"Hank Fowler, the sheriff, will tell you I'm straight," said Rolling
Stone. "I don't say I haven't faults," he went on. "But when I say
I'm my own worst enemy I've spilled an earful," and he laughed genially.
"We'll let it go at that," Bud answered. "If Mr. Fowler says you're on the level that's sufficient. And you can come with us."
"Thanks," was the laconic reply. "Will one of your ponies carry double?" and he looked over his shoulder at the corral.
"We won't ask you to ride one of those mustangs," laughed Bud. "And
it's too much to double up. I'll go back and get one of dad's ponies.
It isn't far. You stay here," he added to his cousins and Rolling
Stone. "I'll be back soon."
Riding rapidly, Bud was quickly back at Diamond X. He told the story of the meeting with Rolling Stone. At first Mr. Merkel was a bit suspicious, but it happened that one of the cowboys had heard of Rolling Stone, and knew him to be what he laid claim to.
"I reckon he's all right," assented the ranchman. "Take him with you, Bud. You'll need help, and if he knows anything about the Yaquis he'll be of value."
"All right," remarked Bud. "He's on. What horse can I take for him?"
One was selected. Together the boy ranchers and Rolling Stone rode out to Happy Valley, for certain matters must be adjusted there before the start could be made after the Indians who had carried off Rosemary and Floyd.
Work went on at top speed, and a day later our young heroes, with Rolling Stone, better dressed, but the same unconventional spirit, started forth.
"On the trail!" grimly remarked Bud as they started to join forces with those from Diamond X.