did. He turned at once, and leading the way into the office, closed and

locked the door; after which he took the boy’s hat and haversack, and having placed him on the lounge, drew a chair up in front of him and sat down.

“Where did you hear of it, George?” said he. “But hold on a moment,” he added, hastily. “Let’s talk about pleasant things first. Your horse and mule are here in my corral.”

“Good!” exclaimed George. “I shall need Ranger at once. I would thank you to lend me a saddle and bridle, and have him brought to the door without loss of time.”

“If you must go on to-night, I’ll do it,” said Mr. Gilbert, rising to his feet; “but you must have some supper first.”

He left the office as he ceased speaking, and George lay down on the lounge to rest for a few minutes. He was used to hard work, but he had never before been so nearly exhausted. It did not seem to him that he could possibly spend the rest of the night in the saddle, and yet he knew he must do it in order to save his cousin.

Mr. Gilbert was gone but a few minutes, and when he came back, he locked the door behind him.

“Another piece of good news I have for you, George,” said he, as he resumed his seat, “is that all your cattle have been recovered, and one of my men is now pasturing them on my ranche, about three miles from here.”

“Good again!” exclaimed George, brightening a little. “That is encouraging news indeed.”

“That Zeke is worth two or three ordinary men,” continued Mr. Gilbert. “Not being able to find any signs of you or your horse after the Greasers jumped down on you, he struck out for the settlements on foot. On the way he fell in with a party of rangers, and with their assistance, he succeeded in cutting the thieves off from the river and recapturing every hoof you had lost. He came down here with the cattle, chuckling over his good luck, and was frightened almost out of his senses when he found that your horse and mule had come here without you. He begged me to take care of the herd while he went back to look for you, and I have done so. Where were you all the while, George? You haven’t walked all the way from Catfish Falls?”

“I was hidden in a buffalo wallow while the robbers were in our camp, and I _have_ walked every step of the way from there. But I don’t mind that. What troubles me is the bad news I heard on the way. I have come here to talk to you about it, for you are the only friend I have in the settlement.”

“O no, George; don’t say that,” exclaimed Mr. Gilbert, quickly. “If you knew what a commotion your disappearance has created among the neighbors, you wouldn’t talk so. Everybody likes you and everybody is a friend to you.”

“I am very glad to hear it,” said George, drawing a long breath of relief and looking a little more cheerful. “I want them to show their friendship now, and not be too hard on Ned. You know what I mean.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Gilbert, heaving a deep sigh and fastening his eyes on the floor, “I know all about it. The settlers are going to meet at Cook’s to-morrow and talk it over. They are very angry, and I don’t know what they will make up their minds to do.”

“Are you going to be at Cook’s with them?”

“Of course. I am as much interested in the matter as anybody.”

“Well, you will do your best for Ned, won’t you? He is my cousin, you know. You won’t let them hurt him, will you?”

“I’ll do the best I can, certainly; but you might as well try to stem the Rio Grande with a straw, as to stand in the way of a whole settlement, when every man in it has made up his mind to a particular course of action. It was a most outrageous act, and Ned richly deserves punishment.”

“I know it; but if the settlers are such friends to me they will let him off this time, and I’ll promise that he will never do the like again. Remember, Mr. Gilbert, that he is young and foolish, and that when the horse came into his possession he didn’t know it was stolen.”

“Horse!” exclaimed Mr. Gilbert, opening his eyes. “Stolen! What are you talking about, George!”

“What are _you_ talking about, Mr. Gilbert?” asked the boy, slowly raising himself on his elbow, and gazing steadily into the face of his friend.

“Why, I refer to something that happened this afternoon in Ned’s wheat field, when Ned and that Yankee friend of his shot down Cook’s cattle,” answered Mr. Gilbert.

“What!” exclaimed George, jumping to his feet in great excitement. “Do you mean to tell me that Ned has been shooting stock?”

“That’s just what he has done, and that is what I was talking about. Cook caught him in the very act.”

“Worse and worse!” said George, sinking back on the lounge again. “Tell me all about it. I want to hear the whole story so that I may know just how to act.”

“That is all there is to tell,” was Mr. Gilbert’s reply. “Ned and his friend found Cook’s cattle in the wheat field, and shot two of them, killing one and severely wounding the other.”

“He did it with his eyes open,” said George. “He has often threatened it, and I told him just what would happen.”

“You said something about a horse,” remarked Mr. Gilbert, when the boy paused.

“Yes. Ned met a stranger somewhere and traded horses with him; and when the owner came to our rancho that night, Ned wouldn’t give the horse up.”

