“You are a lucky fellow, Julian,” said White-horse Fred, when he had finished his story. “I have been making regular daily journeys to that rancho for more than a year, and never saw or heard anything to lead me to suspect that affairs were not all right there. I used to wonder why there were four men at that station and only one, or at the most two, at the others, and have thought it strange that they should always be so particular to hurry me away. No matter how bad the weather was they wouldn’t let me stay all night. But what is to be done, Silas? Pedro has gone to the mountains to warn Hale and his crowd, and if he gets there before we do, the discovery Julian has made will be of no value to us.”
“‘Tain’t wuth while to do anything in a hurry,” replied the trapper. “Let’s hear what’s in that letter.”
Julian drew the letter from his pocket, and taking his stand near the lantern, began reading it aloud.
We do not reproduce it because its contents have no bearing upon our story. It was just such a letter as any one of us would have tried to write had we been placed in Major Mortimer’s situation. It described some events that happened long years before, and which we shall presently hear from the lips of White-horse Fred, and pleaded for assistance in language that would have wrung tears of pity from any but a savage.
Julian’s cheeks were wet long before he ceased reading, and once he stopped and turned toward the robber chief as if he had half a mind to take an ample revenge on him. The old Mexican wept like a child, and gave vent to his indignation by pounding on the floor with his staff; while Silas and White-horse Fred stood, with clinched hands and compressed lips, gazing at Julian with eyes that would grow dim in spite of them.
A dead silence succeeded the reading of the letter, which was finally broken by the trapper, who, after a short consultation with the two boys, determined upon a plan of action. This he explained in a few words, and preparations were at once made to carry it into effect.
Leaving the old Mexican to watch the prisoners, the rest of the party descended to the cellar and thence made their way into the stables. Julian mounted Snowdrop and Fred went in pursuit of her mate, but he was gone.
“Good luck attends us on all sides to-night!” said he gleefully. “Here were a dozen horses in the stable, and instead of taking a fresh one that blockhead Pedro selected an animal which has already traveled forty miles to-night. So much the better for us. We’ll overtake him before he has gone five miles.”
The party mounted in haste, and galloping out of the gate directed their course down the valley.