“I see. But what are you going to do?” and Ned’s voice had in it an eager note.
“Well, that’s one of the reasons we came on to Boxwood,” said Mr. Baker. “Watson suggested, in his wire, that I send out some New York or Boston detective to the ranch to see what he could do. The cowboys, though they’re all right at their own business, don’t seem to be much of a success as sleuths. I happen to know one or two New York private detectives, one of whom did some work for me a few years ago. So I’ve decided to engage him, and what I want you to do, Ned, is to go on to New York, explain matters to him, and hire him. I’d do it myself only I’m laid up, as you see, and Mr. Baker has other matters to engage him. I think you can attend to the detective end of the business as well as I. So, if you can arrange to make the trip, I’ll give you more details which you can pass on to Peck. That’s the detective’s name—Henry Peck.”
“Well, Dad,” returned Ned, slowly, “I suppose I could go to New York all right, but I don’t want to—to be frank with you.”
Ned’s chums looked curiously at him. It was not at all like their friend to object to his father’s wishes.
“You don’t want to go?” repeated Mr. Slade. “Well, Ned, of course I don’t want to take you away from your studies, but——”
“Oh, it isn’t a question of studies, Dad. I’m all through, as far as they are concerned. This is the last week. But I think you don’t need any New York detective.”
“Why not?” demanded Mr. Slade. “Don’t you suppose I want the thefts of my cattle stopped?”
“Sure you do,” and Ned smiled and winked at his chums, who themselves did not quite see his drift.
“Well, then get ready to go to New York and engage that detective,” and Mr. Slade spoke a bit sharply, for his leg pained him.