"You didn't succeed in getting the money-box, did you?" continued George, who knew that the men would have given something handsome to know where he received all his information. "You got nothing at the ranche but a horse—a dark chestnut with white mane and tail, and four white feet."
"He is over the river now," said one of the men, who was so amazed, that he spoke before he thought what he was doing.
"I know it."
"Wal, go on. What else do you know?"
"I know that you expect to receive a thousand head of fat cattle, as your reward, for making a prisoner of me. You can tell Fletcher, for his satisfaction, that the next time he wants to put a spy into any of the ranches in this country, he had better select a more reliable man than that Mexican cook. There!" added George, to himself, "If I am not very much mistaken, Philip is in a fair way to see as much trouble as he has tried to get me into."
There could be no doubt about that, if the expression on the faces of the boy's captors, was any index of the thoughts that were passing through their minds. He had purposely aroused their suspicions against the cook, and the significant glances they exchanged with each other, had a volume of meaning in them.
"When I get home, the first thing I do will be to tell Jake to kick Philip out of the house," said George, again communing with himself. "Of course, Fletcher will want to know who told me all these things, and it would never do to say that I got my information from Springer. I say," he added, aloud, "where do you fellows make your home, anyhow?"
"You'll see when you get thar," replied one of the men.
"I suppose you were with Fletcher on the night he jumped down on me and stampeded my cattle, were you not?" continued George.
"Mebbe we was, an' mebbe we wasn't."