'Yes,' replied Stevenson (who, I suspected, had been for some time aware of the trick Peel had played), 'the shepherd has one. He bought it to shepherd his flock with on these level plains, as he was always losing his sheep. He is a very little man, and consequently could only see a short distance.'
'But he hadn't it to-day, had he?'
'No. The fact is, he was taken in, knowing nothing about horses, and bought a thorough buck-jumper, who pitched him off as fast as he got on. And the brute won't let you catch him in hobbles; so, as he expects to sell it again, he keeps it tethered about the hut handy. I am afraid,' added Stevenson to me, as Walters, too impatient to listen further, spurred on after his men,—'I am afraid that vagabond has been up to some mischief. I hope Watkins, the hut-keeper here, is all right. Peel would be desperate, and not stick at a trifle in the fix he was in. I suspected what he had been up to.'
'So I thought,' I replied, as we rushed on after the trackers.
Just as they reached the hut door, a man was crawling out on his hands and knees. This turned out to be the hut-keeper, who was covered with blood, which had flowed from a wound on his head.
'Why, Bill! what's the matter?' said the superintendent. 'Did Peel do that?'
'Oh, is that you, Mr. Stevenson?' said the man, looking up at our party, and raising himself with difficulty. 'Yes, it was; are you after him?'
'Yes, we are; but how came you to let him do that?'
'You had best put your men on his track at once, Mr. Walters. He's got King's horse.'
'We know he has, the villain!' said Walters, as he directed the three trackers to follow instantly (Peel was still in sight, but soon disappeared in the timber), while he and the rest waited behind a few moments to hear the hut-keeper's account of the attack made on him, which he gave as I bound up his wound.