Phillips afterward said that he did not hear what George said to him—in fact, he couldn't hear anything but the noise of those hoofs—but, seeing that if he remained where he was his death was certain, he wheeled his horse and fled with the speed of the wind. The last his friends saw of him was as he dashed over the top of a ridge, with the stampeded cattle close behind him. When they were all out of sight and the rumble of their hoofs had died away in the distance, the troopers turned to look at Mr. Wentworth. He stood with his hands in his pockets gazing disconsolately in the direction in which the herd had disappeared, but had nothing to say.
"Now, here's a go!" whispered Bob, giving George a nudge in the ribs with his elbow. "What am I to do? This is something Captain Clinton didn't think to provide for, isn't it? I was ordered to go to Holmes's ranche with Mr. Wentworth, but I wasn't told to follow up and collect his cattle if they were stampeded."
"You mustn't think of following them up," said George decidedly. "There is no man in the world who could get that same herd together again, for it will join others as soon as it gets over its fright; and how could we tell these cattle from others bearing the same brand? They are gone, and that's all there is of it. You must mount at once and see if you can find anything of Phillips."
"All right!—Mr. Wentworth," said Bob, "we are very sorry for the loss you have sustained, but we have done all we could for you."
"I know it, corporal, and I am very grateful to you and to the captain, who was kind enough to send you with me. Such things as these will happen sometimes, in spite of everything. Now I hardly know what to do."
Neither would anybody else have known what to do under the same circumstances. Mr. Wentworth had no home, no property except his rifle and the horses he and his boys rode, no work to do, and but little to eat in his haversack. It was a trying situation for a man who but a few days before had been worth a fortune, and almost any one would have been disheartened.
"I'll tell you what you can do," said George. "You can easily find your way to the Ackerman settlement, and if you go there and give Mr. Gilbert a note of introduction which I will write for you, he will take care of you until you can decide upon something."
George did not feel at liberty to tell Mr. Wentworth all he had on his mind. As soon as he returned to the fort he intended to write to his guardian, asking him if he might furnish Mr. Wentworth with a sufficient number of cattle from his own herds to give the impoverished man a new start in life. Of course Mr. Wentworth had a few cattle of his own among those that had just run off, but it would take some time to gather them up; and as he would not want to be troubled with his boys while he was engaged in the work, George intended to ask Mr. Gilbert to take care of them during their father's absence, and to lend Mr. Wentworth a few good herdsmen to assist him in getting his stock together. While he was thinking about it, and before Mr. Wentworth could thank him for his generous offer, something happened which told them very plainly that the stampede that had just taken place was not owing to the nervousness of the cattle, but to the presence of those of whom George Ackerman had every reason to stand in fear.
Their attention was first attracted by some unusual sound. They could not have told what it was or from which direction it came, but they all heard it, and waited for it to be repeated, that they might locate and define it. There was a moment's silence, and then a chorus of wild yells arose on the night air, accompanied by the rapid discharge of firearms. The troopers looked at one another in blank amazement, and then at George, who was not long in assigning a cause for the disturbance.
"The Greasers are attacking the squatter," he exclaimed; and he was quite as much astonished to be called upon to say it as the troopers were to hear it. It must be a strong and daring band that would venture so far into the country, and almost involuntarily George whispered the name of Fletcher. Bob was quick to decide upon his course. He knew just what Captain Clinton would expect of him if he were there.