The new arrival replied to Mr. Merrill's look of inquiry by a voluble flood of Spanish. When he paused for breath, the rancher, who understood the language perfectly, turned to the professor and his young companions.
"This man, if he is to be relied upon, has furnished us with a valuable clue," he said. "According to him the rustlers passed him headed for Grizzly Pass not more than an hour ago. If this is so, then we stand a good chance of overtaking them. The ground there is rough, and, not expecting pursuit, they will take it easy. In fact, this fellow says that when he saw them they were camping."
"You think he is to be relied on?" asked the professor.
"Well, that remains to be seen. He tells a straight enough story. He says he is a sheepman who has a few hundred head in the highlands near the cañon. While camped in a small pass leading off the main cañon, he overheard these fellows talking about the trick they played, and decided to inform me at once. He sneaked quietly out of his camp, saddled a horse he had there, and rode hard till he arrived here."
At this moment a fresh trampling of hoofs announced that Bud and his companion had returned with the "remuda" horses, and soon after Bud himself entered the room.
In leather chapareros, high-heeled riding-boots and jingling spurs, he looked every inch the cow-puncher as he handled his revolver grimly.
"We're about ready when you are, boss," he said.
"Oh, yes—all right, Wilson. But I've got something I want to tell you."
Rapidly Mr. Merrill ran over the story of the Mexican sheep-herder.
"What do you think of it?" he asked, as he concluded.