“You are very welcome,” answered Uncle John. “I am only sorry that I can’t do more for you.”
The visitors lifted their hats and rode away out of sight; Uncle John turned about and went into the house; the cook returned to his quarters in the kitchen, and Ned was left alone clinging to the railing of the verandah. He could hardly believe that the trying scenes through which he had just passed were realities. They seemed more like a troubled dream.
“If anybody can come as near getting caught as I did and yet escape, I’d like to see him do it,” thought Ned, when his mind became settled so that he could think at all. “I never heard of a closer shave, and I don’t believe there ever was one.”
Ned was not very highly elated over his escape, for he knew that he was not yet wholly out of danger. On the contrary, he would never be out of danger while that horse was in his possession. Those two men would come back some day to return the horses they had borrowed of Uncle John and reclaim their own, and they might come, too, when they were least expected, and before Ned had opportunity to secrete the stolen horse. It was too late now to avoid trouble by giving the animal up to his lawful owner, for the latter would want to know why he had not given him up before, and Ned did not know what answer he could make to so awkward a question as that. Besides, there was Philip, the Mexican cook. Ned grew angry and alarmed every time he thought of him. The man was up to something beyond a doubt, for if he were not, what was the reason he did not tell the strangers that the horse of which they were in search was under the shed where Ned had left him?
The boy was in a very tight place, and he did not know which way to turn. He was in a scrape at last that he could not lie out of. The longer he dwelt upon it the plainer he saw the dangers of the situation and the greater became his alarm. He walked slowly down the steps and turned his face toward the shed in which the stolen horse was confined. The animal welcomed him with a low whinny of recognition, and when Ned patted his sleek neck he rubbed his head against his shoulders as if he were glad to see him. Beyond a doubt he was somebody’s pet, and the boy did not wonder that his owner was anxious to recover him.
Ned, whose nervousness and excitement seemed to increase all the while, stayed there in the shed for two long hours, walking restlessly about with his hands in his pockets, and asking himself over and over again why he did not tell his father all about the new horse when he first came home, and what he should do to bring himself out of the scrape he had got into through his foolishness. When bed-time came the servants began shutting up the rancho for the night. He heard them closing the heavy shutters and locking and barring the doors, but he did not move. He could not bear to go to bed just then, and he knew that when his nervousness abated so that he could sleep he could gain admittance to the house through the door that was always left unfastened to accommodate any of the servants who might happen to be out later than usual.
The rancho looked gloomy and dark enough after the shutters and doors were closed. It stood out in bold relief against the sky, looking like one of the haunted castles of which Ned had so often read. The bright moonlight gave it an almost unearthly appearance, Ned thought; and when at last all sounds of life about the building had died away, he began to feel lonely and afraid—afraid to stay longer where he was and afraid to pass across the lighted yard between the shed and the back porch of the rancho.
“I really must go,” thought Ned, after he had started toward the house two or three times, and as often drawn back again to wait until he could gather a fresh supply of courage. “I have been frightened so many times to-night that I imagine all sorts of things. Every tree and bush I look at, turns into a horseman, and I am almost——”
Ned stopped suddenly, and stooping close to the ground, looked sharply at some object in the distance. “Whew!” he exclaimed, drawing his hand across his dripping forehead, “it did look like a long line of horsemen and—so it is. Yes, sir, I can see them plainly enough. It’s all over with Ned Ackerman now!”
The boy turned in the instant and placing his hands on the side of the deep manger which ran the whole length of one end of the shed, vaulted over it, and concealed himself. He lay for a moment trembling with alarm, and then pulling off his hat, cautiously raised his head until he could see over the top of the manger. The objects which had aroused his fears were certainly mounted men. They were moving in single file by the side of the trail, and as the long, thick grass deadened the sound of their horses’ feet, their approach was almost noiseless.