At Maguez a great reception had been prepared for the returning ranchers. The celebration was held some days later. The boys, their faces suffused with blushes, had to make speeches and describe in part their adventures.
"Three cheers for the Border Boys," yelled the crowd, as Ralph limped through some sort of an oration. Jack had done much better, while Walt Phelps was overtaken with stage fright and couldn't speak at all.
"Well, good-bye to the strenuous life for a while," said Jack, as they rode home after the celebration. Behind them were the yells and whoops of the enthusiastic citizens who were still keeping it up.
"Well, we've been through many dangers and perils," rejoined Ralph, "but somehow, it's pleasant to look back on them. I hope we will have some more adventures before long."
"Not likely to," commented Walt Phelps.
"Why not?" asked Jack. "Black Ramon is still at large, remember, and somehow, I've got a feeling that as long as he is at liberty he'll make trouble."
"Well, the Border Boys will take care of him every time," shouted Ralph, giving a regular cowboy yell:
"Yip-yip-y-ee-ee!"
It was echoed by the other Border Boys, as they spurred forward for the home ranch, under the clear stars. On and on they rode, their little ponies' feet making the lively kind of music each of them loved best to hear.
All at once they rode over a slight rise—the first "land-wave" to mark that they were approaching the foothills. With yells, the Border Boys dashed down the other side of it and disappeared from the starlit desert trail—and from this story.