this happens to be a case where it seems like I should be the one to go.”
“How do you make that out, I want to know?” asked Donald.
“First place, it’s my property that’s in danger, and that ought to count for something, hadn’t it? Then stop and think, haven’t I been all through this ranch house hundreds of times as a boy, and oughtn’t it stand to reason that I’d know it better than you would? Own up, Donald, now; ain’t that the truth?”
“I s’pose I’ll have to,” complained the other; “only I sort of hoped you’d agree to let me go, because I thought of the scheme first. But say, why couldn’t we both take hold, and push it through? There’s three of the dodgers in there if there’s one; and that’d make it more even.”
“But we wouldn’t mean to try and capture them, you see,” Adrian continued; “and one could do the spying better than a pair. Besides, every man is needed out here to guard the corrals, unless we want to have the cattle let out, when chances are, we’ll never get half of the same back again.”
Donald had to give it up at that point.
“Oh! well,” he went on to say, whimsically enough, “I reckon I’m counted out this trip; but all the same, I’m not sorry I thought up the idea. Whether you find the bunch lying low in there or not, it’ll be something to know the truth. If they
ain’t back of us, we’ll be able to face the Walker tribe with more confidence, just because those three mule-skinners[1] can’t rush us from the rear.”
“Let’s hunt up Uncle Fred,” suggested Adrian.
“You want to tell him about it, I reckon, Ad?”