"My name is Chetwood Winthrop, and this is my brother Paul."
"I am exceedingly glad to know you, boys. My name is Noel Urner, and I am from New York. I am a stranger in Idaho, and I know nothing of such treacherous places as this—at least I did not know of them until a short while ago." And the man shuddered as the memory of his fearful experience flashed over him.
"It's one of the unpleasant things of the country," responded Paul, with a little laugh. "But how came you in it?" with a glance down at the spurs on the man's boots.
"I see you are looking at my spurs. Yes, I had a horse, but he is gone now."
"Gone! In the sink hole?" ejaculated Chet.
"No; he was stolen from me."
"Stolen!" Both boys uttered the word simultaneously.
"Yes. I was riding along when I came to a spot where I saw some flora which particularly interested me, for I am a botanist, although for pleasure only. I dismounted and tied my horse to a tree and climbed up to secure the specimens which were on a shelf of rock some thirty feet over my head. Soon I heard a clatter of horses' hoofs as they passed along the road. I came down with my specimens to see who the riders were, but they had already passed on, taking my horse with them."
"The horse thieves!" cried Chet.
And he told the man of the raid made on the ranch and how Allen had gone off in pursuit of the thieves. The reader can well imagine with what interest Noel Urner listened to the tale.