"It's all due to you, you young dare-devil," said Melton, as he and the reunited comrades rode back at the head of the squad. "Sandy found your pony neighing to get in the corral, and brought your note to Dick. I nabbed Pedro and handled him some savage until the fellow wilted. Then we saddled and started out at the first sign of daybreak and you know the rest. And I guess, by thunder, that we got here just in time."
And when they reached the ranch, motherly Mrs. Melton folded him in her arms with tears in her eyes, unable to speak. She washed and bandaged the wound, which proved to be not serious, and sent him straightway off to bed. Bert laughingly protested, but he had to yield.
It was with immense regret, a few days later, that the boys parted from their warm-hearted host and hostess. But duty and the East were calling, and they had to go. They had passed a glorious summer, full of the excitement in which their adventurous souls delighted. Far out from the car windows they leaned and waved their hands, until the kindly figures on the platform were lost to sight.
The cowboys too had turned out in a body to bid their friends good-by, and, as the train started, they tossed their hats in the air and fired their six-shooters till their cartridges gave out. Then they wheeled their bronchos and headed for the ranch.
"No use talkin'," Sandy broke out suddenly that night as they were smoking their pipes in the bunkhouse, "that Wilson is the finest feller that ever wore shoe leather."
Buck, who was half asleep, roused himself.
"Oh, I wouldn't go quite so far as that," he drawled, mistaking the reference. "Still, he's makin' a pretty fair President."
"Shucks," snorted Sandy, "I didn't mean him. I was talkin' of Bert."
THE END