, he saw his cousin sitting in his saddle, and waving -his hat frantically in the air. When he found that the sound of his -rifle had attracted Ned’s attention, he beckoned him to approach. - -“What’s up, I wonder?” thought Ned, not a little alarmed. “George must -have shot at something, for I saw the smoke curling above his head. Are -the Mexicans or Apaches about to make a raid on us?” - -Ned, who had drawn rein on the summit of a high swell, looked all around -but could see no signs of any horsemen. He did see something to increase -his alarm, however. He saw that the cattle, which were quietly grazing -the last time he looked toward them, were now all in motion, and that -they were hurrying toward the belt of post-oaks in which the camp was -located. That was enough for Ned. He put his horse into a gallop and -hastened to join his cousin, who now and then beckoned to him with both -hands as if urging him to ride faster. - -“What’s the matter?” shouted Ned, as soon as he arrived within speaking -distance of George. “Raiders?” - -“O no! We’re going to have a norther, and if there should happen to be -rain with it we don’t want it to catch us out here on the prairie.” - -“Is that all?” exclaimed Ned, somewhat impatiently. “That’s a pretty -excuse for frightening a fellow half to death, isn’t it? I thought -something was going to happen.” - -“Something is going to happen!” replied George. - -“You seem to have grown very much afraid of the rain lately,” continued -Ned. “It was only a day or two ago that you stood out in a hard shower, -and never seemed to care for it.” - -“Yes; but if we have rain now, it will be a different sort, as you will -find.” - -“I don’t see any signs of it yet,” said Ned, looking up at the sky. “I -hope it will cool the air a little,” he added, a moment later, pulling -off his hat and drawing his handkerchief across his face, which was very -much flushed, “for I am almost roasted. I declare, I must have ridden -fast. Just see how my horse sweats!” - -“Mine sweats just as badly,” replied George, “and he has been staked out -ever since you have been gone.” - -Ned looked at his cousin’s horse, then glanced at his own, and was very -much surprised at what he saw. Both animals were wet with perspiration, -and stood with their heads down and their sides heaving, as if they had -been ridden long and rapidly. There was not a breath of air stirring, as -Ned found, when he came to look about him. The atmosphere was close and -oppressive, and filled with a thick haze, which seemed to magnify every -object within the range of his vision, and overhead, the sun rode in a -cloudless sky, sending down his beams with fearful intensity. - -“Whew!” panted Ned. He dropped his reins, hung his rifle upon the horn -of his saddle, peeled off his coat, vest and neck-tie, and threw open -the collar of his shirt. “_Whew!_” he gasped. “We shall be overcome with -the heat before we can reach the timber. I had no idea it was so hot! I -don’t see how you can stand it, with those thick clothes on.” - -“I am pretty warm now, that’s a fact; but I shall be cool enough by and -by, and so will you!” - -While the boys were talking in this way, they were riding toward the -post-oaks, which were now about a mile and a half distant. The sun’s -rays seemed to grow hotter with every step of the way, and the -atmosphere to become more stifling, until at last Ned would gladly have -welcomed a hurricane or an earthquake, if it would have brought him any -relief from his sufferings. Finally, a small, dark-colored cloud -appeared in the horizon, rising into view with wonderful rapidity, -spreading itself over the sky and shooting out great, black arms before -it, until it looked like a gigantic spider. Then the first breath of the -on-coming norther began to ruffle the grass, whereupon George faced -about in his saddle, and began unfastening a bundle, in which he carried -his rubber poncho and heavy overcoat, while Ned pulled off his hat again -and turned his shirt-collar farther back. - -“Aha!” exclaimed the latter, with a great sigh of relief. “Isn’t that a -delightful breeze? What are you going to do?” - -“I am going to bundle up,” was George’s reply, “and if you will take my -advice, you will do the same. You see——” - -“O, let it rain!” exclaimed Ned, without waiting to hear what else his -cousin had to say. “It will be most refreshing, after such a roasting as -we have had!” - -George said no more, for he had been snubbed every time he tried to give -his city relative any advice, and he had long ago resolved that he would -not willingly give him a chance to snub him again. We ought also to say -that there was another reason why George kept silent. A Texan takes -unbounded delight in seeing a greenhorn caught out in a norther. It is -so very different from any storm he ever saw before, and his -astonishment is so overwhelming! George opened his bundle, put on his -overcoat, threw his poncho over that and drew on a pair of heavy gloves. -He looked as if he were preparing to face a snow-storm. - -All this while the norther had been steadily, but almost imperceptibly, -increasing in force, and now, without any further warning, it burst -forth in all its fury, and the roar of the wind sounded like the rumble -of an approaching express train. - -“Whew!” exclaimed Ned, suddenly; “how it blows and how fearfully cold it -is!” - -As he said this he drew his collar together and hastily put on his vest -and coat; but when he tried to button the coat his fingers were so -benumbed that he was almost helpless. - -“Why, I’m freezing,” gasped Ned, as his cousin rode up beside him and -offered his assistance. - -“O, no!” answered George, cheerfully. “No one was ever known to freeze -to death or even to take cold from exposure to a norther. You’ll be all -right as soon as you get to a fire.” - -“I never saw such a country,” said Ned, as plainly as his chattering -teeth would permit. “Summer and winter all in one day.” - -“Yes, in less than a quarter of an hour,” said George, who was busy -untying the bundle Ned carried behind his saddle. “The thermometer has -been known to fall sixty degrees almost instantly.” - -George took his cousin’s overcoat and gloves out of the bundle, but -after they were put on they did not seem to afford the wearer the least -protection from the bitter blast which came stronger and stronger every -moment, and chilled him to the very marrow. It could not have been -colder if it had come off the icebergs within the Arctic circle. It -seemed to blister the skin wherever it touched, and was so cutting and -keen that the boys could not keep their faces toward it. Even the horses -began to grow restive under it, and it was all their riders could do to -control them. - -“O, I shall never see home again!” cried Ned, who was terribly alarmed. -“I shall freeze to death right here. I _can’t_ stand it!” - -“You can and you must,” shouted George, as he seized his cousin’s horse -by the bridle. “Now, pull your hat down over your face, throw yourself -forward in the saddle, and hang on for life. I’ll take care of you.” - -An instant afterward Ned was being carried over the prairie with all the -speed his horse could be induced to put forth. He did not know which way -he was going, for he dared not look up to see. He sat with his hat over -his face, his head bowed over to his horse’s neck, and his hands twisted -in the animal’s mane, while George sat up, braving it all and leading -him to a place of refuge. - -It seemed to Ned that they were a very long time in reaching the timber, -and that he should certainly freeze to death before that mile and a half -of prairie could be crossed; but he didn’t, and neither did he afterward -feel any bad effects from what he suffered during his cold ride. He -found that Zeke, having been warned by signs he could easily read that -the norther was coming, had moved the camp to a more sheltered locality, -and that he had a roaring fire going and a pot of hot coffee on the -coals. Ned drank a good share of that hot coffee, and forgot to grumble -over it, as he usually did. George showed him the way home as soon as -the storm abated, and there Ned resolved to stay, having fully made up -his mind that there was no fun to be seen in camp-life. - -Ned was more lonely and discontented than ever after that. It was harder -work to pass the days in doing nothing than it was to stand behind a -counter, selling dry-goods; and that was what he had done before he came -to Texas. There was literally no way in which he could enjoy himself. -Books, which were his cousin’s delight, Ned did not care for; there was -not game enough in the country to pay for the trouble of hunting for it; -the boys in the settlement were a lot of boors, who would not notice -him, because he was so far above them; and all Ned could do was to spend -the day in loitering about the house, with his hands in his pockets. - -“If I only had some of the jolly fellows here that I used to run with in -Foxboro’!” said Ned to himself, one day, after he had spent an hour or -two in wandering from room to room, in the vain hope of finding -something to interest him. “Wouldn’t we turn this old house upside down! -They all promised to come and see me, but I know they won’t do it, for -they’ll never be able to save money enough to pay their fare. If I ever -see them, I shall have to send them the money to bring them here, and -I——Well, now, why couldn’t I do that? It’s a splendid idea!” - -Ned, all life and animation now, hurried to his room to act upon his -splendid idea, while it was yet fresh in his mind. He wrote a long -letter to one of the cronies, Gus Robbins by name, whom he had left -behind in Foxboro’, giving a glowing description of his new home, -recounting, at great length, a thrilling hunting adventure he had heard -from the lips of George’s herdsman, and of which he made himself the -hero, instead of Zeke, and wound up by urging Gus and his brother to -come on and pay him a long visit. - -“You must not refuse,” Ned wrote. “If money is what you need, let me -know, and I will send you enough to foot all your bills. I am rich now, -and can afford to do it. Your father ought to be willing to give you a -short vacation, after you have worked so hard in the store.” - -The letter was mailed in due time, and Ned impatiently counted the days -that must elapse before an answer could arrive. It came at last, and Ned -almost danced with delight when he read it. We copy one paragraph in it, -just to show what kind of a boy he was whom Ned had invited to his -house. We shall meet him very shortly, and be in his company a good -deal, and one always likes to know something about a fellow before he is -introduced to him. The paragraph referred to ran as follows:— - - * * * * * - -“You must be having jolly times down there, and since I read your letter -I have been more than ever dissatisfied with the store. I should be only -too glad to visit you, and the want of money is the only thing that -stands in my way. It is all that has kept me in Foxboro’ so long. In -regard to the governor’s giving me a holiday—I shall not ask him for it, -for he would be sure to say ‘No;’ and neither can I write you anything -definite about my brother. He is getting to be a regular old -sober-sides, and if I am going down there, I would rather he would stay -at home.” - - * * * * * - -The rest of the letter was taken up by the writer in trying to make Ned -understand that Gus had fully resolved to visit Texas, and that he -should be very much disappointed, if anything happened to keep him at -home. He did not say this in so many words, but Ned was smart enough to -see that he meant it all the same. - -“He shall come,” said Ned, as he folded up the letter and hurried off to -find his father. “And I hope he will come alone, for if his brother is -getting to be a milk-sop, we don’t want him down here. Now, the next -thing is to make father hand over the money.” - -This was a task Ned had been dreading ever since he wrote the -invitation; but he went about it with an air which said plainly enough -that he knew he should succeed. Uncle John objected rather feebly, at -first, and said he wasn’t sure that he had any right to spend George’s -money in that way; but Ned had an answer to every objection, and stuck -to his point until he gained it. - -“You mustn’t forget that I may own this property myself some day,” said -he. “If George does not live until he is of age, everything falls to me. -If that should ever happen, you would think me awful stingy if I should -refuse you a paltry hundred dollars.” - -Ned certainly talked very glibly about spending his cousin’s money. He -had seen the time when, if he chanced to have a hundred cents in his -pocket, over and above what his debts amounted to, he considered himself -lucky. It was not a paltry sum in his eyes, by any means. - -After a little more argument, Ned got a check for the money he wanted, -made payable to the order of Gus Robbins. After that he wrote a letter -to his friend urging him to come on immediately, put the check into it -and mailed it at the first opportunity. Then he was in a fever of -excitement and suspense, and wondered if it would be possible for him to -live until his friend arrived. He judged that Gus intended to leave home -without his father’s knowledge or consent, but Ned did not care for -that. Perhaps he would do the same thing himself under like -circumstances. True, he often asked himself how Gus could ever muster up -courage enough to go home again after doing a thing of that kind, but he -always let the question pass with the reflection that it was none of his -business. It was a matter that Gus must settle for himself. He waited -impatiently for his friend’s coming, little dreaming that his appearance -at the rancho would be the signal for the beginning of a series of -scrapes and adventures that would put the whole settlement into a -turmoil. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - A DISCONTENTED BOY. - - -“I do think that if there is a mean business in the world, I am engaged -in it.” - -Gus Robbins suspended for a moment the work of folding up the numerous -bolts of calico he had taken down from the shelves for the inspection of -a customer who had just departed without purchasing anything, and -leaning on the counter, gazed longingly through the glass door into the -street. It was a bright winter day. The sleighing was excellent, and the -principal thoroughfare of the thriving little city of Foxboro’ was -filled with sleighs which dashed by in both directions, carrying loads -of gay pleasure-seekers, all of whom, Gus noticed with no little -bitterness of heart, seemed to be enjoying themselves to the fullest -extent. It was just before the holidays, and everybody seemed to be -making unusual preparations for them. The store was filled with -customers almost all the time, and Gus had stood in his place behind the -counter, and taken down and put up bales of goods until he was almost -tired out, and completely disgusted with the store and everything -belonging to it. Just now there was a little lull in business, and Gus -had a few minutes to himself. He improved them, as he generally improved -his moments of leisure, by growling over his hard lot in life, and -drawing a contrast between his own situation and that of some of the -other boys of his acquaintance in the city. - -“There are no such things as peace and pleasure for the unfortunate -fellow who makes his bread and butter by clerking in a dry-goods store,” -continued Gus, spitefully banging a bolt of calico down upon the -counter. “Everybody is happy except me. Other boys are out behind their -fast horses having a good time, and here I am shut up in this miserable -old store, and have been ever since seven o’clock this morning. This -thing is getting to be a little too monotonous, the first thing you -know, and I am not going to put up with it much longer. If I had money, -I wouldn’t stay in this city twenty-four hours longer. Great Cæsar!” - -Gus brought his soliloquy to a sudden close, and the bolt of calico he -had picked up to place upon the shelf dropped from his hands. While he -was talking to himself he kept his gaze directed toward the street, and -saw a red-faced man pass one of the windows and turn toward the door. As -he laid his hand upon the knob, somebody in the street accosted him, and -the red-faced man turned about and entered into conversation with him. -Gus looked at him for a moment, and then ran his eyes hastily around the -store as if he were looking for some way of escape. - -“He’ll be in here in a second more,” said he, to himself, “and how shall -I put him off? I’ve told him so many lies that I shall have to get a -fresh stock on hand before I can tell him any more.” - -The expression that rested on the boy’s face during the next -half-minute, seemed to indicate that he was revolving a very perplexing -problem in his mind. Suddenly he brightened up and with another glance -at the door, passed rapidly around the counter, and crossed over to the -other side of the store, where another clerk was at work folding up some -goods. - -“I say, Sam,” exclaimed Gus, in a hurried whisper; “will you add another -to the long list of favors you have done me?” - -“Well, I don’t know,” replied Sam, hesitatingly. “Depends upon what it -is. If you want to borrow any more——” - -“I don’t,” interrupted Gus. “But Meyers is coming after what I owe him, -and there he is now. Tell him that I have gone out and shan’t be back -for a week. If you will do that much for me I will repay you——” - -Gus did not have time to say how or when he would repay Sam, for at this -moment the red-faced man turned half around and placed his hand on the -door-knob. Gus quickly ducked his head and stole along behind the -counter toward the back part of the store, until he came to a door -opening into the warehouse. - -He straightened up when he reached this place of refuge, and just as he -did so the opening and closing of the front door told him that Mr. -Meyers, the Jew who kept the little cigar and tobacco stand around the -corner, had entered on one of his regular weekly dunning visits. - -“Much good may it do him,” thought Gus, keeping the door open about half -an inch so that he could see all that passed in the store. “He is a -regular leech, and if I could only settle up with him I’d pay him for -his persistency by buying my cigars and fine cut somewhere else.” - -The visitor held a long interview with Sam—so long that Gus began to be -very impatient, and at last to tremble for fear that his father, who was -busy with the books in the office, might come out and find him there. -Gus could not hear what they said, but he could see, by Mr. Meyers’s -emphatic gestures, that he was very much in earnest about something. As -soon as the man left the store, Gus drew a long breath of relief and -came out of his hiding-place. The smile on his face showed that he was -very much pleased with the success of his little stratagem. - -“O, there’s nothing to grin over, old fellow,” said Sam. “If you know -when you are well off you will rake fifteen dollars together pretty -lively, I tell you.” - -“Fifteen dollars!” replied Gus. “I don’t owe him any such sum as that.” - -“He’s got a bill made out for it, anyhow.” - -“What did you say to him?” - -“I told him that you had gone out somewhere on business, and that you -would call and pay him to-morrow afternoon.” - -“To-morrow afternoon!” echoed Gus. “Great Cæsar! How am I going to raise -fifteen dollars between this time and that?” - -“I give it up,” replied Sam. - -“To-morrow afternoon!” gasped Gus, as visions of a stormy interview with -the impatient and angry cigar vendor flitted through his mind. - -“Yes; I tried to put him off, but he wouldn’t be put off, so I had to -tell him something definite.” - -“You had no business to tell him that, at any rate,” snapped Gus. “You -know I couldn’t keep that promise.” - -“Well, the next time you want any lies told you can just stay in the -store and tell them yourself,” retorted Sam. “I shall not do it any -more, and you needn’t waste your time and breath in asking me. I have -stood between you and your creditors just as long as I am going to; but -I’ll tell you one thing: You had better settle with that Jew, or he will -go to your father with his bill. Then won’t you be in a fix?” - -“Whew!” exclaimed Gus, who was not a little alarmed. - -“But remember that my claim is to be settled first,” continued Sam. “You -have owed me money longer than you have owed him, and I want you to -begin to pony up. I am tired of waiting.” - -“You will have plenty of time to get rested again before you get the -money, and so will that Jew,” thought Gus, as he turned and walked back -to his own counter. “Is it any wonder that I want to get away from -here?” - -No, it was no wonder that Gus was always in trouble, but he had no one -to thank for it but himself. He had a comfortable home, a kind father -and mother, and there was more than one boy in the city who would have -been glad to change places with him. The great trouble with Gus was, -that he would not work if he could help it, and he had no idea of the -value of money. - -Mr. Robbins, who had once been a poor boy, and who had earned every -dollar he possessed by his own unaided efforts, thought that every youth -ought to learn how to take care of himself; so as soon as Gus and Bob -(that was the name of Gus’s younger brother) had completed the course at -the High School, they were placed in the store, given the free use of -the money they earned and assured that they would be promoted and their -wages increased as fast as their services would warrant. They each -received two hundred and fifty dollars a year, and that was fifty -dollars more than inexperienced clerks had ever before been paid in that -store; but Gus declared that it was but little better than nothing at -all. He had some very grand ideas, and was frequently heard to say that -he did not intend to be a dry goods’ clerk all his life. - -“I don’t want you to be,” said his father, who one day happened to be -standing near when Gus made this declaration. “Clerks are necessary, but -if you have brains and energy enough to work your way up higher, I shall -be only be too glad to see you do it. I hope you will some day be a -prosperous merchant; but you never can be unless you know all about -business. In order to learn it you must begin at the beginning.” - -“And work for two hundred and fifty dollars,” said Gus. “How is a fellow -to get rich on that, I’d like to know?” - -“By saving; that is the only way.” - -“But I have nothing to save. After I drew my wages last month I bought a -suit of clothes, and a dollar—just one little dollar—was all I had to -show for twenty-six days’ work.” - -“And what did you do with that one little dollar?” - -“I—I believe I spent it.” - -“Of course you did. If you had saved it you would have been just a -dollar ahead.” - -“And if I saved a dollar every month, I should have just twelve dollars -at the end of the year,” said Gus. “That’s a magnificent sum.” - -“But you don’t need a suit of new clothes every thirty days, and most of -the time you could save more than a dollar a month. The amount of your -savings is not so important as it is that you should get in the way of -saving something—no matter how small the amount may be. If you begin by -saving four dollars every month, you will find it just as easy after a -while to save eight; for good habits, like bad ones, grow stronger every -day.” - -“But I can’t be satisfied to plod along in that way,” said Gus, to -himself. “If I could have two or three hundred dollars all in a lump, so -that I could buy some things I need, pay all my debts and have a -good-sized nest-egg left, I might get up ambition enough to go to -saving; but this thing of laying by pennies—Pshaw!” - -Mr. Robbins often talked to his boys in this way, and he had finally -succeeded in convincing Bob that it was not best to despise the day of -small things, and that the surest road to prosperity was the one his -father had pointed out. Like his brother, Bob had been in the habit of -spending every cent he made, and more, too, if he could get it; but of -late he had taken to saving, and now he had grown to be, to quote from -Gus, “the very quintessence of meanness.” But he had money in the bank, -and being safely out of debt, he was not continually harassed by duns as -his brother was. More than that, he got into the way of being very -attentive to his work (one good habit leads to another, you know), and -before he had been in the store a year he was given entire charge of one -branch of his father’s business, and his wages were increased. - -This left Gus at the very lowest round of the ladder. He was obliged to -open the store in the morning, build the fires and sweep out, and he -looked upon this as very degrading work. He grew more negligent and -discontented every day, and always made it a point, after the store was -closed for the night, to make up for the tiresome hours he had spent -behind the counter. He often wished for Ned Ackerman. When the latter -was in his father’s employ he had a companion who was always ready to -join him in any thing; but Ned was in Texas, Bob had gone back on him, -and Gus was very lonely. - -Our discontented dry-goods clerk received a very severe blow, and the -little ambition he had was all crushed out of him when his younger -brother was placed over him. It was a disgrace that he could not put up -with, and so he tried to run away from it. There was a news-depôt for -sale in the city, and Gus could have purchased it on very advantageous -terms, if he had only had the money; but he didn’t have it. Mr. Robbins, -who knew more about his son’s habits than Gus thought he did, would not -advance it, and so Gus was obliged to stay in the store. Everything -seemed to be working against him, and Gus grew desperate. He spent his -money as fast as it was paid to him, and when it gave out, he went as -deeply in debt as he could go. He had always been able to satisfy his -creditors by paying them a little every month; but now they were getting -impatient, and were all presenting their bills at once. - -“Fifteen dollars!” repeated Gus, as he walked toward his own counter. -“To-morrow afternoon!” he murmured, as he chucked one of the bolts of -calico spitefully upon the shelf. “Moses! won’t there be a row, unless I -can think up some plausible story between this time and that! I must owe -at least fifty dollars—almost three months’ wages. I wish I could leave -here this very night, and never set eyes on this town again! But how can -I get away without money? That’s the question.” - -Just then Gus heard something fall on the counter, and looked up to see -his brother Bob walking through the store, with a bundle of letters and -papers in his hand. He had just returned from the post-office, and had -thrown a letter for his brother on the counter, as he passed by. - -“Just look at young Dignity!” said Gus, as his brother disappeared -through the door that led into the office. “One would think, by the airs -he throws on, that he owned the store! Who has been writing to me, I -wonder!” - -Gus allowed the letter to lie where it had fallen, until he had cleared -the counter, folded all the goods and placed them on the shelves, where -they belonged. Then he picked it up and glanced at the envelope, fully -expecting to recognise the handwriting of some of his creditors, who not -unfrequently wrote notes to him, to remind him that there was a little -balance due them, which they would be happy to receive at the earliest -possible moment that he could make it convenient to hand it to them. But -this letter was not from a creditor. It was from Ned Ackerman, the very -boy who had been in his thoughts a score of times that day. Gus ran his -eyes hastily over the last few lines above the signature, and saw -something in them that excited and delighted him. - -“Hurrah!” said he to himself. “Plague take it!” - -These two exclamations, so different in meaning, were called forth by -very different emotions. He had read enough of the letter to learn that -his old friend Ned was having a fine time down there in Texas; that he -was lonely in spite of it, and wanted Gus and his brother to come on and -pay him a long visit; and that the want of money need not prevent them -from doing so, for Ned would send them enough to pay their fare and all -other expenses. But before Gus could read any farther, he was -interrupted by the entrance of two or three ladies, who came up to his -counter. They proved to be very exacting, too, and Gus handed down a -good many different kinds of cloth for their inspection. He fumed -inwardly and used some hard words to himself, while he was doing it, and -as soon as the ladies had departed, he caught up his letter and read it -through. - -“Of course I’ll go,” said he, so delighted with the idea that he hardly -knew what he was about; “but Bob shan’t! We don’t want him, and so I’ll -say nothing to him about this letter. I shan’t say anything to father -either, for he would be sure to tell me to stay at home.” - -Gus had found a way out of his troubles at last. He wrote a reply to -Ned’s letter that very night, and was as impatient to hear from him -again as Ned was to hear from Gus. He made no effort to raise money to -pay his debts, and indeed he did not intend to pay them at all. He went -to see all his creditors, as soon as he could find time, just to keep -them from calling upon him at the store, and by making them some very -fair promises, he succeeded in quieting them for a while. When that was -done, he breathed easier, and the only thing he had to worry over and -feel anxious about was the expected letter from Ned, which he hoped -would bring a check for the money he needed, and contain instructions as -to the route he was to travel, in order to reach Palos. - -“And when I get there I’ll stay,” Gus often told himself. “I shall never -come back. I’ve had enough of this miserable life. What will I do and -where shall I go after I have finished my visit? I am sure I don’t know. -That is a matter I will decide when the time comes. I do hope Ned will -have no trouble in raising the money.” - -Gus was not disappointed in his hopes. Ned was so anxious to have him -there that he did not delay writing, and in due time the looked-for -letter arrived. Gus could hardly control his exultation from those -around him. He wrote to his friend at once, saying that he would start -in a week, and that Ned must make his own calculations as to the time -his visitor would reach Palos, as he (Gus) had not she slightest idea -how long it would take him to make the journey, and Ned had forgotten to -enlighten him on this point. - -Gus wanted to wait a week longer in order that he might draw the twenty -dollars and more that would then be due him from the store. It was the -longest week he had ever lived through, and the hardest too; but it came -to an end at last, and pay-day arrived. Gus drew his money when Bob did, -and as soon as he had put it into his pocket, he slipped out the back -door into an alley that ran behind the store, and started for home. He -made his way to the room in which he and Bob slept, opened his trunk -with a key he took from his pocket, deposited his money therein and took -out the check which he had kept locked up in the trunk ever since it -arrived. - -“It is time to get this cashed now,” said he. “I put it off until the -last moment because I didn’t want to give anybody a chance to talk about -it. I don’t know what the cashier will think when I present it at the -bank, and I don’t care either, if he will only give me the money. I hope -Sam will have a good time getting what I owe him. He was waiting at the -office door to catch me when I came out, and that was the reason I -slipped into the alley.” - -Gus locked his trunk, put the key and check carefully away in his pocket -and hurriedly left the house. Time was precious (he had less than half -an hour left in which to eat his dinner and return to the store) and he -made all the haste he could. He was particularly anxious to get through -with his business at the bank, for he had been dreading it all the week. -What would the folks in there think when he approached the cashier’s -desk and presented a check for a hundred dollars? He ran up the steps -while he was thinking about it, and almost into the arms of the very -person he most wished to avoid just then—the one who had waited to dun -him when he came out of his father’s office. Sam had drawn his month’s -wages and came to the bank to deposit them. - -“Hallo!” exclaimed Sam. “Where did you go in such a hurry after you drew -your money? I didn’t see you come out of the office.” - -“But I did come out, you see; for if I had stayed in, I couldn’t be -here, could I?” - -“Hold on,” said Sam, as Gus tried to push him aside so that he could -enter the door. “This is a good time to settle up.” - -“I will settle with you this afternoon, sure pop,” returned Gus. - -“Why can’t you do it now? You have got your money, for I saw you draw -it.” - -“I know it, but I haven’t got it now. I’ll be on hand this -evening—sure.” - -“You said this afternoon,” answered Sam, looking suspiciously at Gus. - -“Well, this afternoon, then.” - -So saying, Gus crowded past Sam and went into the bank. To his great -relief there was no one in front of the cashier’s desk; no one present -to see him receive his hundred dollars. With a beating heart and -trembling hand he produced his check, and breathed a good deal easier -when he saw that the cashier did not exhibit any surprise at its -magnitude. He was in hopes that the man would be in a hurry about -cashing it, but instead of that he was very deliberate in his movements. -He looked at the check on all sides and then he looked at Gus. - -“Who is this John Ackerman?” he asked. - -“He used to be father’s book-keeper, you know,” said Gus. - -“O, yes! Do you want us to collect this for you?” - -“No, sir; I want the money on it now.” - -“All right,” said the cashier, handing the check over the counter. -“Write your name across the back of it, and then take it home and let -your father sign it.” - -“My father!” exclaimed Gus. “Not much. I mean—what do you want his -signature for?” he added hastily, and in great confusion, for the -cashier looked at him as if he were somewhat surprised at his -earnestness. - -“To make ourselves secure,” said the cashier, by way of explanation. -“You see, Gus, this check is drawn by John Ackerman on the Planters’ -Bank of Austin, Texas. He may have funds there, but he has none here, -and neither have you; and it is our rule in such cases to require an -endorsement other than that of the payee. You are the payee, you -know—the one to whom the check is made payable. Your father will sign -it.” - -Gus felt like giving vent to his astonishment and rage in a series of -the wildest kind of yells, and it was all he could do to choke back his -tears. As soon as he had controlled himself so that he could speak, he -said: - -“I don’t want to ask my father to endorse it. This is my own private -affair, and I don’t want you to say anything about it.” - -“Of course not. We never talk about our business matters.” - -“How long will it take to collect it?” - -“Well, Austin is a long distance from here, and it will take two or -three weeks at least.” - -“Great Cæsar!” was Gus’s mental exclamation. “Can I stand it to stay in -the store so much longer? Very well,” he said aloud, “I shall have to -ask you to collect it for me, if that is the best I can do.” - -Gus turned about and walked out of the bank like one in a dream. He had -never in his life before been so badly disappointed. The reflection that -if he remained in the store a month longer, and could save all the money -he earned in that time, he would have twenty dollars more to be added to -the sum he already possessed, did not encourage him in the least. He -wanted his liberty more than he wanted a month’s wages, and besides he -was by no means sure that he would be able to save what he earned. If -his creditors became weary of having their debts paid by promises, and -presented their bills to his father, Gus knew that they would be -promptly settled, and that he could not draw a cent at the end of the -month. He turned these matters over in his mind while he was eating his -dinner, and the longer he pondered upon them the more he felt like -yelling. There were no customers in the store when he returned, but Sam -was leaning over the counter waiting for him. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - THE CLERK’S RUSE. - - -“I was in hopes we should be kept so busy this afternoon that Sam -wouldn’t have a chance to speak to me,” thought Gus, as he made his way -to the office and hung up his hat and overcoat, “but it is just my luck. -If I wanted a few minutes rest the store would be so full of customers -that you couldn’t crowd a ramrod in among them.” - -“Well?” said Sam, when the boy came out of the office and took his place -behind the counter. - -“Well,” answered Gus, “I can’t pay you this month. I have had so many -calls that my money is all used up. Twenty dollars don’t go far, you -know.” - -Sam’s face grew black at once. “Didn’t I tell you that my claim was to -be settled first?” he demanded, angrily. - -“Yes; but what am I to do when a man stops me in the street and tells me -that if I don’t pay up then and there, he will see my father about it -before I am an hour older?” asked Gus. - -“Put him off with promises, as you do me. Who stopped you on the -street?” - -“That Jew.” - -“Did you pay him?” - -“I did—_not_.” The last word Gus said to himself. - -“Well, you still have five dollars left. Hand that over and I will give -you credit for it.” - -“But I haven’t got it. I paid that out, too.” - -Sam whistled softly to himself and drummed with his fingers on the -counter for a moment; then he drew a sheet of white wrapping-paper -toward him and pulled a pencil from his pocket. The pencil moved rapidly -over the paper for a few seconds, and after Sam had read what he had -written, he crossed over to Gus’s side of the store and laid before him -the following:— - - “$12.00. Foxboro’, Jan. 29th 18— - ROBBINS & CO. - - Please pay Samuel Holmes Twelve Dollars out of my next month’s - wages, and charge the same to my account.” - -“There, Gus,” said he, “sign that, and I shall begin to believe that I -stand a chance of getting the money I lent you to help you out of a -tight place.” - -“Twelve dollars!” exclaimed Gus. “I borrowed only ten.” - -“But I don’t lend money for nothing,” replied Sam, “and besides I must -have something to pay me for waiting so long, and for the trouble I have -had in collecting it.” - -Gus took a minute to think about it, then seized the pencil and wrote -his name at the bottom of the order. Sam thrust it into his pocket and -putting on his hat left the store. - -“I don’t run any risk by that,” said Gus to himself. “Sam will not -present the order before the 1st of March, and by that time, if things -work as I hope they will, I shall be a good many miles from here. What -miserable luck some fellows do have in this world, anyhow. I thought I -should have no trouble in getting the money on that check to-day. Where -has Sam gone, I wonder?” - -As Gus asked himself this question an expression of alarm settled on his -face. He ran quickly to the door, and looking down the street saw that -Sam was just disappearing in the cigar store on the corner. The boy’s -heart began to beat a little faster, for he knew now, as well as he did -five minutes later, what it was that took Sam to Mr. Meyers’s place of -business. He stood in the door until Sam came out, and then he retreated -behind his counter and employed himself in straightening up the goods on -the shelves. - -“Gus,” said Sam, when he had hung his hat in its accustomed place, “lie, -number one thousand and one, is nailed. Meyers says he hasn’t seen you -to-day.” - -“Suppose he hasn’t!” snapped Gus, who had been caught in so many -falsehoods that he had become used to it. - -“Why don’t you tell the truth once in a while?” continued Sam; “say once -a week, or even once a month, if you can’t stand it any oftener. You -will get so, pretty soon, that nobody will believe a word you say.” - -“Why don’t you keep from sticking your nose into matters that don’t -concern you?” exclaimed Gus, angrily. - -“This matter does concern me. Now, I want to know what has become of -that money you drew to-day.” - -“It is none of your business. Do you understand that?” - -“Yes, I understand it,” said Sam, so quietly that Gus looked at him in -surprise. - -“Then you may as well understand another thing, while you are about it,” -continued the latter, “and that is, that from this time out you are to -attend to your own affairs and let me entirely alone. What I do with my -money is none of your business.” - -“I generally do attend to my own affairs,” replied Sam, “and I shall -attend to yours in a way you don’t think of. You haven’t started for -Texas, yet!” - -Gus jumped as if he had been shot. He could hardly bring himself to -believe that he had heard aright. He had guarded his secret as closely -as a boy could. Having no intimate friend to assist him in keeping it, -he had not lisped a word of it to anybody; but it had leaked out after -all, and Sam seemed to know all about it. - -“Tex——” said Gus, drawing a long breath and leaning heavily on the -counter, “as!” - -“Yes! You have laid your plans to skip out and leave us all in the -lurch, but you shan’t do it! I must have what you owe me first; and when -you get the money on that check, I will tell you how much I want of it -to pay me for the trouble of keeping your secret. I know you didn’t get -the money to-day.” - -“How do you know that?” stammered Gus, growing more and more astonished -and bewildered. - -“That’s my business!” was the satisfactory reply. - -Just then a customer came in and moved up to Sam’s side of the store, -and this gave Gus an opportunity to collect his scattered wits, and -think over what Sam had just told him. How in the world had the latter -learned his secret? was a question that Gus asked himself over and over -again, but without finding any satisfactory answer. It was too deep a -mystery for him to solve just then, for he was so utterly confounded -that he could not think at all. - -“You haven’t started for Texas yet,” and “when you get the money on that -check, I will tell you how much I want of it to pay me for the trouble -of keeping your secret,” were the words that were constantly passing -through the boy’s mind, and he could not drive them out long enough to -decide what he ought to do. If he had any means of finding out just how -much Sam knew, he might be able to make up his mind to something. - -“But I don’t see how I am to find that out,” thought Gus, walking -nervously up and down the store, “for of course he won’t tell me, if I -ask him. The whole thing bangs me completely. I know I haven’t said a -word that would lead him or anybody else to suspect anything; but he has -got hold of it somehow, and wants a part of my hundred dollars to pay -him for keeping his mouth shut. He shan’t have it! No matter what -happens, he shan’t have it, for I don’t know how much I shall need to -pay my expenses.” - -Both the clerks were kept busy that afternoon, Gus at his counter and -Sam in unpacking and arranging a new supply of goods that arrived about -one o’clock. Gus could not keep his mind on his work, for he was -continually thinking about this last piece of bad luck, and wondering -how he should go to work to “pump” Sam, in order to find out just how -much the latter knew about his contemplated movements. Once during the -afternoon, when the store was clear of customers, he had occasion to -pass through the warehouse, where Sam was at work, breaking open the -boxes in which the new goods were packed. The latter was at work in his -shirt-sleeves, and his coat lay wrong side out upon one of the boxes. As -Gus passed by it, something caught his eye. He noticed that there were -several letters sticking out of the inside pocket of the coat, and that -they were all enclosed in brown envelopes, except one. That envelope was -white, and there was something about it that looked familiar. Gus drew -nearer