"In a way—yes," spoke Bud and then he went on boldly: "Some rustlers tried to haze this bunch over the river, but we caught 'em!"
"Caught them?" repeated the professor quickly.
"Well, our assistant foreman is after 'em now," Bud explained. "We're waiting here for him to come back. We thought you were Babe as you came along, but as soon as I heard your horse I knew it couldn't be him. He doesn't ride—er—just that way."
"I realize that I shall never become a horseman," said the professor dryly, and with a little half smile, visible in the moonlight. "But I can ride enough for my purpose."
Bud, as well as Nort and Dick, found themselves wondering just what the professor's "purpose" was. However he did not seem inclined to disclose it, for he pulled up his horse, which was idly cropping the grass, and said:
"Well, I must be going. Thank you, again, for your kindness. I hope we may meet again. Good-night!"
He urged his animal onward, and a moment later was lost in the darkness, as a thicker cloud than any that had yet obscured it, covered the moon.
For several seconds the three boy ranchers remained, looking off in the gloom which had swallowed up the mysterious scientist. For that he was mysterious none of the lads could deny.
"Wonder where he had been?" mused Bud in a low voice, for in that silent, dark open place voices carried almost as clearly as across water, and he was cautious.
"Search me!" declared Nort.