The Rambler accepted it. The crowd grinned and made some comments; the horsemen smiling cheerfully mounted again.
Followed by the two Rangers they soon reached headquarters, and after hitching their horses to the row of posts outside bounded up the steps, Cranny in the lead.
“We’ve got him, cap’n!” he shouted to the astonished official, the moment the big door had opened to let them pass. “Bring on the ball an’ chains—where’s the darkest dungeon?”
“Got whom?” queried Captain Braddock, hastily rising to his feet.
“Jimmy Raymond!”
The grizzled old commander of the Texas Rangers, a great friend of Colonel Sylvester, was highly delighted at the news.
“Jimmy Raymond actually found at last,” he cried. “That’s splendid. I must ’phone to the colonel at once. Who came across him and where? Jimmy, my lad, step this way. I want to hear all about it! I’m delighted!”
Tom Clifton’s impatience to learn all about Dick’s experiences in the Mexican town made him urge every one to speak rapidly and to the point. His commands were obeyed so successfully that within half an hour he and the others were seated comfortably on a bench, ready to listen, as were several interested Rangers, to the Rambler’s tale.
A great change had come over Jimmy Raymond’s face. The gracious, kindly treatment he had received at the hands of Captain Braddock, and the assurances received from him that he had been resting under a serious misapprehension, chased away entirely the curiously discontented expression, which had so often marred his looks.
“What an awful duffer I’ve been,” he reflected, “and would be still but for these chaps. It certainly doesn’t pay to nurse a grievance!” But Dick was speaking now. He began to listen with rapt attention.