“Yes, Dad, and with some news that will make you sit up and take notice, I reckon,” replied Frank, after glancing around, to make sure there was no chance of his being overheard by way of the open window.
Bob had, by arrangement, stepped over, and taken up his position where he could occasionally thrust his head outside a window and in this way make sure no listener was crouching near the wall of the building.
“Now you have me guessing, son,” remarked the stockman.
“Three to one it’s something about that Mendoza!” exclaimed the overseer, who had never ceased to lament the fact that they had allowed the rustler to escape so easily.
From the fact of Bob laughing at this chance
remark, the stockman realized that Bart had hit pretty close to the line.
“What about him now, Frank?” he asked.
“He didn’t cross the boundary after all, Dad,” said the boy. “Fact is, he’s come back to this region, bent on getting his revenge for what the Circle Ranch outfit did to knock his game to flinders.”
“Where did you get this interesting news, son?” asked the other, frowning; for well he knew that it meant trouble of some sort.
“We happened to run across that old Moqui, Havasupai, when we were riding just now. He was about tired out, but bent on getting to the ranch house some time to-night. He told us that after riding off many miles to the south with his men, Mendoza had slipped away, and headed back this way.”