“I am glad the thieves left me provisions enough to last me until I can get more,” said George, to himself. “If I have to travel all the way on foot, it will take me four or five days to reach the nearest rancho, and I have no fears of getting hungry during that time. What brought those raiders so far from the river? That’s what I can’t understand.”
During the two days that followed, while the young cattle-herder was trudging painfully over the lonely prairie, he had ample leisure to turn this question over in his mind. He travelled early and late, but his progress was necessarily slow, for one who spends the most of his time in the saddle, finds it hard work to go on foot, and soon grows weary. He kept a bright lookout for Zeke, and stopped on the top of every swell to scan the prairie before and on both sides of him, in the hope of discovering his horse or pack-mule; but Zeke was miles ahead of him, hastening toward the settlement, intent on alarming the ranchemen in time to cut the raiders off from the river, while Bony and Ranger were making the best of their way toward home.
“They are all safe, I know, for they are able to take care of themselves. So am I; but there’s no fun in looking forward to three days more of such walking as I have had. I shouldn’t mind it so much if I hadn’t lost my cattle,” said George, with a long-drawn sigh. “Those lazy Greasers have robbed me of years of hard work, and now I must begin all over again, or else go to herding cattle for Uncle John. Of course I can’t loaf about the house all the time and do nothing, as Ned does. Hallo!”
While George was talking to himself in this way he came to the top of a ridge, and found before him a long line of willows which fringed the banks of a water-course. A solitary horse was feeding near the willows, and this it was that attracted the boy’s attention and called forth the exclamation with which he finished his soliloquy. The sight of the animal alarmed him, for it was not at all likely that a horse, wearing a saddle and bridle, would be feeding contentedly in that wilderness, so far from all signs of civilization, unless there was some one with him. George dropped to the ground, and ran his eyes along the willows in search of a camp. If there was one in the neighborhood he could not find it. There was no smoke to be seen, nor were there any other indications of the presence of human beings.
“But there’s somebody here all the same,” thought the boy, shifting his position a little, so that he could obtain a better view of the willows, “for that horse never came here without a rider. Somebody has stopped in the willows to rest, and he’s a Mexican, too. I know it by the silver ornaments on the saddle. I wish I could think up some way to capture that horse. Shall I try it?”
Not knowing what else to do just then, George lay there in the grass and considered the matter. Weary and footsore as he was, the thought of finishing his journey on horseback was a most agreeable one. The animal was loose—when he raised his head, George could see that he was not confined by a lariat—but if he attempted to creep up to him the horse would doubtless take fright and run off; and that would excite the suspicions of his owner, who might be tempted to send a bullet from his carbine in that direction. There was too much danger in it George found when he came to think it over. He sighed regretfully, thought almost with a shudder, of the long, weary miles that lay between him and the nearest rancho, and was about to crawl back down the swell again, when he was astonished almost beyond measure, to hear his own name pronounced in a weak and trembling, but still distinct voice.
“George! George Ackerman!” came the hail from the willows.
George jumped to his feet, and looking in the direction from which the voice sounded, saw a sombrero waved in the air, and could dimly discern the figure of a man, dressed in Mexican costume, who was sitting on the ground, with his back against one of the willows.
“George!” repeated the man.
“Hallo!” was the reply.