to it, and was astonished almost beyond measure to see that it -bore his own name in Ned Ackerman’s handwriting! - -The whole mystery was made perfectly plain to Gus at once. The letter in -question was the last he had received from his friend in Texas—the one -in which the check was sent. On the day it arrived, Gus had kept it by -him all the afternoon, devoting every leisure moment to reading it, and, -instead of taking it home with him at night, as he meant to have done, -and as he thought he _had_ done, he left it on the long shelf behind his -counter, and Sam had found it there. He had been mean enough to read it, -too; and then, instead of putting it back where he found it, he kept it, -intending to use it to extort money from Gus. - -And right here, we may add something that the reader ought to know, and -that Gus never found out. When Sam met Gus going into the bank, his -suspicions were aroused, and he stood in front of the window and watched -his movements. He thought that Gus was going to deposit the wages he had -just received, instead of paying up his debts, as he ought to have done; -but when he saw him present the check, mentioned in the letter he had -stolen, Sam knew that Gus was making arrangements to leave the city very -shortly. He saw that Gus did not receive the money, and that he did not -bring the check out with him; so it must have been left in the bank for -collection. - -The rest of the boy’s plans Sam guessed at. He knew that Gus was very -discontented; that he thought he would rather follow any business in the -world than his own; that he imagined he would be happier anywhere on -earth than he was in Foxboro’; that Mr. Robbins would never permit his -son to go to Texas on a visit, especially to meet such a fellow as Ned -Ackerman, whose influence over his associates was always a bad one. Sam -knew all these things, and by putting them together, he arrived at a -conclusion which we know to be the correct one. - -“That’s Sam’s game,” thought Gus, swelling with indignation. “He intends -to hold that letter over me as a sort of whip to make me do just as he -says; but it’ll not succeed. He knows everything, and I must mind what I -am about. The first thing I do will be to take what belongs to me.” - -Gus came a step nearer to the box, intending to snatch the letter and -walk off with it, leaving Sam to help himself if he could; but after an -instant’s reflection he decided to adopt a different course. It would -not be wise, he thought, to bring on an open rupture with Sam, for the -latter might pay him back by telling his employer about his son’s Texas -scheme, and that was something that must be kept from his father’s ears -at all hazards. - -“That would never do,” said Gus, as these thoughts passed through his -mind. “I must wait until he turns his back.” - -This Sam was accommodating enough to do in a very few minutes. As soon -as he had taken an armful of bales out of the box he had just opened, he -picked them up, carried them into the store and laid them on the -counter. He was gone scarcely more than half a minute, but that was all -the time Gus needed to accomplish his object. He seized the letter, -thrust it into his own pocket and walked out into the store, feeling as -though a heavy load had been removed from his shoulders. He fully -expected that Sam would make trouble for him very shortly, and he -prepared himself for it; but Sam did nothing of the kind. When he -discovered his loss he probably thought that he had mislaid the letter -or that it had dropped out of his pocket. At any rate he said nothing to -Gus about it. - -Gus wrote a long letter to Ned that night, telling him of all the bad -luck that had befallen him of late, and describing his plans for the -future, and then he settled back into his old monotonous life again. The -store had never looked so dreary and uninviting as it did now, and -neither had his work ever been so distasteful to him. Gus never could -have endured it, so he told himself more than once, if he had not been -sustained and encouraged by the belief that it would end in a very few -days, and that when once he was away from home and could do as he -pleased, he would have fun enough to make up for all the gloomy hours he -had spent behind the counter. - -After the second week had passed Gus made it a point to call at the bank -every few days to see if his check had been heard from, and when he came -out he always found that Sam, who went to his meals at the same time Gus -did, was loitering on the sidewalk in front of the window. - -“Let him watch,” thought Gus, who grew angry whenever he caught even the -smallest glimpse of Sam. “If I am not smart enough to outwit him I ought -to lose every cent of that money.” - -“I wonder what’s the matter?” thought Sam, when he saw Gus go into the -bank and come out again with the very long face he always wore when he -was disappointed. “They ought certainly to have heard from that check by -this time. Well, there’s one thing about it: Gus can’t get the money -without my knowing it, because the only time he can get into the bank is -when he goes to his dinner, and I shall always be on hand to watch him.” - -One day, after Gus had grown very impatient, and had begun to fear that -his check had been lost on the way, and that he would never hear from it -again, he happened to meet the cashier, who was also going home to his -dinner. “It is all right at last, Gus,” said the latter, cheerfully. - -The boy’s gloomy expression of countenance, which he had worn for -several days past, vanished at once. “Has the money come?” he asked as -soon as he could speak. - -“No; but we have heard from the check, and will cash it for you whenever -you please.” - -“And you won’t want my father’s signature?” - -“No. You fill out a draft—you’ll find blanks at the bank—making it -payable to ‘self’ and sign your name to it, and I’ll give you the money. -That’s all there is of it.” - -The cashier went on his way, and Gus looked up and down the streets and -on all sides of him to make sure that Sam had not been a witness of the -interview. But the latter was nowhere in sight. He had followed Gus at a -distance, as he did every day, to satisfy himself that he did not go to -the bank and draw the money, and then he turned toward his own home. He -was fooled for once, and with this reflection to encourage him Gus -walked slowly toward his father’s house, and making his way to his own -room threw himself upon the bed. He did not answer the dinner-bell when -it rang, and presently his mother, who had heard him enter the house, -came up to see what was the matter. - -“Why, Augustus, are you ill?” she asked, with some anxiety. - -“No, ma’am; but I don’t want any dinner,” was the reply. - -Moral philosophy teaches us that we can speak the truth and at the same -time tell a lie, and Gus certainly did on this occasion. He told nothing -but the truth when he said that he was not sick and didn’t want any -dinner; but the tone in which he said it, and his manner, made his -mother believe that he was not well, and that was just what he wanted -her to believe. He didn’t want any tea or toast either, he said. He only -asked to be let alone so that he could rest until it was time for him to -go down to the store again. - -But Gus knew very well that he would not be expected to go down to the -store that afternoon, and he wasn’t. His father came up to see him, as -soon as he had eaten his dinner, and told him to stay at home until he -felt better, and Gus did stay until about half-past two o’clock. Then he -got up and went down to the bank. The draft he made out was promptly -cashed, and Gus, with the money in his pocket, crept slowly homeward and -went to bed again. - -“There,” said he, as soon as he had settled his head on the pillow. -“Where are you now, Mr. Sam Holmes? I’ve got my money, and you are none -the wiser for it. I knew I could outwit you when the time came.” - -While Gus was waiting to hear from his check he had ample leisure to -perfect all his plans, and now nothing remained to be done but to pack -his valise with the clothing he had already selected and laid by itself, -and go down to the depôt in time to catch the westward-bound train which -passed through Foxboro’ at half-past eight in the evening. He was -somewhat nervous, for he knew that at the very last moment a thousand -things might happen to interfere with his arrangements: but he did not -think of the step he was about to take with the least regret. He knew -when his father and brother came home at supper time, and heard them -when they went out to return to the store. After that his mother brought -him up some delicacies that sick people are supposed to relish; but Gus, -although he was by this time very hungry, said he didn’t care for -anything, and besides he showed so plainly that he didn’t want his -mother in his room, that she went down stairs and left him to himself -again. - -There was no fear of interruption after that, and Gus set about -completing the preparations for his flight. He quickly packed his -valise, put his money carefully away in his pocket, stopped long enough -to eat all the supper his mother had brought up to him, then seized his -valise and crept down stairs and out of the house. He made his way -toward the depôt, avoiding the principal streets as much as he could, -and finally reached the railroad about a quarter of a mile above the -place where the trains stopped. There was a freight-house opposite the -depôt, and toward this Gus now directed his course, intending to wait -there in the dark until the train arrived. He could thus avoid the crowd -which always gathered about the platform at train time, and by boarding -the cars on the side opposite the depôt, he could escape observation. - -“That’s what I want to do,” said the runaway to himself, as he took his -stand in a dark doorway and looked down the track to see if he could -discover any signs of the approaching train, “for of course I wouldn’t -be very smart if I were to let any of these loafers see me. They would -all want to know where I was going, and then when my folks began to make -inquiries about me, they would say they had seen me take the train for -Chicago. I wouldn’t like to have that known, for there are such things -as telegraphs and detectives in this country.” - -If Gus had only known it, he was putting himself to a great deal of -unnecessary trouble. It might have astonished him to know that even if -his father had been thoroughly posted in all his plans, he would have -made no effort to prevent Gus from carrying them into execution. The boy -found this out in due time, and we shall tell about it in its proper -place. - -A good many incidents that were really worthy of note happened during -Gus’s journey to Texas, but we have so many things to write about that -are more interesting that we must pass them by without further notice. -We have set out to tell what Gus did and how he enjoyed himself in -Texas; and it will be enough now to say that he made the journey in -safety; that Ned’s instructions were so plain and complete that he had -no difficulty in finding his way; and that in due time the mail-coach -deposited him on the verandah of the principal hotel in Palos. - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - A FRONTIER HOTEL. - - -By the time Gus reached Palos he had lost a good deal of the “style” for -which he had been noted in Foxboro’, and if some of the numerous -acquaintances he had left there could have seen him when he stepped out -of the stage and passed through the crowd of cattle-herders, ranchemen -and idlers who had gathered on the verandah of the hotel to see the -coach come in, they would hardly have taken him for Gus Robbins. If some -of the boys who think so much of themselves could get out among entire -strangers for a while they would very soon see how small is the space -they occupy in the world, and how comparatively useless they are. This -was just what Gus had been finding out. He had learned a good deal -during his travels, and he had already seen the time when he would have -been glad to face about and go back where he came from. - -The people he met were different in every way from those with whom he -had been in the habit of associating. The majority of them were rough in -person, dress and manners; and although they treated him civilly, and -were always ready to answer his questions and give him all the -information they could concerning the journey before him, Gus was afraid -of them and felt like avoiding them as much as he could. The nearer he -approached to the frontier the rougher the men became. A good many of -them wore red shirts without any coats, high boots, carried revolvers in -their belts and looked more like brigands than peaceable, law-abiding -citizens. The crowd on the verandah were all armed; and although they -stepped politely out of his way, Gus could not help shuddering as he -passed through their ranks. The man who met him at the door and took his -valise out of his hand, and who proved to be the landlord, looked worse -than any of the rest. He wore no weapons, but the brace of navy -six-shooters that were hung up in the office toward which he conducted -his guest, showed that he was ready for any emergency. He looked equal -to any emergency, too. He was a giant in size, very muscular, and the -voice that came up from his broad chest was as loud as a steam-whistle. - -[Illustration: THE ARRIVAL AT PALOS.] - -“Can I obtain a night’s lodging here?” asked Gus. - -“I reckon ye kin, stranger,” roared the host. “Yer a Yank!” - -“O, no I am not,” replied the boy, who knew there had been a civil war -not so very many years ago, and that the Texans were mostly all rebels. -“I’m from Ohio.” - -“Wal, what’s the odds?” demanded the host. “All Northern men are Yanks, -and they aint ashamed of it, nuther. I’m one myself. I’m from the Green -Mountains.” - -“From Vermont?” cried Gus, who now began to feel more at his ease. - -“That’s the very identical spot.” - -“But you’re a Southerner now, I suppose?” said Gus, who thought that was -the politest way in which he could ask the man if he was a rebel. - -“Do you mean that I’m a gray-back?” exclaimed the host. “Not much. All -the relations I ever had fit under the old flag, and I couldn’t be the -first of the family to go agin it. I’m powerful glad to see you, -stranger. Put it thar.” - -The man held out an immense bony hand as he spoke, and Gus placed his -own within it. A moment later he was doubled up with pain. The Green -Mountain boy’s greeting was almost too cordial. - -“Want lodgin’, do ye? An’ breakfast an’ supper, too, I reckon, don’t -ye?” said he. “Goin’ to stay here long?” - -“No, sir. I want to find a way to reach Ackerman’s rancho,” replied the -boy, after he had pulled his fingers apart and straightened them out. - -“O, goin’ there, be ye? All right. I kin help ye along. One of -Ackerman’s herdsmen is stopping with me now.” - -“Is it far from here?” asked Gus. - -“O, no; just a jump—a hundred and fifty miles mebbe. Ye’ll see lively -times thar, too, ‘kase the raiders come in thar thicker’n huckleberries -last full moon. Want lodgin’, do ye? Take the third bench to the left in -the bar-room. O, Mose!” shouted the landlord, so suddenly that Gus -started involuntarily. - -In response to this call, which was uttered in a tone so loud that it -would have reached the ears of the person for whom it was intended, if -he had been a quarter of a mile away, a young man, roughly dressed and -armed like his companions, left the crowd on the verandah and came into -the office. The host glanced at the register, on which Gus had placed -his name, and introduced the newcomer to his guest. - -“Mose,” said he, “this young feller is the chap yer lookin’ fur—Gus -Robbins. Look out ye don’t lose him, fur he’s so green the cattle’ll eat -him up when ye get him out thar to the ranche.” - -Gus did not know who Mose was, but he shook hands with him, and was -surprised to hear him say, in as good English as he could have used -himself— - -“We were all green when we first came out here. I have been looking for -you for three days,” he added, as he led Gus toward a bench on one side -of the room. “Ned told me he was expecting you, and described you so -accurately that I was certain I knew who you were the moment I set eyes -on you. I am one of Mr. Ackerman’s herdsmen, you know, and have just -driven down five hundred head of stock that he sold the other day.” - -Gus had not talked with his new acquaintance more than five minutes -before he began to feel perfectly at home in his company. Mose was a -good deal like the young men he had known in the North. True, he was -bronzed and weather-beaten, and his clothing looked as though it had -seen the hardest of service; but the words he used showed him to be an -intelligent man, and he did not shout as though he thought his listener -was hard of hearing. When there was a little pause in the conversation, -Gus began to seek information on some points. - -“What is the reason you men down here all go armed?” he asked. - -“O, we don’t. The people who live here in town never think of such a -thing. The men out there on the porch don’t belong here. They live out -on the plains, two or three hundred miles away; and when you have been -out there, and have fallen in with a war-party of Apaches or a band of -Mexican raiders, you will know why it is that they go armed. When they -are at home, they wear their weapons all the time, day and night, for -they never know when they are going to be pounced upon, and their stock -driven off; and they get so in the habit of keeping themselves always in -readiness for a fight, that they do it even in the settlements.” - -“What do you suppose the landlord meant by telling me that I would have -lively times out there on the ranche?” - -“O, the Indians and Mexicans have begun their raids again. My employer -lost about five hundred head of cattle last full moon, and his herdsmen -were expecting another raid when I came away. The country for fifty -miles around Palos is crowded with men who have been obliged to leave -their ranches in the western part of the state, and come nearer to the -settlements for the protection of their families and property.” - -“Gracious!” exclaimed Gus. “Am I so near to hostile Indians?” - -“You are within a hundred miles of the place where they bushwhacked a -lot of herdsmen no longer ago than last week!” - -Gus shuddered, and wondered how Mose could talk about it without showing -some signs of alarm. - -“Do they ever come near Mr. Ackerman’s rancho?” he asked. - -“O, yes; that is, the Mexicans do. There’s hardly a stone in the wall -that hasn’t been hit by bullets. They rode by there a few nights ago, -but they didn’t get the stock they expected to find there, for it was -all out of their reach. You see, they cross the river at some lonely -spot, late in the afternoon, and approach as near to the settlements as -they can without being discovered. Then, as soon as it grows dark, they -dash over the ranches, pick up all the stock they can find, shoot -anybody, man, woman or child, who happens to fall in their way, and -depart as quickly as they came. They lose no time in getting back into -their own country, for the herdsmen always start in pursuit as soon as -they can get together, and if they overtake the raiders, they are sure -to whip them and get the most of their cattle back. The Greasers are -better on the run than they are on the fight.” - -Mose talked to Gus in this way for an hour or two, and during that time -the boy learned a good deal concerning the people, the country, the -raiders, both Indians and Mexicans, and the life he was likely to lead -as long as he remained at Mr. Ackerman’s rancho. He learned also, to his -great surprise, that his father’s old book-keeper and clerk were not -looked upon by the natives of the country with any degree of respect; -but this was a matter upon which Mose had very little to say, and Gus -did not find out why it was that Uncle John and his son were so -unpopular. - -Before Gus had learned all he wanted to know, the landlord came up to -pilot him in to supper. The tables were loaded with frontier delicacies, -and although there were no table-cloths or napkins, and the guests sat -on long benches, instead of chairs, and used their fingers and -formidable-looking bowies, instead of the knives and forks that had been -provided for them, everything was as neat as it could be, and Gus made a -hearty meal. Soon after they arose from the table, Mose went out to -attend to some business for his employer, first telling Gus that he had -better go to bed at an early hour, for they would be miles on their way -toward the rancho by the time the sun arose the next morning. The boy -was only too glad to follow this advice, for he was almost tired out. He -made his way to the office and found the landlord there. - -“Where did you say my room was?” he inquired. - -“Room!” roared the landlord. “The bar-room. Best room in the house, -‘kase it’s the biggest. A good many folk sleep thar, though.” - -“Couldn’t you give me a room to myself?” asked Gus. “I can pay for it.” - -“Can’t possibly crowd ye into ary bed-room in this rancho to-night,” was -the reply. “They’re all full cl’ar up to the ceiling. Every square inch -of my tables is occupied, an’ some of the boarders are glad to hang up -on the hooks in the office. The bench is the best I kin do for ye, an’ -ye’ll find a good bed thar. It’ll make ye that sleepy to look at it that -ye’ll want to tumble right into it. Come on an’ I’ll show it to ye!” - -Gus followed his host into the bar-room, which was crowded with men and -filled so full of tobacco smoke that it was a wonder how the landlord -ever found his way through it. But he did. He had no trouble in finding -the bed Gus was to occupy that night, and when he showed it to him the -boy told himself that it was the worst he had ever seen. It was made of -a buffalo robe and two blankets. The robe was spread over the bench and -one of the blankets was rolled up into a bundle to serve as a pillow, -while the other lay on the foot of the bed and was to be used as a -covering. There were a score of beds in the room just like it, and some -of them were already occupied by weary frontiersmen, who were snoring -lustily in spite of the almost deafening racket made by the wakeful -guests who were gathered in front of the bar. Gus glanced about the -dingy apartment, thought of his cheerful little room at home and sighed -deeply. - -“Father certainly knew what he was talking about when he said that if -boys would spend as much time in thinking about the comforts and -pleasures they have, as they do in worrying over those they _don’t_ -have, they would be a great deal more contented than they generally -are,” thought Gus, as he placed his hat and boots on the bench, and lay -down without taking off any of his clothes. “If I had been asked to -sleep on a bed like this at home wouldn’t I have raised a row about it? -But now I’ve got to take it or go without; and if I should find any -fault with it, that big landlord would throw me out of doors neck and -heels. I wonder if Ned and his father live in this way? There are -hostile Indians and Mexican cattle-thieves where they are, too.” - -Gus slept soundly that night in spite of his unpleasant surroundings, -but it seemed to him that he had scarcely closed his eyes when he was -awakened by a hand laid on his shoulder. He started up and saw Mose -standing over him with a lighted lantern in his hand and a heavy rifle -on his back. “Time to catch up now,” said the latter. - -Gus slowly raised himself to a sitting posture, stretched his aching -legs and arms, and looked out at the windows. Not a ray of light came in -through them. It was as dark as pitch, and there were Indians and -Mexicans somewhere out doors, too. If he could have had his own way he -would have gone back to his hard bed rather than venture out of the -hotel with only a single companion to protect him. - -“Come on,” said Mose. “Everything is ready. I have borrowed a horse for -you—a good one, too.” - -Mose seemed to be in a hurry, and so the boy began to bestir himself. -When he had put on his hat and boots he followed the herdsman to the -office, where he settled his bill and received his valise, and thence to -the verandah, beside which stood two small, shaggy ponies, saddled and -bridled. Mose made the boy’s valise fast behind one of the saddles, and -after assisting him to mount, sprang into the saddle himself and led the -way toward the prairie. - -The journey thus began occupied the best part of five days. Mose himself -could have accomplished it in half the time, but Gus had never been in -the saddle a half a dozen times before in his life, and the first day -used him up completely. If there was anything interesting to be seen -during the first part of the ride he never noticed it, and neither could -he recall a single one of the many stories of adventure with which the -obliging and kind-hearted Mose tried to beguile the long hours of their -journey. - -On the third day the boy began to get “hardened to it” in some degree, -as Mose said, and about that time an incident happened that drove all -thoughts of fatigue out of his mind, and made him doubly anxious to -reach the shelter of Uncle John’s rancho at the earliest possible -moment. By this time our two travellers were fairly in the wilderness. -They had left all signs of civilization behind them, and had ridden far -without seeing a living thing; consequently the sight of a horseman who -came galloping toward them, and who, with a companion, was watching a -small herd of cattle that were feeding beside the trail, was a most -welcome one. The horseman came down to intercept them and learn the -news. Mose told him everything of interest he had heard during his stay -in Palos, and the man in return told him that the Apaches and Mexicans -were making things warm for settlers on the border. There had recently -been four raids through his county, he said, during which some of his -relatives had been killed and wounded, and he had lost more than half -his stock. In order to save the lives of the rest of his family, and -provide for the safety of his remaining cattle, he had tumbled a few -necessary things into a wagon, abandoned his comfortable home and was -striking for the settlements. The man talked about his misfortunes in -much the same way that he would have talked of a profitable bargain he -had just made, and Mose listened to the story without making any remark. -They were used to such things and took them as a matter of course; but -Gus was not used to them, and he was frightened indeed. His hair seemed -to rise up on end while he listened. He had never before talked face to -face with men who had witnessed such thrilling scenes and taken part in -them, and it was no wonder that he wanted to turn around and go back. - -The man rode off after he had finished his story, and while Gus was -thinking about it he and Mose met the wagon of which their visitor had -spoken. It was drawn by a span of scraggy mules, and was loaded with -women, children, cooking utensils and bedding. The occupants were ragged -and dirty, and the driver carried his left arm in a sling and wore a -bandage about his head. - -“It was a close call for me,” said he, in response to some question that -Mose addressed to him. “I got a bullet through my shoulder and a rap -over the head with a hatchet. You want to watch out, you two do. The -reds are most too thick about here to make travelling pleasant. We saw -the trail of a small party only yesterday morning.” - -This information and warning took away every atom of the boy’s courage, -and when he and his companion had ridden beyond earshot of the people in -the wagon, he said suddenly: “Don’t let’s go any farther, Mose.” - -The herdsman ceased the merry whistling which he kept up all the time -when he was not talking, and looked at Gus in great surprise. - -“Let’s go back to Palos,” continued the latter. “We’ll be safe there, -and I am afraid to go any farther.” - -Mose laughed long and heartily. “Why, I’d rather be out here among the -Indians than in the settlements,” said he. “I wouldn’t live in Palos for -anything. There isn’t elbow-room enough there for me. I want to be where -I can stretch my arms when I feel like it without hitting something. You -needn’t worry,” he added, glancing at the boy’s pale face. “You’ll be -just as safe in Mr. Ackerman’s rancho as you would be in Palos.” - -“But perhaps the Indians will catch us before we get there.” - -“No they won’t. We’ve just as much right to keep out of their way as -they have to hunt us up. But they never waste any time in hunting up -settlers. All they care for is the stock; and they gobble it up and get -out of the country with it as quickly as they can. Of course, if a -fellow gets in their way he stands a chance of being popped over.” - -“Do you all go in the house when the raiders come?” - -“Bless you, no. Some of us herdsmen are fifty or a hundred miles away, -and we couldn’t get back there if we tried. Besides, it would be poor -management to bring our different herds all together so that the raiders -could swoop down and stampede them. You see we know about what time to -expect these raids. They are generally made about the time of the full -moon, and if a herder is alert and watchful he will have his stock out -of the way.” - -“What will he do with it?” - -“He will drive it farther back in the country than the Greasers care to -come. Perhaps we had better turn off the trail a little way. It runs -through an open country here, and if there are any reds about, we want -to keep out of their sight.” - -Again Gus wondered how in the world Mose could talk about these things -in this careless, indifferent way. He seemed to care no more for Indians -and Mexicans than his pony did for the grass he trampled under his feet. -While Gus was trembling all over with excitement and apprehension Mose -was as cool as a cucumber, and whistled and talked as cheerfully as he -had done ever since leaving Palos. He slept just as soundly at night, -too, relying on his pony, which was always picketed near the camp, to -give him notice of the approach of danger. - -“You must know,” he said to Gus, one night, “that horses and dogs are a -good deal like the people among whom they live, and seem to share in -their likes and dislikes. An Indian’s dog or pony has no more affection -for a white man than his master has; while a white man’s dog or pony -will raise an awful row, if a redskin shows his ugly face over a hill, -anywhere within smelling or seeing distance of him.” - -But Gus did not place so much confidence in the mustang as his owner -did, and he could not sleep. He lay awake almost every night, starting -at the least unusual sound, and was always greatly relieved when morning -came. It was so gloomy and lonely on the prairie after dark, and the -wolves howled so mournfully! Gus was growing heartily tired of this sort -of life, and although his companion assured him that they were making -good time now, and rapidly nearing their journey’s end, he was -continually urging him to go faster. How his heart bounded, when Mose -one day said, in reply to this request: - -“There is no need of it. We are almost there. When we reach the top of -the next swell, you can see the rancho.” - -Just then a horseman made his appearance on the summit of the swell of -which Mose had spoken, and after gazing steadily at them for a moment, -came forward at a rapid gallop. There was no need that Gus should ask -who he was, for he knew as soon as he saw him that it was Ned Ackerman. -He galloped on ahead to meet him, and if one might judge by the way the -two boys greeted each other, they were very glad to meet again. They had -a multitude of questions to ask and answer, and Mose, seeing that they -were too fully occupied with their own affairs to pay any attention to -him, rode on and left them alone. - -“I declare, Ned, you’re a nobby-looking fellow!” exclaimed Gus, running -his eye over his friend’s neat suit of “working clothes,” and glancing -from the stylish, high-stepping horse he rode to his own shaggy, -ill-conditioned mustang, “and you ride as though you had lived in the -saddle all your life. I see you have a rifle, too! Is that the one you -killed the grizzly bears with? There goes Mose over the swell, out of -sight; hadn’t we better ride on? By the way, what has become of the -Indians? You must have had fearful times here since you wrote!” - -“There are no Indians at all about here,” was Ned’s reassuring reply. -“They have bothered the settlers in the next county above a good deal, -but we have seen nothing of them. It’s the Mexicans who troubled us.” - -“Did you have a fight with them?” - -“I should say so!” exclaimed Ned. “I’ve got so now that I don’t care——” - -Ned suddenly paused and looked at Gus. He had been on the point of -declaring that he did not care any more for a fight with raiders than he -did for a game of snow-ball; but after a little reflection he decided -that he wouldn’t say it. It would do very well to put into a letter, if -he were going to write to Gus, but since the latter was there on the -ground, and in a situation to learn all he wanted to know by making -inquiries of others, Ned thought he had better, for once in his life, -tell the truth. - -“You have got so you don’t care for what?” asked Gus, when his friend -paused. - -“I don’t care to see them any more,” replied Ned. “We had a fearful time -on the night they jumped down on us. They didn’t find any stock about -the rancho to drive off, and so they shot into the house and tried to -cut the doors down with axes.” - -“Gracious!” exclaimed Gus. “Were you in the house at the time?” - -“No, I wasn’t, and that’s just what frightened me. They treed me in a -shed, and I don’t know what they would have done to me, if they had -discovered me. But I’ll tell you about that by-and-by. It is my turn to -ask questions now. Did you let your father know that you were coming -down here?” - -“No, I didn’t. I didn’t _let_ anybody know it, but Sam Holmes found it -out, as I told you in my last letter, and would have made me a great -deal of trouble, if I hadn’t been too sharp for him. Where can I get a -rig like yours, Ned? Is it the fashion?” - -“I bought it in Palos. It is _my_ fashion. I won’t dress as my cousin -and all the other fellows about here do. They are a lot of boors!” - -“All except your cousin, of course.” - -“No, I don’t except even him. He goes looking like a day-laborer, and -he’s rich, too. He has six thousand dollars that he made himself. More -than that, when he becomes of age, he will step into a property worth -forty thousand a year, and father and I will have to step out of it, and -I’ll have to go behind a counter again.” - -“Who gets the property if anything happens to your cousin?” - -“I do.” - -“Where is he now?” - -“I don’t know, and neither does Zeke, his herdsman. He went away to his -camp a few hours before the Greasers came through here, and we begin to -fear that he was carried off by them, although we never heard of their -taking a prisoner.” - -“Well, if I were in your boots I should hope that he would never come -back again.” - -Ned looked down at the horn of his saddle, and made no reply in words; -but his manner seemed to say, at least Gus so interpreted it, that if -George had been so unfortunate as to fall into the hands of the -Mexicans, and they should decide to keep him a life-long prisoner, Ned -would waste no sorrow over it. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - ZEKE’S LETTER. - - -All the incidents described in the preceding chapters happened before -the beginning of our story; but it was necessary that we should devote -some time to them in order that the reader might be able to follow us -understandingly. We have only one thing more to tell about, and then the -thread of our story will run smoothly. Let us go back to George -Ackerman, whom we left sitting on the porch in front of the rancho, -mending his bridle and talking earnestly to himself. - -“Uncle John and Ned act as though they don’t want me here,” repeated -George, “and I have the best notion in the world to pack up my few -things and clear out. The house doesn’t seem like home to me now. I am a -great deal happier when I am in camp with Zeke than I am anywhere else. -I have put up with a good deal, but I shan’t surrender my herd of cattle -just to please that lazy Ned. If he wants to make a beginning in -stock-raising, let him go to work, as I did. I had nobody to smooth the -way for me.” - -George was expecting a visit from his cousin, who had promised that he -would come to him on this particular morning for an answer to a -proposition he had made him a short time before. That proposition was, -that George should accept him as a full partner in his business. - -During the winter that had just passed, Ned had learned, to his entire -satisfaction, that it is hard work to do nothing. He could not tell how -he had managed to live through the long, dreary weeks, and he had made -up his mind that he would never pass another winter in that way. He -considered himself a full-fledged farmer now, for he had fifty acres of -wheat planted; but wheat was a crop that required no care except for -sowing and harvesting, and all the rest of the year he had to himself to -spend as he pleased. After thinking the matter over he decided to go -into partnership with his cousin. That would be the easiest thing he -could do. As he knew nothing about taking care of cattle, of course -George would not expect him to act as herder. He could stay in camp, -when he felt like it, come home when he pleased, and George and Zeke -would do all the work, and Ned would share in the profits. It was a very -nice plan, no doubt, but George did not seem to be very enthusiastic -over it; so Ned did not press him for an answer when he made the -proposition, but informed him that he would ask for it before George -left for his camp on the plains. The latter was getting ready to start -now, and looking for Ned at the same time. He came just as George -finished his soliloquy. - -“Well,” said he, “have you considered my proposition?” - -“I have, and it can’t be done,” was George’s reply. “Two persons are all -that are needed to take care of so small a herd as mine.” - -“Couldn’t you discharge Zeke and take me in his place?” - -“And do all the work myself?” exclaimed George “No sir; I couldn’t.” - -“You would rather keep him than please your cousin, I suppose,” snapped -Ned, who was always angry when he could not have his own way. - -“I am willing to do anything reasonable,” replied George, “but I can’t -do two men’s work for the sake of pleasing you. Why don’t you make a -start for yourself, as I did?” - -“It would take too long; and besides I don’t know anything about -cattle.” - -“Yes, it will take years; but you will be learning the business all the -while, and by the time you have a herd of your own you will know how to -take care of it. I tell you there’s something back of this,” said -George, to himself, as Ned jumped up and walked into the house, shaking -his head and muttering to himself. “His offer to go into partnership -with me is only a blind. He has another object in view, and I wish I -knew what it is.” - -“There’s only one thing about this business, and you can bet high on -that, my fine lad,” thought Ned, as he disappeared in the house. “You -shan’t treat me with contempt if everybody else does. I’ll show you who -is boss here.” - -George was certain that he had not heard the last of the matter, and in -this he was not mistaken. When Ned had been gone about five minutes -Uncle John came out, and before he had said a dozen words George knew -just what he had to expect. - -“I have concluded to reduce expenses about eighty dollars a month by -discharging two herdsmen,” said Uncle John. - -“All right, sir,” replied George cheerfully, “eighty dollars are worth -saving; but do you think that those who are left will be able to do the -work?” - -“O, yes. Of course I intend that the places of those I discharge shall -be supplied by others.” - -“Then I don’t see how you are going to save anything. Besides, what’s -the use of sending away good men and hiring others whom you don’t know -anything about?” - -“I don’t intend to hire any others. I want you and Zeke to take their -places.” - -“Oh! I thought that was what you were trying to get at,” said George, to -himself. “Ned means to rule or ruin, but he shall do neither. Zeke and I -can’t take their places,” he said, aloud. “We have all we can do now.” - -“I will tell you how I intend to arrange matters,” said Uncle John, and -George thought he looked and acted as though he did not much like the -business he had set out to perform. “I am going to bring your herd in -and distribute it among the others. You two can take care of more than -three hundred cattle.” - -“But I don’t want my herd broken up. I earned it without help; it -belongs to me individually, and I am going to keep it. Zeke belongs to -me, too; and while he is in my employ he shan’t herd cattle for anybody -else.” - -“Why, George!” exclaimed Uncle John, who seemed to be very much -astonished at the emphasis the boy threw into his words. “I never knew -you to be so disobedient before.” - -“You will find me so every time you try to trample on me,” declared -George, boldly. “I don’t know why you should want to take my herd away -from me, but I do know there’s not a man on the place who would help you -do it. Ah! I forgot you,” thought George, as his eye fell upon the -Mexican cook, who just then crossed the yard, walking slowly and -carrying his head on one side as if he were trying to overhear what -passed between Uncle John and his nephew. “I believe that you are mean -enough to do anything, Master Philip!” - -“I intend that you shall obey me,” replied Uncle John, “and if you will -not do it willingly, you must do it unwillingly. I shall discharge Zeke -at once.” - -“I don’t see how you can do that,” thought George, as Uncle John turned -on his heel and walked into the house, “for you don’t pay him his wages. -I don’t see how you are going to take my cattle away from me either, for -the first thing will be to find them, and what would Zeke and I be doing -while you were trying to drive them away? I should call it robbery, and -I wouldn’t submit to it.” - -The emphatic manner in which the boy nodded his head as he said this, -and the look of determination that settled on his face would have -surprised Uncle John if he could have seen them. The boy was resolved to -hold fast to his property and to stubbornly resist any attempt that -might be made to deprive him of it. It would be an act of gross -injustice to take his earnings away from him, and George found it hard -to believe that his uncle could think seriously of such a thing. - -“If he tries it, it will only be in keeping with other mean things he -has done since he has been here,” said George. “He and Ned are coming -down on me harder and harder every month, and I should like to know what -they mean by it.” - -George seemed to put a little more energy into his work as he turned -these matters over in his mind, and when at last the bridle was finished -he threw it upon the porch, put the awl and what was left of the -waxed-end ‘carefully away in a box that lay beside him on the ground, -and taking the box in his hand started toward a little shed which stood -a short distance in the rear of the house. - -As he drew near to the shed, two animals he had left there a little -while before greeted him, each after his own fashion. One was Bonaparte -(called Bony, for short) George’s pack mule, and the other was Ranger, -his favorite riding nag. These animals, which were among the best of -their kind, had been the boy’s almost constant companions, ever since he -returned from school and settled down to the business of herding cattle. -Bony was small and clean-limbed, sleek as a mole and treacherous as -mules generally are. He took unbounded delight in knocking over -everything and everybody that came within reach of his hind feet, and -when he felt in the humor for doing it, he could kick himself out from -under the pack-saddle with the greatest ease. Ranger, on the other hand, -did not