“That is something I hadn’t heard of,” said Mr. Gilbert, while an expression of surprise and anxiety settled on his face. “Now, tell me your story from beginning to end. If you want my advice I must know everything.”

George had a good deal to tell, but he did not consume much time with his narrative, for every moment was precious. He knew that the two ranchemen had by this time been made acquainted with the deception that had been practised upon them, and no doubt they were at that very minute on their way to Mr. Gilbert’s rancho. It was necessary that George should be well on his way home before they arrived, both to escape the vengeance they would doubtless visit upon him if they chanced to meet him, and also to warn his cousin. He described the attack on the camp, and told how he had concealed himself in the buffalo wallow and watched the raiders while they were searching the woods. He told of his accidental meeting with Springer, and repeated, as nearly as he could, all the conversation he had had with him, so that Mr. Gilbert might be enabled to judge whether or not his suspicions concerning Uncle John were correct. He also repeated the conversation he had had with the ranchemen who spent the night in his camp, and told what he had done to put them on the wrong scent.

“I didn’t have more than half an hour’s sleep last night,” said George, in conclusion. “I lay awake turning these matters over in my mind, and I have thought about them all day. The decision at which I arrived was, that Ned was not safe here in the settlement, and that I had better take him out on the plains for a few weeks and let this affair of the stolen horse blow over; but if he has been shooting cattle, I think I had better show him the nearest way to the coast and let him go north, where he came from.”

Mr. Gilbert heard him through without interruption, and when the boy ceased speaking he leaned back in his chair, looked up at a picture hanging on the wall over the lounge and rubbed his chin meditatively. Then he arose and walked up and down the room with his hands behind his back and his eyes fastened thoughtfully on the floor.

“I don’t think you could decide upon a better plan,” said he, at length. “Take them both to the coast by the shortest route, put them aboard a steamer and let them go north on a visit. Ned can come back after the matter is forgotten, but when that Yankee friend of his gets home, he had better stay there. We have no use for fellows of his stamp down here. Your uncle can perhaps settle the matter by giving up the stolen horse, paying his owner for the trouble he has had, and also paying Cook for the cattle that were shot. And in regard to yourself, you had better apply for a new guardian at once.”

“I should be only too glad to do so,” replied George, eagerly, “for home isn’t home to me any longer. But there’s one question I want to ask you, Mr. Gilbert: If I should apply for a new guardian, would any of these things I have told you about Uncle John become known—I mean the plans he has laid to get me out of the way, so that the property would fall to Ned?”

“Probably they would. The thing would have to be done by process of law, for it is your father’s will that gives him the property in trust and makes him your guardian.”

“Then I’ll not have a new guardian!” said George.

Mr. Gilbert stopped and looked at the boy in great surprise.

“O, I mean it,” said George, decidedly. “I’ll not disgrace the only brother my father ever had. He may do better after a while.”

“You are the most confiding boy I ever saw,” said Mr. Gilbert.

“You must remember that I have nothing but Springer’s word for all this,” continued George, “and Springer is a rascal, who would just as soon tell a lie as eat a good dinner. I shall satisfy myself of the truth of his story before I make any move in the matter.”

“Well, keep your eyes open and look out for treachery while you are doing it,” said Mr. Gilbert. “It is my opinion that you would be safer anywhere in the world than you are here in Texas. If I were in your place, and was determined to let Uncle John stay where he is, I would go off somewhere and stay until I became of age. Listen! What’s that?” exclaimed Mr. Gilbert, holding up his finger warningly.

The clatter of hoofs on the hard trail came faintly to their ears. It grew louder every instant, and presently a couple of horsemen galloped around the building at full speed and drew rein beside the porch in front of the lighted windows of the office.

“Hallo, the house!” came the hail, in stentorian tones.

George sprang to his feet, and his face grew as pale as death.

“There they are!” he exclaimed, in an excited whisper.

“I was in hopes they would not come until you were well on your way home,” said Mr. Gilbert, in the same low whisper. “It wouldn’t be safe for you to fall into their hands.”

“I don’t care for myself,” replied George. “But, Mr. Gilbert, if you don’t do something for Ned now——”

“Don’t get excited. Stay in here and trust to me. I have seen persons in tight places before to-night, and I know just what you want me to do.”

George found a world of encouragement in these words. He sank back on the lounge again, while Mr. Gilbert hurried out of the office, locking the door behind him. George heard him pass along the hall and open the door that led to the porch.

“Good-evening, stranger!” exclaimed a voice, which the boy knew belonged to the owner of the stolen horse. “Is this Mr. Gilbert’s rancho?”

