“Oh, I will do that,” said the cowboy. “He is coming here as your guest, and of course I will take off my hat to him. But I will tell you one thing, and that ain’t two,” he added mentally, as he shouldered his saddle and walked toward the corral with it: “I believe that a fellow who will stand around with his hands in his pockets, while his father is so poor that he doesn’t know where his next meal is coming from, is not a man who will do to run with you. I shall keep an eye on him.”
This made it plain that Mr. Preston had talked rather freely with his foreman before he started for Standing Rock Agency, and that the latter’s suspicions had been aroused. The cowboy was loyal to the family, and anything that interfered with them was sure to raise his ire. Carl did not know what to think when he went away and left him sitting there on the porch. Ever since his father went away he had been impatient for his return, for he wanted to see his cousin, and had promised himself that he would try by every means in his power to make his stay under their roof agreeable.
“Thompson is mistaken—I know he is, or father would not have received him under our roof,” muttered Carl, as he turned himself around on the porch and gazed toward the entrance of the valley. “At any rate, I shall not fall in with him until I see Claude and judge him for myself.”
This much was settled, and Carl forthwith dismissed all thoughts of his cousin from his mind. His father had promised to be at home on the afternoon of that day, and then the matter could be determined to his satisfaction. His pony came up and thrust his nose into his hand, and Carl suddenly thought of something.
“I believe I will not wait for them to get home,” said he, going to the end of the porch where were hung the saddle and bridle which he used in riding. “I will go down to the gap and meet them.”
The pony—he was always called the pony, and nothing else—did not raise any objection to being saddled and bridled. He was as gentle with Carl as a dog, although if anybody else came near him he was apt to be dangerous. This was the pony that Carl rode when he got his name. He came home on a leave of absence and told his father of it, and the consequence was Carl was not allowed to go back.
“I tell you those fellows have gone too far in naming my boy,” said Mr. Preston in astonishment. “Have you ever been in that country before?”
“Not quite so far down,” answered Carl, who almost wished that he had said nothing about it. “I have been down pretty near to Fort Belknap with Mason, carrying dispatches, and that is as far as I have been.”
“Do you know what those Indians would have done to you if they had captured you?”
“Yes, sir; but I didn’t intend to be captured.”