“Have you any news to take him—word of the White Wolf?” asked Frank, referring to the rustler leader after the fashion in which the Moqui himself had addressed him.
“He has left the band, and turned back, filled with hatred for those who took his cattle out of the valley. Even now he may be there at the
ranch, with a double face, meaning to have revenge by burning the teepee of the white man or poisoning the spring where the long-horns drink.”
Frank and Bob stared at each other when the old Moqui said this.
“We must make for home on the jump, Bob!” exclaimed the stockman’s son, as he dug his heels into the sides of his pony, and headed along the back trail, followed by his alarmed chum.
CHAPTER XX
A WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING
“S’pose Frank hold up—talk little ’bout White Wolf—no need hurry!”
When Frank heard these words spoken in his ear by the old Moqui he threw up his right hand, to let Bob know he intended coming to a halt, so that the galloping horses might not collide.
They had gone several miles in the direction of the ranch house, which could even then be seen in the far distance; with moving horsemen darting this way and that, as the process of the rounding up and branding the cattle went on apace.
“Havasupai wants to say something, Bob, and asked me to stop,” was the way the prairie boy accounted for his sudden change of mind.