know how to kick or bite, but he understood the business of -cattle-herding, and would answer his master’s whistle as promptly as a -well-trained dog. Nothing which his strength or agility could overcome -would keep him from George’s side when he heard that whistle. He would -jump a fence or swim a river to obey it. When in camp George never -confined the animal with a lasso unless it was near the full of the moon -and raids were expected from the Mexicans or Indians, for Ranger never -thought of straying away. He was as black as midnight, very fleet and -enduring, and George had almost as much affection for him as he would -have had for a brother, for he was the last gift he had ever received -from his father. The animals seemed to be ready for a journey, for Bony -carried a loaded pack-saddle on his back, and Ranger was saddled but not -bridled. - -Upon reaching the shed George whistled the mule and led him toward the -house, and Ranger, without waiting for the command, followed at his -heels. He stopped at the porch, and after fastening the mule’s halter to -the horn of the saddle that Ranger wore, he disappeared in the house. -When he came out again he carried in his hands a bundle, a rifle and a -small leather haversack. The bundle contained his overcoat, gloves, -rubber-poncho and blankets; and in the haversack he carried the -ammunition for his rifle—a new model Winchester, holding in its magazine -sixteen cartridges, all of which could be discharged in as many seconds. -He slung the rifle and haversack over his shoulders, tied the bundle -behind his saddle and was just slipping the mended bridle over his -horse’s head when Ned came out. - -“Well, you are off for your last trip, are you?” he exclaimed. - -“Yes, I am off for camp again, but not for the last time, I hope,” -returned George, although he felt like making a very different answer. -“One must do something to earn his bread and butter, you know, and life -in camp suits me better than staying in the house doing nothing.” - -“What have you got in that pack-saddle?” asked Ned. - -“Provisions.” - -“You needn’t have troubled yourself to lay in such a supply, for you -won’t need them all.” - -“Won’t I? Why not?” - -Ned made no reply in words. He only smiled and shook his head as if he -meant to convey the impression that he could tell something wonderful if -he felt like it, and George, who was by this time in the saddle, touched -his horse with his spurs and galloped away. He did not say anything -more, for he was angry and afraid that he might utter some words that he -would be sorry for. He thought he knew what his cousin meant by his nods -and his smiles, and told himself that Ned was destined to be as badly -disappointed as Uncle John was if he imagined that he and Zeke would -surrender their herd of cattle to him any sooner than they would to a -band of raiding Mexicans. It made George almost beside himself to dwell -upon this subject, so he dismissed it altogether from his mind, and -tried to think about pleasanter things. - -That day’s ride was a hard one, and George, who was accustomed to such -things, grew tired long before it was ended. The course he followed led -him through the wildest portion of the country where farms and ranches -were few and far between. Now and then he saw a horseman or two who -would gallop to meet him, as they met every trader, and ask for the -news; but George had little to tell that was of interest, and these -interviewers did not long delay him. He made a short halt for dinner and -in the afternoon travelled with increased speed, reaching the grove, -toward which he had all the day been directing his course, and where he -intended to spend the night, just as the sun was sinking out of sight -behind the distant swells. - -It was in this grove that George had expected to find Zeke, who, when -his employer went after supplies, always brought his cattle as close to -the settlements as he could find pasture for them, and so save time. -George found the camp the herdsman had occupied while the cattle were -feeding in the vicinity, but it was deserted, and had been for three or -four days; consequently Zeke and his herd must be a long way from there, -and George had nothing to do but make himself comfortable for the night -and start in pursuit the next morning. - -As soon as the boy had relieved Ranger of his saddle and Bony of the -heavy load he had so patiently carried all the day, he turned the -animals loose to graze, and started a fire in front of the dilapidated -brush shanty Zeke had recently occupied. Upon the fire were placed a -camp-kettle and frying-pan, one filled with water taken from the brook -that ran close by, and the other with slices of bacon. Supper was fairly -under way in a few minutes, and while he was waiting for the fire to -cook it, George busied himself in repairing the cabin. - -It was while he was thus engaged that he accidentally discovered -something for which he had been looking ever since he reached the grove, -and that was a letter from Zeke. It was written on a piece of bark and -fastened to a tree in plain sight, but somehow George had managed to -overlook it. The letter was made up of rough characters which had been -rudely traced on the bark by the point of the herdsman’s hunting-knife. -The first was an Indian’s arrow—that was drawn so plainly that anybody -could have told what it was—and it pointed toward something that looked -like a whale with an unusually large head which was surmounted by a pair -of horns. It was certainly intended to represent a fish with horns and -the only one of the species in that country that George knew anything -about was a catfish. - -The next two characters might have been taken for almost anything, -except the objects that George knew they were intended to represent, -namely, a couple of water-falls. The next looked like a front view of a -man’s face, but one side of it was flat, while the other was round. This -was meant for the moon in its first quarter. Under the moon were four -short, straight lines, headed by a cross like the sign of -multiplication; and these were intended to represent the days of the -week, the cross standing for Sunday. - -Zeke, who had lived in the mountains and on the prairie all his life, -did not know one letter from another, but he had left behind him a -communication that George read as easily as you can read this printed -page. If he had given it a free translation, it would have read -something like this: - - “I have gone toward Catfish Falls. It is near the time of the full - moon. I left camp on Thursday.” - -After writing this much, Zeke did just as many a school-boy does—he -added a postscript, containing the only item of information that was -really worth knowing. It made George open his eyes, too. It consisted of -drawings of a pair of moccasins, a fire with a thick smoke arising from -it, and several horses’ feet. It meant that there were Indians in the -neighborhood; that they were hostile Apaches (George knew that by the -shape of the moccasins), and that Zeke had seen the smoke of their fires -and the tracks made by their horses. - -George, who was accustomed to sudden surprises and always expecting -them, did not seem to be at all disturbed by this very unpleasant piece -of news. Although he had never had any experience with raiders, he was -brave and self-reliant, knew just what to do in any emergency that might -arise while he was on the plains, and felt abundantly able to take care -of himself. He ran his eye over the letter and postscript once more, to -make sure that he had read them aright, and then walked back to his fire -and sat down. He did not spend any more time in repairing the cabin, for -he knew now that he should not occupy it that night. When his supper was -cooked, he ate it with great deliberation; after which he put out his -fire and returned to the pack-saddle all the articles he had taken out -of it. There was a goodly supply of bacon and coffee left, and this -George intended should serve him for his next morning’s breakfast. - -“I may be out of reach of wood and water by the time I grow hungry,” -thought he, as he buckled the pack-saddle and made it ready for Bony’s -back. “I can’t stop here to-night, for the timber is by no means a safe -place to camp when there are Indians about. I wish Zeke had told me -which way they were going when he saw them, for I don’t want to run -right in among them before I know it!” - -As soon as Bony’s burden was adjusted and Ranger had been saddled and -bridled, George mounted and rode rapidly away from the grove, holding a -straight course for Catfish Falls, but making no effort to find Zeke’s -trail. In fact, he did not want to find it, and if he had stumbled upon -it accidentally, he would have ridden away from it with all haste. The -vicinity of that trail was as dangerous a place as the grove he had just -left. A band of raiders might strike it at any time, and follow it up -for the purpose of capturing the herd, and George, if he chanced to be -in the way, would run the risk of being captured, too. - -The boy rode rapidly as long as he could distinguish objects about him, -and when the darkness had shut him out from the view of any skulking -Indian or Mexican, who might chance to be watching him from a distance, -he slackened his pace and turned off at right angles with the course he -had been pursuing. He rode about a mile in this direction, and then went -into camp, staking out his horse and mule, and lying down to sleep, with -his poncho for a bed, his saddle for a pillow and his hair lasso for a -protection from the visitors of which his cousin Ned stood so much in -fear, the rattlers. He slept soundly, too, relying upon Ranger and Bony -to arouse him, in case any one approached his camp, and awoke at the -first peep, of day, refreshed and invigorated. A couple of hard -biscuits, added to the coffee and bacon he had saved from his last -night’s supper, furnished him with as good a breakfast as he cared for, -and when it had been disposed of, George was ready to begin his day’s -journey. - -The boy spent one more night alone on the prairie, and on the afternoon -of the second day found Zeke’s camp. As he emerged from a belt of -post-oaks, through which he had been riding for the last hour, he saw a -small herd of cattle feeding on the prairie, and was welcomed by a -shrill neigh, which came from the direction of a fire that was burning -in the edge of the timber a short distance away. Bony answered the -greeting with a long-drawn bray, and Ranger, breaking into a gallop, -carried his rider into the camp, where he was met by a tall, -broad-shouldered man, who arose from his blanket as he approached. This -was Zeke. What his other name was George did not know; in fact, he did -not believe that Zeke knew it himself. - -If a stranger had judged Zeke by his appearance, he would have put him -down as anything but an agreeable or safe companion. He was rough and -uncouth in person and manners, and as bronzed and weather-beaten as any -old salt. His hair, which fell down upon his shoulders, and the -luxuriant whiskers and mustache that almost concealed his face, were as -white as snow, and bore evidence to the fact that he carried the weight -of many years on his shoulders; but his form was as erect as an -Indian’s, and his step as firm and quick as it had been in the days of -his youth. He looked like one possessed of immense physical power, as -indeed he was; and those who had seen him in moments of danger, knew -that he had the courage to back up his strength. He was as faithful as a -man could be, and ready to do and dare anything in defence of his young -employer. George had selected him from among the numerous herdsmen -employed on his father’s ranche, and they had been almost inseparable -companions ever since. - -“I am glad to see you, Zeke,” said the boy, as he swung himself out of -the saddle, and placed his hand in the broad palm that was extended -toward him, “for, to tell the truth, I have felt afraid ever since I -found your letter down there in the grove. I can’t help believing that -something is going to happen. Have you seen anything more of the -Indians?” - -“No,” replied Zeke. “They went t’wards the settlements.” - -“That’s bad for the settlers, but good for us. We’re safe,” said George, -drawing a long breath. - -“Not by no means, we hain’t safe. Them Apaches must come back, mustn’t -they?” - -George hadn’t thought of that. Of course, the Indians must come back, if -they intended to return to their own country, and George did not like to -think of what would happen, if he and Zeke and their herd of cattle -should chance to cross their path. They _did_ cross the path of a band -of raiders—some who were looking for them and knew just where to find -them,—and before he was many days older, George was the hero of one or -two startling adventures, and also gained some items of information, -from various sources, that almost overwhelmed him with wonder and -amazement! - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - NED’S NEW HORSE. - - -“Now, I’ll just tell you what’s a fact, father,” said Ned, who stood on -the porch with Uncle John, watching George as he galloped away, “if you -are going to do anything you must come out and make a square stand. You -don’t want George here any more than I do.” - -“Be careful, Ned,” said Uncle John, in a suppressed whisper, looking -anxiously around. “Some one might hear you.” - -“I don’t care who hears me. I don’t see any sense in being so sly. -George will hang about here just as long as he has that herd of cattle -to take care of. Take that away from him and perhaps he will clear out.” - -“But I don’t know how to do it,” said Uncle John. - -“Why, it is easy enough. Send some men out there with orders to drive -the herd in.” - -“That would only bring on a fight; for George and Zeke would resist. -Besides, you must remember that all the herdsmen on the place are -friendly to George, and I don’t believe they would obey such an order.” - -“Then discharge them and hire others who will do as they are told,” -exclaimed Ned, impatiently. “What’s the use of your trying to run the -ranche if you can’t do as you please?” - -“But there’s one thing you don’t seem to understand. George has -rights——” - -“Don’t he wish he may get them, though?” interrupted Ned, snapping his -fingers in the air. - -“He can get them. If I go too far, he can appeal to the courts, and have -me put out and a new guardian of his own choosing appointed in my -place.” - -“Whew!” exclaimed Ned, opening his eyes in great amazement. “Does George -know that?” - -“I don’t know whether he does or not; but _I_ know it; and I know, too, -that there are plenty in the neighborhood who will tell him of it; so -you see I must be careful and not let him get a good hold on me. You -wouldn’t like to go back to Foxboro’ and work for your bread and -clothes, after living at your ease, as you have ever since you have been -here.” - -“No, I wouldn’t; and what’s more, I never will do it,” replied Ned, -walking up and down the porch with his hands behind his back. “I’ll tell -you what to do,” he added, suddenly, while a smile of triumph lighted up -his face, “take his money away from him. He keeps a lot of it in a box -in his room. I saw it there.” - -“What good will that do?” - -“Why, how is he going to keep a herdsman unless he has money to pay -him?” - -“O, that would never do. He’d raise an awful row about it, and then go -off and sell some of his cattle and get more money.” - -“That’s so,” replied Ned, the triumphant smile disappearing as quickly -as it had come. “He’s got luck on his side, hasn’t he? I wish the -raiders would jump down on him and take the last steer he’s got. I’d be -glad to see some of them long enough to tell them where to find him. I’d -tell them to catch George too and hold fast to him,” added Ned, under -his breath, as his father turned and walked into the house. “I never can -carry out my scheme while he owns those cattle; I can see that very -plainly. If I could only make him lose them some way, I should have -things just as I want them. But how can I do it? I must keep my mind on -it until I hit upon something.” - -This conversation and Ned’s soliloquy will serve to show that certain -plans calculated to work serious injury to the young herdsman had been -laid by the new occupants of the ranche, and that one of them, at least, -was ready to resort to desperate measures in order to carry those plans -into execution. Ned had set himself deliberately to work to drive his -cousin away from his home. One would suppose that if he had any -affection for him, or had possessed the least spark of honor, he would -have been above such a thing; but the truth was, Ned was not above doing -anything that he thought would advance his own interests. He never -forgot that clause in his uncle’s will, which provided that in a certain -contingency all the immense property, of which his father now had -control, was to fall to himself. It was the last thought he dwelt upon -at night when he went to bed and the first that passed through his mind -when he awoke in the morning. George was very much in the way there. Ned -thought so, and he knew that his father thought so, too. They could not -do as they pleased while he was about, for George knew everything that -was going on in the ranche. He knew just what the expenses amounted to -every month, could tell how many cattle had been sold, the price they -brought, and how much money his uncle ought to have put into the bank. - -Uncle John did not like to be watched so closely, and Ned didn’t like it -either, for the reason that his father could not give him as much money -as he wanted. Ned would have cut a fine dash if he had possessed the -necessary funds, and Uncle John would have been only too glad to furnish -him with all the cash he demanded if he could have done so without -George’s knowledge. All Uncle John wanted was to fill his pockets and -Ned’s; and the latter, to assist him in accomplishing his object, set -himself to work to make the house so unpleasant for George that he would -not stay there. He had determined upon this before he had been two days -at the ranche, and he had succeeded beyond his expectations. George -seemed to think a great deal more of Zeke’s company than he did of Uncle -John’s and Ned’s, and often said that he preferred a blanket at night -and a life in the saddle to his room at home and the lonely existence he -led while he was there. He spent more than half his time in camp, but -came home whenever he wanted supplies for himself and herdsman, and -spent three or four days in riding about taking note of things. Ned -always dreaded these visits, and wished he could hit upon some plan to -put a stop to them. - -“I thought I had hit upon something,” said Ned, to himself, as he jumped -down the steps and walked toward the corral, which was the name given to -the enclosure in which the riding-horses belonging to the ranche were -kept. “And I believe yet that if father would only take his herd away -from him he would be too discouraged to start another. He would have to -do something, of course—George isn’t the one to remain long idle—and as -there is no other business he can go into in this country, perhaps he -would go off somewhere to seek his fortune and leave us a clear field. I -wish Gus Robbins was here now. Two heads are better than one, and -perhaps he could suggest something.” - -Ned was looking for his friend Gus every day, although how the latter -was going to find his way over the hundred and fifty miles of wilderness -that lay between Palos, which was the end of the stage route, and the -rancho, Ned didn’t know. If Gus could have told him when he expected to -reach Palos, the case would have been different. Ned could have sent one -of the herdsmen down there to meet him and show him the way home; but, -as it was, Gus would have to take his chances. He would have to wait at -Palos until he fell in with some of the neighbors who might happen to go -there on business, as some of them did nearly every month. But a month -was a long time to wait. He wished his friend was with him now, for he -was growing more lonely every day. He ought to be on the way by this -time, Ned often told himself, and of late he had fallen into the habit -of riding to the top of a high swell about five miles from the rancho, -and spending the most of the day there waiting for Gus. When he came he -would pass along the trail leading over the top of that swell, and Ned -could see him while he was yet a long distance away. - -When Ned was mounted and fully equipped for a gallop, a stranger would -have taken him for a masquerader on his way to a ball. If he had sported -a big mustache and had a few more years on his shoulders, he might have -easily passed for the leader of a band of brigands. He always wore a -Mexican sombrero, buckskin coat, fawnskin vest, corduroy trowsers, and -high top-boots, the heels of which were armed with huge silver-plated -spurs. These was intended for ornament and not for use, for Ned could -not have been hired to touch his horse with them. He had tried it once. -The animal was as steady an old cob as Uncle John could find in the -settlement, but he did not like spurs, and on one occasion he had -convinced his rider of the fact by throwing him head over heels into a -ditch. That was when Ned first purchased him, and before he knew -anything about riding on horseback. He was growing somewhat accustomed -to the saddle now, and was beginning to look about him for a better -mount. There were plenty of horses on the ranche—fleet, hardy animals -they were, too—but Ned wanted a thorough-bred, such as some of the -settlers were purchasing in Kentucky. - -Besides his spurs Ned carried three other ornaments—an ivory-handled -riding-whip, a breech-loading rifle and a silver-mounted hunting-knife. -He expected with that rifle to make sad havoc among the big game which -was so abundant in some parts of Texas, but thus far he had not shot a -single thing with it. He knew nothing about rifles, and besides the -weapon threw a bullet that was altogether too small to possess any -killing power. His cousin had told him that it might answer for shooting -hummingbirds and ground-squirrels, but that nothing larger need be -afraid of it. George had knocked over a jack-rabbit with it, and the -rabbit had jumped up and made off as though there was nothing the matter -with him, carrying the bullet somewhere in his body. The elegant -hunting-knife was intended for skinning the game that fell to his rifle, -but up to this time Ned had found no use for it. - -Ned looked as formidable as usual when he mounted his horse that morning -and rode away to meet the first adventure that had befallen him in -Texas—the first one worthy of record of which he had ever been the hero. -He made his way directly to the top of the swell of which we have -spoken, and after staking out his horse threw himself on his blanket -under the shade of the solitary oak that grew beside the trail, and -comfortably settled himself to idle away the time and watch for his -long-expected friend. - -“If he ever reaches Palos he will have no difficulty in coming the rest -of the way,” thought Ned. “The people from this part of the country -always put up at one hotel, and the landlord will know whether or not -there are any of our herdsmen or neighbors in the town. It is the fear -that Gus may not be able to leave Foxboro’ that troubles me just at -present. If anything should happen to keep him at home, wouldn’t we be a -couple of disappointed boys, though? I don’t believe I could stand it. -Hallo! What’s that?” - -Just then a moving object in the horizon caught Ned’s eye. He -straightened up and looked at it, and presently made out that the moving -object was a horseman. He was coming along the trail toward the swell, -and coming rapidly, too. Ned looked at him for a few minutes and then -settled back on his elbow with an exclamation indicative of great -disappointment. - -“It can’t be Gus,” said he to himself, “for Gus could never find his way -here from Palos alone. It is one of the settlers, probably. I hope he -has brought some mail for us.” - -Ned placed his hands under his head and watched the horseman’s -movements, without feeling any particular interest in them, until he saw -him draw rein and come to a sudden stand-still. He had just caught sight -of Ned’s horse. He sat motionless in his saddle, gazing earnestly toward -the top of the swell and evidently undecided whether to advance or -retreat. - -“I wonder if he takes me for an Indian or a Greaser!” thought Ned, and -to show the horseman that he was neither, he picked up his sombrero, -which lay beside him on his blanket, and waved it over his head. The -horseman saw the motion and must have taken it for a friendly one, for -he once more put his horse into a gallop and came toward the swell. He -rode up within a few feet of Ned before he stopped again, and the two -took a good look at each other before either of them spoke. - -The newcomer was a stranger in that part of the country; Ned knew that -the instant he put his eyes on him. He was a gentleman, if clothes make -the gentleman, and was the first one Ned, had seen in long months. He -was dressed in broadcloth, wore fine boots on his feet, rings on his -fingers and a breastpin in his white shirt-front. He was a good-looking -man, too, and rode a horse that attracted Ned’s attention at once. He -was a perfect beauty—slender and clean-limbed, with a long, arching -neck, well-shaped head and flowing mane and tail, and although his sides -were heaving and his glossy breast was flecked with the foam that had -flown from his month during the long and rapid journey he had evidently -made, his eye was bright, and the tight rein his rider was obliged to -keep upon him showed that there was plenty of spirit left in him. The -saddle and bridle he wore were made after the Mexican pattern, and were -both gaudily ornamented. - -“How do you do, sir?” said the stranger, after he had looked at Ned and -run his eye over the boy’s horse, which had advanced to meet him as far -as the length of his lariat would permit. “Can you tell me whereabouts -in the world I am—I mean how far from the Rio Grande?” - -“Yes, sir; you will have to ride twenty-five miles in a straight line to -reach it,” replied Ned. “By the trail, which leads to the nearest ford, -and takes in all the ranches, it is more than twice as far.” - -“Twenty-five miles!” repeated the stranger, turning about in his saddle -and looking back over the way he had come. “That’s a long pull for a -tired horse!” - -“Hadn’t you better stop and take a rest?” asked Ned, who had learned how -to be hospitable since he came to Texas. “My father’s rancho is only -five miles from here, and every house is a hotel in this country.” - -“I am obliged to you, but I can’t stop,” replied the stranger, quickly. -“I am in a great hurry. I must take the straightest course for the -river, and I don’t want to go by any ranchos. When night overtakes me I -can camp on the prairie. I am used to it. But I wish I had a fresh -horse: How will you trade?” - -“Trade!” cried Ned, jumping to his feet, and looking first at the -stranger’s fine animal and then at his own homely beast. “I’ll trade; -but you’ll have to go home with me to get the boot you want.” - -“I can’t stop for that, and besides, I may not ask any boot. All I want -is a fresh horse and a fast one.” - -“O, mine is fast and as fresh as a daisy!” exclaimed Ned, highly elated -over the prospect of becoming the owner of the handsomest horse he had -ever seen. “And he can stand the pace, too. The man I bought him of says -there’s no tire out to him.” - -[Illustration: THE UNLUCKY HORSE TRADE.] - -“I know a good animal when I see him,” answered the man, with a smile. -“I’ll trade my horse, saddle and bridle, even for yours. What do you -say?” - -“I say, I’ll do it!” said Ned, who was so delighted that he could -scarcely speak. - -“All right!” said the man, as he dismounted. “Catch up!” - -Ned lost no time in putting the saddle and bridle on his own nag, and -while he was doing it, the stranger stood, holding his horse by the -bridle and looking back over the way he had come. When Ned brought up -his horse, the man said: - -“You’re sure this nag belongs to you, are you? I run no risk of being -stopped by anybody, who will lay claim to him, do I?” - -“No, sir,” replied Ned, “he’s mine; and if you will go to our rancho -with me, I will show you a bill of sale of him.” - -“I asked the question because there are such things in the world as -horse-thieves, you know!” said the stranger, as he placed his own bridle -in the boy’s hand and seized Ned’s horse by the bit. - -“There are no such things in this country, I can tell you,” replied Ned, -with a knowing shake of his head. “The settlers would turn out to hunt -down a horse-thief as readily as they would to hunt down a grizzly bear. -It wouldn’t even be safe for a man to be found here with a stolen horse -in his possession, no matter whether he was the thief or not!” - -Why was it that Ned did not ask the man the same question which the -latter had just propounded to him? Perhaps it was because he did not -wish to detain him. The stranger seemed very impatient to mount and -resume his journey, and Ned was impatient to have him do so, for when -the two horses were brought closer together, anybody could see that -there was a vast difference between them. No sane man would have -proposed such an exchange, and just then it occurred to the amateur -horse-trader that there might be something wrong with the animal. -Perhaps he wasn’t quite safe for so inexperienced a person as himself. - -“Is he perfectly gentle?” asked Ned. “He won’t kick or bite or throw a -fellow off, will he?” - -“O no! he’s as quiet as an old cow. A child can manage him.” - -“What’s his name?” - -“I call him Silk Stocking—sometimes Socks, for short.” - -As the stranger said this, he sprang upon Ned’s horse, looked behind him -once more as if to make sure that there was no one following him, and -then waved his hand to the boy and galloped away. Ned stood looking -first at him and then at his new horse, fully expecting to see the man -turn about and come back to trade over again. But he did nothing of the -kind. He kept straight ahead (Ned had no idea that his old horse could -travel as fast as he did), turning in his saddle now and then to look -behind him, and at last he disappeared over a swell. Then Ned, with a -long breath of relief, turned to give his new horse another good looking -over. - -The animal’s name—Silk Stocking—suited him exactly. His color was a very -dark chestnut; but his mane and tail were as white as snow, and so were -his feet and his legs, too, as high up as his knees, and he had a white -star in his forehead. The longer his delighted owner looked at him the -handsomer he seemed to grow. - -“That man, whoever he may be, is a born dunce,” was Ned’s mental -comment. “He says he knows a good horse when he sees one, but I don’t -believe it. Why, I know more than he does. I’d never trade a horse like -this for an old crowbait like mine. I’d take a day longer for my -journey, no matter how great the hurry I might be in.” - -Ned chuckling to himself over his good fortune, fastened his horse to a -swinging branch of the oak, and proceeded to bundle up his blanket and -poncho which he tied behind his saddle. While he was pulling up the -picket-pin and curling his lasso, a startling suspicion suddenly sprung -up in his mind. He stopped his work and looked at his horse and then at -the ridge over which he had seen the stranger disappear. - -“I wonder why I didn’t think of that before!” said Ned, to himself. “He -was very careful to inquire if I owned the horse I traded to him, but it -never occurred to me to ask him how he came by this one. Well, I don’t -know that it makes so very much difference after all,” he added, after a -moment’s reflection. “If he stole the horse—and if he didn’t steal him -why was he so anxious to trade?—he could have told a lie about it very -easily, and no doubt he would.” - -Ned was not at all pleased with the thought, which now kept forcing -itself upon him, that perhaps he had not made so fine a bargain after -all. If the horse was a stolen one, and the lawful owner should succeed -in tracing him, he could demand his property, and Ned would have to give -it up. This was something he did not want to do. He had already taken a -great liking to his new horse, and could not bear the thought of parting -with him. - -“And I never will part with him either, if I can help it,” declared Ned, -after he had taken time to think over the situation. “I was going to -show him to father as soon as I got home, but now I’ll just keep still -about him. It isn’t likely that he was stolen anywhere in the county, -and perhaps the owner will never be able to get on the track of him. -I’ll hold fast to him as long as I can, at any rate, and keep his -existence a profound secret, and if his owner ever finds him I can -say——Well, what’s the use of thinking about that now? I can make up a -story on the spur of the moment that will get me out of the tightest -scrape a boy ever got into. At least I always have been able to do it!” - -With this reflection to comfort and encourage him Ned hung his lasso -upon the horn of his saddle, mounted his new horse and set out for home. -The animal moved off at a free walk until Ned called on him to go -faster, and then he broke into a rapid gallop; but his motions were so -regular and easy that his rider was scarcely moved in the saddle. Ned -was a little afraid of him at first, for he carried his head high and -kept his ears thrown forward and his eyes roving about as if he were -trying to find something to get frightened at; but he could be very -easily controlled, and Ned could stop him while he was going at the top -of his speed by a single word. He seemed perfectly willing to travel at -his best speed all the time, but Ned, after enjoying the rapid motion -for a few minutes, gently checked him, and then the animal settled down -into an easy pace. He proved to be what the natives would have called a -gated horse; that is, he had been broken to amble, fox-trot, pace, run -or square trot, just as his rider desired. Ned knew that some of the -ranchemen in the neighborhood had paid two thousand dollars apiece for -just such horses. - -“I declare it frightens me to think of it,” said Ned, and almost -involuntarily he faced about in his saddle and looked behind him, just -as the stranger had done, to see if there was any one following him. - -“I wish he wasn’t worth so much money, for I shall live in constant fear -that his owner will be along here some day hunting him up. I know that -if he had been stolen from me I should never sleep soundly until I found -him.” - -During the ride to the rancho, Ned often looked behind him, fully -expecting every time he did so to see a horseman or two galloping along -the trail in pursuit; but he was alone on the prairie, and to his great -relief there was no one about the house or yard to see him come home -with his prize or to ask him questions that he did not want to answer. -He hitched the horse under the shed and supplied him with a good feed of -corn, and no one was the wiser for it. - -While the horse was eating Ned stood by with his hands in his pockets -admiring him, and it was with the greatest reluctance that he left him -long enough to go into the house to get his own supper. He said nothing -to his father regarding the events of the afternoon, for he had made up -his mind that, for the present at least, he had better keep his own -counsel. - -It was customary for Ned and his father to start out every evening, as -soon as it began to grow dark, for a short walk up and down the trail in -front of the house, and on this particular evening they continued their -agreeable exercise until a later hour than usual. As they were about to -retrace their steps they heard the clatter of hoofs on the trail, and -presently two horsemen dashed up to them and came to a full stop. They -were rough-looking fellows and carried revolvers in their belts. Ned, -believing that they were raiders, could hardly refrain from screaming at -the sight of them, and even Uncle John acted as though he didn’t know -whether to stand still or run away. The latter’s fears, however, if he -had any, were speedily set at rest, while Ned’s were increased a -thousand fold. - -“Good-evening, gentlemen,” exclaimed one of the horsemen. “Do you live -about here?” - -“My rancho is about a quarter of a mile farther down the trail,” -answered Uncle John. - -“Have you lived here long enough to know all the people in the -neighborhood?” - -“I have lived here a little more than a year.” - -“Have you seen a stranger pass through the settlement to-day, either of -you?” - -“I have seen no one; have you, Ned?” - -Ned, who was trembling in every limb, controlled himself as well as he -could and replied that he had not. - -“There has been one along here,” continued the horseman, “for we have -traced him, and we know that we are not very far behind him. He is -making for the river. He is a stylish-looking fellow, well dressed, -wears a good deal of jewelry, and rides a chestnut-colored horse, with -white mane and tail, four white feet and a star in his forehead.” - -“I haven’t seen any such man or horse,” said Uncle John. - -“I haven’t either,” said Ned, faintly. - -It was well for him that it was so dark. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - A VISIT FROM THE RAIDERS. - - -“What has this man done?” continued Uncle John. - -“O, he got into a little trouble down there in our settlement, and had -to dig out; so he stole the best horse in the state to help him along. -That will be the means of getting him into _big_ trouble, if we put our -eyes on him; but we don’t much expect to catch him, for the horse he -stole can travel for a week at his best pace, and our nags, which were -fresh this morning, are pretty nearly whipped.” - -“I am sorry that I can give you no information concerning him,” said -Uncle John; “but I will tell you what I can do—I can give you some -supper, and you can take your pick out of twenty fresh horses in my -corral.” - -Both the horsemen expressed hearty thanks for this kind offer of -assistance, and were prompt to accept it. They didn’t care much for -anything to eat, they said, for they were used to going hungry; but they -would take a hasty lunch, while Uncle John was getting their fresh -horses ready, and if he would put them on a straight course for the -nearest ford, they would be much obliged, and would take pleasure in -doing as much for him, if he ever came to their settlement. - -Ned listened to all this in speechless amazement and alarm. The stolen -horse was hitched under the shed, in plain view of the porch, beside -which the strangers would dismount, and if it had been daylight, nothing -could have saved him from discovery. True, it was dark now—so dark that -the boy’s frightened face was effectually concealed,—but Ned knew that -the moon would rise in less than a quarter of an hour, and if anything -should happen to detain the visitors at the rancho, or if they should -take it into their heads to pry into things after they got there, -something disagreeable would be sure to happen. Ned did not like to -think about it. He accompanied the men to his home, where he made -himself very officious, taking charge of their horses, and showing so -much anxiety to have them go right into the house, that it is a wonder -their suspicions were not aroused. He could scarcely breathe until he -saw his father conduct them into the rancho, and close the door behind -them. - -“What’s the trouble?” asked the herdsman who had been sent out to catch -and saddle the fresh horses. “Who are those men, and where are they -travelling to at this time of night?” - -“I don’t know,” was Ned’s reply. “They want to reach the river as soon -as possible, and you had better hurry up and get the horses ready.” - -“Humph!” exclaimed the herdsman, as he led the strangers’ nags toward -the corral. “Horsethieves, for a dollar!” - -Ned did not care what opinions the man formed concerning the visitors, -so long as he did not hit upon the right one. It might be dangerous to -let any of the servants know that the men were in search of a chestnut -horse, with four white feet, and a star in his forehead; for it was very -probable that some of them had by this time found out that there was -such a horse hitched under the shed, and it would be just like them to -say something about it. There were a good many ways in which the -strangers might learn all they wanted to know, and Ned would have been -glad to hide himself somewhere, until they had taken their departure; -but he dared not go away, for fear that, during his absence, his secret -might leak out in some way. He hoped to prevent such a calamity by -staying there and hurrying the men off when they came out. - -Ned walked up and down the porch, in a fever of excitement and suspense, -and at the end of a quarter of an hour was greatly relieved to see the -herdsman coming with the fresh horses. - -“Give them to me,” said Ned, when they had been brought up to the porch. -“I’ll hold them until the men come out.” - -“Well, you hold one and I’ll hold the other,” answered the herdsman, -putting one of the bridles in Ned’s hand. “I want to have a good look at -those fellows.” - -Ned was almost ready to cry with rage and alarm. He could not send the -man away, if he was resolved to remain; and while he was wondering if he -had not better go himself and trust to luck, a door at the farther end -of the porch, which gave entrance into the kitchen, was opened, and the -Mexican cook came out. - -This was the man whom George declared to be mean enough for anything. -The old cook, who had had charge of the culinary department of the -ranche during Mr. Ackerman’s lifetime had been discharged at the request -of Ned, who had some fault to find with the man, and this Mexican, who -came from, nobody seemed to know where, had been employed to take his -place. No one about the ranche liked him. He was an excellent cook, but -he was always slipping about the house on tip-toe, as if he were trying -to find out something, and seemed to have a way of getting at everything -he wanted to know. He walked up the porch in his stealthy, noiseless -way, looked all around, to make sure that he was not observed, then bent -his face close to Ned’s, and was about to whisper something to him, when -he discovered the herdsman, who was standing at the foot of the steps, -holding the other horse. - -“Who’s that?” he demanded. - -“Me!” answered the herdsman. - -“O,” said the cook, recognising the voice. “Well, go in and get your -supper. It is all ready.” - -“I’ll go as soon as I see these visitors off.” - -“You’ll go now or you won’t get it at all,” exclaimed the cook. “I -shan’t keep it waiting for you. I want to get through in that kitchen -some time to-night.” - -The herdsman muttered something under his breath, passed the bridle of -the horse he was holding up to Ned and went into the kitchen. The -Mexican watched him until he disappeared, and then, with another -suspicious glance around, came up to Ned. - -“I know’ where that horse is,” said he, in a low tone. - -“What horse?” Ned almost gasped. - -“The one that was stolen.” - -“I—I don’t know what you mean,” stammered Ned. - -“O, I heard them talking about it in there while I was dishing up the -supper to them,” replied the cook, nodding his head as if to say that it -was of no use whatever for Ned to feign ignorance of the matter. “He’s a -chestnut-colored horse, with four white feet and a star in his forehead. -He’s out under that shed now, ‘cause I saw him there! Eh! He belongs to -the wife of one of those men inside, and she calls him Silk Stocking; -but all the men folks about the ranche poke fun at her and make her mad -by calling him Socks. Eh!” - -The Mexican poked Ned in the ribs with his finger and straightened up -and looked at him. He laughed, too, and seemed to regard the whole -matter in the light of an excellent joke—but Ned didn’t. - -“Powerful men, those in there,” continued the Mexican, jerking his thumb -over his shoulders