Upon reaching the shed George whistled the mule and led him toward the house, and Ranger, without waiting for the command, followed at his heels. He stopped at the porch, and after fastening the mule’s halter to the horn of the saddle that Ranger wore, he disappeared in the house. When he came out again he carried in his hands a bundle, a rifle and a small leather haversack. The bundle contained his overcoat, gloves, rubber-poncho and blankets; and in the haversack he carried the ammunition for his rifle—a new model Winchester, holding in its magazine sixteen cartridges, all of which could be discharged in as many seconds. He slung the rifle and haversack over his shoulders, tied the bundle behind his saddle and was just slipping the mended bridle over his horse’s head when Ned came out.
“Well, you are off for your last trip, are you?” he exclaimed.
“Yes, I am off for camp again, but not for the last time, I hope,” returned George, although he felt like making a very different answer. “One must do something to earn his bread and butter, you know, and life in camp suits me better than staying in the house doing nothing.”
“What have you got in that pack-saddle?” asked Ned.
“Provisions.”
“You needn’t have troubled yourself to lay in such a supply, for you won’t need them all.”
“Won’t I? Why not?”
Ned made no reply in words. He only smiled and shook his head as if he meant to convey the impression that he could tell something wonderful if he felt like it, and George, who was by this time in the saddle, touched his horse with his spurs and galloped away. He did not say anything more, for he was angry and afraid that he might utter some words that he would be sorry for. He thought he knew what his cousin meant by his nods and his smiles, and told himself that Ned was destined to be as badly disappointed as Uncle John was if he imagined that he and Zeke would surrender their herd of cattle to him any sooner than they would to a band of raiding Mexicans. It made George almost beside himself to dwell upon this subject, so he dismissed it altogether from his mind, and tried to think about pleasanter things.
That day’s ride was a hard one, and George, who was accustomed to such things, grew tired long before it was ended. The course he followed led him through the wildest portion of the country where farms and ranches were few and far between. Now and then he saw a horseman or two who would gallop to meet him, as they met every trader, and ask for the news; but George had little to tell that was of interest, and these interviewers did not long delay him. He made a short halt for dinner and in the afternoon travelled with increased speed, reaching the grove, toward which he had all the day been directing his course, and where he intended to spend the night, just as the sun was sinking out of sight behind the distant swells.
It was in this grove that George had expected to find Zeke, who, when his employer went after supplies, always brought his cattle as close to the settlements as he could find pasture for them, and so save time. George found the camp the herdsman had occupied while the cattle were feeding in the vicinity, but it was deserted, and had been for three or four days; consequently Zeke and his herd must be a long way from there, and George had nothing to do but make himself comfortable for the night and start in pursuit the next morning.