The stoical Indian lad bowed. “I had none and so I have captured him for my own, but he would have been lost again if you had not made him fast.”
Then he asked, “What is wrong with your pony?”
Benjy told in a few words about his great anxiety concerning his mother, of his eagerness to reach her soon as possible and about poor Clipper’s mishap.
The Indian lad lifted the hurt foot, and taking his soft leather belt, he wound it tightly about the strain. Rising, Fleet Foot, for it was that fine Indian lad, bade Benjy place his saddle on the horse that had been following, adding that he would take Clipper to the village and give him care. “He will be all right in a few weeks,” the Indian lad said. “I hope so,” Benjy replied, “Clipper and I have been pals ever since I was a little shaver.”
Then, having thanked Fleet Foot the boy again started up the long hard trail.
It was nearly dusk when he reached the summit. Looking down into the valley, he could see the group of white-washed buildings that were home to him. With a sob he reached out both arms. “Mother! Mother!” he said, “I’m coming. I’ll be with you soon now.”
CHAPTER XIII
MOTHER!
As Benjy neared his ranch home he saw that a dim light was burning in his mother’s room. This confirmed his fears that the one he so loved was really ill. Urging his steed to a gallop, he was soon dismounting at the corral, where he left his pony. The front door quietly opened and his brother appeared. He advanced with outstretched hands.
“Hal,” the young lad said, with a sob, “is our mother ill?”
“I don’t know, Benny Boy,” was the reply. “Mother insists that she is merely tired and that she is going to remain in bed until she is rested, and you must pretend that you believe her. It will be hard for you, fearfully hard, but it must be done. Come. Our mother has been listening all day. Just now she called to me and said: ‘Son, go quickly and open the door. My little boy has come home.’ She knows that you are here and so we must not delay longer or she will think it strange.”