toward the door. “They carry big revolvers in their -belts, and are dead shots; I know it by the looks of ‘em. They’re mad, -too—so mad that I wouldn’t give much for the man in whose hands they -find that horse.” - -“Gracious!” ejaculated Ned, who trembled all over. He wished now from -the bottom of his heart that he had told everything at the start; and -while he was wondering if it were now too late to do so and escape any -very serious consequences, the door opened and the men came out. One -look at them was enough to drive all thoughts of confession out of the -boy’s mind. How tall and broad-shouldered they were, and how fierce they -looked when the light from the lamp in the hall fell full upon their -bearded faces. They stood upon the porch for a few seconds, talking with -Uncle John and listening to his instructions regarding the course they -ought to follow in order to reach the ford, and then they took the -bridles from Ned’s hand and were about to mount when a loud, shrill -neigh sounded from the direction of the shed. - -Three of those who heard it were visibly affected by it. The visitors -looked at each other in surprise, while Ned leaned heavily upon the -railing of the porch for support. If there had been no railing there he -would have fallen to the ground, for there was no strength in him. - -“That sounds wonderfully like Sock’s voice, doesn’t it?” exclaimed one -of the visitors. - -The other replied that it certainly did. - -“What horse is that out there under the shed,” asked Uncle John. - -“It’s Ned’s old cob, sir,” said the cook, promptly; and Ned was glad -that the man answered for him, for he could not have uttered a word to -save his life. Frightened as he was he wandered at the cook’s reply. Why -did he not say that the stolen horse was there, and claim the liberal -reward that had probably been offered for his recovery? - -“I never heard anything sound so much like Socks’s neigh in my life,” -declared one of the visitors, as he jumped into the saddle. “But of -course it can’t be, for the horse is a long way from here by this time. -Mr. Ackerman, we are indebted to you for your kindness and hospitality.” - -“You are very welcome,” answered Uncle John. “I am only sorry that I -can’t do more for you.” - -The visitors lifted their hats and rode away out of sight; Uncle John -turned about and went into the house; the cook returned to his quarters -in the kitchen, and Ned was left alone clinging to the railing of the -verandah. He could hardly believe that the trying scenes through which -he had just passed were realities. They seemed more like a troubled -dream. - -“If anybody can come as near getting caught as I did and yet escape, I’d -like to see him do it,” thought Ned, when his mind became settled so -that he could think at all. “I never heard of a closer shave, and I -don’t believe there ever was one.” - -Ned was not very highly elated over his escape, for he knew that he was -not yet wholly out of danger. On the contrary, he would never be out of -danger while that horse was in his possession. Those two men would come -back some day to return the horses they had borrowed of Uncle John and -reclaim their own, and they might come, too, when they were least -expected, and before Ned had opportunity to secrete the stolen horse. It -was too late now to avoid trouble by giving the animal up to his lawful -owner, for the latter would want to know why he had not given him up -before, and Ned did not know what answer he could make to so awkward a -question as that. Besides, there was Philip, the Mexican cook. Ned grew -angry and alarmed every time he thought of him. The man was up to -something beyond a doubt, for if he were not, what was the reason he did -not tell the strangers that the horse of which they were in search was -under the shed where Ned had left him? - -The boy was in a very tight place, and he did not know which way to -turn. He was in a scrape at last that he could not lie out of. The -longer he dwelt upon it the plainer he saw the dangers of the situation -and the greater became his alarm. He walked slowly down the steps and -turned his face toward the shed in which the stolen horse was confined. -The animal welcomed him with a low whinny of recognition, and when Ned -patted his sleek neck he rubbed his head against his shoulders as if he -were glad to see him. Beyond a doubt he was somebody’s pet, and the boy -did not wonder that his owner was anxious to recover him. - -Ned, whose nervousness and excitement seemed to increase all the while, -stayed there in the shed for two long hours, walking restlessly about -with his hands in his pockets, and asking himself over and over again -why he did not tell his father all about the new horse when he first -came home, and what he should do to bring himself out of the scrape he -had got into through his foolishness. When bed-time came the servants -began shutting up the rancho for the night. He heard them closing the -heavy shutters and locking and barring the doors, but he did not move. -He could not bear to go to bed just then, and he knew that when his -nervousness abated so that he could sleep he could gain admittance to -the house through the door that was always left unfastened to -accommodate any of the servants who might happen to be out later than -usual. - -The rancho looked gloomy and dark enough after the shutters and doors -were closed. It stood out in bold relief against the sky, looking like -one of the haunted castles of which Ned had so often read. The bright -moonlight gave it an almost unearthly appearance, Ned thought; and when -at last all sounds of life about the building had died away, he began to -feel lonely and afraid—afraid to stay longer where he was and afraid to -pass across the lighted yard between the shed and the back porch of the -rancho. - -“I really must go,” thought Ned, after he had started toward the house -two or three times, and as often drawn back again to wait until he could -gather a fresh supply of courage. “I have been frightened so many times -to-night that I imagine all sorts of things. Every tree and bush I look -at, turns into a horseman, and I am almost——” - -Ned stopped suddenly, and stooping close to the ground, looked sharply -at some object in the distance. “Whew!” he exclaimed, drawing his hand -across his dripping forehead, “it did look like a long line of horsemen -and—so it is. Yes, sir, I can see them plainly enough. It’s all over -with Ned Ackerman now!” - -The boy turned in the instant and placing his hands on the side of the -deep manger which ran the whole length of one end of the shed, vaulted -over it, and concealed himself. He lay for a moment trembling with -alarm, and then pulling off his hat, cautiously raised his head until he -could see over the top of the manger. The objects which had aroused his -fears were certainly mounted men. They were moving in single file by the -side of the trail, and as the long, thick grass deadened the sound of -their horses’ feet, their approach was almost noiseless. - -“What are they?” thought Ned, ducking his head after he had taken one -short, quick glance at the men. “Are they raiders, or have those -strangers found out something and come back with reinforcements?” - -Ned could not have told just then which he stood the more in fear of—the -angry owner of the horse at his side or lawless Mexicans. He knew that -it would be dangerous to fall into the hands of either of them. He could -not reach the shelter of the house—they could easily cut him off if he -attempted it—and his only chance to escape capture, or something worse, -was to remain quiet in his place of concealment, and trust to luck. It -was not at all likely that the horsemen, whoever they were, would think -of looking in the shed for him even if they wanted to find him. - -Just then Ned’s new horse threw up his head, looked over his shoulder -and uttered a loud, shrill neigh. Ned tried hard to stop it, but without -success. The animal neighed not only once, but two or three times in -succession, in spite of the furious jerks the boy gave at his bridle. -Here was a new cause for alarm. The animal wanted company, and he would -keep up that neighing as long as there were any horses in sight. He -would be sure to attract attention by it too. - -“You’ll keep me in trouble as long as you stay with me,” said Ned, -jumping to his feet to act upon an idea that just then came into his -mind, “and the sooner you and I part company the better it will be for -me. There you go,” he added, as he pulled the halter over the horse’s -head and saw him gallop out of the shed. “I hope I shall never see you -again. I wish I had never seen you in the first place.” - -Ned felt a little more at his ease as he sank back into his place of -concealment. The danger of discovery was considerably lessened by this -piece of strategy, but still his situation was anything but an agreeable -one. There he was, cornered in a manger by a lot of men whose actions -indicated that they were there for no good purpose, who were approaching -the house in a stealthy manner, so as not to alarm the inmates, and who, -probably, would think no more of making an end of him, if they knew he -was there in plain sight of them, than they would of knocking over an -antelope for breakfast. The situation would have tried the courage of a -much braver boy than Ned Ackerman. - -The horsemen stopped when they saw the chestnut galloping to meet them, -but moved forward again as soon as they saw that he was riderless. They -rode up to the fence which surrounded the corral, and hitched their -horses to it. The chestnut followed and mingled with their nags, but the -men paid no attention to him. They gathered in a little group in the -shade of one of the oaks that grew beside the corral, and held a -consultation. Ned watched their movements with a good deal of surprise. - -“Why don’t those men catch that horse?” said he to himself. “If they are -raiders, they ought to steal him; and if the man who owns him is there, -he ought to catch him, to keep him from straying away. I don’t -understand it at all.” - -While Ned was talking to himself in this way, he heard a latch softly -raised. He turned his eyes in the direction of the rancho, and saw that -one of the doors, opening on to the back porch, was ajar, and that -somebody was looking out of it. He stood for a moment, turning his head -first on one side and then on the other, as if he were listening for -something, and then came out into full view. It was the Mexican cook. -The moon’s rays fell full upon him, and the boy could see him plainly. - -“Now is my chance!” thought Ned, getting upon his feet, but standing in -a crouching attitude, so that nothing but his head could be seen over -the top of the manger. “If I can run fast enough, I can put myself in a -place of safety and warn Philip at the same time.” - -Ned jumped quickly out of the manger, as he said this; but his feet had -scarcely touched the ground before he turned like a flash and jumped -back again, crouching down in his hiding-place as low as he could, and -still see all that was going on outside the shed. The men were coming in -a body toward the house. There were fifteen or twenty of them in all, -and as soon as they had moved out of the shade of the trees, so that the -moon’s rays could fall plainly upon them, Ned saw that they were dressed -in Mexican costume—short jackets, wide trowsers and sombreros—and that -they were armed to the teeth. They were cattle-thieves, of course; but -what did they mean by approaching the rancho in that stealthy manner? -The boy, trembling in every limb, turned his eyes from the Mexicans to -the porch, where he had last seen the cook. He was there yet, and -standing out in plain view of the raiders, who must have seen him, for -he was not more than twenty feet away. Philip saw them, too, beyond a -doubt; but, instead of running into the house and arousing the inmates, -as Ned expected him to do, he walked up to the rail and rested his hands -upon it. One would have thought from his actions that he was expecting -the raiders. Ned thought so, and in an instant it flashed upon him that -there was some treachery intended. - -“Father always said that Philip was a rascal!” soliloquized Ned, his -rage for the moment getting the better of his terror, “and now I know he -is one! He is a cattle-thief himself, and he and the rest are after the -money-box! But how could Philip have found out that we had a money-box?” -added Ned, as he recalled the fact that the cook belonged in the -kitchen, and had probably never seen the inside of his father’s office; -“and even if he had known all about the box, how could he have told his -friends of it? He hasn’t been away from the house an hour at a time -since he has been here.” - -Ned might have kept on propounding to himself questions that he could -not answer, but his thoughts were carried into other channels by the -actions of the raiders, who walked straight up to the porch where Philip -was standing, and entered into a whispered conversation with him. Ned -could not overhear what was said, but he saw the cook turn toward the -house and extend his hands in different directions, as if he were trying -to give his friends (for such they undoubtedly were) some idea of its -internal arrangements. Probably he was telling them where to find the -office and the strong box. If such was the case, it took him but a -moment to do it; and when the raiders had learned all they wanted to -know, they stepped lightly upon the porch and followed Philip toward the -open door. When they reached it, Philip pushed it farther open, stood on -one side to allow them to pass, and the raiders filed in, one after the -other, on tip-toe! Half their number had disappeared in the house, when -all at once a deafening uproar arose. There was a fight going on in the -hall. First there was a loud yell, that was evidently given by one of -the servants to arouse his sleeping companions, and the yell was -accompanied rather than followed by a crash which made Ned believe that -the inside of the house was being torn in pieces. It was the report of a -revolver. Another and another followed, and an instant afterward, the -raiders, having failed in their efforts to surprise the inmates of the -rancho, appeared in great confusion, crowding through the door in a -body, and in their haste prostrating the cook, who was knocked off the -porch to the ground. He lay for a moment as if stunned by the fall, and -then sprang up and ran away with the rest. - -The baffled raiders scattered in every direction, and taking refuge -behind the outbuildings and lumber piles opened a hot fire on the rancho -from their carbines. To Ned’s intense alarm two of them ran straight for -the shed. He saw them coming, and ducking his head crept swiftly into -the farthest end of the manger and crowded himself into the darkest -corner. One of the men dodged behind a wagon, but the other dashed into -the shed, jumped into the manger and taking up a position in the -opposite end, scarcely fifteen feet from the trembling boy, fired his -carbine at the door from which he and his companions had just been -driven. Ned was almost ready to scream with terror, but knowing that his -safety depended upon his preserving the strictest silence, he choked -back the cry while it was trembling on his lips, and covering his face -with his hands awaited the issue of events with all the fortitude he -could command. - -Fortunately the Mexican in the other end of the manger was so busily -engaged in loading and firing that he could not take time to look about -him during the very few minutes that he remained in his hiding-place. -The inmates of the rancho defended themselves with spirit, and one of -their number, becoming aware that there was an enemy in the shed, fired -three shots from his revolver in that direction. Ned’s hair fairly stood -on end as he heard the bullets crashing through the planks which formed -the outside of the manger. The eccentric and hurried movements of the -Mexican proved that he was no less embarrassed by them, and when the -third bullet came in, striking closer to his head than the others, he -uttered an exclamation in Spanish, and jumping out of the manger ran off -to find a less exposed ambush. Ned was glad to see him go. - -“I wonder what they mean by such work, any how?” thought Ned, who, -frightened as he was, could not resist the temptation to get upon his -knees and look over the top of the manger. “Haven’t they got sense -enough to see that our fellows have the advantage of them, and that -there is nothing to be gained by shooting at stone walls? There! I guess -they are going now!” - -Just then one of the band uttered a shrill whistle, and the firing -ceased almost immediately. Ned looked to see them mount and ride away -without loss of time, but the sequel proved that they were not yet ready -to give up all hopes of handling the money in the strong box, if that -was what they were after. The whistle was given to call the band -together for consultation. They gathered behind the shed out of sight of -the house, and one of them leaned against the boards so close to Ned -that if the latter had pushed his finger through one of the cracks he -could have touched him. The boy could hear their slightest whisper, but -could not understand a word that was said, for they talked altogether in -Spanish. They quickly decided upon a new plan of operations, and -separated to carry it into execution. A portion of the band opened fire -on the rancho again, and the others, having secured an axe, crept around -to the opposite side and furiously attacked one of the doors; but the -tough oak planks of which it was made resisted the blows of the axe -until the herdsmen had time to run to the other side of the building and -drive them away by firing through the loopholes with their revolvers. -Then the attack was renewed on another door with the same result; -finally, the Mexicans, growing discouraged, hurled a volley of Spanish -oaths at the defenders of the rancho, which had about the same effect on -them that their bullets had on the walls, and ran toward their horses. - -Ned kept his eye on the thieves while they were crossing the yard, and -was gratified to see that they had not come off unscathed. Three of -their number were limping along with the assistance of some of their -comrades, and a fourth was being carried in a blanket. Whether he was -killed or badly wounded Ned could not tell. He saw them mount and ride -away, and the last object that caught his eye as they passed out of -sight was the stolen horse, prancing and curveting behind them, his -white legs showing plainly in the moonlight. - - - - - CHAPTER X. - THE TWO FRIENDS. - - -The raiders were gone at last and so was the stolen horse. When the -animal passed out of sight in the darkness, and the sound of his hoofs -on the hard trail died away in the distance, Ned arose slowly to his -feet, but sat down again in much less time than he had consumed in -getting up. The intense excitement which had thus far kept up his -strength was over now, and he was too weak to stand. He had never passed -through such an ordeal before, and it was no wonder that he was terribly -frightened. He wondered how he had lived to see the end of it. - -“But it is an awful mean wind that blows nobody good,” thought Ned, -making another effort to stand on his feet after he had rested awhile. -“This one has brought good to me in that it has taken off the stolen -horse. I thought I had got an elephant on my hands, and I am glad he is -gone. It takes me out of a scrape very nicely. The Mexicans are the only -ones who suffered by this raid. They didn’t get their hands on the safe, -and four of their number were shot, which served them just——” - -“_Carrajo!_” exclaimed some one near him, in muffled tones. - -Ned looked up and was almost ready to drop back into the manger again, -when he saw a Mexican standing in the open part of the shed; but a -second glance reassured him, for it was nobody but the cook. The man was -probably sneaking back to the house after seeing his friends off, and -had approached so noiselessly that Ned had not heard his footsteps. “I -have learned one thing to-night,” said the boy, following out the -thoughts that were in his mind, “and that is, that you are a rascal, Mr. -Philip.” - -“What are you doing out here?” demanded the Mexican, who was so amazed -that he could not speak immediately. - -“I was treed out here, and couldn’t get into the house,” replied Ned. “I -have been out here ever since those strangers went away, and I saw all -that passed between you and the raiders. I wouldn’t give much for you if -the settlers should find out what you have been about to-night.” - -When Ned had said this much, he paused and looked at the man. He was -sorry he had spoken his mind so freely, for if he made Philip angry -there was no telling what might come of it. - -“And I wouldn’t give much for you if the settlers should find out that -you stole that horse,” retorted Philip, after he had said something -angry in Spanish. - -“I didn’t steal him. I traded my own horse for him.” - -“Then why didn’t you give him up when the owner came for him?” asked the -Mexican. - -“Well, he’s gone now,” said Ned, who did not know how to answer this -question, “and the owner is welcome to him if he can find him. I can -tell why you kept my secret: You knew the raiders were coming here -to-night, and you intended to tell them about the horse, so that they -could steal it. I didn’t know before that you were a thief, but I have -often told myself that you looked like one.” - -The Mexican was on the point of replying, and had already prefaced the -remarks he intended to make, by a Spanish oath, when the rattling of a -chain and the sudden opening of a door in the rancho, put a stop to the -conversation. Ned at once jumped out of the manger and started toward -the house, and the Mexican, instead of hiding himself, as the boy -thought he would, followed close behind him. - -“Who’s that?” demanded the herdsman, who had opened the door; and Ned -saw his revolver glisten in the moonlight, as the weapon was raised and -pointed straight at his head. - -“Don’t shoot!” he cried, quickly. - -“Wal, I’ll be dog-goned!” exclaimed the herdsman. “Where have you two -been? We have been looking all over the house for you, and we began to -believe that the raiders had carried you off with them!” - -Ned said just enough in reply to excite the man’s astonishment, but not -enough to explain what had happened, and made his way toward his -father’s room, still followed by the cook. The latter seemed to say by -his actions, that he intended to hear all Ned had to tell his father, -and that if the boy knew when he was well off, he wouldn’t tell too -much. Ned perfectly understood this silent threat, and during the -interview with his father, whom he found in his office, almost -prostrated by excitement and fear, was careful to say nothing at which -Philip could take offence. He said that, being unable to sleep, he had -gone out into the shed and stayed there, with his horse for company; -that the raiders had appeared so suddenly that he could not reach the -house without running the risk of being captured or shot by them; that -his horse had called to them, and that he had been obliged to turn the -animal loose, for fear that he would lead the raiders to his place of -concealment; and that he had lain there in the manger, an unwilling -witness to the first (and he sincerely hoped it would be the last) fight -he had ever seen carried on with firearms. - -“I can’t begin to tell you what a time I had out there!” said he, in -conclusion. “I never had bullets come so close to me before!” - -“Probably not,” said his father. “Where were you all the while, Philip?” - -“I was under the porch, sir,” was the answer; and Ned, who would have -been glad to expose the villain then and there, did not contradict the -statement. “I didn’t have time to get into the house, so I concealed -myself.” - -“I could not imagine how that door came to be open,” said Uncle John, -with something like a sigh of relief, “for I took particular pains to -lock and bolt it myself. I was almost afraid that there was a traitor -among us, and some of the herdsmen thought so, too; but this explains -everything to my satisfaction. Philip went out after I locked the door, -and before he came back the raiders arrived, found the door open and -thought they would walk in and surprise us. But Jake surprised them, I -guess! He happened to be awake, and that was all that saved us.” - -“Was there anybody hurt?” asked Ned. - -“Not on our side, I am glad to say. We escaped without the least -damage.” - -After the various exciting incidents connected with the events of the -night had been talked over, the herdsmen, who had followed the boy into -the office, to listen to his story, went out one by one, and finally Ned -and the Mexican followed. The hall through which they passed was still -filled with smoke; the walls and doors were dotted here and there with -bullet-marks, and the floor was littered with weapons, sombreros and -various other articles, which the raiders had left behind them in their -hurried flight. The sight of these things made Ned tremble again. The -Mexican accompanied him as far as the door of his own room, and when the -latter was about to slam the door in his face, the man gave him a look -and a nod that were full of meaning. - -“That fellow means to make trouble for me, sooner or later,” said the -boy to himself, after he had lighted his lamp and securely fastened his -door. “I can see it in his eye. I wish I had asked father to discharge -him long ago, for I never did like him; but if I have him sent away now, -he will spread it among the men that I had that stolen horse in my -possession and wouldn’t give him up. If that story ever gets wind in the -settlement, I don’t know what will become of me.” - -Ned threw himself upon a sofa—he was still so very nervous and -frightened that he dared not undress and go to bed—and thought over the -exciting adventures which had been crowded into the last few hours, and -racked his brain in the vain hope of finding some way out of the -difficulties he had got into. Two things were plain to him: Philip was -there in the rancho for no good purpose, and he did not intend to expose -Ned, unless the latter said something to direct suspicion toward -himself. It was humiliating, to say the least, to have a servant in the -house who could get him into serious trouble at any time he chose to -open his mouth; but Ned could think of no way to get rid of him, and -there was no one to whom he could go for advice. He must keep his own -counsel until Gus Robbins arrived. Ned knew that his friend had been in -many a scrape himself; that it was a very serious difficulty indeed out -of which he could not work his way, and perhaps Gus could help him. In -the meantime, he resolved he would have as little to do with the Mexican -as possible. He would not speak to him, or even look at him, if he could -help it, and at the same time he would show him by his actions that he -was not afraid of him. - -Having made up his mind to this Ned rearranged his pillow and tried to -go to sleep; but his brain was too active and his senses too keenly -alive to every external impression. If he kept his eyes open he saw the -raiders as plainly as he could have seen them if they had been there in -his room; and if he closed his eyes to shut them out from view he -distinctly heard their yells, the reports of their revolvers and -carbines, and could feel the sofa vibrate under his hand just as the -planks which formed the manger had vibrated when the bullets passed -through them. Once or twice he started up in great alarm, believing that -he heard the porch creak just as it did when he saw the raiders step -upon it. At last the creaking sounded in the hall; and so positive was -Ned that the thieves had returned and the Mexican cook had let them into -the house again that he took his rifle out of the wardrobe which served -him for a closet, put a cartridge into it and sat down on the sofa, -holding the weapon in readiness to send a ball through the door the -instant a hand was laid upon the latch. - -In this way Ned passed the night. It was a long and dreary one to him, -but morning came at last, and then Ned mustered up courage enough to -draw the curtains and throw open the shutters. He felt perfectly safe -now, and being overcome with weariness he sunk back upon the sofa and -fell into a sound sleep. He slept until almost dinner-time, and felt -weak and exhausted when he got up. To his great surprise no one, except -his father, had anything to say about the fight. The servants, who were -all old frontiersmen (there were no women about the house), had passed -through so many similar scenes that they had became accustomed to them, -and seemed to think that they were hardly worth talking about. He found -his father in the office, and his first words were: - -“Well, Ned, the raiders did us some damage, after all. After we drove -them away from here they went out and caught Edwards napping, and we are -ten thousand dollars poorer than we were yesterday!” - -Edwards was one of the herdsmen. His cattle, numbering over a thousand, -had been brought in a few days before for the inspection of a drover who -had purchased half the herd. These the drover had taken to Palos, and -Mose, another herdsman in Uncle John’s employ, had been sent along to -assist him. Edwards ought to have been well out of the way with the rest -of the herd by this time, but he had loitered on the road in order to -visit some of his friends, and the thieves had taken him off his guard. - -“I found Edwards here when I awoke this morning,” added Uncle John. - -“Where is he now?” asked Ned. “I should like to hear him tell his -story.” - -“O, he had no story to tell. He went into camp a few miles from here, -and early this morning the raiders surrounded his stock and drove it -off. Edwards saved himself by jumping on a horse without saddle or -bridle, and came down to tell me about it. I have told him where our -other herds are, and sent him out to see if they are safe. Ten thousand -dollars is a large sum to lose in one night.” - -Ned made no reply. Indeed, he did not seem to take the least interest in -the matter. The money was no loss to him, but it came out of the pockets -of one who could lose three times that amount every year and still have -enough left to support Uncle John and his graceless son in better style -than they had ever been able to support themselves. - -While Ned was eating the breakfast that Philip had kept warm for him, he -talked with his father about the raiders and discussed Gus Robbins’s -chances for meeting Mose at Palos. Ned had given the herdsman a -description of his expected guest, and had also taken it upon himself to -order him to stay in Palos at least a week and wait for Gus. He hoped -that Gus would be on his way to the rancho in company with some of the -neighbors long before Mose reached Palos with his cattle, and it was -this hope that took him to the top of that swell every day. It did not -take him there on this particular morning, however, for he knew now by -experience that their troublesome neighbors had a way of appearing when -they were least expected; and, although he had never heard that a band -of raiders were ever seen in broad daylight, he thought it best to -remain within hailing distance of the rancho. - -Ned’s first care, after he had eaten his breakfast, was to dispose of -the gold-mounted saddle and bridle which had come into his possession -the day before, and which were now hanging up in the shed ready at any -moment to bear testimony against him. Fortunately for him no one had had -occasion to go to the shed that morning, and consequently the only one -who knew they were there was the Mexican cook. - -Ned walked out on the porch, and after making sure that there was no one -in sight to observe his movements, he darted into the shed and as -quickly darted out again with the saddle and bridle thrown over his -shoulders. He ran to the rear of the shed, and there found a pile of -lumber which had been there since he came to the ranche, and which he -had never known to be disturbed. He pulled the lumber all down and at -the end of a quarter of an hour had piled it up again over the saddle -and bridle, arranging the shorter boards on the ends of the pile so that -nothing could be seen. - -“There!” said he, with a sigh of satisfaction. “I feel a great deal -better. Those things can stay there until I find time to put them in a -safer place. The next thing is to select a horse. Father told me that I -could take my pick of the lot.” - -There were a score or more of horses in the corral that had been broken -to the saddle. They were all fine animals, too, and it was a matter of -some difficulty for Ned to make up his mind which one he wanted. He had -grown very particular during the last two days. Having enjoyed the -luxury of a ride on Silk Stocking’s back, he knew what a good saddle -horse was, and he was hard to suit. He wanted one that looked and -carried himself exactly like the stolen horse, and he finally decided -that a small sorrel nag with light mane and tail and one white foot -approached nearer to the mark than any other horse in the corral. Ned -rode him up and down the trail in front of the house for an hour or two, -and looked longingly toward the solitary oak on the summit of the swell, -under whose friendly branches he had dreamed away so many hours while -waiting for his friend, Gus Robbins. But the fear of the raiders kept -him at home, and a week passed away before he could gather courage -enough to venture out of sight of the house. - -On the morning of the eighth day after the raid, one of the herdsmen -told Ned that the band of Hangers who had pursued the thieves in the -hope of overtaking them and recovering the stolen stock, had returned -unsuccessful, the Mexicans having made good their escape across the -river, taking the cattle with them. If that was the case, travelling was -safe, and Ned was only too glad to take his accustomed gallop again. Of -course breakfast was late that morning and everything bothered—it always -does when one is in a hurry; but the horse was brought to the porch at -last, and Ned hastened into the house after his rifle and silver-mounted -riding-whip. These ornaments having been secured, he went into the -kitchen after the lunch which he had ordered Philip to prepare for him, -and while he was putting it into his pocket, he heard the clatter of a -horse’s hoofs in the yard, and voices in conversation. He ran out on the -porch, and found his father talking earnestly to a roughly-dressed man, -who, upon closer examination proved to be Zeke, George’s herdsman. Uncle -John’s face wore an expression of interest, while Zeke’s was gloomy -enough. He looked and acted like a man who had met with some great -misfortune. - -“I don’t know whar he is, more’n the man in the moon,” Zeke was saying -when Ned came out. “I ‘sposed, in course, that I should find him here.” - -“Well, he isn’t here, and we haven’t seen him since the day he left with -the supplies,” said Uncle John. “Can’t you tell me just what has -happened? I may be able to do something.” - -“Thar ain’t much of anything to tell, an’ ye can’t do nothing, either,” -replied Zeke. “He brung them supplies to my camp all right, an’ a few -nights arterwards the Greasers dropped down on us an’ run off the last -hoof we had to bless ourselves with, doggone ‘em!” - -Ned caught his breath, and turned his head quickly away, for fear that -the herdsman, who just then happened to be looking his way, might see -the expression of delight and triumph that came upon it. - -“That’s the best news I ever heard,” thought he. “The Greasers have -cleaned George out at last. Serves him right.” - -“But we got ‘em all back again, me an’ the settlers did,” continued -Zeke. - -The exultant smile faded from Ned’s face as quickly as it had appeared. -“That’s the worst news I ever heard,” said he to himself. “George often -declares that he is the luckiest boy in Texas, and I believe he is. I -know I am the unluckiest.” - -“You got them all back!” exclaimed Uncle John. “I am very glad to hear -it.” - -“Yes, we did. The Greasers didn’t get away with nary horn. But I hain’t -seed nor heared nothing of George since the night they jumped down on -us. I thought mebbe he’d got a trifle outer his reckonin’ an’ come hum -to take a fresh start; so I brung the critters nigher in to wait fur -him. But seein’ as how he ain’t here—good-by!” - -As Zeke said this, he wheeled his horse and rode away at a full gallop, -paying no attention to the entreaties and commands to come back that -Uncle John shouted after him. He was out of hearing in a moment more, -and then the father and son turned and looked at each other. - -“What is the meaning of all this, anyhow?” asked Ned, who had not been -able to gain a very clear idea of the state of affairs. - -“You know as much about it as I do,” answered his father. “George hasn’t -been seen since the night his herd was stampeded. That’s all.” - -“What are you going to do?” - -“I’m going to send a man to make inquiries among the neighbors. That’s -all I can do; for I don’t know where to look for him. He may have been -killed or carried off by the raiders.” - -Uncle John walked into the house with great deliberation, put down the -newspaper he had held in his hand during his conversation with Zeke, and -then came out and moved slowly toward the corral where one of the -herdsmen was at work. - -After watching him for a few minutes Ned struck up a lively whistle, -mounted his horse and rode away. He did not act much like a boy who had -just heard that his cousin had been missing for days, and might be a -captive in the hands of the Mexicans. Suppose he was in George’s place! -Would his father be so very deliberate in his movements, and would he be -satisfied with sending jut a single man to make inquiries among the -neighbors? - -Ned seemed to be in the best of spirits. He kept his horse in a full -gallop, until he reached the top of the swell, and there he reined him -in very suddenly, for he caught sight of two horsemen on the other side. -Shading his eyes with his hand, he gazed earnestly at them for a few -minutes, and then started down the swell to meet them. He recognised one -of them as the herdsman who had been sent to assist the drover in -driving down the cattle he had purchased of Uncle John, and something -told him that his companion could be none other than the long-expected -Gus Robbins. We know that it was Gus, and we have already described the -meeting that took place between the two boys. We know, too, that Mose -rode on to the rancho, to report his arrival to his employer, and that -the boys followed him leisurely, talking every step of the way. - -“I say, Ned,” said Gus, suddenly, “you live in an awful lonesome place, -don’t you?” - -“Yes,” replied Ned; “it is very lonely, and that is one reason why I -wanted you to come down here.” - -“There is plenty of hunting, I suppose,” continued Gus; “but that is -something I don’t know much about. I can handle a yard-stick better than -I can handle a gun. Is there any fishing, or are there any good fellows -to run with?” - -“I haven’t heard of anybody going fishing since I have been here; and as -for the fellows, I don’t know a boy in the neighborhood.” - -“Why, what in the world do you do to pass the time away?” - -“I don’t do anything. I just keep still and let it pass itself away.” - -“That’s a jolly way to live!” said Gus. “It’s better than standing -behind a counter all day, handling over goods for people who don’t want -anything, and who, after they have tired you out, spend five cents for a -spool of thread, and think they have paid you for the trouble they have -caused you. But, Ned, we can’t get into any scrapes here, can we?” - -“Can’t we, though!” exclaimed Ned. “I know a story worth two of that. -Why, boy, I am in a worse scrape to-day than you ever dreamed of, and I -got into it just as easy! It was no trouble at all.” - -“You have been talking too much,” said Gus, who remembered that his -friend had more than once got himself into serious trouble by the too -free use of his tongue. - -“No, I haven’t,” said Ned, quickly. “I have been talking too little; -that’s the trouble. But it is a long story, and I must take a spare half -hour in which to tell it to you; then I want you to give me your advice, -for I don’t know what to do.” - -“I guess I can help you, if anybody can. I have helped you out of more -than one close corner, haven’t I? Do you remember how we used to go -about Foxboro’ of nights, changing gates and signs, and stretching ropes -across the walk to trip the people who passed by?” - -“I haven’t forgotten. Are you up to such things now?” - -“Yes, or anything else that has fun in it!” - -“All right. Some day, when you are in just the right humor for it, I’ll -tell you how you can get yourself into as lively a mess as you ever -heard of—something that will set the whole settlement in a blaze.” - -“I’m your man,” said Gus, readily. “If one is going to raise a row, let -him raise a big one, while he is about it. That’s what I say!” - -The five miles that lay between the swell and the rancho had never -seemed so short to Ned as they did that day. He and Gus had so much to -talk about that they took no note of time, and their ride was ended -almost before they knew it. When they reached the rancho, they found -Uncle John standing on the porch, waiting for them. - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - GUS HEARS FROM HOME. - - -Gus spent the two days following his arrival at the rancho in resting; -and even at the end of that time he had not fully recovered from the -effects of his long, hard ride on horseback. He and Ned passed the time -in roaming about the house and grounds, and at every turn Gus found -something to interest him. The rancho and everything about it, Uncle -John’s manner of living, the appearance, customs and language of the men -he met every day—all these were new to Gus, who could have enjoyed -himself hugely now if it had not been for two disagreeable reflections -which constantly intruded upon him in spite of all he could do to keep -them out of his mind. There were cattle-thieves in that country who made -a practice of shooting everybody who came in their way, and they had -been in that very house not a great while ago. They might come again at -any moment, and there might be another fight—and Gus did not like to -think of that. He would have been safer in his father’s store than he -was in that country, but would he ever be permitted to return to that -store after what he had done? On the whole he was sorry that he had come -to Texas, and Ned was almost sorry that he had invited him, for Gus -didn’t act and talk like the boy he had known in Foxboro’. He was not so -jolly and full of life as he used to be. - -Mr. Ackerman never asked the visitor if he had left home with his -father’s full and free consent. He, no doubt, took it for granted that -Gus had talked the matter over with Mr. Robbins, and so said nothing -about it. This relieved Ned of a burden of anxiety, and another thing -that pleased him was the fact that Gus never asked any questions -concerning the hunting adventure which Ned had so graphically described -in his first letter. - -During these two days nothing was heard of the missing George. The -herdsman who had been sent out to make inquiries among the neighbors -brought back the information that he had not been able to find any -traces of him, and that seemed to settle the matter, so far as Uncle -John and Ned were concerned. The two boys seldom spoke of him. They had -more important matters to occupy their attention. They talked over old -times to their hearts’ content, and Ned told Gus everything of interest -that had happened to him since he came to Texas. The story of the stolen -horse and the description of Philip’s strange conduct on the night of -the fight were so incredible that Gus wouldn’t believe a word until he -had seen the bullet holes in the manger and the lumber pile behind the -shed had been torn down so that he could see the