"Oh!" cried Tim, disappointedly.
"The feller as owns it is Phil Irwin, a ranchman; has a cattle ranch over to Marlin Springs, seven mile from 'ere; owns lots o' hosses, too. They calls 'im 'Cattle King Irwin.'"
"Good!" cried Bob, in a tone which instantly caused the other boys to stare toward him.
"Good?" murmured Dick. "Why? I can't quite catch the point."
"Oh, it isn't a sticker," laughed Bob. "A ranchman, ranch-house and horses! Catch on?"
"The idea has lodged within," exclaimed Tim, tapping his forehead. "Bully for you, Bob. Only hope the cattle king'll spare us about nine good mustangs."
Another fifteen minutes took them down by the shore, along the main street of Wild Oak. Several roads branched off from this, all lined with small houses and stores.
The crowd, with their retinue of baggage-carriers, immediately created an enormous sensation. Children, a scattering of men, besides numerous feminine members of the population, viewed them with absorbing interest.
Jack Conroy, cool as usual and grinning broadly, began to ask questions right and left. Had any one seen a brown-bearded gentleman wearing spectacles?
Several had.