“Now, suppose you enlighten me as to what all this talk is about,” demanded the rancher. “Am I to understand that you once saved the very life of this boy, who is right now doing his level best to play you a mean trick?”
And so between them the boys had to relate the story, which has been given in an earlier volume of this series, how they started in a desperate race with Andy for the crown of the rocky height not many miles away from Bloomsbury, away up in New York State; and a storm of wind coming up, the aeroplane of Andy was wrecked, so that he might have even lost his life, only that the Bird Boys managed to hold on to him; and afterwards get the two boys, one at a time, safely to the ground.
“Of all the cases of base ingratitude, that beats everything,” declared the indignant rancher; and he forthwith set out to call every puncher and employee on the place around him; after which he told the story and while they listened in breathless wonder he went on to say, angrily:
“If there chances to be any one within the sound of my voice who received that letter, which I can hardly believe, I want to give him fair warning right now, that if the slightest harm comes to either of these brave boys while they are visiting at Double X Ranch, or if any further attempt is made to injure their airship, the punchers of this outfit have my hearty consent to carry out their own sweet will; yes, and by thunder! under certain conditions, I’d be willing to help pull on the rope!”
A salvo of cheers interrupted his words. Apparently they had found an echo in every heart. But then Frank knew very well that if the guilty one were present, it would be only good policy on his part to shout just as loud as the rest, for fear lest suspicion be directed in his quarter. A short time later he saw Buckskin beckoning to him. Several of the other boys seemed to be clustered around him, as though they had been comparing notes.
“You see, Frank,” began Buckskin, when the other joined the group, “none of us boys feel quite right on ’count of the way Mr. Witherspoon said that same. It kinder made us feel oneasy like. We kept a-lookin’ at each other, just like we was a wonderin’ whether it could be this one, or that other night wrangler. Why, all of us feel meaner nor a mule skinner about the same. And we’ve got together in a bunch to talk it over, so’s to larn who it was got a letter from the East lately; and we struck pay dirt right away.”
“I’m glad of that,” said Frank, “though I hope it isn’t going to make trouble for any fellow on the pay roll of Double X Ranch.”
Buckskin grinned.
“That’s where he played it fine,” he said. “Member the slim chap you met yesterday when you landed, and who went by the name of Parsons? Well, he gave notice as he’d been called back home, and had to quit here last night; so off he goes late in the afternoon, bag and baggage. None of us seemed to cotton to him much, though, as a puncher he knew his business all right, and was fair spoken enough. But there always seemed to be something slick about him that stood us off. Now, several of us, on comparing notes, chances to remember that the Parson he had a letter from East somewhere only a few days back. Looky here, Frank, did you ever know anybody up in your town by the name of Edmondson; because that was his real name, Collins Edmondson it was, though we always called him Parson because he was so solemn like.”
Frank looked at his cousin, who was also of the group.