Once at the ranch, Frank and Blunt lost little time getting their horses under saddle.
“One of us will have to carry the mail bags, Barzy,” said Frank, “and one of us will have to carry Lenning.”
“You let Lenning ride with you, Chip,” the cowboy suggested. “This cayuse of mine never carried double, and I don’t know how he’d act. I’ll agree to make him tote the mail bags, though. Got any rope, Dolliver?”
Dolliver secured a reata, and Blunt used it to make the two bags fast behind his saddle. When the cowboy mounted, his horse showed some temper at the unaccustomed load at the saddle cantle by pitching and plunging. It was not much of a fracas, and Blunt quickly got the animal steadied down.
“Takes quite a hoss ter git the best o’ you, Barzy,” grinned Dolliver. “Ye can ride, boy.”
Merriwell took Lenning up behind him. The latter, before they started, reached out a grateful hand toward the rancher.
“Some time, Dolliver,” said Lenning, “I hope I can do something for you. Until that time comes, my thanks will have to be your pay.”
“Shucks!” grunted Dolliver. “Think I have ter take money for every blame’ thing? I don’t want nothin’ more. What I’d like a whole lot, though, would be ter have a couple of friends like Merriwell an’ Blunt.”
“You’ve got ’em, pard,” said the cowboy. “Eh, Chip? If you ever get in a hole, send us a hurry-up call and we’ll come a-smokin’. Adios, Dolliver.”
“So long!” called Frank.