“Yes. Have you seen him? Tell us where, please. We must get home before dark.”
“I don’t know as it was your horse. I saw Lem Petersen leading a big black, with a brand-new halter, toward his place.”
“Thank you ever so much.” And Phil whirled his pony.
Ted, however, was less affected by the blue eyes that gazed on them and asked:
“In which direction does Petersen live?”
“Better not go to Lem’s unless you can prove it’s your horse,” counselled the old man. “He won’t stand any nonsense.”
“I guess we know the horse we bought,” exclaimed the elder boy, impatiently. “Tell us, please, where this man lives.”
“About four mile over that way, southwest,” replied the man, pointing.
“But how do we get there? Where is the road, I mean?” inquired Phil.
“Why don’t you ride over with them, Pap? You know Lem. Mebbe you can help get the horse back,” suggested the girl.