It was a moving light that finally told Ned how close the herd was to the ranch buildings. Then he caught answering shouts, and eagerly he listened in the hope of distinguishing the well-known voice of Jimmy among the whoops; but although once or twice he thought he detected it, he could not be sure.
The gates of the big enclosure were open and ready to receive the cattle, with the Chinese cook in attendance. It only required a little expert work in getting the leading steers to enter, and after that the job was easy.
Seeing that his services were no longer required, and with an aching heart, Ned wheeled his pony and started for the long building known as the bunkhouse, beyond which lay the other structures.
As he did so he discovered a moving figure advancing hastily toward him. Hope grappled with doubt, and he was held in this mixture of suspense until suddenly he heard a loud sound that sent a spasm of joy to his heart.
It was a fair imitation of the long-drawn howl of the wolf; and so many times had he drilled Jimmy in making this signal of the patrol to which both of them belonged that he knew his missing chum was safe and sound, or he would not be advancing toward him so sturdily.
“Jimmy,” he shouted in a transport of joy.
“Whoopee! on deck, Ned, and mighty glad it is to see you comin’ back after that hullaballoo of a time!” came the answer; and in another minute the two scouts were shaking hands with considerable vim.
“I picked up your gun, Jimmy,” remarked Ned, the first thing, “and here it is fastened to my saddle.”
“Glory be, but that’s good news,” declared the other, exultantly; “d’ye know I’ve been feelin’ mighty sorry about that same gun, for fear I’d lost it; and you know what I think of the shootin’-stick. It was either drop everything, and get me arms tight around the neck of that blasted broncho, or else find myself standin’ on me head. Gee whiz! but it was a mad race the little villain gave me before he fetched up here at the ranch house.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t have some of the fun of driving the herd home,” remarked the scout master; “but glad it was no worse than a runaway. When I saw the white in the eyes of that pretty calico pony I knew he had a nasty temper. I suppose you’ll want another horse after this?”