“Me, too,” agreed Madge.
So it was agreed that the four timid girls should return to Silver Ranch with Ricarde after breakfast; but Ruth and Jane Ann, with Tom Cameron and Bob Steele, well mounted on fresh ponies, joined the gang of cow punchers who forded the river at daybreak to bring in the strays.
The frightened cattle were spread over miles of the farther plain and it was a two days’ task to gather them all in. Indeed, on the second evening the party of four young folk were encamped with Jib Pottoway and three of the other punchers, quite twenty miles from the river and in a valley that cut deeply into the mountain chain which sheltered the range from the north and west.
“It is over this way that the trail runs to Tintacker, doesn’t it, Jib?” Ruth asked the Indian, privately.
“Yes, Miss. Such trail as there is can be reached in half an hour from this camp.”
“Oh! I do so want to see that man who killed the bear, Jib,” urged the girl from the Red Mill.
“Well, it might be done, if he’s over this way now,” returned Jib, thoughtfully. “He is an odd stick—that’s sure. Don’t know whether he’d let himself be come up with. But——”
“Will you ride with me to the mines?” demanded Ruth, eagerly.
“I expect I could,” admitted the Indian.
“I would be awfully obliged to you.”