“All right,” replied Jack, “I’ll be there.”
Beachy immediately went to the stable, and, ascending to the haymow, placed himself in a position where he could observe the actions of Jack when he saddled the pony. The boy was punctual. Leading the pony from the stall, he took down the saddle and placed it on him.
“It’s a failure,” reflected Beachy, as the boy fastened the girth, and seized the pommel preparatory to mounting.
Just at this moment Jack’s eye caught sight of the stirrup. He paused, and, taking it in his hand, surveyed it narrowly. An expression of surprise stole over his face. Dropping the stirrup, he caught the crupper and examined it more carefully. He then looked at other parts of the saddle in detail. At length he mounted, and, while leaving the stable, looked back with astonished interest upon the crupper. The cows at this time were discovered on their way home. Jack rode around and drove them up, and, dismounting, said to Beachy, who met him at the stable door,
“This is Massa Magruder’s saddle. He took it with him when he went to Bannack. How came it here?”
“How do you know it is his, Jack?”
“By that crupper. There’s where I mended it myself with a piece of buckskin. I know it’s the same old saddle. I’ve ridden on it a hundred times.”
“A clew at last!” said Beachy. “I’ll follow it up. Jack cannot be mistaken.”
Calling to some friends who were passing, he told them the result of his experiment. The old saddle was produced, and Jack was examined. Alarmed at the scepticism of his interrogators, Jack wavered in faith, and his testimony only confirmed the belief that Beachy was crazy.
The following day a train was seen descending the mountain by the Nez Percé trail. A tall man, seemingly the leader, who wore a peculiar hat, like Magruder’s, was pointed out as the missing man. Hundreds of eyes watched the slow descent of the mules into the valley. The wife of Magruder, whose thoughts and feelings had been alternating between hope and fear for a week or more, awaited with delighted surprise the certain approach of her husband. Hill Beachy looked on with doubtful interest, hoping, but faithless. Alas! it was not Magruder.