He was animated with but one idea, and that was to reach Julesburg in the shortest possible space of time.
He knew it was a military post, and he hoped to find the hunter there. If he did, he would seek an interview with the commandant, tell him his story, and have the thief arrested.
"But how much better off will I be then than I am now?" sobbed Leon, after he had thought the matter over. "I shall get my property back, of course; but what use will it be to me? I would not dare start for St. Joe alone, for there are Indians along the route, and I have heard Eben say that it will not be long before the roads will be blocked with snow. I suppose I might find a train of empty freight-wagons going back, but who will feed me when I have no money to pay for what I eat? I can't become a hunter, now that Eben has gone back on me, and I—— Oh, I wish I had never seen or heard of Frank Fuller! I wouldn't be here now if he had stayed at home."
Leon ran until he was all out of breath, and then slackened his speed to a walk.
He had heard the hunter say that the nearest post was only ten miles distant; but the miles on the prairies are longer than they are in the States, and it was past the middle of the afternoon when he came in sight of the little collection of tents and mud-houses that bore the name of Julesburg.
He directed his course toward the stockade, which stood on a hill a little apart from the town, but when he came to the gate he paused, for there was an armed sentinel pacing back and forth in front of it.
"Do you allow strangers in here?" asked the boy timidly.
"Yes; if they come on business," answered the sentry.
Leon, replying that he had come on business, and very important business, too, walked through the gate and paused to see which way he would go next.