"I am afoot, I tell you," was the reply.
"I can see you are—now," admitted the puncher. "But you'll have a fine walk in those boots to Rose Ranch."
"I will not walk to the Ranchio Rose!"
"Then you'll be dragged," Tom said coolly. "I reckon my little roan can do it."
"No," said Kane. "Put him on the pack mare."
They were all eager to get the young Mexican to Mr. Hammond and see what the shrewd old ranchman could make out of him. The saddle and goods were removed from the pack animal, and cached. For the girls did not intend to give up their treasure-hunting trip—by no means! It was only postponed.
"I'd give a good deal to know what became of the rest of this
Greaser's gang," said Frank, the other cowpuncher.
"After they stampeded them steers, maybe they run away," Tom observed.
They put the prisoner astride the saddleless horse and made their way slowly to the ranch house. It was almost bedtime when they arrived, and the family was much surprised to see them at that hour.
"Well, I swanny!" ejaculated Mr. Hammond, "is this the best you girls could pick up-a Greaser? Do you call him a treasure?"