CHAPTER XXVI
AN ECHO FROM THE PAST
Though he little relished the errand, the old man yielded to his daughter’s pleading, and they were quickly galloping toward Petersen’s “quarter,” Phil riding beside the girl and the other two close behind them.
“I mistrusted something was wrong when I saw Lem leading that horse,” said the girl. “He doesn’t buy horses.”
“How does he get them?” inquired her companion, his tone evidencing his surprise at the statement. “He doesn’t steal them, does he?”
“Not exactly. That is, Lem says it ain’t stealing, but I say it’s just the same. He lends money, and when the people can’t pay, he takes their horses. But I saw this black was fat and sleek, so I knew it hadn’t been worked any.”
“Nice sort of a person this Petersen seems to be,” commented Phil.
“He’s a bad man. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could see his shadow at noon. But he’s got into trouble with the forest fire patrol. They think he set a couple of fires last summer and they are watching him all the time, though he doesn’t know it. They’ve only got to keep watching him long enough and they’ll get him. And when the patrol gets him, his money won’t save him.”
“Easy, gal, easy,” cautioned her father. “We’re liable to run across him anywhere now and he’s too handy with his matches to have him get any more angry at us than he is.”
These words, suggesting as they did the old man’s fear that Petersen might seek revenge by burning his buildings, gave the boys their first intimation of the danger attending the quest of the black to the girl and her father, and Phil quickly said: