“What do you suppose they will do?” asked George.
“Haven’t even the shadow of an idea. The least they can do with him is to put him in jail as a receiver of stolen property; but they act as though they were going to take the law into their own hands, and for that reason I think you had better get Ned out of the way. As soon as they have eaten supper I am going to send a man to guide them to your house, so you’ll have to ride fast. I’ll delay them in every way I can, but they are very impatient. Your horse is at the porch on the other side of the rancho. Keep me posted as to your movements, and I’ll keep you posted in all that goes on in the settlement. Good-by, and good luck to you.”
George slung his haversack over his shoulder, shook Mr. Gilbert warmly by the hand and hurriedly left the office. He found the horse at the end of the porch, saddled and bridled, and Bony was cropping the grass a little distance away. Both the animals recognised and welcomed him, one uttering a low whinny and the other a suppressed bray, and the man who was holding the horse nodded his head vigorously and patted George on the back as if to say that he knew all about it.
“I am to show them the way,” whispered the herdsman. “Them trails twist an’ turn about a good deal, an’ mebbe I’ll get lost: I’m a’most afeard I will, ‘kase it’s so dark.”
“There’s one thing about it,” said George, to himself, as he mounted his horse and rode slowly away from the rancho after taking a cordial leave of the herdsman. “If I have no other friends in the settlement, I have some here at Mr. Gilbert’s. They are all on my side. So Ned has been shooting cattle! He always said he’d like to see a ‘neighborhood row,’ and now I’ll see whether or not he has the pluck to face the consequences of his foolish act.”
George kept his horse by the side of the trail until he was out of sight of the house, and then putting him into a gallop went ahead with all his speed, Bony following close behind. Ranger knew the road and kept it without any guidance from his master.
The ten miles that lay between Mr. Gilbert’s and his home were quickly passed over, and as George drew near to the end of his ride he gradually slackened his pace and became cautious in his movements. There was one man about the house who seemed to have a way of finding out everything that went on there, and who, George told himself, must know nothing whatever of this night’s work. Philip might be his Uncle John’s confidential assistant, as Springer had intimated, and then again he might not; but even if he were, it was not at all likely that Uncle John would care to have him know that Ned had got himself into such serious trouble as this, and George’s object was to warn his cousin and his guest, and get them out of the house and into the saddle before Philip knew anything about it. He first made his way to the corral, intending to put Bony in there; but the gate had already been locked for the night. Then he turned his horse loose to drink and made his way cautiously to the house, at the door of which he was met by one of the herdsman, who started back in surprise at the sight of him. Every one about the rancho had given him up for lost.
“Why, George,” exclaimed the man, springing forward as soon as he had recovered himself, and extending both hands toward the boy, “you don’t know how glad—Eh?”
“Not a loud word,” whispered George, raising his finger warningly. “Jake, you are one of father’s old herdsmen, and I know I can trust you. My cousin has got himself into a scrape, and it is necessary that he should leave here at once. I want you to saddle a couple of horses, and bring them to the door and assist me to get Ned and his friend out of the house without Philip’s knowledge. That Philip is a born rascal, Jake.”
“I was sartin of it,” whispered the herdsman. “Me an’ the rest have always suspicioned that he let the Greasers in here that night, for we know the door was locked. But what’s the matter with Ned?”