"So I did. That's too bad. But, come on. We'll cut across to the road, and see if we can't catch him."
The two brothers changed their direction, and raced toward the fence that separated the field from the dusty highway. Meanwhile the horse was galloping along it, in the midst of a white cloud which his hoofs kicked up. The animal seemed to be rejoicing in a long-sought freedom.
Just as the boys reached the fence their father came along.
"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Crosby, surprised to see his two sons leaving their work.
"Old Pete ran away," explained Will. "There he goes," and he pointed to the moving cloud of dust.
"Old Pete ran away?" repeated the farmer.
"Yep. I was giving him some water at the creek, when he kicked up his heels and bolted."
"That's too bad," spoke Mr. Crosby, seriously. "He may run into something, and get hurt, or he may get lost and it will be a week before we can trace him. Or maybe some one may steal him. I heard there was a band of gypsies over near Fentonville, and they're great hands to steal horses. Better take after him, boys."
"We will, dad," said Jed. "Will you go over there and look after my nag? He's tied, but he may take a notion to go off."
"Oh, I guess Ned is safe," remarked Mr. Crosby. "But I would hate to have anything happen to Pete. We need both horses very much at this season, when there's so much cultivating to do, and if he gets stolen, or injured so he can't work, it will be quite a loss to me."