As one of the cattlemen had been able to give him a hint concerning this, success greeted the efforts of the ranchman before long. Havasupai was enabled to once more claim his daughter.
He could not return to his village, for there was a perpetual edict of banishment issued against him; so, as the stockman offered him a chance to remain at Circle Ranch, and be entered on the regular payroll as a scout, hunter, and tracker of lost cattle, Havasupai settled down to his new life.
The boys were glad of this, since both of them had taken a decided liking to the old Indian. And Hank Coombs struck up a close friendship with Havasupai, they having many interests in common.
On the very day after the grand round-up had closed, with Circle Ranch resuming its ordinary aspect, the saddle boys started out on what everybody supposed was simply a hunt for fresh venison; or a chance to pot some daring wolf found abroad in the daytime. But Bob had another mission on his mind.
“Oh! I hope I find it there, Frank,” he said
for the fourth time, as later on they drew rapidly near a motte of timber that marked some spring-hole, miles away from the ranch proper.
“Well, I give you my word I wish it just as much as you can do,” chuckled the other, giving his chum a meaning look.
“I suppose I have bothered you a heap, Frank, what with my guessing, and asking all sorts of silly questions,” Bob went on; “but if you only knew how much I think of that knife you wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Oh! I’m not blaming you, Bob, not a bit of it,” laughed the other. “I was only thinking of that dream you had, and wondering if it could come out true, with the knife sticking in that tree just as you saw it while asleep. If it does turn out that way, why, I’ll believe your spirit must have wandered out here while your body lay there alongside me. But in a few minutes now you’ll know the worst.”
“Say the best, Frank!” cried Bob. “Don’t discourage me, right now, when you can see how I’m keyed up to top-notch pace.”