"Peter must not tell all he knows." The foolish boy started up. "Peter is going."
"Don't go yet!" cried Tom.
"Peter must go to the other ranch—boss told him so—after he got through fishing. Going now." And, with a sudden jerk, he tore himself loose and was off like the wind among the trees.
"Hi!" cried Songbird. "Hadn't we better stop him?"
Tom was already after the dolt. But the foolish boy seemed to have legs like those of a deer for swiftness, and before they realized it he was out of sight. He knew how to run with but little noise, so it became almost impossible to follow him.
"Will he go back to the ranch, do you think?" asked Fred after the momentary excitement was over.
"He said something about going to the other ranch," returned Tom.
"What he meant by it, I don't know."
"Well, he is gone, so we shall have to make the best of it," went on
Fred. "I trust, though, that he doesn't get us into trouble."
The boys sat down in the temporary camp, and there Tom and Songbird gave all the details of how they had fallen in with Peter Poll.
"I suppose those rough characters make him do all sorts of dirty work," said Fred. "The boy isn't really responsible."