“All right, then, let’s start.”
Off they went, at a steady trot. Red did not say just where they were going. He usually, Ted had found, did not volunteer information.
“Why don’t you use the car more, Red?” questioned the boy.
“A car is all right, but the horse for me. Brownie and I”—he fondled the horse’s neck—“are chums, have always been. Haven’t we, old horse?”
The horse looked up at Red understandingly. Ted hoped he and his horse, Scout, would be on such good terms.
Red understood the boy’s thoughts.
“Treat him kindly always. Make him understand he amounts to something, that he has a friend. Horses need more kindness than human beings.”
They rode for more than a half hour. Then Red spoke again.
“Ted, I have a suspicion there are some thieves about. Cattle thieves. I think I know where they are.” He paused. “I didn’t want to say much until I was sure, but I’ll make sure very soon. Perhaps you can help.”
The boy’s pulse beat faster. He didn’t know just how he could help, but he knew he didn’t want to fail his friend.