gold-mounted saddle and -bridle. Then he looked bewildered, and, contrary to Ned’s expectation, -could suggest nothing more than he had already thought of himself. - -“You ought to have given the horse up when the owner came for him,” said -he. “You would have made something handsome by it probably.” - -“I know that as well as you do,” replied Ned. “But seeing I didn’t do -it, how am I going to get myself out of the scrape?” - -“I don’t see that you are in any scrape. How far does the man who owns -the horse live from here?” - -“Fifty or sixty miles.” - -“Did you ever see him before that night?” - -“I never did.” - -“Well, comfort yourself with the thought that you may never see him -again. There’s nothing to bring him back here.” - -“O, yes there is. Didn’t I tell you that he and his companion rode off -two of father’s horses? Of course they must bring them back. It isn’t a -safe piece of business in this country, I tell you, for a man to keep a -horse that doesn’t belong to him. The people won’t allow it.” - -“And you knew this all the while, and yet held fast to that stolen -horse!” said Gus. - -“Now, look here,” exclaimed Ned, angrily, “I know that I was a -blockhead. I was bound to keep the horse, and didn’t stop to think of -the consequences. When I had a chance to give him up I did not dare do -it, for fear that the owner would do something to me before I could -explain matters to him.” - -“Well, the horse is gone now, and you are all right. If you are afraid -to meet those men, keep your eyes open and dig out when they come back -with your father’s horses.” - -“But suppose that while I am gone Philip should take it into his head to -tell them that I had the horse in my possession when they were here -before, and wouldn’t give him up?” - -“If he does that, tell your father that he was the one who let the -raiders into the house.” - -“Now, what earthly good would that do me? Would it get me out of the -scrape?” - -“No; but you would have the satisfaction of knowing that you had repaid -Philip by getting him into just as much trouble as he got you into.” - -“But that isn’t what I want. I want to clear myself, and I don’t know -how to do it.” - -“I don’t know either. You’ll have to trust to luck.” - -“I’d rather trust to anything else in the world. Luck never served me a -good turn yet.” - -“You said your father discharged the old cook because you asked him, -didn’t you? Very well; ask him to discharge Philip. You had better get -him away from here as soon as you can. I judge from what you say, that -he had made up his mind to have that safe in your father’s office, and -the first thing you know he’ll bring men enough here to take it. He’s -not a safe person to have about.” - -Ned was very well aware of that fact, but still he could see no way of -getting rid of him without rendering himself liable to exposure, and -neither could Gus. As often as they discussed the matter, they arrived -at this conclusion: that Philip was there in the rancho; that he meant -to stay there; and that Ned could not have him discharged without -getting himself into serious trouble. One would suppose, that while this -state of affairs continued, there would be no such thing as pleasure for -Ned. He never did see a moment’s peace while he was awake, but those -around him did not know it. He seemed to be enjoying himself to the -fullest extent. - -On the third day, Gus began to feel a little more like himself, and when -Ned proposed a short gallop to get up an appetite for dinner, the -visitor did not object. The first thing was to select a gentle horse for -his use; for the one he had ridden from Palos was a borrowed animal, and -must be returned in good order, at the very first opportunity. Ned made -the selection for him, and then went with him into the store-room to -pick out a saddle and bridle. As they came out into the hall, a horseman -drew up beside the porch long enough to throw a letter at them, after -which he turned about and galloped back in the direction from which he -had come. This was the only way in which the neighboring ranchemen and -farmers would have anything to do with Uncle John. They inquired for his -mail when they went to Palos, and brought it to him, if there chanced to -be any, but they did it simply as an act of courtesy, just as they had -banded together and pursued the raiders in the hope of recovering the -stock they had stolen from him. They did not ask Uncle John to join them -in the pursuit, and when they brought him his mail they never visited -with him or stopped to hold conversation, as they did with their other -neighbors. - -Gus picked up the letter and handed it to Ned, who, after glancing at -the name on the envelope passed it back to his companion. The letter was -addressed to him in care of Uncle John. The visitor’s face grew red and -pale by turns, as he looked at his father’s well-known writing. - -“Sam Holmes has blowed the whole business!” he exclaimed, as soon as he -could speak. - -“Well, you expected it, didn’t you?” returned Ned. “What do you care for -Sam Holmes now? You are out of his reach and your father’s too. Why -don’t you read the letter?” - -Gus didn’t want to read it—that was the reason. It took him by surprise, -for it was something he did not expect to receive. In accordance with -Ned’s suggestion, however, he tore open the envelope, and ran his eye -hastily over the few lines the letter contained. - -“Well, I call that pretty cool!” he exclaimed. - -“Any objections to telling what they say?” asked Ned. - -“None whatever. Read it for yourself, and read it aloud, so that I may -be sure I have made no mistake.” - -Ned took the letter and read as follows:— - - * * * * * - -“MY DEAR BOY:—I learn that you have gone to Texas, to visit Ned -Ackerman. I am sorry you thought it best to leave us without saying -good-by, for if we had known that you were resolved to go, we should -have given you all the aid in our power. I am sorry, too, that you went -when you did, for we had anticipated much pleasure in your company -during our summer’s visit to the trout streams of the Adirondacks. If -you think you would like to come home when your visit is ended, I will -send you the necessary funds. I do not suppose Mr. Ackerman will care to -pay your expenses both ways. Your mother and I would be glad to hear -from you as often as you may feel in the humor to write. I have paid all -your debts.” - -Ned was very much astonished, and went over the letter twice, to make -sure that he had read it aright. - -“What do you think of it?” demanded Gus. - -“It _is_ cool, that’s a fact,” answered Ned, who did not know what else -to say; “very cool!” - -“It’s—it’s impudent!” exclaimed Gus, angrily; “downright insulting! Now, -isn’t he a pretty father for a fellow to have!” he added, snatching the -letter from Ned’s hand. “Just listen to this: ‘If we had known that you -were resolved to go, we should have given you all the aid in our power;’ -and ‘_if_ you think you would like to come home when your visit is -ended!’ He might as well say that if I don’t want to return, I can stay -away and welcome!” - -“It seems that the rest of them are going to the Adirondacks,” said Ned. -“You know you always wanted to go there.” - -“That’s just what provokes me!” cried Gus, thrashing his boots angrily -with his riding-whip, as he walked up and down the porch. “Of course, I -always wanted to go there. I have tried more than once to induce father -to consent, but he wouldn’t do it. He treated me like a dog and drove me -away from home, and now he coolly informs me that he’s going -trout-fishing this summer! I hope he’ll catch a whale, and that the -whale will smash his old boat into kindling-wood, and tumble him out -into the water!” - -This remark showed Gus to be possessed of so mean and paltry a spirit, -and the wish expressed in it was so perfectly ridiculous, that Ned burst -into a loud laugh. He could not help it. Gus looked sharply at him for a -moment, and continued his walk up and down the porch, whipping his boots -at every step. He was greatly amazed, as every young fellow is, when he -learns for the first time that he is not an absolute necessity, and that -the world will wag just as well without him as it will with him. Gus -thought, of course, that his parents were very much distressed over what -he had done, and that the letter was written to urge him to return at -once and relieve their suspense; but, instead of that, his father seemed -to take the matter very coolly, and did not even give up his -contemplated trip to the mountains, because Gus was not there to take -part in it. - -“I’ll never go back!” declared the boy, flourishing his whip in the air. -“I’ll stay here until you get tired of keeping me, and then I’ll go to -work at something—I don’t care what it is—so long as I don’t have to -sell dry-goods!” - -“I wish that letter had been lost on the way,” said Ned, “for it has -taken all the spirit out of you. You were bright and lively this -morning, and were beginning to act like the Gus Robbins I used to know -in Foxboro’.” - -“I’m the same fellow now!” said Gus, tearing the letter into the -smallest possible fragments, and throwing them over the railing for the -wind to carry away. “Let’s go somewhere and do something!” - -The boys mounted their horses, which were standing, saddled and bridled, -at the foot of the stairs, and rode away; but the gloom which had been -thrown over their spirits went with them, and the letter was the only -thing they could talk about. Gus could not forget that trouting -excursion to the Adirondacks. He had longed and hoped for that as he had -never longed and hoped for anything else, and it was very provoking to -know that it was to take place now, after he had put it out of his power -to enjoy it. He would have done a year’s hard work in the store and -given up his Texas scheme for it very gladly. He didn’t care for horses, -guns or dogs; but he was an enthusiastic fisherman, and nothing suited -him better than to get away by himself, and wander up and down the banks -of some retired stream, in which the pools were deep and the speckled -beauties abundant. But all his chances for such sport were gone -now—lost, too, by a deliberate act of his own—and Gus felt angry at -himself when he thought about it. - -“Then don’t think about it at all,” said Ned, as Gus gave utterance to -the thoughts that were passing through his mind. “Think about something -more agreeable. Give up all idea of ever going back to Foxboro’!” - -“O, I have given it up!” said Gus. “But it provokes me almost beyond -measure when I think——” - -He finished the sentence by shaking his riding-whip in the air. - -“That they can be happy and lay plans for their amusement when you are -not there; eh, Gus?” said Ned. “I know right where the shoe pinches. -Stay here, and we’ll make money by raising wheat. Do you see that field -over there? That’s mine!” - -“I saw it some time ago,” answered Gus, “but I thought it was a pasture -that somebody had fenced in. I see some cattle in it.” - -“In my wheat field!” cried Ned, with great indignation. “Where? So do -I!” he added, after he had run his eye along the fence. - -Ned put his horse into a gallop and rode toward the field at the top of -his speed, his companion following closely behind. As they drew nearer -they saw that there was a wide gap in the fence, that the field looked -as though somebody’s cattle had used it regularly for a pasture, and -that some of the animals that had caused the mischief were in the -enclosure now. As they drew rein at the gap and looked over the -desolated field the cattle shook their heads as if they were indignant -at the interruption, and went off toward the opposite fence in a gallop. - -“What wild-looking fellows!” exclaimed Gus. “I should think you would be -afraid to go near them.” - -“They are wild, too,” replied Ned. “They’d just as soon go for us as not -if we were on foot, but they’ll not trouble us so long as we are in the -saddle. But just look at this wheat! It’s ruined, isn’t it?” - -“I am no farmer,” returned his companion. - -“It doesn’t need a farmer to tell whether or not there is any wheat -here, does it?” cried Ned angrily. - -“Can’t you make the man who owns the cattle pay damages?” - -“No; you can’t collect a cent. That thing has been tried.” - -“Then shoot the cattle!” - -“I’d do it in a minute if I wasn’t afraid. You remember the story of -that neighborhood row I told you last night, don’t you?” - -“Yes; and if I were in your place I’d raise another. There’s nobody in -sight, and how is the owner of the cattle going to know who did the -shooting? Knock one of ‘em over! I dare you to do it!” - -Ned hesitated. He had talked bravely enough, when in the presence of his -cousin, about doing this very thing, but since that time he had seen a -fight, had heard the reports of firearms and the yells of excited and -angry men, and thought he had some faint conception of the scenes that -had been enacted during that neighborhood row, and which would, no -doubt, be repeated if another should arise. But here was his fine field -of wheat so nearly destroyed that it would not pay for the harvesting; -within easy rifle shot of him were some of the cattle which had done the -mischief and which probably belonged to one of the neighbors who -wouldn’t visit with him or his father because they wore good clothes and -claimed to be gentlemen; and there was no one in sight. - -“Knock one of them over,” repeated Gus, “and perhaps it will teach their -owner to keep his stock out of the way of your field, the next time you -plant wheat in it. Hand me your gun, and I’ll show you that I am Gus -Robbins yet, and not afraid to do anything.” - -The boy leaned forward in his saddle as he said this, and taking the -rifle out of his friend’s grasp, rode toward the cattle (there were -probably a dozen of them in all) which were dashing along the fence and -trampling down the wheat that had escaped destruction during their -former raids. As Gus approached them, they charged in a body in the -direction of the gap; but instead of going through it they ran on by, -kicking up their heels and shaking their heads as if they enjoyed the -sport. While Ned galloped through the field to head them off, Gus -dismounted, and taking his stand near the gap, cocked the rifle in -readiness to shoot one of the herd the next time they went by. - -Ned succeeded in turning the cattle after a short race, and, as before, -they took no notice of the gap, but dashed by it and started for another -gallop around the field. At that moment the rifle cracked, and one of -the finest steers in the herd threw his head and tail higher in the air, -galloped faster for a short distance, then sank to his knees and rolled -over on his side. By the merest chance, Gus had sent a bullet smaller -than a buckshot into some vital part, and there was one less steer in -somebody’s herd to break down fences and destroy wheat crops. - -“What do you think of that?” cried Gus, in great glee. - -“It was a splendid shot,” replied Ned, who just then rode up and -extended his hand for the rifle. “You did it, didn’t you? Since we have -begun the work, we’ll do it up in shape. If they won’t go out they can -stay in; but they’ll stay dead!” - -The horse that Gus rode, having been broken to stand fire, was not at -all alarmed by the report of the rifle. He allowed the boy to catch and -mount him again, and by the time he was fairly in the saddle, Ned had -placed a fresh cartridge in his rifle. “You head them off and drive them -back,” said he, “and I’ll wait here at the gap to salute them as they go -by.” - -In accordance with this request Gus rode off, and in a few minutes the -herd came dashing along the fence again. They must have been growing -tired of the sport by this time, for they headed straight for the gap, -and all got through; but one of them carried a bullet somewhere in his -body, the effects of which very soon became apparent. The rest of the -herd began to leave him behind, and when he followed them over a ridge, -which lay about a quarter of a mile from the field, he was staggering -about as if he could scarcely keep his feet. - -While the work of driving the cattle out of the field was in progress, a -horseman appeared on the ridge of which we have spoken, riding slowly -along, with his eyes fastened on the ground, as if he were following a -trail. Just as he reached the top, he heard the report of a rifle, and -looked up to discover that the cattle of which he was in search, were -running about a wheat field, and that two persons were engaged in -shooting them down. One of the cattle fell just as he raised his eyes. -When he saw this, he placed his hand on one of the revolvers he carried -in his belt, and seemed on the point of dashing forward to take -satisfaction for the loss he had sustained; but he evidently thought -better of it a moment later, for he backed his horse down the swell -until nothing but his own head could be seen over it, and there he sat -and saw all that Ned and Gus did. When the wounded steer came over the -swell, staggering from the effects of the bullet Ned had shot into him, -the man shook his clenched hand in the direction of the wheat field, -muttered something to himself, and galloped off in pursuit of the -uninjured cattle, leaving the wounded one to take care of himself. - -“There!” exclaimed Ned, when the laggard of the drove had disappeared -over the swell, “it’s done, and I am glad of it. If the owner of those -cattle finds out that we did it and has anything to say about it, I -shall tell him that this is my land—it may be mine some day, you know, -and before long, too—and that no cattle except my own have any right on -it.” - -“I wish that steer had got over the fence before he died,” said Gus. - -The boys seemed to be highly elated over what they had done. They had -performed the same feat which, not so very many months ago, had set the -whole settlement together by the ears, and no one was the wiser for it. -Of course some rancheman would some day find out that one of his fattest -steers had been killed and another badly wounded, but how was he going -to find out who did the shooting? Ned fully expected that there would be -trouble about it; that there would be threats and inquiries made, and -that he and Gus, being safe from discovery, would have many a hearty -laugh in secret over the storm they had raised. - -“Remember one thing,” said he. “No matter what is said or done, we don’t -know anything about it. They can’t crowd us into a corner tight enough -to make us own up. That would only make matters worse.” - -Gus readily agreed to this, and the boys shook hands on it. In order to -make assurance doubly sure they rode around the rancho and approached -it, just at dark, from a direction opposite to that they had taken when -they rode away from it in the morning. When the events of the afternoon -became known nobody could fasten the guilt upon them by saying that they -had been seen coming from the direction of the wheat field. They found -supper waiting for them, and when they had eaten it they went into the -office to spend the evening in reading and conversation. - -While they were thus engaged inside the house, a proceeding which looks -strange at the first glance, but which will be plain enough when all the -circumstances connected with it are known, was going on outside of it. A -horseman, who was riding rapidly along the road toward the rancho, -turned off just before he reached it, and made his way to the corral -that was located a short distance to the right of the shed in which Ned -had taken refuge on the night of the fight. He stopped in front of the -gate and uttered an exclamation of disappointment when he found that it -was secured by a heavy padlock. After looking about him for a moment, as -if he were turning some problem over in his mind, he dismounted, pulled -the bridle over his horse’s head and hung it upon the horn of the -saddle; whereupon the animal turned and galloped toward a -watering-trough a short distance away, where he was joined by a small, -dark-colored mule which had followed the horseman down the trail. The -horseman himself moved toward the house, pausing every now and then to -listen and reconnoiter the ground before him, and presently reached the -steps leading to the porch. These he mounted with cautious tread, and -was about to place his hand upon the door when it was suddenly opened -from the inside, a flood of light streamed out into the darkness, and -the horseman was confronted by a stalwart herdsman who started back in -surprise at the sight of him. - -Arresting by a hasty gesture the cry of amazement that arose to the -herdsman’s lips, the visitor stepped into the hall, and, closing the -door behind him, uttered a few short, quick sentences in a low tone of -voice which the other received with subdued ejaculations of wonder. When -he ceased speaking the herdsman hastened away, and the visitor, who -seemed to be perfectly familiar with the internal arrangements of the -house, moved quickly along the hall, turning several corners, and -finally opening a door which gave entrance into Mr. Ackerman’s office. - -There was a happy party gathered in that office, if one might judge by -the ringing peal of laughter which echoed through the hall, when the -door was opened; but it was quickly checked at the sight of the boy who -entered as though he had a perfect right to be there, and whose -appearance was so sudden and unexpected that it brought two of the three -persons in the room to their feet in an instant. - -“Why, George!” they both cried in a breath—and a quick ear would have -discovered that there was more surprise than cordiality in their -tones—“Is this you? Where in the world have you been so long? We have -been worried to death about you!” - -“Yes it is I,” answered George Ackerman, for he it was. “I have come -back safe and sound, and that is all I can say to you now about myself. -I want to talk to you about yourselves, and especially to you Ned. By -the way, I suppose this is the friend from Foxboro’ whom you have so -long been expecting.” - -Ned replied that it was, but he forgot to introduce the two boys to each -other, and so did Uncle John. There was something about George that made -them forget it. When they came to look at him they saw that he was very -much excited, and that his face wore an expression they had never seen -there before. They could not tell whether he was frightened or troubled. - -“Why, George!” exclaimed Uncle John, in some alarm. “What is the matter? -Any bad news? Are the Indians or Mexicans——” - -“Yes, I have bad news,” interrupted George, almost impatiently, “and but -little time to tell it in. Ned, you and your friend must pack up and -leave this rancho, and this county, too, without the loss of an hour’s -time. You are in danger, and I have placed myself in danger by coming -here to tell you of it!” - -The boy’s words produced the utmost surprise and consternation among -those who listened to them. - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - A NARROW ESCAPE. - - -George found his herdsman eager for news from the settlement, as he -always was, but he had nothing to tell him that was very interesting. He -could have given him some information that would have made him open his -eyes and put him in fighting humor at once; but he thought it best to -avoid that subject altogether. If he told Zeke that Uncle John had -threatened to take his herd of cattle away from him, under the plea of -reducing expenses, but really as George believed, for the purpose of -turning it over to Ned, the old man would have been as angry as George -was when he first learned of the fact. But the boy didn’t want to let -Zeke know how mean his uncle was, and so he said nothing about his -plans. They never could be carried out while Zeke was there to protect -his stock, and George could afford to be magnanimous. - -George and his herdsman made an early start on the following morning, -and the third night found them at Catfish Falls. They now felt perfectly -safe, for the raiders had never been known to penetrate so far into the -country. Their depredations were principally confined to the counties -bordering on the river, it being their object to stampede all the stock -they could find in one night’s raid, and drive it across the river into -Mexico, before the settlers could gather in sufficient numbers to pursue -them. They tried as hard to avoid a fight as the ranchemen did to -overtake them. - -George made the camp and cooked the supper, and when they had satisfied -their appetites, the former laid down on his blanket in front of the -fire with his saddle for a pillow, and listened to Zeke, who talked and -smoked incessantly. Their work for the day was over now. The cattle were -always brought close in to camp at dark, the horses and mule were staked -out, and the campers went to bed at an early hour. If they awoke during -the night, they replenished the fire with some of the fuel that was -always kept close at hand, and walked around the herd to see if there -were any restless ones in it who felt inclined to stray away. George -performed this necessary duty twice on this particular night making the -first round about twelve o’clock. To his surprise, he found the most of -the cattle on their feet, and saw that some of them were exhibiting -unmistakable signs of uneasiness and alarm. They stood snuffing the air -eagerly, carrying their heads high and their ears thrown forward, and -now and then they would walk a few steps out of the herd, lower their -horns and paw the ground as if challenging the object that had excited -them, whatever it was, to come out and give them battle. The rest of the -cattle were lying down, chewing their cuds contentedly, and apparently -not at all disturbed by the antics of their nervous companions. - -George threw himself flat upon the ground and swept his eyes around the -horizon. In this position, he could distinctly see any object that might -be approaching the camp (provided, of course, that it was taller than -the grass) for it would be clearly outlined against the sky. But he -could see nothing. He arose to his feet again and listened intently, but -could hear nothing calculated to excite his alarm. The wolves which -serenaded them every night were holding a concert a short distance away, -and that made George believe that if there was any danger approaching, -it was yet a long distance off; for he knew that the wolves would be the -first to discover it, and that they would then bring their concert to a -close and take to their heels. - -“There’s something up,” thought George, once more turning his eyes -toward the cattle. Some of the uneasy ones, reassured by his presence, -were walking about among their companions, as if they were looking for a -good place to lie down, while the others remained in a defiant attitude -and snuffed the air as before. “There’s something up,” repeated George, -“and I have been expecting it. I have felt very nervous and timid for -two or three days, and I don’t know how to account for it. If there is -anybody within hearing or smelling distance who has no business here, I -can find it out.” - -George walked back to the camp, picked up his rifle, and after -unfastening the lasso with which his horse was confined, he jumped on -the animal’s back without saddle or bridle and rode away in the -darkness, paying no heed to a bray of remonstrance from Bony who -followed as far as the length of his lariat would allow him to go. He -rode out on the prairie for a hundred yards or more, and then stopped -his horse and listened again. The animal stood perfectly quiet for a few -seconds, looking first one way and then another, and turning his ears -toward all points of the compass, and apparently satisfied with the -result of his reconnoissance, he put down his head and began cropping -the grass. - -“Hold up, here!” exclaimed George, seizing the horse by the mane and -tapping him gently on the side of his head with the muzzle of his rifle -to make him turn around. “We have nothing to be frightened at yet—that’s -evident. Now, old fellow, I shall leave you loose. Keep your ears open -and wake us up if you hear anything!” - -George rode back to camp and sought his blanket feeling a little more at -his ease. He had as much faith in his horse as he had in Zeke (the -latter used to say that he could smell an Indian or a Greaser at night -as far as he could see him in the daytime), and since the animal could -not discover anything suspicious, it was as good evidence as he wanted -that there was nothing to fear. No doubt some of the wild members of the -herd felt as nervous and uneasy as he did, and took their own way to -show it. - -Although George brought back to his blanket a most refreshing feeling of -security, he did not sleep as soundly as he usually did. He went through -all sorts of terrible things in his dreams, and started every time the -fire snapped. He was wide awake again at one o’clock, and set out on his -second tour of inspection. The moon, now nearly half an hour high, had -brought up with it a cooling breeze which gently rustled the long grass -of the prairie, and sent the sparks from the camp-fire circling high in -the air. The wolves had closed their concert and gone off to find a more -appreciative audience, and there was an air of peaceful quiet brooding -over the scene. George forgot all his fears and continued his round with -a light heart. He found the cattle quiet, but some of them had begun -feeding and were straying away from the rest of the herd. While George -was engaged in driving them back, and forcing the remainder of the herd -into a more compact body, a yell, so sudden and startling that it made -the cold chills creep all over him, arose on the air, and out from a -little thicket of willows that grew a short distance from the belt in -which the camp was located, dashed a party of horsemen who charged -toward the herd at the top of their speed. They were Mexicans; George -could see that at a glance. They had doubtless been hovering about the -camp all night, and it was while they were working their way around to -the leeward of the herd that their presence had been detected by the -wakeful cattle. - -George stood for an instant as if he were rooted to the ground; and then -with a wild cry of alarm he dashed forward, running diagonally across -the front of the herd, hoping almost against hope that he might succeed -in passing them, and thus avoiding the rush which he knew would come in -a moment more. It was the only way in which he could escape being -trampled to death. He ran as he had never run before, but he had made -scarcely half a dozen steps when a rumble like that of an avalanche -sounded close at his side, telling him that the cattle were coming. The -strongest fence that was ever built would not have stopped them now, and -George, had he attempted to drive them back or turn them aside, would -have been trampled under their feet like a blade of grass. He saw and -fully realized his danger, but could not escape it. Even Zeke, who was -as light of foot as an antelope, could not have saved himself by his -speed; and George, giving himself up for lost, fell flat upon the -ground, clasped his hands over his head and awaited his fate. By the -merest chance he threw himself into a little excavation in the prairie, -which, in the years gone by, had doubtless served as a wallow for some -old patriarch of a buffalo; but now it was covered with grass, and there -were two or three little willows growing out of the bottom of it. - -This protection, slight as it was, saved the boy’s life. He had barely -time to crowd himself close against the frail stems of the willows -before the frantic cattle were upon him. The roar of their hoofs on the -hard ground was almost deafening. It was louder than the roar of all the -northers he had ever heard crowded into one; but even while he was -wondering why some of the cattle did not jump upon him the roar -subsided, and George, looking up through the willows which had been bent -over his head, saw the moon shining down upon him. Every steer had -jumped the wallow, and George had escaped with nothing more than a -terrible fright. While he was congratulating himself upon his good -fortune, a clatter of hoofs sounded near, and he ducked his head just as -two horsemen, riding side by side, dashed over the wallow in pursuit of -the flying herd. - -The boy’s first thought, after he had satisfied himself that he had -escaped without injury, was of Zeke. What had become of him? There was -one thing certain—George knew it now as well as he did a few minutes -later—and that was that the herdsman had made a fight, and a good one, -too. Although the old fellow appeared to be a sound sleeper, he would -jump to his feet the instant he heard any unusual noise, and he was wide -awake the moment he opened his eyes. More than that, he kept his -Winchester close at hand, and could discharge it with a rapidity and -accuracy that George had tried in vain to imitate. Zeke was probably on -his feet before the yell that frightened the cattle was half uttered, -and as soon as he got there he was ready to begin shooting. Of course -George had not heard the report of his rifle, for the rumble of that -multitude of hoofs about his ears would have drowned the roar of a -cannon. - -“But I know, all the same, that he _did_ shoot, and that some of those -raiders didn’t get away,” thought George, as he once more raised his -head and looked over the grass in the direction of the camp. “I think I -had better stay here. Zeke will know when the danger is over, and then -he will call to me. I wonder if he is there now? Somebody is punching up -the fire, sure!” - -The old buffalo wallow into which George had thrown himself, was about a -hundred yards distant from the willows, and the grass was so high that -he could not see the camp; but he could see the smoke of the fire as it -arose through the tops of the trees that hung over it. Just now the fire -was blazing brightly, and the sparks were rising from it in volumes. -This was what led George to believe that there was somebody in the camp. -It couldn’t be one of the raiders, he told himself, for they never -stopped. They stampeded the cattle and dashed on after them to get out -of reach of the bullets in the herder’s rifles. - -“Of course Zeke is there,” thought George as he arose from his place of -concealment; but he had scarcely placed himself fairly upon his feet -before he dropped back among the willows again. There were several -figures moving about the fire, and there were riderless horses and -mounted men near by. The men were all dressed in Mexican costume—the -wide brims of their sombreros were plainly visible in the moonlight—and -there were at least a dozen of them in sight. One of them seemed to be -poking up the fire for the purpose of making as bright a light as -possible, while the others were going into the willows with blazing -fire-brands in their hands. Some of their companions had already gone in -there armed in the same manner, for George could see the lights dancing -about among the trees. - -The boy saw all this during the instant of time he was on his feet, and -when he dropped back into his concealment again, his fear had given -place to a feeling of exultation. The raiders were searching the woods -in the vicinity of the camp, and of course they could be looking for -nobody but Zeke. Probably the old fellow had given them a very warm -reception. No doubt he had tumbled three or four of them out of their -saddles, and the survivors were hunting him up with the intention of -taking vengeance on him if they caught him. - -“But they’ll never catch him,” chuckled George, “because he’s too old a -‘coon. He has fought Indians too long to be beaten by a lot of lubberly -Greasers.” - -George drew the tops of the willows closer together, confining them in -that position by twisting their branches, and having thus formed a -screen that was large enough to cover his head, he raised himself upon -his knees, so that he could look over the grass and watch the motions of -the raiders. They were certainly looking for somebody, and they seemed -resolved to find him, too, for they did not grow discouraged and go -away, as George hoped they would. Their failure only seemed to make them -the more determined. First one and then another seized fire-brands and -joined their companions in the woods, and finally those who were -mounted, swung themselves out of their saddles and went in too, leaving -the camp to take care of itself. - -“I wonder what Zeke has done to make them so persistent!” said George to -himself. “Perhaps they’ve got an old grudge against him. They might as -well go away, for they’ll not find him. He’s safe long before this time, -and if I could only make my horse hear me, I’d soon be safe too.” - -George could always find something to feel happy over, no matter how -unpleasant the situation in which he might be placed, and he found -something now. He had lost his fine herd of cattle, but Zeke was left to -him, and so were his horse and pack-mule. The former had been stampeded -with the cattle, but George knew he would not run far before he would -leave them and strike a straight course for home. The two Mexicans who -had followed the herd to head it off and turn it away from the -settlements toward the river, would not bother their heads about him, -for while they had three hundred fat cattle to look out for, they could -not afford to waste time in pursuing a single horse. Bony was still -staked out near the camp, and so was Zeke’s nag. They both made the most -desperate efforts to escape with the herd, but the lariats with which -they were confined were too strong to be broken, and the picket-pins -were driven so firmly into the ground that they could not be easily -pulled up. The Mexicans, when they were ready to leave the camp, would -probably turn these animals loose, expecting them to follow their own -horses, just as Silk Stocking had followed off the raiders who made the -attack on the rancho; but that was something Bony would not do. He was -very much afraid of strangers, and when left to himself he would make -the best of his way home. - -The search for Zeke was continued? until broad daylight, and all this -while George lay in his concealment watching the motions of the raiders -and wondering what his herdsman had done to make the thieves so anxious -to find him. When day began to dawn he discovered something that seemed -to explain it all: there were five wounded men sitting and lying beside -the fire. George knew that they were wounded, for he could see that they -wore bandages, and that one who limped considerably and used a stick to -walk with, would now and then get up to bring a cup of water from the -bayou to two of his companions who kept their blankets. Probably one of -these men was the leader of the band, and that was the reason why the -others were so determined to find Zeke. But they had to give up the -search and go away without him, as George knew they would. Shortly after -daylight they began to come into camp by twos and threes, and when they -were all assembled George counted eighteen of them. They talked -earnestly together for a few minutes and then set about preparing a -hasty breakfast, helping themselves bountifully to the contents of the -pack-saddle, and using the cooking utensils which George had provided -for his own use and Zeke’s. - -George waited with no little impatience to find out what they were going -to do when they made an end of the bacon and coffee, and was very glad -to see that they were preparing for an immediate departure. When all was -ready the wounded members of the band were assisted into their saddles, -Zeke’s horse and George’s pack-mule were set at liberty, and the raiders -moved slowly along the willows in the direction the cattle had taken -when they were stampeded. It was a wonder that their suspicions were not -aroused by the actions of the mule which, foolish as mules generally -are, ran at once to the buffalo wallow in which George was concealed, -and not content with shying at the sight of it and giving it a wide -berth, as Zeke’s horse did, Bony circled around it two or three times, -and finally stopping, thrust out his neck, threw his long ears forward -and looked suspiciously at the crouching form of his master. - -George, who had been in a fever of suspense for long hours, and who -began to breathe more freely when he saw the raiders moving away, was -frightened again; but, as it happened, the thieves paid no attention to -the mule’s actions. Better than that, Zeke’s horse kept on his way -without stopping, and Bony, seeing that he was going to be left behind, -started in pursuit. The danger was over now, but George was much too -wary to run any risks. He saw the raiders disappear over the nearest -swell, but he allowed another hour to pass before he left his -hiding-place. Then he moved very cautiously, crawling along on his hands -and knees, stopping every few feet to look over the grass and listen, -and examining the ground about the camp very thoroughly before he -ventured into the woods. - -He found the camp in the greatest confusion. His rifle and revolvers -were gone, so were his blankets and poncho, and also a good portion of -the contents of the pack-saddle; but there was still a little of the -bacon and hard-tack left, and the raiders had forgotten to take his -haversack and frying-pan. He replenished the fire at once, and while -waiting for it to get fairly started, employed himself in cutting up the -bacon with an old rusty hunting-knife which one of the thieves had -probably left in exchange for his own new one. While he was thus engaged -he did not neglect to keep an eye open for any straggling raiders who -might have fallen behind the main body; but there were none in sight. He -placed the bacon in the frying-pan, and when it was done to his -satisfaction he put it into his haversack, together with the small -supply of hard-tack that was left, extinguished the fire and set out for -home. - -“I am glad the thieves left me provisions enough to last me until I can -get more,” said George, to himself. “If I have to travel all the way on -foot, it will take me four or five days to reach the nearest rancho, and -I have no fears of getting hungry during that time. What brought those -raiders so far from the river? That’s what I can’t understand.” - -During the two days that followed, while the young cattle-herder was -trudging painfully over the lonely prairie, he had ample leisure to turn -this question over in his mind. He travelled early and late, but his -progress was necessarily slow, for one who spends the most of his time -in the saddle, finds it hard work to go on foot, and soon grows weary. -He kept a bright lookout for Zeke, and stopped on the top of every swell -to scan the prairie before and on both sides of him, in the hope of -discovering his horse or pack-mule; but Zeke was miles ahead of him, -hastening toward the settlement, intent on alarming the ranchemen in -time to cut the raiders off from the river, while Bony and Ranger were -making the best of their way toward home. - -“They are all safe, I know, for they are able to take care of -themselves. So am I; but there’s no fun in looking forward to three days -more of such walking as I have had. I shouldn’t mind it so much if I -hadn’t lost my cattle,” said George, with a long-drawn sigh. “Those lazy -Greasers have robbed me of years of hard work, and now I must begin all -over again, or else go to herding cattle for Uncle John. Of course I -can’t loaf about the house all the time and do nothing, as Ned does. -Hallo!” - -While George was talking to himself in this way he came to the top of a -ridge, and found before him a long line of willows which fringed the -banks of a water-course. A solitary horse was feeding near the willows, -and this it was that attracted the boy’s attention and called forth the -exclamation with which he finished his soliloquy. The sight of the -animal alarmed him, for it was not at all likely that a horse, wearing a -saddle and bridle, would be feeding contentedly in that wilderness, so -far from all signs of civilization, unless there was some one with him. -George dropped to the ground, and ran his eyes along the willows in -search of a camp. If there was one in the neighborhood he could not find -it. There was no smoke to be seen, nor were there any other indications -of the presence of human beings. - -“But there’s somebody here all the same,” thought the boy, shifting his -position a little, so that he could obtain a better view of the willows, -“for that horse never came here without a rider. Somebody has stopped in -the willows to rest, and he’s a Mexican, too. I know it by the silver -ornaments on the saddle. I wish I could think up some way to capture -that horse. Shall I try it?” - -Not knowing what else to do just then, George lay there in the grass and -considered the matter. Weary and footsore as he was, the thought of -finishing his journey on horseback was a most agreeable one. The animal -was loose—when he raised his head, George could see that he was not -confined by a lariat—but if he attempted to creep up to him the horse -would doubtless take fright and run off; and that would excite the -suspicions of his owner, who might be tempted to send a bullet from his -carbine in that direction. There was too much danger in it George found -when he came to think it over. He sighed regretfully, thought almost -with a shudder, of the long, weary miles that lay between him and the -nearest rancho, and was about to crawl back down the swell again, when -he was astonished almost beyond measure, to hear his own name pronounced -in a weak and trembling, but still distinct voice. - -“George! George Ackerman!” came the hail from the willows. - -George jumped to his feet, and looking in the direction from which the -voice sounded, saw a sombrero waved in the air, and could dimly discern -the figure of a man, dressed in Mexican costume, who was sitting on the -ground, with his back against one of the willows. - -“George!” repeated the man. - -“Hallo!” was the reply. - -“Come here, will you? I am badly hurt and in need of help!” - -George grew more and more astonished. The man was a Mexican beyond a -doubt, but the voice sounded strangely familiar. - -“Don’t be afeared, George!” continued the man, in a pleading tone. “I -couldn’t hurt you if I wanted to! I’ve got something to tell you!” - -“Who are you?” asked the boy. - -“Why, don’t you know Springer, who used to herd cattle for your father?” - -Yes, George knew him, and he didn’t know anything good of him either. - -“If you are Springer,” he shouted “what are you doing there with those -clothes on?” - -“Come here, an’ I’ll tell you all about it!” was the answer. “I’ll tell -you something else, too—something that’ll make you open your eyes. Do -come, George, and give me a drink of water! I’ve got a chunk of lead -through each leg!” - -“Aha!” said George, who thought he understood the matter now. “You were -with the raiders, and Zeke got two pulls at you with his Winchester!” - -As he said this he ran down the swell, and in a few minutes more was -standing beside the wounded man. It was Springer, sure enough, but he -was so much changed that George could scarcely recognise him. His face -was very pale and his strong frame was convulsed with agony. The sash he -usually wore around his waist had been cut in two, and the pieces were -bound tightly about his legs above the knee to stanch the flow of blood -from the wounds made by the herdsman’s rifle. He was a hard-looking -fellow, and any one would have taken him for just what George knew him -to be—a cattle-thief. - -Without stopping to ask any more questions George seized the man’s hat, -and hastening to the bayou presently returned with the crown filled with -water. The wounded raider drank eagerly and sank back against his tree -with a sigh of great satisfaction. