Leon did not cook any breakfast, for he could not have eaten a mouthful if he had tried; his anxiety and suspense were too great.
He spent four hours in walking back and forth between the camp-fire and the trail, and presently he saw Eben coming back.
The expression his face wore when he rode up made Leon afraid to speak to him. It was evident that he had had his trouble for his pains.
While the boy was wondering how Frank could have effected his escape, the hunter dismounted, and walking over to the place where the two mustangs were staked out, he cut the lariats with which they were confined, and set them at liberty.
This done, he hurried into the camp, and, without saying a word, proceeded to gather up all the articles Frank had left behind, as well as those belonging to Leon.
He picked up the saddle-bags, all the blankets, the meal-bags which contained the boys' clothing, and threw them across the neck of his horse.
After balancing them so that they would not fall off, he came back and picked up Leon's double-barrel, and also the powder-flask and shot-pouch belonging to it.
"What are you going to do?" asked the boy, who had watched the singular movements with surprise, not unmingled with alarm.
"I am off for the mountains," answered Eben in sullen tones. "I have the best notion in the world to knock you over before I go for not keeping that money in your pocket where it belonged."
"But what are you taking my horse for? If you are going to the mountains, why can't I go with you?"