"A spell afterwards, he meets up 'ith Injun—s'prises him, an' th' kid ain't got a chanct t' git away. He starts in t' hev a little hangin' bee—a necktie-party, like I tol' you' 'bout—but he made th' mistake o' lettin' Injun set onto his own pinto an' he put the noose 'round Injun's neck 'fore he throwed th' other end o' the lariat over th' limb o' th' tree! Th' minute he throwed th' lariat over th' limb, Injun dug his knees inta th' pinto—mind you', Injun's hands was tied behind his back—an' th' pinto knowin' what Injun was thinkin' 'bout, like I said, beats it away from there with th' lariat draggin' on th' ground! O' course, Pedro took after him, but lucky fer Injun, after he'd rode 'bout a mile, he sights me an' Walker ridin' fence, an' Pedro sights us, too. An' he beats it, an' we never seen him till yo' an' Injun brung him in here t' git his pitcher took."
Whitey took a long breath: "Gee!" he said, "That was a narrow escape!"
"Correct!" said Bill. "An' ef you don't think it was some trick fer thet kid t' set onta thet hoss, his hands tied behind him an' th' lariat draggin', yo' try it sometime!"
Bill put his hand on Injun's shoulder affectionately. "Thet's what I call ridin' a hoss!" he said.
[CHAPTER XXXI]
PLANS FOR THE FUTURE
If Columbus, or the early Norsemen, or who ever it was that first discovered America, had been satisfied to sail vessels within the confines of the known seas in their immediate neighborhood, the existence of this great continent would have remained unsuspected by the people of the Old World. It is the spirit of adventure, of dissatisfaction with things as they are, that is at the bottom of all great discoveries and of all progress. And although the boys had gained a wide-spread fame on account of their capture of the desperate Pedro, who was even then in jail awaiting the day of his execution, they did not like to rest on their laurels, but, like Alexander, sought for "new worlds to conquer."
After their excursion into the wilds, the life on the ranch, while by no means dull, lacked the zest of adventure and discovery, of which they or, rather, Whitey, at least, had had a taste. Injun had spent all his life in adventure, and while it was nothing new to him, it had become a sort of second nature, and made the limitations of even semi-civilization irksome.
And with this urge going on in Whitey's breast, it was natural that he should inquire of Bill Jordan, as they sat on the piazza one evening, "Mr. Jordan, what kind of a place is it in the mountains, over beyond Moose Lake?"