“Yes, sir,” was the reply. “Get down and walk in.”

“Thank you; we can’t stop. We would be obliged if you would put us on the road to Ackerman’s.”

“I am afraid I can’t direct you so that you can find your way there in the dark. There are a good many trails branching off the main road. Better come in and wait until morning.”

“We can’t do it. We are in a great hurry.”

“Then wait until the moon rises, and I will send a man to show you the way. Have you ridden far to-day?”

“We have just come from Dickerman’s.”

“Then you and your nags need food and rest. Here, Tom! take these horses.”

George heard the men dismount on the porch, and presently heavy steps sounded in the hall. He caught the words “Ackerman’s,” “regular nest of horse-thieves,” “get my hands on that rascally boy who sent us so far out of our course,” and then the closing of a door shut out the voices. After a few minutes’ silence, during which George could plainly hear the beating of his own heart, footsteps once more sounded in the hall, the door was unlocked and Mr. Gilbert came in. He shook his finger warningly at George, and, without saying a word, seized his haversack and hurried out again. In about five minutes he came back, and George could see that there was something in the haversack.

“You’ll have to eat your supper as you go along,” said Mr. Gilbert, in a cautious whisper. “I have tried to reason with them but it is of no use. Somebody has told them that Ned has been shooting cattle, and they declare that they are going to make an example of him.”

“What do you suppose they will do?” asked George.

“Haven’t even the shadow of an idea. The least they can do with him is to put him in jail as a receiver of stolen property; but they act as though they were going to take the law into their own hands, and for that reason I think you had better get Ned out of the way. As soon as they have eaten supper I am going to send a man to guide them to your house, so you’ll have to ride fast. I’ll delay them in every way I can, but they are very impatient. Your horse is at the porch on the other side of the rancho. Keep me posted as to your movements, and I’ll keep you posted in all that goes on in the settlement. Good-by, and good luck to you.”

George slung his haversack over his shoulder, shook Mr. Gilbert warmly by the hand and hurriedly left the office. He found the horse at the end of the porch, saddled and bridled, and Bony was cropping the grass a little distance away. Both the animals recognised and welcomed him, one uttering a low whinny and the other a suppressed bray, and the man who was holding the horse nodded his head vigorously and patted George on the back as if to say that he knew all about it.

“I am to show them the way,” whispered the herdsman. “Them trails twist an’ turn about a good deal, an’ mebbe I’ll get lost: I’m a’most afeard I will, ‘kase it’s so dark.”

“There’s one thing about it,” said George, to himself, as he mounted his horse and rode slowly away from the rancho after taking a cordial leave of the herdsman. “If I have no other friends in the settlement, I have some here at Mr. Gilbert’s. They are all on my side. So Ned has been shooting cattle! He always said he’d like to see a ‘neighborhood row,’ and now I’ll see whether or not he has the pluck to face the consequences of his foolish act.”

George kept his horse by the side of the trail until he was out of sight of the house, and then putting him into a gallop went ahead with all his speed, Bony following close behind. Ranger knew the road and kept it without any guidance from his master.

The ten miles that lay between Mr. Gilbert’s and his home were quickly passed over, and as George drew near to the end of his ride he gradually slackened his pace and became cautious in his movements. There was one man about the house who seemed to have a way of finding out everything that went on there, and who, George told himself, must know nothing whatever of this night’s work. Philip might be his Uncle John’s confidential assistant, as Springer had intimated, and then again he might not; but even if he were, it was not at all likely that Uncle John would care to have him know that Ned had got himself into such serious trouble as this, and George’s object was to warn his cousin and his guest, and get them out of the house and into the saddle before Philip knew anything about it. He first made his way to the corral, intending to put Bony in there; but the gate had already been locked for the night. Then he turned his horse loose to drink and made his way cautiously to the house, at the door of which he was met by one of the herdsman, who started back in surprise at the sight of him. Every one about the rancho had given him up for lost.

“Why, George,” exclaimed the man, springing forward as soon as he had recovered himself, and extending both hands toward the boy, “you don’t know how glad—Eh?”

“Not a loud word,” whispered George, raising his finger warningly. “Jake, you are one of father’s old herdsmen, and I know I can trust you. My cousin has got himself into a scrape, and it is necessary that he should leave here at once. I want you to saddle a couple of horses, and bring them to the door and assist me to get Ned and his friend out of the house without Philip’s knowledge. That Philip is a born rascal, Jake.”

