It was something of a disappointment when one morning a week or two later the camp-tender, who had scrambled up over the rimrock, informed Donald that he was to return to the central camp where his father would meet him, and take him back to Crescent.
"The ponies are tethered just below, so you can ride down along with me," said the Mexican. "There is nothing the matter, only your father has more than he can do with but Thornton and Green to help him. He needs you for a while. He told me to tell you that in a few weeks you might come back."
Donald looked regretfully at Sandy.
"I'm sorry to go, Sandy. I promised, though, that I would return to Crescent whenever father wanted me; of course I am anxious to help him all I can. I cannot realize that it is June, and that I have been two months on the range. What a jolly time we have had! It seems a pity to go and leave you here by yourself."
"It would not be the first time I have been alone in the hills," smiled Sandy.
"He'll not be by himself either," put in Pete, the Mexican, "for Tobin came up over the trail with me and is to bear Sandy company."
Donald's face brightened.
"I know you'll not be lonely, Sandy," he said, "but suppose anything happened to you—what if you happened to be hurt as Johnson was?"
"Aye, poor Johnson! What do they hear from him, Pete?"
"Mr. Clark has been to Glen City a number of times to see him. He is getting on finely! The ribs are mending and the hip, too. His heart is the trouble now; he is breaking his heart for Crescent and the range. The doctor says that he will never be able to come back to the ranch. Mr. Clark is going to settle him and his wife on a farm of their own in California, where their son is."