"Watch that old man," he whispered. "He may not be as innocent as he looks. Don't let him get to the ranch. If he does, our cake will be dough."
"Of course you don't expect to catch up to the wagon," said Songbird.
"No, but if I do, I'll go ahead anyway—if Mr. Monday will let me."
It was not long after this that Tom left the others. He struck out boldly along the poorly defined wagon trail, which led over some rough rocks and down into hollows now filled with water. The marks of the wagon ahead were plainly to be seen, but, though the youth walked fast, he did not catch sight of the turnout.
It was dark by the time he came to the fence that surrounded the ranch buildings. He saw Bill Cashaw's wagon standing under a shed. Two men were unloading the contents. They were both strangers to Tom.
It must be admitted that Tom's heart beat rapidly as he stepped into view and slouched toward the wagon shed. The men started in surprise when they beheld him.
"Say, whar's my pap?" he called out. "Didn't he come in on the wagon?"
"It's Bud Cashaw," murmured one of the men. He raised his voice.
"Your old man is in the house with Sack Todd."
Tom turned toward the ranch proper and was close to a door when it opened and Sack Todd came out and faced him. At a distance behind the man was James Monday.
"Hullo, pap!" sang out Tom. "You forgot that letter from that train hand—or maybe you didn't see him."