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - GEORGE HAS COMPANY. - - -George knew Springer well. The latter had once been in his father’s -employ; but being of no use as a herdsman or anything else, he had been -discharged, to make room for a more industrious and pains-taking man. -This enraged Springer, who threatened vengeance, and followed up his -threats by attempting to fire the rancho. He had been detected in the -act and almost captured; but he succeeded in making his escape, and -since then George had never met him until this particular day. He had -often heard of him, however, as a member of a band of cattle-thieves, -who now and then made a raid through the country farther down the river. -There were a good many others just like Springer, on the opposite side -of the Rio Grande—renegade Americans—who, having left their country for -their country’s good, had taken refuge among the Mexicans, and joined -with them in raiding upon the well-stocked farms and ranches of their -Texan neighbors. - -[Illustration: GEORGE RETURNS GOOD FOR EVIL.] - -“You needn’t be afeared, George,” repeated Springer, seeing that the boy -cast uneasy glances about him, as if half expecting to see the rest of -the band start up from some ambush among the willows. “Thar’s nobody -here but me.” - -“Where are your friends?” asked George. - -“They’ve gone on, an’ I s’pose they’re acrosst the river by this time.” - -“Did they leave you here to take care of yourself?” inquired George, who -found it difficult to believe that men could be so heartless. - -“What else could they do?” asked Springer, wincing a little, as he tried -to move one of his wounded legs into a more comfortable position. “A man -who is fool enough to get hurt, must take his chances. If he can keep up -with the rest, well an’ good; if he can’t, he must fall behind an’ look -out fur himself. I’m glad I ain’t in the settlement. I’d rather stay -here an’ starve, fur want of grub an’ water, than have the ranchemen -catch me. I ain’t had a bite to eat fur two days.” - -“You haven’t!” exclaimed George. “I’ll divide with you.” - -He opened his haversack, as he spoke, and producing from its capacious -depths a goodly supply of bacon and cracker, placed it in the hands of -the wounded man, whose eyes brightened as he received it. George stood -by and saw him eat it, and was glad to see that he enjoyed it, although -he knew that by thus diminishing his store he put himself in a fair way -to go hungry for many a weary mile of his journey. The man was a -scoundrel—no one except himself could tell what deeds of violence he had -been guilty of during his raids—but for all that George was glad that it -was in his power to relieve his distress. - -“I am sorry to see you in this situation, Springer,” said he, when the -bacon and cracker had disappeared. - -“Are you, though?” exclaimed the man, wiping his mouth with the back of -his hand, and looking up in surprise. “I didn’t s’pose you would be.” - -“Well, I am; and I hope that when you get well, you will behave yourself -and live among white men.” - -“That’s unpossible; ‘kase why, white men won’t have nothing to do with -me,” replied Springer, almost fiercely. “Would you hire me to herd -cattle fur you?” - -“Yes, I would. I know you threatened that you would be revenged on my -father for discharging you, but I don’t see why you should follow me up. -I haven’t done anything to you. How did you get shot? And how came you -here?” - -“Wal, you see, we made the dash on your camp, kalkerlatin’ to take you -by surprise; but Zeke, he allers sleeps with his rifle in his hand an’ -one eye open, an’ I was the fust feller he got a crack at. He took two -pulls at me, an’ this yere is the consequence,” said Springer, pointing -with both forefingers toward his bandaged legs. “When we left your camp, -the fellers put me on my hoss, an’ I kept up with ‘em fur a few hours; -but the pace was too fast fur me—I couldn’t stand the joltin’; so I had -to pull up. When I reached this bayou, I thought I’d get a drink of -water; but when I got down I fell, lettin’ go my bridle, an’ my hoss -walked away. I was too weak an’ bad hurt to crawl to the water; I -couldn’t ketch my hoss, an’ I reckoned I’d got to stay right here. I -happened to see you when you come to the top of the ridge, an’ called to -you, thinkin’ mebbe you wouldn’t refuse to give me the drink I was -a’most ready to die fur. But you wouldn’t a done it, if you knowed as -much as I do!” - -“Yes, I would. I don’t bear you any ill-will because you stole my -cattle.” - -“But that aint all!” exclaimed Springer. - -“I know it isn’t! You tried to burn my home over my head; but I don’t -bear you any ill-will for that, either; and I’ll prove it to you by -putting you on your horse and giving you a chance to save yourself!” - -“But _that_ aint all!” said Springer. “How do you reckon we knowed whar -to look for you?” - -“I’m sure I can’t tell! I never knew raiders to venture so far from the -river before!” - -“An’ they never did, nuther! Whar was you when we was in your camp?” - -“I was lying in a buffalo wallow about a hundred yards away!” - -“Did you see the fellars while they was a pokin’ around in the willows -with their fire-brands? What do you reckon they was a lookin’ for?” - -“I supposed they were looking for Zeke!” - -“Wal, they wasn’t lookin’ for Zeke, nuther! They didn’t care nothing -about Zeke! You was the fellow they wanted to find!” - -“I was!” exclaimed George. “What did they want of me?” - -“They wanted you ‘kase there’s a thousand head of fat steers wrapped up -in you, ‘sides them three hundred we stole from you the other night!” - -The boy was greatly astonished, and he was certain, too, that he knew -what Springer was trying to get at. He seated himself on the ground with -his back against a neighboring tree, and said as calmly as he could: - -“You must speak plainer than that if you want me to know just what you -mean!” - -“I mean jist this yere,” said Springer; “an I’ll tell you ‘cause you was -good enough to come here an’ give me the drink of water I was starvin’ -fur, an’ feed me outen your grub when you haint got enough to eat -yourself. George, you are in danger every day you spend at your rancho! -Your uncle and cousin don’t want you there, an’ they aint goin’ to let -you stay nuther!” - -George thought from what Springer said before that he had some such -revelation as this to make, but when it came it almost took his breath -away. He had long been of the opinion that his relatives didn’t want him -at the rancho, but how could this cattle-thief, who lived miles away on -the other side of the river, have found it out? The man talked in a -positive tone, as though he knew all about it, and this was what -surprised George. There was one thing certain, however: He was not going -to discuss family matters with any such fellow as Springer. - -“I’ll tell you what it is,” said he, as he arose to his feet and slung -his haversack over his shoulders. “I’ll not stay here if you are going -to insult my uncle and cousin!” - -“Say, George, whar you goin’?” demanded Springer. - -“I am going to start on again. Shall I put you on your horse before I -go?” - -“You needn’t go off mad,” said the man, earnestly, “‘cause every word -I’m tellin’ you is the gospel truth. We got it all through Philip!” - -“Got all what through Philip?” asked George. - -“I mean we done all our business through him; an’ if I was in your -place, I’d go home an’ bundle him outen the house, neck an’ heels. He’s -makin’ mischief thar, _I_ tell you. He told us we’d find you in that -grove on Brown’s Run; an’ when we didn’t find you thar, we follered your -trail to Catfish Falls.” - -“But how did Philip know I was going to that grove?” demanded George, -growing more and more bewildered. - -“What’s the use of me tellin’ you when you’ll get mad?” asked Springer -in reply. “The under-standin’ atween us, was, that arter we had drove -off your three hundred head of stock, we was to come over agin, in a -week or two, an’ we would find a thousand more head whar we could get -‘em easy.” - -“Who was going to put them where you could get them easy?” - -“If I tell you, you’ll get mad at me. But mind you, we wasn’t to get -them thousand head unless we gobbled you. The fellers done their level -best, but couldn’t find you!” - -“What were you going to do with me if you found me?” - -“That’s something I can’t tell. Nobody but Fletcher knows that.” - -“Who’s Fletcher?” - -“He’s the boss—the cap’n.” - -“Who told you to gobble me?” - -“What’s the use of me tellin’ you when you’ll be sartin to go off mad? -You see, we kalkerlated to make twenty-six thousand dollars clear by two -night’s work, but that didn’t satisfy us. Philip, he told us that thar -was a whole bit of gold and silver in your uncle’s office, an’ we wanted -that too; so we slipped down thar, an’ Philip, he opened the door an’ -let us in.” - -“Into our house!” cried George, who now learned for the first time of -the attack that had been made upon the rancho. - -“Yes, into your house; but we didn’t get nothing but bullets an’ one -hoss fur our pains.” - -“It served you just right,” said George, indignantly. “They are not all -traitors in that house, I tell you.” - -“Not by no means they ain’t,” said Springer, with a knowing shake of the -head. “One of the herders, who was awake, aroused the others by firing -his revolver, an’ it’s the biggest wonder in the world that any of us -got out. We tried to cut down the doors, but they drove us off, and then -we made a strike fur Brown’s Run, whar we allowed to find you. On the -way we run into about five hundred head of stock, an’ thinkin’ that a -bird in the hand was worth a dozen in the woods, we drove ‘em off. We -got ‘em across the river all right, an’ dodgin’ the rangers who follered -us, we came back arter you. We found you too, an’ some of us got more’n -we wanted,” added Springer, looking down at his bandages and groaning -faintly. - -George listened to all this in the greatest amazement. He remembered -now, that just before he left home with his supplies, his uncle had -questioned him closely about some things in which he had previously -shown no interest whatever, and that he seemed particularly anxious to -know where his nephew expected to find his herd, and which way Zeke -would probably drive it after George joined him. The boy never would -have thought of the circumstance again, if it had not been for this -interview with his father’s old herdsman; but now it was recalled very -vividly to his mind, and he was obliged to confess to himself that the -half-formed suspicions he had long entertained were not without -foundation. His Uncle John was at the bottom of all his troubles, and -Philip, the Mexican cook, was his confidential assistant. The boy’s -heart sank within him while he thought about it. He didn’t know what to -do, and there was only one man in the settlement to whom he could go for -advice. - -“Well, Springer,” said George, suddenly, “we have wasted time enough. I -have a long journey to make, and so have you. I hope you will succeed in -getting safely over the river, and that the lesson you have received -will be the means of making you an honest man. I will put you on your -horse and divide my provisions with you, and that is all I can do for -you.” - -“An’ it’s a heap more nor any body else would do for me,” said Springer, -gratefully. “You won’t tell none of the settlers that you seed me, will -you?” - -“I’ll not put any of them on your trail,” replied the boy. “I may be -obliged to say something about you; but if you have good luck, you ought -to be safe across the river before I reach Mr. Gilbert’s house, and that -is where I am going.” - -After bringing Springer another hatful of water from the bayou, and -dividing with him the small supply of bacon and crackers he had left, -George brought up his horse, and with infinite difficulty assisted the -man to mount. Springer groaned a little and swore a great deal during -the operation, and being a heavy man and almost unable to help himself, -it required the outlay of all George’s strength to put him into the -saddle. After thanking the boy over and over again for what he had done, -he rode slowly away, and George feeling as though there was nothing in -the world worth living for now, once more turned his face toward the -settlement. He looked back now and then to see how Springer was getting -on. The last time he saw the man he was standing on the top of a high -swell holding his hat in his hand. When he saw George looking at him he -waved it in the air and rode down the swell out of sight. - -“If he can keep in his saddle for forty-eight hours—and he would have no -trouble at all in doing it if it were not for his wounds—and can dodge -the rangers who are probably out looking for the raiders, he will be all -right,” thought George; “but if he is compelled to dismount, I don’t -know what will become of him. He can’t possibly get on his horse again -without help. Now, what shall I do? I am going back to a home where I am -not wanted.” - -This was the burden of the boy’s thoughts all the rest of the day. He -could not make up his mind to any course of action, for he was so -stunned and bewildered by what he had heard that he could not think -clearly. The only thing he determined upon was, that he would lay the -case before Mr. Gilbert, and be governed by his advice. Mr. Gilbert was -a wealthy cattle-raiser and a prominent man in the settlement, who had -gained his start in life through the assistance of George’s father. He -was a firm friend of the family, and the boy knew that he could trust -him. Toward his rancho he directed his course, making all the haste he -could. He would have been glad to travel all night, but his weary limbs -demanded rest, and when it grew dark George was obliged, much against -his will, to go into camp. He built a fire in the edge of a belt of -post-oaks that ran across his path, and after gathering fuel enough to -last all night, he ate a very light supper and sat down to think over -the situation. When eight o’clock came he scraped a few leaves together -for a bed, and was about to throw himself down upon it, when he was -brought to his feet by the clatter of hoofs, which sounded a short -distance away. - -George seized his haversack and waited with a beating heart for the -horsemen, who he knew were approaching his camp, to come in sight. They -came a moment later, and to the boy’s intense relief the light from his -fire shone not upon silver buttons, gaudy sashes and wide trowsers, but -upon a couple of red shirts and slouch hats. With a long-drawn sigh, -indicative of the greatest satisfaction, George threw down his haversack -and stepped forward to greet the new comers. - -“Good-evening, stranger,” said the foremost horseman. “Have you any -objections to good company to-night?” - -“None whatever,” answered George, readily. “I shall be only too glad to -have it, for it is lonely work keeping house all by one’s self.” - -“We saw the light of your fire,” said the other, “and as we have got a -little out of our reckoning, we made bold to come here, thinking that -perhaps you could set us right.” - -“I am glad to see you,” answered George; “but I hope you have brought -your supper with you, for it is little I can offer you.” - -“O, that’s nothing. It is no uncommon thing for ranchemen to go -supperless to bed, you know. Where did you stake out your horse, my -lad?” - -“I haven’t any, sir. He was stampeded when the Greasers stole my cattle, -and I haven’t seen him since.” - -“Ah! been cleaned out, have you? That’s provoking.” - -The man said this in much the same tone of voice he would have used if -he had been speaking of an event that was of every-day occurrence. They -both listened while George, in accordance with their request, hurriedly -related the story of his loss, and then staked out their horses and came -back to the fire. George offered them what was left of his supply of -provisions, but the ranchemen declined it with thanks, and proceeded to -fill their pipes. - -“We need an adventure now and then to give a little variety to our -life,” said one of the men, after he had taken a few pulls at his pipe, -to make sure that it was well lighted. “My friend and I have been on the -trail of a horse-thief.” - -“Did you overtake him?” asked George. - -“Yes; but we didn’t get the horse, and we wanted him more than we wanted -the thief. He had disposed of the animal, traded him off for a fresher -one, you know, and we offered him his liberty if he would tell us where -the horse was. He told us, and we started back with him to make sure -that he told us the truth, and he gave us the slip. But we think we know -where the horse is.” - -“Is he anywhere about here?” inquired George. - -“Is there anybody living about here who goes by the name of Ackerman?” -asked the rancheman. - -“Yes, there is,” answered George, opening his eyes in great surprise. - -“Well, my horse is at his rancho. We’re going there after him, and we’re -going to smash things when we get there, too.” - -George was so utterly confounded that he could not say a word. He sat -looking from one to the other of the ranchemen, who fortunately did not -notice the expression of astonishment that settled on his face. One of -them sat on the opposite side of the fire, where he could not see the -boy, and the other was stretched out on his blanket, with his hands -clasped under his head, watching the clouds of smoke that arose from his -pipe. - -“It’s a little the strangest piece of business I ever heard of,” said -the latter, “and it doesn’t seem to me that anybody of ordinary common -sense could do such a thing. The thief told us that he traded Silk -Stocking to a young fellow who looked as though he might be going to a -fancy-dress ball somewhere, for he sported a buckskin coat with silver -buttons, high patent-leather boots, and so on, and we saw just such a -fellow as that at Ackerman’s rancho. We stopped there and got fresh -horses—those nags out there belong to Ackerman—and took supper; and when -we came out on the porch Silk Stocking called to us. He was hitched -under an open shed a short distance from the house. I recognised the -call and so did Joe; but we never suspected anything, and so we didn’t -look into the matter as we ought to have done.” - -George had never been more astonished in his life. He was greatly -alarmed too, for he knew that his cousin had got himself into serious -trouble. The man on the blanket, who told the story, looked like one who -could smash things if he once set about it, and the tone of his voice -and the decided manner in which he puffed at his pipe, indicated that he -had fully made up his mind to do it. He and his companion would -certainly make it warm for somebody when they reached the rancho. Was -there any way in which he could save Ned from the consequences of his -folly? George did not believe there was, for he knew too well the -estimation in which horse-thieves and everybody connected with them were -held in that country; but still he determined to make the attempt. Ned -was his cousin, the only one he had in the world, and it was plainly his -duty to stand by him. Controlling himself as well as he could, he said: - -“You told me, I believe, that this boy, whoever he is, traded his horse -for yours: Perhaps he didn’t know it was stolen!” - -“Probably he didn’t at the time he made the trade,” replied the man; -“but he knew it when Joe and I stopped at his father’s rancho, for he -heard us tell the story. Why did he not give him up?” - -“No doubt he was so badly frightened that he dared not do it,” answered -George. “This boy, I believe, has not been long in Texas, and he don’t -know much about the customs of the country.” - -“Now just see here, stranger!” said the rancheman, taking his pipe out -of his mouth and looking steadily at George. “If he knows anything he’d -ought to know that it is a dangerous piece of business for a man to have -stolen property in his possession, knowing it to be stolen, hadn’t he?” - -George could only nod his head in reply. He had made the best excuse for -his cousin that he could think of on the spur of the moment, but it was -a very flimsy one, and he saw plainly that he could not make any more -without arousing suspicion against himself. - -“It is my private opinion that there is a regular nest of thieves in -that house!” said the other rancheman. - -“It’s mine, too!” said the man in the blanket. - -“If that Ackerman is an honest fellow why does he go about wearing his -boiled shirt and broadcloth suit every day? The moment I got a fair look -at him I told myself that there was something wrong about him. If that -chap in the silver buttons was a man I’d fix him; but seeing that he’s -nothing but a boy, I’ll snatch him so bald-headed that his hair will -never grow again. I’ll teach him that one who receives and holds fast to -stolen property, knowing it to be stolen, is as bad as the man who -steals it, and that the law holds good here in Texas as well as it does -in Maine!” - -The man did not bluster when he said this—those who mean just what they -say seldom do—and that was just what made George believe that his cousin -was in a fair way to be severely punished. What the man would do to him -when he found him, George of course did not know, and he dared not ask; -but he was satisfied that it would be something Ned would always -remember. The angry rancheman said several other things in a very -decided tone of voice, all going to show that no boy’s-play was -intended, and when he and his companion had finished their pipes they -arranged their blankets, bade George good-night, and lay down to sleep. -But there was no sleep for George. He was keenly alive to Ned’s danger, -and a thousand wild schemes for extricating him from his troubles -suggested themselves to George’s busy brain; but he could hit upon only -one thing just then. If that succeeded Ned’s peril might be averted -until he could have an interview with Mr. Gilbert. George was certain -that that gentleman could tell him just what ought to be done. - -“I shall put myself in danger by doing it, but it can’t be helped,” -thought the boy. “My cousin must be saved at all hazards; and if these -men, or any of the settlers, want to take revenge on me for putting him -out of harm’s way, they are welcome to do it. How easy it is to get into -trouble and how hard it is to get out of it!” - -With this reflection George scraped his bed of leaves a little closer -together, threw another stick of wood on the fire, and tried to follow -his two guests into the land of dreams; but the sleep he so much needed -to prepare him for the next day’s journey would not come at his bidding. -All the night long he tossed restlessly about on his hard couch, and -about half an hour before daylight sank into an uneasy slumber. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - GOOD AND BAD NEWS. - - -When George awoke it was just daylight. The ranchemen were already -stirring, and one was folding the blankets, while the other was punching -up the fire to obtain a light for his pipe. - -“Good-morning, my lad,” said the latter, cheerfully. “We thought, seeing -we had no breakfast to eat, that we would solace ourselves with a smoke. -Now, if you will put us on our course, we shall be much obliged to you.” - -“The rancho you want to reach lies directly east of here and is about -thirty-five miles distant,” answered George, after he had returned the -man’s greeting. “Hold a straight course for the sun, until you strike a -big trail running north and south. Turn south on that trail, and when -you have followed it about ten miles, you will strike Mr. Gilbert’s -rancho. He will direct you the rest of the way. I have thought a good -deal about what you told me last night, and I can’t understand why that -boy kept that horse.” - -“Neither can I,” said the rancheman. - -“As he is a boy, I hope you will be easy with him,” continued George. - -“I will; but the next time he sees a stolen horse he will run from it, I -bet you!” - -It was plain that the rancheman had not yet relented, and that he never -would relent; so George fell back on the plan he had determined upon the -night before. - -“Yes, the boy needs a lesson,” said he; “but for his father’s sake, I -hope you will not be too severe. I have been acquainted with Mr. -Dickerman for a long time, and I know him to be an honest man. You -needn’t think he would——” - -“Dickerman!” interrupted the man who had been called Joe. “Who said -anything about Dickerman? Ackerman is the fellow we are talking about.” - -“O, _Ac_kerman!” repeated George, with a tone of voice and an expression -of countenance which led the man to believe that he had all the while -been mistaken as to the identity of the person they wanted to find. -“Well, you don’t want to travel east, then. Your course lays off here,” -he added, pointing almost due north. “If you ride in that direction, you -ought by dark to strike some of the ranches in the settlement in which -this man lives.” - -“Then we were completely turned around, Joe. I thought we ought to -travel _that_ way,” said one of the men, pointing almost directly toward -the Ackerman rancho. “Well, my lad, good-by. Many thanks for your -information, and the best of luck to you!” - -The men mounted their horses, which they had brought in and saddled -while this conversation was going on, and rode away, leaving George -standing beside his fire. As soon as they disappeared behind the nearest -ridge, he caught up his haversack, plunged into the woods and drew a -straight course for home. His face was whiter than it usually was, and -his heart beat audibly. - -“I did it,” said he to himself, as he hurried along, “and whether or not -I have done any good by it, time will tell. If they don’t get off their -course, they’ll reach Dickerman’s to-night about dark, and then they’ll -find out that they have been put on a wrong scent, and gone forty miles -out of their way. Dickerman will set them right, and the question is: -Can I see Mr. Gilbert and reach home before they can get there? I never -needed a horse so badly before.” - -Little did Ned Ackerman, who spent this particular day in company with -his friend Gus Robbins, shooting down the cattle that had broken into -his wheat-field, know of the race that was begun that morning—a race -between a pair of swift horses, which had between seventy and eighty -miles to travel, and a frightened, panting and footsore boy, who dragged -himself wearily over thirty-five miles of prairie, to save a scapegrace -relative, who would not have lifted a finger in behalf of that same -weary boy, had their situations been reversed. The odds were sadly -against George. He could have spent a week in the saddle with little or -no inconvenience, but three days on foot tested his endurance to the -utmost. Nothing but his will kept him up. He won the race, but, as we -shall see, with little time to spare. - -As the day wore away, and George drew nearer to Mr. Gilbert’s rancho, -which was the first one he would reach on his way to the settlement, he -kept a good lookout for some of that gentleman’s herdsmen, hoping that -he could prevail upon them to lend him a horse; but as he did not see -any of them, he was compelled to make the entire journey on foot. He -reached his destination shortly after nightfall, and found Mr. Gilbert -sitting on the porch, enjoying his after-supper pipe. The gentleman -started up in surprise, when he saw George approaching, and hurried down -the steps to meet him. His greeting was as cordial and friendly as -usual, but there was something in his manner that the boy had never -noticed before. He could not have told what it was, but he could see it -plainly. - -“Come right in, George,” said he, seizing the boy’s hand and shaking it -heartily. “You walk as though you were completely tired out; so I’ll not -trouble you with questions until you’ve had a supper and a good night’s -rest.” - -“I would be thankful for some supper,” replied George, “but I can’t stay -all night. I am in an awful hurry.” - -“And why should you be in such an awful hurry, I’d like to know?” said -Mr. Gilbert, as he assisted George up the steps and led him into the -house. “Here’s an easy-chair, and I know you will find——” - -“Not in there, please,” said George, drawing back as Mr. Gilbert was -about to open the door leading into the cosy living-room, in which his -family was assembled. “Let’s go into the office. I have something -particular to say to you.” - -Again George told himself that Mr. Gilbert did not act as he usually -did. He turned at once, and leading the way into the office, closed and -locked the door; after which he took the boy’s hat and haversack, and -having placed him on the lounge, drew a chair up in front of him and sat -down. - -“Where did you hear of it, George?” said he. “But hold on a moment,” he -added, hastily. “Let’s talk about pleasant things first. Your horse and -mule are here in my corral.” - -“Good!” exclaimed George. “I shall need Ranger at once. I would thank -you to lend me a saddle and bridle, and have him brought to the door -without loss of time.” - -“If you must go on to-night, I’ll do it,” said Mr. Gilbert, rising to -his feet; “but you must have some supper first.” - -He left the office as he ceased speaking, and George lay down on the -lounge to rest for a few minutes. He was used to hard work, but he had -never before been so nearly exhausted. It did not seem to him that he -could possibly spend the rest of the night in the saddle, and yet he -knew he must do it in order to save his cousin. - -Mr. Gilbert was gone but a few minutes, and when he came back, he locked -the door behind him. - -“Another piece of good news I have for you, George,” said he, as he -resumed his seat, “is that all your cattle have been recovered, and one -of my men is now pasturing them on my ranche, about three miles from -here.” - -“Good again!” exclaimed George, brightening a little. “That is -encouraging news indeed.” - -“That Zeke is worth two or three ordinary men,” continued Mr. Gilbert. -“Not being able to find any signs of you or your horse after the -Greasers jumped down on you, he struck out for the settlements on foot. -On the way he fell in with a party of rangers, and with their -assistance, he succeeded in cutting the thieves off from the river and -recapturing every hoof you had lost. He came down here with the cattle, -chuckling over his good luck, and was frightened almost out of his -senses when he found that your horse and mule had come here without you. -He begged me to take care of the herd while he went back to look for -you, and I have done so. Where were you all the while, George? You -haven’t walked all the way from Catfish Falls?” - -“I was hidden in a buffalo wallow while the robbers were in our camp, -and I _have_ walked every step of the way from there. But I don’t mind -that. What troubles me is the bad news I heard on the way. I have come -here to talk to you about it, for you are the only friend I have in the -settlement.” - -“O no, George; don’t say that,” exclaimed Mr. Gilbert, quickly. “If you -knew what a commotion your disappearance has created among the -neighbors, you wouldn’t talk so. Everybody likes you and everybody is a -friend to you.” - -“I am very glad to hear it,” said George, drawing a long breath of -relief and looking a little more cheerful. “I want them to show their -friendship now, and not be too hard on Ned. You know what I mean.” - -“Yes,” said Mr. Gilbert, heaving a deep sigh and fastening his eyes on -the floor, “I know all about it. The settlers are going to meet at -Cook’s to-morrow and talk it over. They are very angry, and I don’t know -what they will make up their minds to do.” - -“Are you going to be at Cook’s with them?” - -“Of course. I am as much interested in the matter as anybody.” - -“Well, you will do your best for Ned, won’t you? He is my cousin, you -know. You won’t let them hurt him, will you?” - -“I’ll do the best I can, certainly; but you might as well try to stem -the Rio Grande with a straw, as to stand in the way of a whole -settlement, when every man in it has made up his mind to a particular -course of action. It was a most outrageous act, and Ned richly deserves -punishment.” - -“I know it; but if the settlers are such friends to me they will let him -off this time, and I’ll promise that he will never do the like again. -Remember, Mr. Gilbert, that he is young and foolish, and that when the -horse came into his possession he didn’t know it was stolen.” - -“Horse!” exclaimed Mr. Gilbert, opening his eyes. “Stolen! What are you -talking about, George!” - -“What are _you_ talking about, Mr. Gilbert?” asked the boy, slowly -raising himself on his elbow, and gazing steadily into the face of his -friend. - -“Why, I refer to something that happened this afternoon in Ned’s wheat -field, when Ned and that Yankee friend of his shot down Cook’s cattle,” -answered Mr. Gilbert. - -“What!” exclaimed George, jumping to his feet in great excitement. “Do -you mean to tell me that Ned has been shooting stock?” - -“That’s just what he has done, and that is what I was talking about. -Cook caught him in the very act.” - -“Worse and worse!” said George, sinking back on the lounge again. “Tell -me all about it. I want to hear the whole story so that I may know just -how to act.” - -“That is all there is to tell,” was Mr. Gilbert’s reply. “Ned and his -friend found Cook’s cattle in the wheat field, and shot two of them, -killing one and severely wounding the other.” - -“He did it with his eyes open,” said George. “He has often threatened -it, and I told him just what would happen.” - -“You said something about a horse,” remarked Mr. Gilbert, when the boy -paused. - -“Yes. Ned met a stranger somewhere and traded horses with him; and when -the owner came to our rancho that night, Ned wouldn’t give the horse -up.” - -“That is something I hadn’t heard of,” said Mr. Gilbert, while an -expression of surprise and anxiety settled on his face. “Now, tell me -your story from beginning to end. If you want my advice I must know -everything.” - -George had a good deal to tell, but he did not consume much time with -his narrative, for every moment was precious. He knew that the two -ranchemen had by this time been made acquainted with the deception that -had been practised upon them, and no doubt they were at that very minute -on their way to Mr. Gilbert’s rancho. It was necessary that George -should be well on his way home before they arrived, both to escape the -vengeance they would doubtless visit upon him if they chanced to meet -him, and also to warn his cousin. He described the attack on the camp, -and told how he had concealed himself in the buffalo wallow and watched -the raiders while they were searching the woods. He told of his -accidental meeting with Springer, and repeated, as nearly as he could, -all the conversation he had had with him, so that Mr. Gilbert might be -enabled to judge whether or not his suspicions concerning Uncle John -were correct. He also repeated the conversation he had had with the -ranchemen who spent the night in his camp, and told what he had done to -put them on the wrong scent. - -“I didn’t have more than half an hour’s sleep last night,” said George, -in conclusion. “I lay awake turning these matters over in my mind, and I -have thought about them all day. The decision at which I arrived was, -that Ned was not safe here in the settlement, and that I had better take -him out on the plains for a few weeks and let this affair of the stolen -horse blow over; but if he has been shooting cattle, I think I had -better show him the nearest way to the coast and let him go north, where -he came from.” - -Mr. Gilbert heard him through without interruption, and when the boy -ceased speaking he leaned back in his chair, looked up at a picture -hanging on the wall over the lounge and rubbed his chin meditatively. -Then he arose and walked up and down the room with his hands behind his -back and his eyes fastened thoughtfully on the floor. - -“I don’t think you could decide upon a better plan,” said he, at length. -“Take them both to the coast by the shortest route, put them aboard a -steamer and let them go north on a visit. Ned can come back after the -matter is forgotten, but when that Yankee friend of his gets home, he -had better stay there. We have no use for fellows of his stamp down -here. Your uncle can perhaps settle the matter by giving up the stolen -horse, paying his owner for the trouble he has had, and also paying Cook -for the cattle that were shot. And in regard to yourself, you had better -apply for a new guardian at once.” - -“I should be only too glad to do so,” replied George, eagerly, “for home -isn’t home to me any longer. But there’s one question I want to ask you, -Mr. Gilbert: If I should apply for a new guardian, would any of these -things I have told you about Uncle John become known—I mean the plans he -has laid to get me out of the way, so that the property would fall to -Ned?” - -“Probably they would. The thing would have to be done by process of law, -for it is your father’s will that gives him the property in trust and -makes him your guardian.” - -“Then I’ll not have a new guardian!” said George. - -Mr. Gilbert stopped and looked at the boy in great surprise. - -“O, I mean it,” said George, decidedly. “I’ll not disgrace the only -brother my father ever had. He may do better after a while.” - -“You are the most confiding boy I ever saw,” said Mr. Gilbert. - -“You must remember that I have nothing but Springer’s word for all -this,” continued George, “and Springer is a rascal, who would just as -soon tell a lie as eat a good dinner. I shall satisfy myself of the -truth of his story before I make any move in the matter.” - -“Well, keep your eyes open and look out for treachery while you are -doing it,” said Mr. Gilbert. “It is my opinion that you would be safer -anywhere in the world than you are here in Texas. If I were in your -place, and was determined to let Uncle John stay where he is, I would go -off somewhere and stay until I became of age. Listen! What’s that?” -exclaimed Mr. Gilbert, holding up his finger warningly. - -The clatter of hoofs on the hard trail came faintly to their ears. It -grew louder every instant, and presently a couple of horsemen galloped -around the building at full speed and drew rein beside the porch in -front of the lighted windows of the office. - -“Hallo, the house!” came the hail, in stentorian tones. - -George sprang to his feet, and his face grew as pale as death. - -“There they are!” he exclaimed, in an excited whisper. - -“I was in hopes they would not come until you were well on your way -home,” said Mr. Gilbert, in the same low whisper. “It wouldn’t be safe -for you to fall into their hands.” - -“I don’t care for myself,” replied George. “But, Mr. Gilbert, if you -don’t do something for Ned now——” - -“Don’t get excited. Stay in here and trust to me. I have seen persons in -tight places before to-night, and I know just what you want me to do.” - -George found a world of encouragement in these words. He sank back on -the lounge again, while Mr. Gilbert hurried out of the office, locking -the door behind him. George heard him pass along the hall and open the -door that led to the porch. - -“Good-evening, stranger!” exclaimed a voice, which the boy knew belonged -to the owner of the stolen horse. “Is this Mr. Gilbert’s rancho?” - -“Yes, sir,” was the reply. “Get down and walk in.” - -“Thank you; we can’t stop. We would be obliged if you would put us on -the road to Ackerman’s.” - -“I am afraid I can’t direct you so that you can find your way there in -the dark. There are a good many trails branching off the main road. -Better come in and wait until morning.” - -“We can’t do it. We are in a great hurry.” - -“Then wait until the moon rises, and I will send a man to show you the -way. Have you ridden far to-day?” - -“We have just come from Dickerman’s.” - -“Then you and your nags need food and rest. Here, Tom! take these -horses.” - -George heard the men dismount on the porch, and presently heavy steps -sounded in the hall. He caught the words “Ackerman’s,” “regular nest of -horse-thieves,” “get my hands on that rascally boy who sent us so far -out of our course,” and then the closing of a door shut out the voices. -After a few minutes’ silence, during which George could plainly hear the -beating of his own heart, footsteps once more sounded in the hall, the -door was unlocked and Mr. Gilbert came in. He shook his finger warningly -at George, and, without saying a word, seized his