“There, that’s fair, Lem,” declared the old man. “Course, the hoss might have been Joe Hunt’s, though it would be the first time he ever had a decent one, but Sam Turner will know if he sold him to these homesteaders. You know me well enough to know the black will be safe in my barn.”
Expecting an explosion of wrath, the others were amazed to hear Petersen break into a loud laugh.
“Say, you folks can’t take a joke, nohow, can you?” he gasped between bursts of forced merriment. “I was just ‘stringing’ you along, Jasper. I wanted to see how far you’d go. I found the horse grazing beside the road. Realizing he had broken loose and seeing he was valuable, I was taking him home to keep till the owner showed up. When I saw you coming, I knew these kids was the owners and I thought I’d have a little fun.”
One and all who heard this explanation realized it was a clever lie to get himself out of an unpleasant predicament, but the old man said:
“All right, Lem. You’ve had your joke and we have the hoss. Now we’ll be going.”
And without more ado they put their mounts to a trot, Ted still leading the black. But as they retraced their course, they commented sharply upon Petersen’s words and actions.
Arrived at the weather-beaten log cabin, the young homesteaders thanked the girl and her father heartily for their assistance, and turned their horses to go back to their camp.
“But you mustn’t go home till after supper,” protested the girl.
“Sure not,” chimed in the old man, taking his cue from his daughter. “Joy’s one rare, fine cook.”
“Thank you, but it will be too dark then for us to find our way back,” returned Phil, though in a voice that proved his desire to accept.