“No, I don’t and I’ll tell you why. Because I noticed that it’s only a man that comes alone who effects the bronc like that. Nat,” he called, “did you ever see your horse act like that before?”
“Well, he does get kind of nervous when a stranger comes around,” Nat admitted. “But usually it’s only if the stranger rides alone. I can’t figure why the bronc should do it here unless Pop’s right about him bein’ leary of lowlands.”
Teddy shook his head, but said nothing in reply.
Darkness was nearly upon them, and Mr. Manley held up his hand for a halt.
“Stick close now, men,” he ordered. “Jake, you want to show us the way out of here? Guess you know it better than I do. We want to camp as soon as possible.”
“Right, Bardwell!” Jake agreed. “All set, men? Follow me. Don’t get too far apart. We don’t want no stragglers.”
He rode forward again, and the others strung along behind him. Just as he reached a knoll, which marked the end of the lowland, those following heard him give an exclamation of surprise. Mr. Manley spurred his horse forward.
“What is it, Jake?” he asked.
“Look!” Jake answered shortly. “There’s a horse without a rider. Maybe that’s why Nat’s bronc was actin’ up. He’s got a saddle on, too.”
Ahead of them, half concealed by the settling dusk, stood a pinto. On his back was a saddle, but no rider. When the animal saw the group in front of him, it ran toward them.