Ned listened to all this in speechless amazement and alarm. The stolen horse was hitched under the shed, in plain view of the porch, beside which the strangers would dismount, and if it had been daylight, nothing could have saved him from discovery. True, it was dark now—so dark that the boy’s frightened face was effectually concealed,—but Ned knew that the moon would rise in less than a quarter of an hour, and if anything should happen to detain the visitors at the rancho, or if they should take it into their heads to pry into things after they got there, something disagreeable would be sure to happen. Ned did not like to think about it. He accompanied the men to his home, where he made himself very officious, taking charge of their horses, and showing so much anxiety to have them go right into the house, that it is a wonder their suspicions were not aroused. He could scarcely breathe until he saw his father conduct them into the rancho, and close the door behind them.
“What’s the trouble?” asked the herdsman who had been sent out to catch and saddle the fresh horses. “Who are those men, and where are they travelling to at this time of night?”
“I don’t know,” was Ned’s reply. “They want to reach the river as soon as possible, and you had better hurry up and get the horses ready.”
“Humph!” exclaimed the herdsman, as he led the strangers’ nags toward the corral. “Horsethieves, for a dollar!”
Ned did not care what opinions the man formed concerning the visitors, so long as he did not hit upon the right one. It might be dangerous to let any of the servants know that the men were in search of a chestnut horse, with four white feet, and a star in his forehead; for it was very probable that some of them had by this time found out that there was such a horse hitched under the shed, and it would be just like them to say something about it. There were a good many ways in which the strangers might learn all they wanted to know, and Ned would have been glad to hide himself somewhere, until they had taken their departure; but he dared not go away, for fear that, during his absence, his secret might leak out in some way. He hoped to prevent such a calamity by staying there and hurrying the men off when they came out.
Ned walked up and down the porch, in a fever of excitement and suspense, and at the end of a quarter of an hour was greatly relieved to see the herdsman coming with the fresh horses.
“Give them to me,” said Ned, when they had been brought up to the porch. “I’ll hold them until the men come out.”
“Well, you hold one and I’ll hold the other,” answered the herdsman, putting one of the bridles in Ned’s hand. “I want to have a good look at those fellows.”
Ned was almost ready to cry with rage and alarm. He could not send the man away, if he was resolved to remain; and while he was wondering if he had not better go himself and trust to luck, a door at the farther end of the porch, which gave entrance into the kitchen, was opened, and the Mexican cook came out.
This was the man whom George declared to be mean enough for anything. The old cook, who had had charge of the culinary department of the ranche during Mr. Ackerman’s lifetime had been discharged at the request of Ned, who had some fault to find with the man, and this Mexican, who came from, nobody seemed to know where, had been employed to take his place. No one about the ranche liked him. He was an excellent cook, but he was always slipping about the house on tip-toe, as if he were trying to find out something, and seemed to have a way of getting at everything he wanted to know. He walked up the porch in his stealthy, noiseless way, looked all around, to make sure that he was not observed, then bent his face close to Ned’s, and was about to whisper something to him, when he discovered the herdsman, who was standing at the foot of the steps, holding the other horse.