Far to the rear, on the mountain top, was a lone horseman, his hand shading his eyes, peering intently at the three riders. Silent and immobile as a statue he sat, slouching sideways in the saddle, as though he were discouraged and weary after a long, long ride.
CHAPTER IV
A Message in the Night
At the ranch that evening, there was much talk of the landslide and of how Nick came upon the two boys “wanderin’ around within five hundred yards of each other an’ each thinkin’ the other was settin’ on the ground, tossin’ little rocks after big ones,” which was Nick’s way of telling of the incident.
Mr. Manley, the soul of bluff friendliness and humor, laughed until the ends of his long black mustache curled inward.
But Mrs. Manley, she whom the boys and their father often called, half jokingly, half seriously, “the blonde angel of the West,” smiled tenderly. Now that the danger was over, she would not worry. Still in her mother’s heart was a prayer of thankfulness for the boys’ safety. Often had she watched her sons off on a dangerous mission with a laugh on her lips and anguish in her soul, but they never knew that.
Perhaps Mr. Manley suspected, for at times he would gather her in his arms without a word of warning, and in a soft voice ask her if she was sorry she had come out to “this roughneck West where there’s nothin’ but cyclones an’ wild steers an’ rustlers.”
Then she would lift her face to his, her eyes shining with just a hint of tears—of happiness, and in a moment Mr. Manley’s laugh would go booming out into the sunny yard. Seldom would she answer his question. He knew the reply without being told.
Belle Ada, the daughter of the family, she of the dark eyes and wavy black hair, characterized by Sing Lung, the cook, as “Plitty like litta’ black jade house-god,” was disappointed that Teddy had not brought home the porcupine. Belle was twelve years old, and a fitting partner for Teddy when any joke was afoot.
“We could have had loads of fun with him,” she declared. “Golly! Imagine Pop Burns trying to get him to shoot his quills! I know we could have fixed up something, maybe with rubber bands, so when Pop went near him the quills would shoot! Of course I don’t say we could have. I just say maybe. But, anyway—”