haversack and hurried -out again. In about five minutes he came back, and George could see that -there was something in the haversack. - -“You’ll have to eat your supper as you go along,” said Mr. Gilbert, in a -cautious whisper. “I have tried to reason with them but it is of no use. -Somebody has told them that Ned has been shooting cattle, and they -declare that they are going to make an example of him.” - -“What do you suppose they will do?” asked George. - -“Haven’t even the shadow of an idea. The least they can do with him is -to put him in jail as a receiver of stolen property; but they act as -though they were going to take the law into their own hands, and for -that reason I think you had better get Ned out of the way. As soon as -they have eaten supper I am going to send a man to guide them to your -house, so you’ll have to ride fast. I’ll delay them in every way I can, -but they are very impatient. Your horse is at the porch on the other -side of the rancho. Keep me posted as to your movements, and I’ll keep -you posted in all that goes on in the settlement. Good-by, and good luck -to you.” - -George slung his haversack over his shoulder, shook Mr. Gilbert warmly -by the hand and hurriedly left the office. He found the horse at the end -of the porch, saddled and bridled, and Bony was cropping the grass a -little distance away. Both the animals recognised and welcomed him, one -uttering a low whinny and the other a suppressed bray, and the man who -was holding the horse nodded his head vigorously and patted George on -the back as if to say that he knew all about it. - -“I am to show them the way,” whispered the herdsman. “Them trails twist -an’ turn about a good deal, an’ mebbe I’ll get lost: I’m a’most afeard I -will, ‘kase it’s so dark.” - -“There’s one thing about it,” said George, to himself, as he mounted his -horse and rode slowly away from the rancho after taking a cordial leave -of the herdsman. “If I have no other friends in the settlement, I have -some here at Mr. Gilbert’s. They are all on my side. So Ned has been -shooting cattle! He always said he’d like to see a ‘neighborhood row,’ -and now I’ll see whether or not he has the pluck to face the -consequences of his foolish act.” - -George kept his horse by the side of the trail until he was out of sight -of the house, and then putting him into a gallop went ahead with all his -speed, Bony following close behind. Ranger knew the road and kept it -without any guidance from his master. - -The ten miles that lay between Mr. Gilbert’s and his home were quickly -passed over, and as George drew near to the end of his ride he gradually -slackened his pace and became cautious in his movements. There was one -man about the house who seemed to have a way of finding out everything -that went on there, and who, George told himself, must know nothing -whatever of this night’s work. Philip might be his Uncle John’s -confidential assistant, as Springer had intimated, and then again he -might not; but even if he were, it was not at all likely that Uncle John -would care to have him know that Ned had got himself into such serious -trouble as this, and George’s object was to warn his cousin and his -guest, and get them out of the house and into the saddle before Philip -knew anything about it. He first made his way to the corral, intending -to put Bony in there; but the gate had already been locked for the -night. Then he turned his horse loose to drink and made his way -cautiously to the house, at the door of which he was met by one of the -herdsman, who started back in surprise at the sight of him. Every one -about the rancho had given him up for lost. - -“Why, George,” exclaimed the man, springing forward as soon as he had -recovered himself, and extending both hands toward the boy, “you don’t -know how glad—Eh?” - -“Not a loud word,” whispered George, raising his finger warningly. -“Jake, you are one of father’s old herdsmen, and I know I can trust you. -My cousin has got himself into a scrape, and it is necessary that he -should leave here at once. I want you to saddle a couple of horses, and -bring them to the door and assist me to get Ned and his friend out of -the house without Philip’s knowledge. That Philip is a born rascal, -Jake.” - -“I was sartin of it,” whispered the herdsman. “Me an’ the rest have -always suspicioned that he let the Greasers in here that night, for we -know the door was locked. But what’s the matter with Ned?” - -“I can’t stop to tell you now. It’s all over the settlement, and you -will know everything to-morrow. Now go into the kitchen and keep Philip -there until I can reach the office; then saddle up and keep a bright -lookout for a couple of horsemen. If you hear anybody coming down the -trail, let me know.” - -The man hastened away to obey these orders, and as soon as George heard -the door of the kitchen close behind him, he ran on tip-toe toward the -office. The peals of laughter that fell upon his ear, told him that -there was a happy party in there, and George wondered how the members of -it would feel when they heard the news he had to tell. Excited and -anxious as he was when he opened the door, he could still take note of -the fact that his presence there was most unwelcome. He saw it plainly -enough. Uncle John and Ned were very much surprised by his abrupt -entrance, and there was not the least cordiality in their greeting. -George watched his uncle’s face and actions closely, and told himself -that Springer’s story was nothing but the truth. - -“Why, George, what is the matter?” asked Uncle John, growing alarmed -when he saw how pale and nervous his nephew was. “Any bad news?” - -“Yes, I have bad news. Ned, you and your friend must pack up and leave -this rancho and this county, too, without the loss of an hour’s time,” -was the astounding reply. “You are in danger, and I have put myself in -danger by coming here to tell you of it!” - -“Why, George,” exclaimed Uncle John, sinking back in his chair, almost -overwhelmed with amazement and alarm, “explain yourself. I don’t -understand you at all. Why should Ned and Gus be in danger?” - -“Because they have deliberately placed themselves there,” answered -George, locking the door to prevent interruption, and at the same time -lowering his voice, so that he could not be overheard by any -eavesdropper who might chance to pass through the hall. “Ned, the owner -of that stolen horse is between here and Mr. Gilbert’s. He’s looking for -you.” - -Ned’s face grew as white as a sheet. He grasped the back of his chair -and leaned heavily on it for support, while Uncle John started up in his -seat and looked first at George and then at his son. The look of alarm -on his face had given away to an expression of intense astonishment. - -“Stolen horse!” he exclaimed. “Looking for Ned! What do you mean?” - -“You remember those two men who came here one night, searching for a -horse they called Silk Stocking, don’t you?” said George. “Well, the -horse was here in Ned’s possession all the while, and the owner has -found it out. He and his companion are on their way here now.” - -“Ned,” said Uncle John, “you told me that you hadn’t seen that horse.” - -“I know it,” whined the frightened boy. “I wanted to keep him.” - -“But after you found out he was stolen, why didn’t you give him up?” -demanded his father. - -“I was afraid the men would do something to me,” gasped Ned. “They -looked so awful mad!” - -“You only made a bad matter worse!” said George. “They will do something -to you now, if they catch you, and they are bound to do it if they can!” - -“Wh—what will they do?” stammered the culprit. - -“They may put you in jail!” - -“Gracious!” gasped Ned. He walked rapidly across the floor once or twice -and then came back and caught hold of his chair again. His strength was -all frightened out of him, and he could not long keep his feet without a -support of some kind. - -“But Mr. Gilbert thinks they are going to take the law into their own -hands, as people very often do it in this country, and that is the -reason I am so anxious to get you away from here,” continued George. -“And that isn’t all. You and your friend have been shooting cattle this -afternoon!” - -“It isn’t so! It isn’t so!” cried Ned, with so much earnestness that he -condemned himself on the spot. “Is it, Gus?” - -“No!” replied Gus, in a feeble voice. - -“I haven’t seen any cattle to-day!” declared Ned, gathering a little -courage as he proceeded. “I haven’t been near my wheat field for a week! -Somebody else did it; didn’t they, Gus?” - -The latter made no reply. He did not even act as though he heard the -question, and probably he did not, for he was frightened almost out of -his wits. - -“All I know is, that Mr. Cook lost two steers to-day, and that he saw -you shoot them,” said George. “He has been around to see all the -neighbors about it, and you will hear from them before this time -to-morrow if you are in this house!” - -“Have you any idea what they will do?” asked Uncle John, who seemed to -be as badly frightened as Ned was. - -“Not the slightest; but they will make it warm for Ned in some way, you -may depend upon it. He has raised a storm, and Mr. Gilbert’s advice to -him is to get out of reach of it. It is my advice, too.” - -Just then somebody tapped lightly on the door. George turned the key, -the door opened a little way and Jake, the herdsman, thrust his head in. - -“They’re comin’,” said he, in a thrilling whisper. “I can hear their -horses a-gallopin!” - -This startling announcement seemed to take the courage out of everybody -except George. Uncle John and the two trembling culprits sank helplessly -into the nearest chairs, their faces betraying the utmost consternation. - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - WHAT HAPPENED AT THE RANCHO. - - -“How far away are they, Jake?” asked George, who seemed to be the only -one besides the herdsman who had any of his wits left about him. - -“They’re so fur off that I couldn’t have heard ‘em at all if the wind -hadn’t brought the sound of their horses’ feet to me,” was the -herdsman’s answer. “But they’re comin’ fast, an’ they’ll be here in five -minutes. The horses are waitin’ at the door!” - -“You have not an instant to lose,” said our hero, turning to the -frightened boys and speaking as rapidly as he could. - -“Where are you going to take them, George?” asked Uncle John, as soon as -he had recovered the use of his tongue. - -“I intend to show them the way to the coast—we shall probably bring up -at Brownsville—and send them up north. But you will have plenty of time -to communicate with us after we get out of harm’s way, and we can then -decide what ought to be done Mr. Gilbert thinks Ned can come back after -a while, but that Gus had better go home and stay there.” - -“I think so, too,” cried Ned. “I wish I had never seen him. If he hadn’t -come here I’d never got into this miserable scrape!” - -“But what am I to do?” asked Uncle John, who seemed to have no mind of -his own. - -“You’ll have to stay here until you have settled this matter, and then -you had better follow us to the coast. Pay Mr. Cook for his cattle and -give up the stolen horse, making the best excuses for Ned that you can -think of.” - -“Where is the horse now, Ned?” asked his father. - -“I don’t know,” replied the boy. “He went off with the raiders. Hurry -up, George! Don’t stop to talk any more!” - -“I am ready if you are. If the horse is gone you’ll have to pay for him, -Uncle John. Ned will need some money to bear his expenses. I’ll be back -in a minute.” - -George left the office and hurried to his own room. He stayed there just -long enough to empty the contents of his money-box into his pocket, and -was back again by the time Ned had received the money his father counted -out to him. There was no leave-taking whatever; the boys were in too -great a hurry for that. They ran through the hall, and found Jake -standing on the porch holding three horses. Ned and Gus lost no time in -getting into the saddle, but George paused a moment to listen. He could -distinctly hear the sound of hoofs, but they did not seem to be coming -toward the rancho. They were moving off to the right, and when George -became satisfied of that fact, he told himself that Mr. Gilbert’s -herdsman had purposely lost his way and was leading the pursuers out of -their course. - -“That’s all right,” said he. “Now put out every light about the house, -or close the shutters, to make them believe that you have gone to bed, -and be as long in answering their hail as you can. We shall stop in -Brownsville, Uncle John, and we shall expect you there in the course of -a few days. Good-by! Easy, boys! We’ll go fast enough after a while!” - -Ned and Gus would have dashed off at the top of their speed and tired -their horses out before they had gone ten miles if George had not -checked them. The latter knew that they were comparatively safe now, and -he breathed a good deal easier than he did while he was in the rancho. -If the owner of the stolen horse had arrived while they were in the -office, something unpleasant might have happened; but now that he and -his companions were in the saddle there was little danger to be -apprehended. The ranchemen could not compete with them in a fair race, -for the horses they rode were weary with their day’s journey, while -those on which the boys were mounted were fresh and vigorous. George -explained this as they rode away from the house, adding: - -“They can’t follow us in the dark, for they have no means of knowing -which trail we have taken. Their only chance is to wait until morning -and make inquiries among the settlers.” - -“That is just what they will do,” said Ned, “and everybody will tell -them all about us. The neighbors are down on me because I am so far -above them.” - -“But we must keep out of sight of the neighbors,” said George, who did -not think it best to notice his cousin’s last remark, “and then they -can’t tell anything about us. The people who live along the river trail -are strangers to us, so we’ll go that way. It is the safest.” - -George kept his horse in a rapid walk until he was out of sight of the -rancho, and then he put him to the top of his speed. Although he had no -fear of being overtaken, he was very anxious to keep out of sight of the -ranchemen, for they carried revolvers and would not hesitate to use them -if they found that Ned could not be captured in any other way. George -was resolved to stand by his cousin, no matter how much risk he might -run by so doing; but perhaps he would not have been so determined on -this point if he had known what was transpiring at the rancho he had -just left. - -In spite of the care he had taken to enter and leave the house without -Philip’s knowledge, that crafty individual knew all about it. As it -happened, he was standing on the porch when George first made his -appearance. He recognised the boy at once, and was not a little -surprised to see him. He knew, and so did Uncle John, that George had -succeeded in eluding the raiders when they made the descent upon his -camp, and that he was probably on his way home; but Philip did not -expect him to get there, for, as we shall presently see, arrangements -had been made to intercept him. When Philip saw him coming, he said -something angry in Spanish, and retreated into a dark doorway, so that -George could not see him. - -“I never expected to put eyes on him again on this side of the river,” -said the Mexican, to himself; “but here he has gone and run the -blockade, and there is no telling when we can get another chance at him. -Where are those fellows who ought to have been watching the trail? I -wonder if he has heard any news! He acts as though he wanted to get into -the house without being seen.” - -The man crouched down in his place of concealment and watched George’s -movements. He saw him when he mounted the steps and placed his hand on -the door leading into the hall. He heard almost every word of the -conversation between him and the herdsman who met him there, and the -ejaculations he uttered under his breath indicated that he was both -astonished and enraged by it. When the conversation ceased, and he heard -Jake moving along the hall, Philip softly opened the door near which he -was concealed, and slipped into the kitchen. When the herdsman entered, -he was filling his pipe, preparatory to indulging in a smoke. Knowing -that the herdsman had been sent in there to watch him, he remained in -the kitchen until Jake went out to catch and saddle the horses; then he -threw down his pipe, and running swiftly but noiselessly along the hall, -stopped in front of the office door. Placing his ear close to the -key-hole, he listened intently, hoping to overhear the conversation that -was carried on by those inside; but George, as we know, spoke in a low -tone of voice, and Philip had little more than his trouble for his -pains. When he heard Jake coming with the horses he ran back to the -kitchen, the door of which he left ajar. He saw the boys when they came -out, and heard George tell his uncle that they were going straight to -Brownsville, and should expect to see him there in a few days. - -When George and his companions had ridden away out of sight, and Uncle -John and the herdsman had gone back into the hall, Philip softly opened -the kitchen door and stepped upon the porch. Almost at the same instant -the door which gave entrance into the hall, was cautiously opened and -Uncle John came in. He looked all around the room as if he was searching -for somebody, and went out upon the porch. He pronounced the Mexican’s -name two or three times, in a low tone of voice, and walked around the -building, looking everywhere for him; but he could neither hear nor see -anything of him, and finally he gave up the search, and went back to the -office again. - -Philip, in the meantime, having caught up a saddle and bridle, belonging -to one of the herdsmen, ran to the corral, opened the gate with the key -which he had taken from its nail in the kitchen, and hurried in. When he -came out, he was leading a horse, which was soon saddled and bridled, -and carrying the Mexican at a full gallop away from the rancho. The -rider directed his course down the trail, and had gone about half a -mile, when he heard the sound of voices away off to his right. It was so -dark that he could not see anybody, but Philip, being confident that he -knew whom the voices belonged to, checked his horse and rode just fast -enough to intercept the horsemen, who were coming along one of the -side-trails. In a few minutes a hail came through the darkness, telling -him that he had been discovered. - -“Hallo, there!” cried a voice. - -“Hallo yourself!” replied Philip, stopping his horse and turning him -around, so that his head pointed toward the rancho, instead of away from -it. - -“O, now you’re all right,” said another voice. “That’s one of Ackerman’s -men. He’ll show you the way, an’ I’ll go hum. I’m sorry I lost the -trail, an’ tuk you so fur outen your way—I am so; but it’s powerful -dark, an’ my eyes ain’t none of the best.” - -“Well, I should think a ten-year-old boy ought to know the trails in his -own neighborhood,” growled the man who had shouted out the hail. “You -have delayed us more than half an hour.” - -“And he did it on purpose, too,” thought Philip. “That’s Gilbert’s man, -and he knows the country like a book for two hundred miles around.” - -“Hallo, there!” came the hail again. - -“Hallo yourself!” was Philip’s answer. - -“Can you show us the way to Ackerman’s?” - -“I can. I am going right there.” - -“Then you can go home,” said the horseman, addressing himself to the man -whom Mr. Gilbert had sent to act as guide. “We’ve seen enough of you.” - -The herdsman, taking him at his word, rode off at once; and presently -the owner of the stolen horse and his companion galloped up to the place -where Philip was standing. The latter looked closely at them for a -moment, and exclaimed: - -“O! I know who you are now. You’re the gentlemen who came to our rancho -the other night and borrowed two fresh horses. Did you catch him?” - -“No,” growled one of the horsemen. - -Philip waited for him to say something more, but the man did not seem to -be in the humor for talking just then. No doubt he was reserving all he -had to say for Uncle John’s private ear. After they had ridden a short -distance, Philip said: - -“I’m sorry you didn’t catch him. Mr. Ackerman will be sure to ask -particularly about it, when he comes home.” - -“When he comes home!” - -“Yes; he isn’t here, you know.” - -“Where is he?” - -“He and his son started for Palos this morning.” - -The horsemen looked at each other and uttered a volley of exclamations, -that seemed to astonish Philip greatly. - -“Perhaps you wanted to see Mr. Ackerman?” said he. - -“I should say we did!” replied the owner of the stolen horse. - -“I am sorry. He’ll not be back for two or three weeks, for he took a -mule-wagon with him, and is going to bring back a heavy load.” - -“You say his son went with him. Did he go in the wagon?” - -“O, no; he rode on horseback.” - -“What sort of a looking horse was it?” - -“A dark chestnut, with white mane and tail and four white feet. It was a -new horse he traded for a few days ago. The house is open, just the same -as if Mr. Ackerman was there, and we shall be glad to give you——” - -“We wouldn’t stay in his house to-night under any circumstances!” was -the angry reply. “Bring out our horses as quick as you can, and let us -get away; that’s all we ask of you!” - -“I’ll do that. Any word to leave for Mr. Ackerman?” - -“Not a word! We’ve got plenty to say to him and that boy of his, but -we’ll say it to their faces.” - -“It is nothing bad, I hope!” - -“It is no business of yours, whether it is or not!” - -These words and the tone in which they were uttered, silenced the -Mexican most effectually. He knew some things that the owner of the -stolen horse did not know; but still he was obliged to exhibit some -curiosity, in order to avoid exciting the man’s suspicions. Not another -word was said during the ride. - -The ranchemen went into the corral with Philip, turned their borrowed -horses loose and caught their own, and, having placed their saddles upon -them, they mounted and rode away. Philip watched them as long as they -were in sight, and when they had disappeared in the darkness, he closed -and locked the gate of the corral, sprang into his saddle and turned his -horse’s head away from the rancho. - -“That was pretty well done if I did do it myself,” thought he. “They’ll -be back again to-morrow or next day, but if Ackerman is sharp they’ll -find him gone, sure enough. I’ll have to go, too, for I shouldn’t like -to have them see me after they learn how they have been tricked.” - -While the Mexican was talking to himself in this way he had ridden -around the corral, and was now galloping at full speed toward a belt of -timber which lay about two miles from the rancho. All was dark before -him, but Philip seemed to know just where he was going. He brought his -horse to a walk when he reached the woods, and after riding through a -dense thicket of bushes he struck a bridle path, into which he turned. -He followed it for a short distance, ducking his head now and then to -avoid some overhanging branch, and finally dismounted at the door of a -dilapidated cabin that had once been the property of a pig-raiser, who -lived there and watched his droves while they fattened on the acorns -which so plentifully covered the ground at certain seasons of the year. -There was a window beside the door, and a bright light shone out of it. -The light came from the fire-place, which was heaped high with blazing -logs. In front of the fire were two men, dressed in Mexican costume, who -were reclining at their ease on their ponchos and smoking cigarettes. -But they were not Mexicans. They were renegade Americans, and members of -the band that made the attack upon George’s camp. When they heard the -strokes of the horse’s hoofs on the hard path, they started up and -turned toward the door which Philip pushed open without ceremony. - -“You are a pretty pair, I must say!” exclaimed the newcomer, after he -had somewhat relieved his mind by uttering a volley of heavy Spanish -adjectives. “What were you put here for, anyhow—to waste your time in -smoking and loafing?” - -“We have just this moment come in,” replied one of the men. - -“Didn’t you see anybody while you were watching the trail?” inquired -Philip. - -“Yes; there was somebody went by on horseback.” - -“Was there a small, dark-colored mute following the horse? Then it was -the boy you were looking for, and you let him go by.” - -“Of course. You told us to look out for a boy on foot!” - -“So I did,” said Philip, after reflecting a moment. “I didn’t think, at -the time, that he would be likely to find his horse and mule, but it -seems he did. However, you’ve got a chance to try your hands again. -George has just started for Brownsville!” - -Both the men uttered ejaculations when they heard this, and one of them -began to roll up his poncho. - -“There are three of them together,” continued Philip, “but you will have -no trouble in recognising George when you find them. He’s the largest of -the lot, wears a red shirt and high boots, and rides a black horse. You -want to look out for that same black horse, for if you give him the -least show he’ll carry George so far out of your reach that you’ll never -see him again. He’s just lightning. Your best plan would be to wait -until the boys go into camp, and then jump down on them before they know -it. Hold fast to George when you get him, but don’t harm the other two. -Don’t waste your time, either, in following the big trail. Put for the -river as fast as you can, and there’s where you will find them.” - -While Philip was giving these commands the men were busy rolling up -their blankets and ponchos and making their preparations for an -immediate departure. Their horses, which were staked out close by, were -quickly caught and saddled, and when all were mounted, Philip led the -way out of the timber. He paused when he reached the open ground long -enough to add a few words more to the instructions he had already given, -and then galloped off toward the rancho, while the Americans rode away -in pursuit of George. - -When Philip reached home he put his horse into the corral and let -himself into the kitchen without being seen by anybody. After making -sure that the rest of the servants had retired for the night, he -hastened along the hall to the office, at the door of which he paused -for a moment to listen. He heard the sound of footsteps passing back and -forth at regular intervals, but there was no murmur of conversation, and -so Philip knew that the man he wanted to see was alone. He entered -without taking the trouble to knock, and having closed the door and -pushed the bolt into its socket, he hung his sombrero upon the knob to -cover the key-hole. Uncle John, who was walking restlessly about the -room, turned quickly and hastened forward to greet him. - -“Philip, I am overjoyed to see you,” he exclaimed. “Where have you been? -I have hunted the house over to find you. Do you know what has happened -here to-night?” - -“I know all about it,” replied Philip, taking possession of one of the -easy chairs, with the air of a man who felt perfectly at home. “I heard -everything that passed while George was here except the conversation he -had with you in this office. He talked so low that I couldn’t hear much -of that, but I know about what he said.” - -“Then tell me what to do,” said Uncle John, who had not yet recovered -from his fright. “What shall I say to those men when they come here? I -don’t see what keeps them. I have been looking for them every minute -since the boys went away.” - -“They have been here and are gone,” answered Philip. “They’ll not -trouble you to-night.” - -Uncle John could not speak. He could only look the astonishment and -delight he felt. - -“Yes,” continued Philip, “they have come and gone. I sent them away. I -met them on the road and told them you and Ned had gone to Palos, and -that you would not be back under two or three weeks. I told them, too, -that Ned had ridden away a new horse he traded for a few days ago. I -knew they wouldn’t stop here after hearing that. I helped them catch -their horses, and they left as soon as they could put the saddles on -them.” - -Uncle John drew a long breath and sat down in the nearest chair. He was -greatly relieved to know that he would not be called upon to face the -owner of the stolen horse that night. - -“They must have gone away with a very poor opinion of themselves,” -Philip went on. “They’ve been fooled at every turn. The horse they are -looking for was under the shed the night they came here; George sent -them more than thirty-five miles out of their way; Mr. Gilbert sent a -herdsman to guide them to the rancho and he lost them on purpose; and -now I have sent them off on a wild goose chase. It’s lucky for you I -did, for they were just boiling over.” - -“But they’ll come back some day,” said Uncle John, growing frightened -again when he thought of it. - -“Of course they will, but if they catch you here, it will be your own -fault. They’ll not find me, I tell you. You ought to be well on your way -toward Brownsville by this time to-morrow, and I don’t see why you -didn’t go with the boys. I would if I had been in your place.” - -“Why, I thought I ought to stay here and settle the matter.” - -“You can settle it easier through somebody else. You’ll have to pay full -value for that horse, for he went off with the raiders. I saw him go. If -I were in your place, I’d put money enough in Mr. Gilbert’s hands to -straighten up the whole business—he’ll do it if you ask him, just -because he knows it would please George—and then I’d dig out. I wouldn’t -come back either, until Mr. Gilbert thought it safe for me to do so. But -before you go, you might as well tell one of the men to bring in a -thousand head of cattle and pasture them between here and the river.” - -“What do you mean by that?” exclaimed Uncle John, starting up in his -chair. - -“I mean that you won’t find George in Brownsville when you get there. -You know those two fellows who were sent here to watch the rancho, don’t -you? Well, they let George go by them to-night.” - -Uncle John was well aware of that fact. If they had not allowed him to -pass he could not have reached the house. That was what caused him to -exhibit so much astonishment when his nephew first entered the office. -He knew that the trail was watched, and he could not imagine how George -had escaped capture. - -“George came on horseback, and they were looking for a boy on foot,” -said Philip. “He is safe now, however. I have put them on his trail, and -a few hours more will see him on the other side of the river.” - -“But what will become of Ned and Gus?” - -“I told the men not to trouble them.” - -“But they can never find their way without a guide.” - -“Haven’t they got a pair of tongues, and isn’t the trail as plain as -daylight?” - -Uncle John settled back in his chair and fastened his eyes on the floor. -He was silent for a long time, but finally he said: “I wish you hadn’t -done it.” - -“It is too late to talk that way,” answered Philip, drumming with his -fingers on the arms of his chair, and looking up at the ceiling. “You -told me what you wanted done, and what you were willing to give, if it -_was_ done, and I have tried my best to do it.” - -“If I had waited until to-night, I never should have said a word to you -about it. Suppose it should become known among the neighbors!” - -“Now, how are the neighbors going to find it out? Who is going to tell -them?” - -While this conversation, and much more like it, was going on, George was -leading his companions rapidly across the plain, toward the trail which -ran along the bank of the river, in the direction of Brownsville. He had -brought upon himself the wrath of men who would have treated him -roughly, if they could have overtaken him; had run away from his home -like a thief in the night, and he had done it to save a boy whose father -was at that very moment hearing and consenting to plans, which were -intended to bring him into serious trouble. If George had known what we -have just recorded, his after life would not have been what it was, and -a good many thrilling scenes we have yet to describe, and of which he -was the hero, never would have happened. It all came out after a while, -and it came, too, in such shape that George was fully convinced that Mr. -Gilbert was wiser than himself, and he wondered why he had not seen it -before. - -Philip spent more than an hour in conversation with his employer, -minutely describing all the events of the night, in which he had borne a -part, and at last he arose to go. As he was about to leave the room, a -most unexpected and alarming incident occurred. No sooner had he crossed -the threshold, than he received a blow full in the face that would have -felled an ox. It lifted him off his feet, sent him with crushing force -against the wall, and doubled him up on the floor, all in a heap. - -“Set Greasers on the trail of a white boy, will ye?” exclaimed a voice. -“Take that thar fur yer imperdence! Evenin’, Mr. Ackerman!” - -The voice, and the clenched hand that struck the blow, belonged to Jake, -the herdsman, who thrust his head in at the door and nodded to his -employer, as if to say: - -“I know all about it!” - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - CAUGHT AT LAST! - - -“Let’s hold up a little, boys. We mustn’t tire our horses out at the -start, you know. We are safe now, for even if those ranchemen should -come in pursuit of us, they’d never think of looking for us here.” - -The fugitives were five miles from the rancho, and they had not consumed -a great deal of time in accomplishing the distance, either. They had -scarcely exchanged a dozen words since they began their flight, for -George led the way at a pace so rapid that conversation was impossible. -Ned and Gus had never travelled so fast on horseback before, and the -former was obliged to confess to himself that he was by no means so fine -a rider as he thought he was. It was comparatively easy to keep a firm -and upright seat while his nag was ambling leisurely along a smooth -trail, but it was not so easy when the horse was running at the top of -his speed, over rough ground. His feet were out of the stirrups more -than half the time, while Gus was jolted up and down and from side to -side with such violence that it was a wonder he kept in his saddle at -all. Fortunately, Ned’s departure from home had been so hurried that he -had forgotten to take with him the ornaments he usually wore when he -went riding. If he had had his spurs on while his heels were digging -into his horse’s sides, he might not have kept his seat as well as he -did. Both he and Gus were glad when George checked his horse and allowed -him to settle down to a walk. - -“Texas isn’t so dull a place to live in after all, is it?” said George, -who knew he must say something to keep up the spirits of his companions. -“One can get all the excitement he wants, without half trying, can’t -he?” - -“I never would have been in this scrape if it hadn’t been for Gus,” -declared Ned, who, mean-spirited fellow that he was, always tried to -shift the responsibility for any wrongdoing upon the shoulders of -somebody else. “I wish I had never brought him here!” - -“So do I,” replied Gus, who might, with just as much show of reason, -have accused Ned of being the author of all his misfortunes. If Ned had -not written him those letters and offered to pay his travelling -expenses, he never would have been in Texas. “I don’t see how you can -blame me for anything that has happened. Did I have a hand in stealing -that horse?” - -“You had just as much to do with it as I did. What I mean is, that if -you had been at home, where I wish you were this very minute, those -cattle never would have been shot.” - -“That’s a pretty way for you to talk!” exclaimed Gus, angrily. “I hadn’t -been in your house an hour before you told me that you intended to do -that very thing, just to get up a breeze and show the neighbors that you -had some pluck.” - -“But I never would have done it if you hadn’t dared me. What are we -going to do when we reach Brownsville, George?” - -“We’ll put up at a hotel and wait for Uncle John,” was George’s answer. -“When he comes we’ll talk the matter over and decide upon something. I -think we had all better go off somewhere. I am going, for I don’t want -to see anybody in our settlement until this trouble is forgotten.” - -“You haven’t done anything to be ashamed of,” said Gus, who looked upon -George as a hero. He had been perfectly cool and collected while -everybody else was too badly frightened to talk plainly, and Gus greatly -admired his courage. He told himself, too, that he had formed a wrong -opinion of the boy from Ned’s description of him. He was not a boor by -any means. He was more of a gentleman in appearance, in spite of his -rough clothes, than his cousin was, and knew more in five minutes than -Ned could ever hope to know. - -“No; I have done nothing to be ashamed of, but I am taking you out of -danger, and the people will think hard of me for it,” replied George. -“Besides, I deceived the owner of the stolen horse, and that will raise -a storm against me. The folks in these parts are down on anybody who -befriends a horse-thief.” - -“I am not a horse-thief!” exclaimed Ned. - -“Of course you are not. But you acknowledge that you kept Silk Stocking -in your possession after you knew he was stolen, and that’s a crime in -the eyes of our people!” - -“Don’t you think I can ever come back?” asked Ned. - -“O, yes! It will all blow over after a while, but you must be very -careful in future, for a second offence of this kind would be sure to -lead to something serious.” - -Ned was overjoyed to hear this. Now that he had recovered from his -fright so that he could think clearly, he began to ask himself what the -future had in store for him. How could he live if he were obliged to -leave Texas? He knew that his father would be quite willing to support -him, no matter where he might choose to take up his abode, but he could -not do it without drawing heavily on the revenues of the estate, and it -was not at all likely that George would consent to that; consequently -Ned would be compelled to go to work and earn his own support. That was -something the boy did not want to do. He had lived so long in idleness -that the very thought of work was most distasteful to him. He told -himself that he would indeed be careful how he acted when he came back -to the ranche, and that nothing could ever again induce him to foolishly -jeopardise his chances of living a life of ease. - -“Mr. Gilbert has often advised me to go away and see a little of the -world, especially of my own country, and I don’t know that I shall ever -have a better opportunity,” continued George. “I’d like first to go up -the Mississippi, clean up to its source, and come back in a canoe. -Canoeing is getting to be a favorite sport with some people.” - -“That would be splendid,” exclaimed Ned, with great enthusiasm. “I’ll go -with you.” - -George made no reply. He had not looked for so prompt an endorsement of -an idea that had but just suggested itself to him, and besides, his -cousin was the last boy in the world he would have chosen for a -companion during a journey of that kind. If he made it at all, he wanted -to make it a pleasure trip; and for that reason he wanted Ned to have -nothing to do with it. - -“I have read about the cruise of the _Rob Roy_ on the Jordan,” continued -Ned, “and I’d like to make one just like it. I think a voyage down the -Mississippi would be the next best thing. We ought to take our guns and -some fishing tackle with us, and we shall need a tent and cooking -utensils. Won’t we have fun, though? Let’s go, George.” - -“And while you are having so much fun what will I be doing?” asked Gus. - -“You!” said Ned, as if he had forgotten that there was such a boy as Gus -Robbins in existence. “O, you had better go home.” - -“Now, Ned, you know very well that I can’t do it,” said, Gus; and he -spoke so calmly that Ned looked at him in surprise. - -“Yes, you can. Your father said so in his letter.” - -“But I haven’t money enough to pay my way.” - -“Well, I can’t help that. You can’t expect me to pay your bills all the -while.” Ned caught his breath when he said this, and looked toward his -cousin, wondering what the latter would think, if he knew that a hundred -dollars, which ought to have been placed in the bank for his future -benefit, had been spent to bring Gus Robbins to Texas. “Write to your -father,” added Ned. - -“What shall I do while I am waiting for an answer?” asked Gus. “How -shall I live?” - -“You’ll have to go to work at something. I don’t know of anything else -you can do.” - -Gus did not continue the conversation any longer. He had learned all he -wanted to know. Drawing in his reins, he gradually slackened his pace, -and allowed George and his cousin, who rode side by side, to pass on in -advance of him. As soon as they had done so, Gus fell in behind them and -shook his fist angrily at Ned. - -“He’s the meanest boy that was ever heard of,” said he, to himself. “I -knew it all the while, and the trouble I have got into is nothing more -than I deserve. I ought to have had nothing to do with him. He has got -himself and me into a scrape, and now he throws me overboard, and lets -me look out for myself, while he depends upon his cousin to see himself -safely through. He’s got a big pile of money he can draw on, and can go -off and enjoy himself, while I’ve got to stay here. For I shall not go -home,” added Gus, with a most emphatic shake of his head. “Everybody in -Foxboro’ knows by this time that I ran away, and I’ll not go back there -and face them. There’s plenty of work to be had in this country, and -right here I’ll stay until my father writes me a decent letter.” - -Perhaps we shall see that Gus made a great mistake when he came to this -determination. If he had made up his mind to return to his home as soon -as he could get there, he would have saved himself a great deal of -trouble that afterward came to him. He decided that he would accompany -Ned as far as Brownsville, and that when he arrived there he would leave -him and strike out for himself. He would not stay with a boy who did not -want his company. - -As the hours wore away, and the rancho was left farther and farther -behind, and all fears of pursuit died away, Ned’s spirits and courage -all came back to him, and he began to speak of the events of the night -and the incidents that led to them as a “lark” that was just a little -ahead of anything he had ever heard of. He seemed to forget all about -Gus, who took no part in the conversation. Now and then George turned -about in his saddle, and addressed some remark to him, but Gus replied -only in monosyllables, and George, finding that he did not feel in the -humor for talking, left him to the companionship of his own thoughts. - -It was an hour after daylight when the boys came within sight of the -woods which lined the banks of the Rio Grande. By this time Ned and Gus -were completely tired out, and even George began to show signs of -weariness. They were all glad of a chance to rest, and believed they -would be the better for a few hours’ refreshing sleep. They staked out -their horses in the edge of the timber, spread their blankets and -ponchos on the ground, and throwing themselves down upon them, went to -sleep almost immediately. - -There was no one in sight when they went into camp, for George took -particular pains to satisfy himself of this fact; but for all that there -were two persons near enough at hand to observe all their movements. -They had been on the trail of the fugitives for more than half an hour, -following behind them at a respectful distance, and making use of every -inequality in the ground to conceal them from the view of the boys, -should any of them chance to look behind. When the travellers staked out -their horses one of them was lying on the summit of the nearest ridge, -looking at them over the top of the grass. When he had seen all he cared -to see he returned to his companion, who