What made it still more difficult to manage was the fact, which Harry seemed to be aware of, that there was no real foreman on the place; Colonel Job himself filling that position, while James Henshaw took other duties upon his shoulders.
“How about telling your Aunt Mehitabel about it, Harry?” Ned asked, as they exchanged views and seemed to get no nearer a definite arrangement.
“Just what we’ll have to do,” replied the other chum, “and say, if only she’ll agree to let us have a free hand, and tell the boys to do what we want, p’raps we might find some way yet to upset the game of the rustlers.”
“You just bet we will that!” said Jimmy, with all the confidence of one whose lexicon knew no such word as fail.
“The first thing we must do,” ventured Ned, seriously, “is to find out who it is sends these treacherous messages to parties that have evil designs on the herds of the Double Cross Ranch.”
“Them, you mean, don’t you, Ned,” added Jack, “because that message spoke of there being five all told who would look out and see that things were made easy picking.”
“Well,” spoke up Jimmy, with a cunning leer, “sometimes you think I’m sleepy, but I notice that now and then I manage to wake up long enough to do my little stunt. His handle, it’s Ally Sloper, by the same token.”
“Who’s that?” asked Harry.
“The dub that owns the homing pigeons,” came the ready reply, which caused Ned to smile and nod his head in approbation.
“Good work, Jimmy!” he remarked, “you must have asked the fellow you rode in behind?”