“Why?” Ned inquired.
“Because there was another raid last night. The biggest yet. I was just going to send your father word. Instead, I’ll wait and we’ll round-up these thieves. It’s the best news I’ve heard yet! But we must be lively now.”
“Oh, if they have just taken some more cattle they will not move or dispose of them for some time,” said the professor. “They will have to change the brand and arrange for their sale.”
“That’s a part I’d like to know,” said the foreman. “How do they dispose of the stolen stock?”
But this the professor could not tell.
“All hands that can be spared for the round-up!” was the general cry the next morning, and Hinkee Dee was so busy seeing to the men that he had no time to be sarcastic or to sneer at the Motor Boys, in case he had been so disposed. In fact, he did not even notice them, though the other cowboys praised them warmly for their rescue of the professor—an act that would be, it was hoped, the means of wiping out the gang of outlaws.
“Where’s the Parson?” asked Hinkee Dee, as he was marshalling his forces, for he was to lead the party, the foreman having some business to attend to at the ranch that required his presence there.
“He rode to town,” volunteered Gimp.
“Huh! That’s a nice thing to do when he knew I wanted him on this round-up!” snapped Hinkee Dee. “Here, you Gimp, ride after him and tell him to come back at once. No, never mind. I’ll need you. Just tell him to follow us when he comes back,” he called to the foreman, who promised to do so.