sat on his horse at the foot of -the swell awaiting the result of his observations, and the two rode -along under cover of the ridge until they reached the woods, about half -a mile above the place where the boys had made their camp. Keeping their -horses in a rapid walk they moved along just outside the timber, and -were soon discovered by Ranger, who lifted his head and gave them a good -looking over. But he raised no alarm thinking, no doubt, if he were able -to think at all, that as it was daylight his master ought to be able to -take care of himself. - -When they had approached a little nearer the two men put their horses -into a gallop, and dashed into camp. One of them threw his bridle to his -companion, and swinging himself out of his saddle hurried up to George -and placed his hand on his shoulder just as the boy, aroused out of a -sound sleep by the clatter of the horses’ hoofs, raised himself on his -elbow to see what was the matter. He saw a bearded face bending over -him, and felt a strong grasp on his collar. His two companions were -sitting up on their blankets looking on with mouths and eyes wide open. -Ned probably did not consider this incident a part of the “lark” he had -been talking about, for he was trembling like a leaf. - -“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” demanded George, as soon as -he could speak. - -“We’re somebody who won’t harm you so long as you do just as you’re -told!” replied the man. “We came after you—that’s what’s we are doin’ -here!” - -“Well, now that you have found me, what do you want with me?” asked -George. - -“We want you to get on your hoss an’ take a ride with us. Thar’s -somebody over on the other side of the river who wants to see you -powerful bad!” - -George arose slowly to his feet and looked first at the man who held him -by the collar, and then at the man who sat in his saddle. He knew who -they were before he asked them, and he knew, too, who it was on the -other side of the river who wanted to see him. He was caught at last, -and there was no chance for escape. There was but one course open to -him, and that was to submit and trust to luck. - -“Answer another question while you are about it,” said George. “Are you -Fletcher’s men?” - -“What do you know about Fletcher?” demanded the ruffian, in surprise. - -“I know all about him, and I know what he wants of me, too.” - -“Who told you?” asked his captor, still more astonished. - -“That’s my business!” answered George, who knew better than to mention -Springer’s name. - -“Now, what in the world does this mean?” whined Ned, who just then -recovered his power of speech. “Who are these men, George, and what are -they going to do with us?” - -“We aint agoin’ to do nothing with you an’ the other feller thar,” said -the man, pointing at Gus, “so you don’t need to get so white an’ act so -powerful skeered. This yere is the chap we’ve been lookin’ fur. Now you -two can lay thar an’ sleep jest as long as you please, an’ then you can -strike out fur Brownsville, and nobody won’t say a word to you.” - -“But what are you going to do with George? Are you going to take him -away and leave us alone?” - -“That’s about the way it looks now.” - -“How are we going to find our way without a guide? We don’t know the -road!” - -“You don’t need to know it, ‘cause you can’t miss it. It’s as plain as -the nose on your face.” - -Ned exhibited the greatest astonishment and terror, while Gus sat -staring blankly before him, as if he could hardly realize what was going -on. The former, George noticed, did not ask what the men intended to do -with him, after they had taken him across the river. All he wanted to -know, was how he and Gus were going to find their way to Brownsville -without a guide. - -“O now, I don’t know what to do,” cried Ned, sinking back on his blanket -and covering his face with his hands. - -“Be a man in the first place,” said George, who was surprised at his -cousin’s want of courage. “You have nothing to cry over. Your way is -perfectly plain, but if you miss it, can’t you stop at some of the -ranchos along the road and ask the people to set you right? But there’s -one thing I want to speak to you about. I say! You don’t care if I -change clothes with him, do you?” he added, addressing the man who held -him by the collar. - -“What do you want to do it for?” asked that worthy. - -“Because it may help him.” - -“I don’t reckon it’ll do any harm, will it, Sam?” inquired the man, -appealing to his companion. - -Sam looked down at the horn of his saddle, and after considering the -matter, said he didn’t think it would. - -“All right. Let go my collar,” said George. “Why do you hang on to me in -that fashion?” - -“I was told to look out for you,” answered the ruffian, “an’ I’m jest -goin’ to do it!” - -He let go his prisoner’s collar, but he kept close beside him when the -latter walked over to the place where his cousin was lying on his -blanket. “You had better give me those silver buttons and all the rest -of your finery,” said George, “for they are much too conspicuous for you -to wear. Those ranchemen are not going to give up that horse, and they -may follow you clear to Brownsville. I believe I could take you through -all right; but as I can’t go with you, you will be left to depend upon -yourself, and you can’t take too many precautions.” - -The hint that there was still a possibility of pursuit and capture by -the ranchemen, brought Ned to his feet in great haste. The thought that -perhaps his cousin might get himself into trouble by wearing those same -silver buttons never entered his head, nor would he have paid any -attention to it if it had. He cared for nobody but himself, and he was -quite willing to part with his nobby suit, and put on his cousin’s -coarse clothing, if by so doing, he could secure his own safety. The -exchange was soon effected, the cattle-thief standing so close to -George’s elbow all the while that flight would have been impossible, -even if the boy had thought of such a thing, and although Ned cut a -sorry figure in his new rig, his cousin’s appearance was vastly -improved. The nobby suit, which was rather large for Ned, fitted him as -though it had been made on purpose for him, and Gus, while he looked at -him, wondered why he had never before noticed that George was a very -handsome young fellow. - -“Now, boys,” said the latter, as he placed the sombrero on his head, “as -soon as you have had rest enough, catch up and start again. Don’t waste -an hour, but be careful and not tire your horses out by reckless riding. -When you reach Brownsville, go to the best hotel, and wait for Uncle -John. Ned has all the money you need,” added George, who had taken pains -to see that there was an exchange of purses as well as an exchange of -clothing. - -“But what is going to become of you?” asked Ned, as if the question had -just occurred to him. - -“I am sure I don’t know,” replied George; and it was right on the end of -his tongue to add: “Probably your father will tell you if you will ask -him the next time you see him,” but he did not utter the words. It was -more than likely that Springer’s story was all false, and that Uncle -John knew nothing whatever about this matter. At any rate he would not -accuse him until he had received positive proof of his guilt. - -“What makes you let them carry you off in this way, anyhow?” demanded -Ned. - -“What else can I do? I can’t whip two grown men with my bare hands, can -I?” - -“I always heard that the Ackermans was a plucky lot,” said the man who -was keeping guard over George, “but I didn’t allow to find a kid like -you so cool an’ careless-like. Have you done talkin’ enough now, do you -reckon?” - -“Yes, I have given all the advice I can think of, and I will be ready to -go with you as soon as I can saddle my horse.” - -“You needn’t mind takin’ that lasso off,” said the man, as George was -about to untie the lariat with which his horse was fastened to the -picket-pin. “‘Cause why, we’ll leave it jist as it is, you know, an’ -I’ll hang on to this yere eend of it.” - -The boy was surprised at the precautions his captor thought it necessary -to take in order to prevent any attempt at escape, and told himself that -the man was going to a good deal of trouble for nothing. If there had -been the least chance for flight or successful resistance George would -promptly have taken advantage of it, as he did a few days afterward, but -he was not foolhardy enough to run a race with a bullet from the -ruffian’s revolver. While he was putting the saddle and bridle on his -horse he repeated all the instructions he had given Ned, and when he -could no longer find an excuse for delaying his departure, he shook -hands with his companions, bade them good-by and rode away between the -two cattle-thieves, one of whom held fast to the lasso which was around -the neck of George’s horse. Ned and Gus stood in the edge of the timber -watching him as long as he remained in sight, and when he disappeared -behind the nearest swell, they sat down on their blankets and looked at -each other. - -“O, Gus, I don’t know what I should do if you were not here with me!” -exclaimed Ned, who was the first to speak. - -“Don’t you, indeed!” replied his companion. “Have you forgotten how -squarely you went back on me no longer ago than last night? You just as -good as told me that you had seen enough of me. You could get along -without me well enough while you had your cousin to lean on, but now -that he is gone, I am a bully boy again. No, sir; you can’t throw me -away and pick me up again when you please, now I tell you!” - -“O, don’t talk that way!” whined Ned, who knew that he was powerless, -and that everything depended upon Gus. “I didn’t mean it. I was -frightened out of my senses, and didn’t know what I was saying.” - -“No, you were not frightened. You had got all over it and were laughing -about the ‘lark’ you had had. You said it, whether you meant it or not, -and I shall take you at your word.” - -“You are not going to leave me?” Ned almost gasped. - -“Yes, I am. When we reach Brownsville, if we ever do, you will see the -last of me.” - -“What are you going to do?” - -“I don’t know. I haven’t made up my mind yet. I know what I am going to -do now: I am going to sleep.” - -Ned could not understand how Gus could take the matter so coolly. He was -slumbering heavily in less than five minutes after he arranged his -blankets, while Ned, whose excitement would not permit him to sleep, -tossed uneasily about, thinking over the incidents of the last few -hours, and trembling when he looked forward to the long journey before -him and its possible ending. - -“I am not out of danger yet,” he kept saying to himself, “for if I were, -George would not have traded clothes with me. He has been pretty good to -me, I must say. It isn’t every fellow who would stand by a cousin as he -has stood by me, and I almost wish I had treated him a little better. -Perhaps I shall never see him again. Well, if I don’t——” - -Clasping his hands under his head Ned lay back on his blanket and -proceeded to follow out the train of thought that had so suddenly -suggested itself to him. The prospect of stepping into possession of a -property worth forty thousand dollars a year was a pleasing one; and -while he was wondering what he should do with so much money, and how he -could spend it to the best advantage, his weariness overcame him, and he -sank into a dreamless sleep. When he awoke the sun had climbed around to -the other side of the woods, and the shadows of the trees were thrown -far out on the plain, showing that the day was drawing to a close. Gus -was already stirring. He had rolled up his blankets, and was just -putting the saddle on his horse when Ned opened his eyes. - -“Where are you going?” demanded the latter, in some alarm. - -“I am going to start out and see if I can find a house,” replied Gus. “I -have a little money in my pocket, and while it lasts I am not going to -sleep out of doors or go hungry, either!” - -“You needn’t spend a cent of it,” said Ned, hastily jumping to his feet -and folding his blankets. “I’ve got enough for both of us. You were not -going away without me, were you?” - -Gus, who was whistling softly to himself, made no reply to this -question, although his companion was sure he had heard it. His silence -was enough to excite Ned’s suspicions, and to thoroughly frighten him, -also. Did Gus intend to desert him? If so, what would he (Ned) do when -he was left to himself? - -“I’ve made him mad and I don’t know how to get him good-natured again,” -was Ned’s mental reflection. “If I can only keep him with me until -father comes to Brownsville, he can clear out and welcome. I must keep a -close watch over him or he’ll come up minus some fine morning.” - -While these thoughts were passing through Ned’s mind, he caught up his -saddle and bridle and hurried out to put them on his horse. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - CONCLUSION. - - -It was a very unsociable pair who rode away from the woods that -afternoon. Ned, who knew that he could not take care of himself, tried -his best to heal the breach that had been caused between himself and his -companion, by the hasty and ungenerous words he had uttered the night -before, but Gus repelled all his advances. Knowing that his old friend -would drop him again as soon as he could find some one else to lean on, -Gus would have nothing to say to him; so Ned gave up in despair, and -rode along in silence. We may add that this was the way they travelled -every day, until they reached Brownsville. Gus stopped for the night -when and where he pleased, resumed his journey in the morning when he -got ready, and never consulted Ned, who was at liberty to follow or stay -behind, just as he chose. - -The boys soon found the trail which they had no difficulty in following, -for it was as plain as a wagon road. Indeed, it was a wagon road, for it -was used by the settlers and army teamsters in hauling goods up and down -the river. Gus at once set off at a sharp gallop and Ned lumbered along -a few paces in his rear. They rode in this way until the sun sank out of -sight, and the shadows of twilight began to deepen into the gloom of -night, and Gus was telling himself that there was a fair prospect that -they would be obliged to go supperless to bed, when his eyes were -gladdened by the sight of a rancho a little distance away. Urging his -horse forward at a faster pace, he drew up in front of the building a -moment later, and was welcomed by a half a dozen ill-looking curs, which -ran out and barked at him vociferously. - -“Hallo, in there!” shouted Gus, hardly believing that he could make -himself heard above the din raised by the angry pack which surrounded -him. “Anybody at home?” - -“Get out, ye brutes!” roared a voice from the inside. “Alight an’ hitch, -strangers.” - -The dogs retreated under the porch, where they remained growling -savagely, and now and then giving utterance to an impatient bark, and -presently the owner of the voice appeared in the open door. In dress and -appearance he was in perfect keeping with his surroundings, which, when -the boys c to look at them, they found to be of the most primitive -character. The house was a rambling old structure, built of logs and -rough, unpainted boards. There were wide gaps in the shingles on the -roof, and the rickety porch groaned and creaked as the man stepped upon -it. The few outbuildings that could be seen were in the same dilapidated -condition. The house was undoubtedly the home of a squatter, who made -his living by pasturing cattle on government land. - -“Alight an’ hitch, strangers,” repeated the man. “You’re welcome to sich -as we’ve got, an’ that ain’t none of the best, I can tell you. You see -we went back into the country to git shet of the raiders an’ we’ve jest -come hum to-day.” - -“Did you lose any of your cattle?” asked Gus, and after he had asked the -question, he was surprised at himself for doing it. Probably the man -owned two or three cows, which supplied his family with milk, and the -raiders would not go far out of their way to pick up such a herd as -that. - -“Nary hoof,” replied the squatter, with a triumphant air. “I tuk my -three thousand head safe off an’ brung ‘em all back agin!” - -Gus was astonished. The man was rich. He was worth at least sixty -thousand dollars (Gus had heard that beef cattle were worth twenty -dollars a piece) and yet he lived in a hovel at which a respectable dog -would turn up his nose. It looked so untidy and altogether forbidding -that Gus did not want to go into it; but knowing that he would find -plenty to eat in there, and believing that he could find a shelter -somewhere under the leaky roof, he dismounted, and the squatter came -down the steps and took charge of his horse. - -“Go right in, strangers,” said he. “The ole woman’s in thar, an’ I -reckon supper’s ‘most ready.” - -Gus went in, but Ned, who felt very lonely and down-hearted, seated -himself on the porch and brooded over his troubles. The former found -that the living-room, which was the one he entered, was as uninviting as -the outside of the house. The floor was littered with various odds and -ends, including saddles, bridles, horse-blankets and old boots, and the -holes in the walls were covered with hides which were hung up over them -to keep out the wind and rain. One side of the room was occupied by an -immense fire-place, in front of which stood the squatter’s wife, who was -busy with her preparations for supper. She looked up when the boy -entered, waved a case-knife toward an old chest which stood beside the -door, and requested him to sit down; and that was the only time Gus -heard her speak while he remained at the rancho. - -The boys fared a great deal better than they expected. The supper was -abundant and well cooked, but the dishes on which it was served up might -have been a little cleaner. The squatter was very sociable in his way, -and after entertaining the young travellers with many stories of -exciting and amusing adventure drawn from his own experience, he asked -them where they came from and where they were going. - -“I don’t know where I am going,” answered Gus, ignoring the first part -of the question, and speaking entirely for himself. “I am looking for a -chance to go into business of some kind, and if I could get stock enough -to begin on I might be tempted to try cattle-raising on the squatter -plan.” - -This was enough to set their host to going again, and during the rest of -the evening he kept the boys interested. He told of his own trials and -failures, and gave Gus some advice which might have been valuable to him -had he thought seriously of going into the business of cattle-raising. -The squatter talked almost incessantly until ten o’clock, and then -seeing that Gus began to yawn he stopped abruptly and led the boys into -an adjoining room. - -“I brung your saddles an’ things in yere,” said he. “You can spread your -blankets on the floor an’ sleep as comfor’ble as you please. Mebbe the -roof’ll leak a little if it rains, an’ if it does, you can come in an’ -lay down in front of the fire. All night to you!” - -So saying the squatter left the room, and the boys began groping about -in the dark in search of their saddles, to which their blankets and -ponchos were fastened. They found them at last, and after making their -beds they lay down on them without bidding each other good-night, and -prepared to go to sleep. It was very probable that the room would leak a -little in case of a sudden shower, Gus thought, as he looked up at the -roof. There were several holes in it, and some of them were so large -that he could have crept through them. He lay there for a long time -looking up at the stars, thinking of his home, and telling himself how -foolish he was to run away from it just in time to miss that excursion -to the trout streams of the Adirondacks, and when his eye-lids were -beginning to grow heavy and the holes in the roof to assume fantastic -shapes, Ned suddenly started up and laid a hand on his shoulder. - -“What’s that?” said he, in a low whisper. “Don’t you hear something?” - -Gus was wide awake in an instant. He held his breath and listened for a -moment, and then sank back in his blanket again. - -“I don’t see any sense in frightening a fellow half to death for -nothing!” said he. “Let me alone, now. I want to go to sleep!” - -“But I hear horses,” whispered Ned. “They’re coming fast, too.” - -“So do I hear them; but what of it?” replied Gus. - -He spoke as though he took no interest whatever in the matter, but if -Ned could have seen his face, he would have found that it was growing -whiter every moment. Gus heard the sound of the hoofs plainly enough, -but until Ned spoke it never occurred to him that the horses which made -the noise might be ridden by men who were in pursuit of himself and his -companion. A few seconds later the dogs were aroused and rushed out in a -body to salute the approaching horsemen. Ned hoped from the bottom of -his heart that they would pass on without stopping, but in this he was -disappointed. The horsemen came straight toward the house, the sound of -the hoofs ceased suddenly in front of the porch, and a voice that made -Ned tremble all over rang out on the air. - -“Hallo, the house!” came the hail. - -“Get out, ye brutes!” shouted the squatter; whereupon the dogs scattered -and took refuge under the porch. “Alight an’ hitch, strangers. I’ll be -thar in a minute!” - -The boys heard their host moving about the living-room and mending the -fire to make it blaze. Then he opened the door and they listened with -all their ears to hear what passed between him and the new comers. As -there was but one thin board partition (and that was full of wide -cracks) between them and the door, they could catch every word that was -uttered. - -“Alight an’ hitch, strangers,” said the squatter, repeating his -stereotyped invitation. “You’re welcome to sich as we’ve got, an’ that -ain’t none of the best, I can tell you.” - -“Thank you,” replied the same voice that had hailed the house; and when -Ned heard it he trembled again. “If you will let us spread our blankets -on your porch, and will give us a bite to eat in the morning, we shall -be much obliged. We’ll not ask you to get supper for us. It is too -late.” - -“No occasion, stranger; no occasion,” replied the hospitable squatter. -“Ole woman, here’s a couple of hungry gentle_men_ out here who want -something to eat. Travellin’ fur, strangers?” - -“We’ve ridden about seventy-five miles. Have you seen a party of four -persons pass this way to-day, one of them a young fellow, riding a dark -chestnut horse with white mane and tail, and four white feet?” - -“Gracious!” thought Ned. - -“Aha!” said Gus, to himself, at the same time drawing a long breath of -relief. “He didn’t say a word about the cattle that were shot, so I have -nothing to fear. Ned can look out for number one; that’s what he was -going to make me do. But he asked after _four_ persons. Who is the -other, I wonder? There were but three of us before George was taken -away.” - -“Ain’t seed no sich,” replied the squatter. - -“That’s very strange,” said the voice. “They must have come this way, -for they are going to Brownsville. The fellow who rode this horse wore a -sombrero, high patent leather boots and a buckskin coat with silver -buttons. He carried an ivory-handled riding-whip, had silver-plated -spurs on his heels, and the horse wore a gold-mounted saddle and -bridle.” - -“Ain’t seed no sich,” repeated the squatter, while Ned wondered where -the man had obtained so accurate a description of him. - -“They couldn’t have gone by without attracting your attention, could -they?” - -“Nary time. I see everybody who goes along this trail by daylight. Come -in, gentle_men_. The ole woman’ll cook you a bite of something an’ I’ll -look arter your critters.” - -The listening boys knew when the unwelcome visitors dismounted and -entered the house, and Gus, who sat where he could look through one of -the widest cracks into the living-room, the interior of which was now -brightly lighted up by the fire on the hearth, noticed that the -squatter’s wife motioned to them with a case-knife, to sit down on the -chest by the side of the door. After Gus had taken a good look at them, -he did not wonder that their appearance frightened Ned so badly that he -dared not confess that the stolen horse was in his possession. Ned could -not see the men, but he knew they were in the next room, and not more -than twelve or fifteen feet from him. What would become of him when they -discovered that he was in the house? He would certainly meet them the -next morning at the breakfast table, and if they recognised him, it -would be all over with Ned Ackerman. - -“I wonder why father didn’t settle the matter with them, as George told -him to do!” thought Ned, who always blamed somebody beside himself for -the trouble he got into. “He had the money, he ought to have done it, -and he has got me into a pretty mess by not doing it. If I ever see him -again, I’ll give him a piece of my mind, I bet you.” - -Another thing that aroused the boy’s anger, was the manner in which Gus -conducted himself. While Ned was sitting upon his blanket, trembling in -every muscle and living in momentary expectation of discovery, Gus had -the impudence to lie down and roll over on his side with his hand under -his cheek, as if he were trying to go to sleep. Ned could see it all by -the aid of the light which streamed in through the cracks in the -partition. - -“Say, Gus,” he whispered, shaking his companion as roughly as he dared, -“what am I to do? Get up and suggest something.” - -“I don’t care what you do,” answered Gus, who thought this a good time -to pay Ned for what he had said the night before. “It is none of my -funeral. I didn’t steal the horse.” - -“Neither did I,” said Ned, who was so angry that it was all he could do -to control himself. “Shall I creep out of the house, if I can get out, -or shall I stay here and take my chances?” - -“Do just as you please. I am not interested in the matter at all.” - -“Your critters is done took care on!” exclaimed the squatter, who came -in at that moment. “What’s this yere feller with the silver buttons an’ -the hoss with the white stockins on been a doin’ of?” - -“The boy is a receiver of stolen property,” came the reply, in a tone -which made Ned tremble more violently than ever. “Do you know anything -about the people who live in the Ackerman settlement?” - -“Never heard tell of none of ‘em,” answered the squatter. - -“It is my opinion that they are no better than they should be,” -continued the owner of the stolen horse. “Every man and boy we met -except one is a friend to this fellow who ran off with my property. That -one’s name was Cook. He has lost some cattle through this same Ned -Ackerman, and is very anxious he should be caught. I am going to have -that horse if he is in the state.” - -“And we’re going to have the boy who ran away with him, too,” added the -other rancheman. - -Slowly and cautiously Ned stretched himself upon his blanket, and -drawing his body into as small a compass as he could, as if he hoped in -this way to lessen the chances for discovery, he lay and listened to the -conversation that followed. The visitors talked principally about -cattle-raising, and there was little more said concerning the lost steed -and the boy who was supposed to have run away with him; but that little -served to convince Ned, if he needed any further proof, that the men -were determined they would not go home until they had captured him and -recovered the horse. As soon as they had eaten the supper that had been -prepared for them the squatter offered to show them where they could -spread their blankets; and Ned’s heart almost stopped beating when he -heard the three men enter the narrow hall leading to the room occupied -by himself and Gus. At the same time a faint light shone in upon him, -and Ned saw that the doorway was concealed by a tattered blanket. The -light shone through this blanket, which, while Ned looked at it, was -raised, admitting the squatter, who carried a blazing fire-brand in his -hand. - -“Come right in here,” said he, as he held up the blanket; and Ned was -almost ready to faint when he saw the ranchemen enter, each carrying his -saddle in his hand. “These yere is two chaps who is out cattle-buyin’,” -continued the squatter, waving his fire-brand toward the boys. “An’ -these yere is two fellers lookin’ for a hoss-thief. Know yourselves, -gentle_men_!” - -Believing that by this introduction he had made the two parties -acquainted with each other, the squatter relapsed into silence and held -up his fire-brand so that the ranchemen could see to arrange their beds. -The latter nodded to the boys and wished a hearty good-evening to which -Gus alone responded. Ned could not have uttered a word to save his life. -Was it possible that he could stay in the same room with those men all -night? He thought they looked at him a little suspiciously, and to show -them that he was not the boy who wore the high patent-leather boots and -silver buttons, Ned threw off his blanket so that all his clothes could -be seen. - -“Buying cattle, eh?” said the owner of the horse. “Going into the ranche -business?” - -“I don’t know that I can do anything better,” replied Gus. - -“You don’t want anything better if you manage rightly,” said the man. “I -have known young fellows like you and your partner to start out with a -few head of stock and make themselves rich before they were forty years -old. But of course they worked hard and attended strictly to business. -That’s the only way to get on in this world. Now, my friend, we shall -not need your light any longer.” - -Ned was glad indeed when the squatter dropped the blanket to its place -and went out with his fire-brand. He was glad, too, that the ranchemen -were tired and sleepy, for he did not want to hear them talk. He was -afraid that they might address some of their remarks to him. They did -not know him in his cousin’s clothes, and they did not recognise his -face for the reason that they had not obtained a fair view of it on the -night they visited the rancho; but they had heard his voice, and they -might remember it if they heard it again. So Ned determined that he -would not speak. He pretended to fall asleep immediately, but the fact -was he did not sleep a wink that night. The mere presence of the men who -were hunting him so perseveringly was enough to keep him wide awake. The -long hours of night had never dragged so slowly away before, nor had Ned -ever longed so impatiently for the daylight. The first gray streaks of -dawn which came creeping in through the wide cracks in the walls around -the slumbering ranchemen who, after exchanging a few words in a low tone -of voice, arose and left the room, taking their blankets and saddles -with them. Ned heard them in conversation with the squatter, and wished -most heartily that the latter would not be so persistent in his efforts -to keep them until breakfast was over. He did not want the ranchemen to -see him by daylight, and he was overjoyed to hear them declare that all -they wanted was a cold bite, and if their host would provide them with -that they would be off. The cold bite was speedily forthcoming, and when -the ranchemen had done full justice to it, they mounted their horses and -rode away. Then Ned breathed easily for the first time in long hours. - -This was the last adventure that befell our young travellers while they -were on their way to Brownsville. They never went a mile out of their -way; they fared well along the route, and their meals and lodging did -not cost them a cent. The door of any rancho or farm-house that happened -to be in sight when night came was open to them, the owner treated them -like honored guests, and always refused to accept any remuneration. They -rode into Brownsville one morning about ten o’clock. Having made -inquiries at their last night’s stopping-place they knew the name of the -best hotel and where to go to find it, and toward it they directed their -course. Giving their horses in charge of a man who came out to meet them -as they drew up in front of the door, they went in, and Ned, having -signed his name to the register, called for a room. - -“Gus has treated me as though I wasn’t Ned Ackerman at all,” thought he, -as he followed the bell-boy up the stairs. “He has travelled on his own -hook, leaving me to take care of myself, and now I am going to pay him -back in his own coin. He ought to come and make things straight with me, -if he only knew it, for he can’t have the cheek to go home again after -what he has done.” - -But Gus had not the slightest intention of making things straight. He -had had quite enough of his old friend, and he was just as independent -as Ned was. He did not register his name, but went into the wash-room, -and after removing all the travel-stains from his hands, face and -clothing, he came out, and left the hotel. It was a long time before Ned -heard where he went and what he did. - -Meanwhile, Ned was working hard with a brush broom, a piece of soap and -a coarse towel, to make himself presentable; but when he got through and -took a look at himself in the mirror, he was anything but pleased with -the result. His hands and face were very brown, and his red shirt looked -as though it had been through two or three wars. “I can’t stand this. I -am ashamed of myself,” thought he. “I noticed as I came along, that -there were a good many stylish young fellows on the street, and I am not -going among them with such clothes as these on. Fortunately, I have -money enough to rig myself out equal to the best of them. If I only had -my nobby suit now, wouldn’t I make folks stare?” - -Ned went down stairs and out of the hotel. When he returned, about half -an hour later, he carried a satchel in his hand and a bundle under his -arm. He made his way to his room, and when he came out again, no one who -had seen him when he rode into town would have taken him for the same -boy. Gus Robbins would have been obliged to look twice at him before he -could have recognised him. His cousin’s coarse clothing had been -exchanged for a broadcloth suit of the latest and most fashionable cut, -and the wearer looked like a dapper young clerk out for a holiday. - -Being satisfied now that he could appear on the streets without -attracting any but admiring glances, Ned went down to the office. The -clerk was not there, and while the boy stood leaning against the -counter, waiting for him to come in so that he could give him his key, -he heard a voice behind him—a familiar voice, that made the cold chills -creep all over him. He knew who the owner of the voice was, but some -strange fascination compelled him to turn his head and look at him over -his shoulder. There were two men standing in front of the counter with -the register before them. One held a pen in his hand, and was on the -point of writing his name, when another name above the first vacant line -attracted his attention. - -“Why, look here, Joe,” said he. “‘_Edward Ackerman._’ That’s our man. He -was coming to Brownsville, you know.” - -“So he was,” said Joe. - -Just then the clerk passed around behind the counter. He looked at Ned -as he went by, but did not act as though he had ever seen him before. - -“Mr. Clerk,” said the owner of the stolen horse, for it was he, “who is -this Edward Ackerman?” - -“Don’t know’ him,” answered the clerk. “He’s a stranger.” - -“What sort of a looking fellow is he?” - -“O, he’s roughly dressed, and looks as though he might be a cow-boy!” - -“That doesn’t answer the description, but we might have a peep at him if -he is in his room. Show us up, will you?” - -The clerk sounded his signal-bell, and when the boy came up in answer to -it, he was commanded to show the gentlemen up to number thirty-three. -Ned watched them as they followed the boy up the stairs, and then left -the counter and went out on the street. He would have been glad to give -up the key of his room and send for his valise, which contained the rest -of the clothing he had just purchased, but he could do neither without -exposing himself on the spot. - -“Am I never going to see the last of those men?” thought Ned, as he -hurried along, turning every corner he came to, as if he hoped in that -way, to leave his pursuers behind for ever. “I can’t stay at that hotel -if they are going to stop there. I wish father would hurry up. I shall -be in danger as long as I am in this town.” - -Ned found a second-rate hotel, after a few minutes’ walk, and concluded -to stop there. Profiting by his past experience, he signed a fictitious -name to the register, and then settled down to wait as patiently as he -could for his father’s arrival. He waited almost a week, and was -beginning to fear that he would never come, when one day, to his great -delight, he met him on the street. Ned’s first act was to relate the -particulars of his two adventures with the ranchemen, and to take his -father to task for not settling the matter with them. He never said a -word about his cousin’s capture or Gus Robbins’s sudden disappearance, -for those little incidents were of no consequence whatever. - -“Those men are following me around under the impression that I still -have the horse in my possession,” said Ned, angrily. “Why didn’t you -tell them that he went off with the raiders?” - -“Because I didn’t have the chance,” replied his father. “They never came -near my house that night. If they will go back to Mr. Gilbert’s they -will find money enough in his hands to pay for the horse and for their -trouble, too. By the way, where’s George?” - -Ned looked up at his father in surprise. He had never before known him -to throw so much earnestness into a simple question, or seem so eager -for an answer to it. - -“O, a couple of Greasers took him away from us!” said Ned, -indifferently. “I’ll tell you all about it by and by.” - -“Come around to my hotel,” said Uncle John, hurriedly. “I want to know -all about it now. We have a good many other things to talk about also.” - -Yes, they had many things to talk about, and it took them a long time to -explain matters so that each might know what had happened to the other -during their short separation. Ned told a truthful story, but he did not -learn so very much from his father in return. There were some things -that Uncle John thought it best to keep to himself. - -And where were George and Gus all this while? The story of their -adventures is too long to be told in this book. We shall begin it -immediately in the second volume of this series, and as we go along we -shall take up the history of another runaway, Tony Richardson by name, -of whose short experience with the ways of the world we have already had -something to say. We shall also take our hero, George Ackerman, away -from his home, and tell of his experience and exploits in an occupation -he had never dreamed of following. The volume will be entitled, “GEORGE -AT THE WHEEL; OR, LIFE IN THE PILOT-HOUSE.” - - - THE END. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - -[Illustration: Specimen Cover of the Gunboat Series.] - - - - - THE - - FAMOUS - - CASTLEMON - - BOOKS. - - BY - - HARRY - - CASTLEMON. - - - No author of the present day has become a greater favorite with - boys than “Harry Castlemon;” every book by him is sure to meet - with hearty reception by young readers generally. His naturalness - and vivacity lead his readers from page to page with breathless - interest, and when one volume is finished the fascinated reader, - like Oliver Twist, asks “for more.” - - ⁂Any volume sold separately. - - - =GUNBOAT SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 6 vols., 12mo. Fully $7 50 - illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =Frank, the Young Naturalist= 1 25 - - =Frank in the Woods= 1 25 - - =Frank on the Prairie= 1 25 - - =Frank on a Gunboat= 1 25 - - =Frank before Vicksburg= 1 25 - - =Frank on the Lower Mississippi= 1 25 - - - =GO AHEAD SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully $3 75 - illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =Go Ahead=; or, The Fisher Boy’s Motto 1 25 - - =No Moss=; or, The Career of a Rolling Stone 1 25 - - =Tom Newcombe=; or, The Boy of Bad Habits 1 25 - - - =ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully $3 75 - illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =Frank at Don Carlos’ Rancho= 1 25 - - =Frank among the Rancheros= 1 25 - - =Frank in the Mountains= 1 25 - - - =SPORTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. $3 75 - Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =The Sportsman’s Club in the Saddle= 1 25 - - =The Sportsman’s Club Afloat= 1 25 - - =The Sportsman’s Club among the Trappers= 1 25 - - - =FRANK NELSON SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. Fully $3 75 - illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =Snowed Up=; or, The Sportsman’s Club in the Mts. 1 25 - - =Frank Nelson in the Forecastle=; or, The Sportsman’s Club among 1 25 - the Whalers - - =The Boy Traders=; or, The Sportsman’s Club among the Boers 1 25 - - - =BOY TRAPPER SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully $3 75 - illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =The Buried Treasure=; or, Old Jordan’s “Haunt” 1 25 - - =The Boy Trapper=; or, How Dave Filled the Order 1 25 - - =The Mail Carrier= 1 25 - - =ROUGHING IT SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully $3 75 - illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =George in Camp=; or, Life on the Plains 1 25 - - =George at the Wheel=; or, Life in a Pilot House 1 25 - - =George at the Fort=; or, Life Among the Soldiers 1 25 - - - =ROD AND GUN SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully $3 75 - illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =Don Gordon’s Shooting Box= 1 25 - - =Rod and Gun= 1 25 - - =The Young Wild Fowlers= 1 25 - - - =FOREST AND STREAM SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. $3 75 - Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =Joe Wayring at Home=; or, Story of a Fly Rod 1 25 - - =Snagged and Sunk=; or, The Adventures of a Canvas Canoe 1 25 - - =Steel Horse=; or, The Rambles of a Bicycle 1 25 - - - =WAR SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 4 vols., 12mo. Fully $5 00 - illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =True to his Colors= 1 25 - - =Rodney, the Partisan= 1 25 - - =Marcy, the Blockade Runner= 1 25 - - =Marcy, the Refugee= 1 25 - - - =OUR FELLOWS=; or, Skirmishes with the Swamp Dragoons. By Harry 1 25 - Castlemon. 16mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra - -[Illustration: Specimen Cover of the Ragged Dick Series.] - - - - - ALGER’S - - RENOWNED - - BOOKS. - - BY - - HORATIO - - ALGER, JR. - - - Horatio Alger, Jr., has attained distinction as one of the most - popular writers of books for boys, and the following list - comprises all of his best books. - - ⁂Any volume sold separately. - - - =RAGGED DICK SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 6 vols., 12mo. Fully $7 50 - illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =Ragged Dick=; or, Street Life in New York 1 25 - - =Fame and Fortune=; or, The Progress of Richard Hunter 1 25 - - =Mark, the Match Boy=; or, Richard Hunter’s Ward 1 25 - - =Rough and Ready=; or, Life among the New York Newsboys 1 25 - - =Ben, the Luggage Boy=; or, Among the Wharves 1 25 - - =Rufus and Rose=; or, the Fortunes of Rough and Ready 1 25 - - - =TATTERED TOM SERIES.= (FIRST SERIES.) By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 5 00 - vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in - colors. In box - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Both words ‘ranche’ and ‘rancho’ appear numerous times in the text. - Did not change either. - 2. Added the word ‘less’ between the words ‘a’ and ‘exposed’ on p. 169. - 3. Changed ‘did’ to ‘died’ on p. 209. - 4. Changed ‘Probable’ to ‘Probably’ on p. 228. - 5. Changed ‘me’ to ‘himself’ on p. 311. - 6. Changed ‘recurred’ to ‘occurred’ on p. 331. - 7. Silently corrected typographical errors. - 8. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. - 9. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. -10. 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