Ned made no reply. Indeed, he did not seem to take the least interest in the matter. The money was no loss to him, but it came out of the pockets of one who could lose three times that amount every year and still have enough left to support Uncle John and his graceless son in better style than they had ever been able to support themselves.
While Ned was eating the breakfast that Philip had kept warm for him, he talked with his father about the raiders and discussed Gus Robbins’s chances for meeting Mose at Palos. Ned had given the herdsman a description of his expected guest, and had also taken it upon himself to order him to stay in Palos at least a week and wait for Gus. He hoped that Gus would be on his way to the rancho in company with some of the neighbors long before Mose reached Palos with his cattle, and it was this hope that took him to the top of that swell every day. It did not take him there on this particular morning, however, for he knew now by experience that their troublesome neighbors had a way of appearing when they were least expected; and, although he had never heard that a band of raiders were ever seen in broad daylight, he thought it best to remain within hailing distance of the rancho.
Ned’s first care, after he had eaten his breakfast, was to dispose of the gold-mounted saddle and bridle which had come into his possession the day before, and which were now hanging up in the shed ready at any moment to bear testimony against him. Fortunately for him no one had had occasion to go to the shed that morning, and consequently the only one who knew they were there was the Mexican cook.
Ned walked out on the porch, and after making sure that there was no one in sight to observe his movements, he darted into the shed and as quickly darted out again with the saddle and bridle thrown over his shoulders. He ran to the rear of the shed, and there found a pile of lumber which had been there since he came to the ranche, and which he had never known to be disturbed. He pulled the lumber all down and at the end of a quarter of an hour had piled it up again over the saddle and bridle, arranging the shorter boards on the ends of the pile so that nothing could be seen.
“There!” said he, with a sigh of satisfaction. “I feel a great deal better. Those things can stay there until I find time to put them in a safer place. The next thing is to select a horse. Father told me that I could take my pick of the lot.”
There were a score or more of horses in the corral that had been broken to the saddle. They were all fine animals, too, and it was a matter of some difficulty for Ned to make up his mind which one he wanted. He had grown very particular during the last two days. Having enjoyed the luxury of a ride on Silk Stocking’s back, he knew what a good saddle horse was, and he was hard to suit. He wanted one that looked and carried himself exactly like the stolen horse, and he finally decided that a small sorrel nag with light mane and tail and one white foot approached nearer to the mark than any other horse in the corral. Ned rode him up and down the trail in front of the house for an hour or two, and looked longingly toward the solitary oak on the summit of the swell, under whose friendly branches he had dreamed away so many hours while waiting for his friend, Gus Robbins. But the fear of the raiders kept him at home, and a week passed away before he could gather courage enough to venture out of sight of the house.
On the morning of the eighth day after the raid, one of the herdsmen told Ned that the band of Hangers who had pursued the thieves in the hope of overtaking them and recovering the stolen stock, had returned unsuccessful, the Mexicans having made good their escape across the river, taking the cattle with them. If that was the case, travelling was safe, and Ned was only too glad to take his accustomed gallop again. Of course breakfast was late that morning and everything bothered—it always does when one is in a hurry; but the horse was brought to the porch at last, and Ned hastened into the house after his rifle and silver-mounted riding-whip. These ornaments having been secured, he went into the kitchen after the lunch which he had ordered Philip to prepare for him, and while he was putting it into his pocket, he heard the clatter of a horse’s hoofs in the yard, and voices in conversation. He ran out on the porch, and found his father talking earnestly to a roughly-dressed man, who, upon closer examination proved to be Zeke, George’s herdsman. Uncle John’s face wore an expression of interest, while Zeke’s was gloomy enough. He looked and acted like a man who had met with some great misfortune.
“I don’t know whar he is, more’n the man in the moon,” Zeke was saying when Ned came out. “I ‘sposed, in course, that I should find him here.”
“Well, he isn’t here, and we haven’t seen him since the day he left with the supplies,” said Uncle John. “Can’t you tell me just what has happened? I may be able to do something.”
“Thar ain’t much of anything to tell, an’ ye can’t do nothing, either,” replied Zeke. “He brung them supplies to my camp all right, an’ a few nights arterwards the Greasers dropped down on us an’ run off the last hoof we had to bless ourselves with, doggone ‘em!”