“I was sartin of it,” whispered the herdsman. “Me an’ the rest have always suspicioned that he let the Greasers in here that night, for we know the door was locked. But what’s the matter with Ned?”

“I can’t stop to tell you now. It’s all over the settlement, and you will know everything to-morrow. Now go into the kitchen and keep Philip there until I can reach the office; then saddle up and keep a bright lookout for a couple of horsemen. If you hear anybody coming down the trail, let me know.”

The man hastened away to obey these orders, and as soon as George heard the door of the kitchen close behind him, he ran on tip-toe toward the office. The peals of laughter that fell upon his ear, told him that there was a happy party in there, and George wondered how the members of it would feel when they heard the news he had to tell. Excited and anxious as he was when he opened the door, he could still take note of the fact that his presence there was most unwelcome. He saw it plainly enough. Uncle John and Ned were very much surprised by his abrupt entrance, and there was not the least cordiality in their greeting. George watched his uncle’s face and actions closely, and told himself that Springer’s story was nothing but the truth.

“Why, George, what is the matter?” asked Uncle John, growing alarmed when he saw how pale and nervous his nephew was. “Any bad news?”

“Yes, I have bad news. Ned, you and your friend must pack up and leave this rancho and this county, too, without the loss of an hour’s time,” was the astounding reply. “You are in danger, and I have put myself in danger by coming here to tell you of it!”

“Why, George,” exclaimed Uncle John, sinking back in his chair, almost overwhelmed with amazement and alarm, “explain yourself. I don’t understand you at all. Why should Ned and Gus be in danger?”

“Because they have deliberately placed themselves there,” answered George, locking the door to prevent interruption, and at the same time lowering his voice, so that he could not be overheard by any eavesdropper who might chance to pass through the hall. “Ned, the owner of that stolen horse is between here and Mr. Gilbert’s. He’s looking for you.”

Ned’s face grew as white as a sheet. He grasped the back of his chair and leaned heavily on it for support, while Uncle John started up in his seat and looked first at George and then at his son. The look of alarm on his face had given away to an expression of intense astonishment.

“Stolen horse!” he exclaimed. “Looking for Ned! What do you mean?”

“You remember those two men who came here one night, searching for a horse they called Silk Stocking, don’t you?” said George. “Well, the horse was here in Ned’s possession all the while, and the owner has found it out. He and his companion are on their way here now.”

“Ned,” said Uncle John, “you told me that you hadn’t seen that horse.”

“I know it,” whined the frightened boy. “I wanted to keep him.”

“But after you found out he was stolen, why didn’t you give him up?” demanded his father.

“I was afraid the men would do something to me,” gasped Ned. “They looked so awful mad!”

“You only made a bad matter worse!” said George. “They will do something to you now, if they catch you, and they are bound to do it if they can!”

“Wh—what will they do?” stammered the culprit.

“They may put you in jail!”

“Gracious!” gasped Ned. He walked rapidly across the floor once or twice and then came back and caught hold of his chair again. His strength was all frightened out of him, and he could not long keep his feet without a support of some kind.

“But Mr. Gilbert thinks they are going to take the law into their own hands, as people very often do it in this country, and that is the reason I am so anxious to get you away from here,” continued George. “And that isn’t all. You and your friend have been shooting cattle this afternoon!”

“It isn’t so! It isn’t so!” cried Ned, with so much earnestness that he condemned himself on the spot. “Is it, Gus?”

“No!” replied Gus, in a feeble voice.

“I haven’t seen any cattle to-day!” declared Ned, gathering a little courage as he proceeded. “I haven’t been near my wheat field for a week! Somebody else did it; didn’t they, Gus?”

The latter made no reply. He did not even act as though he heard the question, and probably he did not, for he was frightened almost out of his wits.

“All I know is, that Mr. Cook lost two steers to-day, and that he saw you shoot them,” said George. “He has been around to see all the neighbors about it, and you will hear from them before this time to-morrow if you are in this house!”

“Have you any idea what they will do?” asked Uncle John, who seemed to be as badly frightened as Ned was.

“Not the slightest; but they will make it warm for Ned in some way, you may depend upon it. He has raised a storm, and Mr. Gilbert’s advice to him is to get out of reach of it. It is my advice, too.”

Just then somebody tapped lightly on the door. George turned the key, the door opened a little way and Jake, the herdsman, thrust his head in.

“They’re comin’,” said he, in a thrilling whisper. “I can hear their horses a-gallopin!”

This startling announcement seemed to take the courage out of everybody except George. Uncle John and the two trembling culprits sank helplessly into the nearest chairs, their faces betraying the utmost consternation.