did. Both he and Gus were glad when George checked his horse and allowed

him to settle down to a walk.

“Texas isn’t so dull a place to live in after all, is it?” said George, who knew he must say something to keep up the spirits of his companions. “One can get all the excitement he wants, without half trying, can’t he?”

“I never would have been in this scrape if it hadn’t been for Gus,” declared Ned, who, mean-spirited fellow that he was, always tried to shift the responsibility for any wrongdoing upon the shoulders of somebody else. “I wish I had never brought him here!”

“So do I,” replied Gus, who might, with just as much show of reason, have accused Ned of being the author of all his misfortunes. If Ned had not written him those letters and offered to pay his travelling expenses, he never would have been in Texas. “I don’t see how you can blame me for anything that has happened. Did I have a hand in stealing that horse?”

“You had just as much to do with it as I did. What I mean is, that if you had been at home, where I wish you were this very minute, those cattle never would have been shot.”

“That’s a pretty way for you to talk!” exclaimed Gus, angrily. “I hadn’t been in your house an hour before you told me that you intended to do that very thing, just to get up a breeze and show the neighbors that you had some pluck.”

“But I never would have done it if you hadn’t dared me. What are we going to do when we reach Brownsville, George?”

“We’ll put up at a hotel and wait for Uncle John,” was George’s answer. “When he comes we’ll talk the matter over and decide upon something. I think we had all better go off somewhere. I am going, for I don’t want to see anybody in our settlement until this trouble is forgotten.”

“You haven’t done anything to be ashamed of,” said Gus, who looked upon George as a hero. He had been perfectly cool and collected while everybody else was too badly frightened to talk plainly, and Gus greatly admired his courage. He told himself, too, that he had formed a wrong opinion of the boy from Ned’s description of him. He was not a boor by any means. He was more of a gentleman in appearance, in spite of his rough clothes, than his cousin was, and knew more in five minutes than Ned could ever hope to know.

“No; I have done nothing to be ashamed of, but I am taking you out of danger, and the people will think hard of me for it,” replied George. “Besides, I deceived the owner of the stolen horse, and that will raise a storm against me. The folks in these parts are down on anybody who befriends a horse-thief.”

“I am not a horse-thief!” exclaimed Ned.

“Of course you are not. But you acknowledge that you kept Silk Stocking in your possession after you knew he was stolen, and that’s a crime in the eyes of our people!”

“Don’t you think I can ever come back?” asked Ned.

“O, yes! It will all blow over after a while, but you must be very careful in future, for a second offence of this kind would be sure to lead to something serious.”

Ned was overjoyed to hear this. Now that he had recovered from his fright so that he could think clearly, he began to ask himself what the future had in store for him. How could he live if he were obliged to leave Texas? He knew that his father would be quite willing to support him, no matter where he might choose to take up his abode, but he could not do it without drawing heavily on the revenues of the estate, and it was not at all likely that George would consent to that; consequently Ned would be compelled to go to work and earn his own support. That was something the boy did not want to do. He had lived so long in idleness that the very thought of work was most distasteful to him. He told himself that he would indeed be careful how he acted when he came back to the ranche, and that nothing could ever again induce him to foolishly jeopardise his chances of living a life of ease.

“Mr. Gilbert has often advised me to go away and see a little of the world, especially of my own country, and I don’t know that I shall ever have a better opportunity,” continued George. “I’d like first to go up the Mississippi, clean up to its source, and come back in a canoe. Canoeing is getting to be a favorite sport with some people.”

“That would be splendid,” exclaimed Ned, with great enthusiasm. “I’ll go with you.”

George made no reply. He had not looked for so prompt an endorsement of an idea that had but just suggested itself to him, and besides, his cousin was the last boy in the world he would have chosen for a companion during a journey of that kind. If he made it at all, he wanted to make it a pleasure trip; and for that reason he wanted Ned to have nothing to do with it.

“I have read about the cruise of the _Rob Roy_ on the Jordan,” continued Ned, “and I’d like to make one just like it. I think a voyage down the Mississippi would be the next best thing. We ought to take our guns and some fishing tackle with us, and we shall need a tent and cooking utensils. Won’t we have fun, though? Let’s go, George.”

“And while you are having so much fun what will I be doing?” asked Gus.

“You!” said Ned, as if he had forgotten that there was such a boy as Gus Robbins in existence. “O, you had better go home.”

“Now, Ned, you know very well that I can’t do it,” said, Gus; and he spoke so calmly that Ned looked at him in surprise.

“Yes, you can. Your father said so in his letter.”

“But I haven’t money enough to pay my way.”

“Well, I can’t help that. You can’t expect me to pay your bills all the while.” Ned caught his breath when he said this, and looked toward his cousin, wondering what the latter would think, if he knew that a hundred dollars, which ought to have been placed in the bank for his future benefit, had been spent to bring Gus Robbins to Texas. “Write to your father,” added Ned.

“What shall I do while I am waiting for an answer?” asked Gus. “How shall I live?”

“You’ll have to go to work at something. I don’t know of anything else you can do.”

Gus did not continue the conversation any longer. He had learned all he wanted to know. Drawing in his reins, he gradually slackened his pace, and allowed George and his cousin, who rode side by side, to pass on in advance of him. As soon as they had done so, Gus fell in behind them and shook his fist angrily at Ned.

“He’s the meanest boy that was ever heard of,” said he, to himself. “I knew it all the while, and the trouble I have got into is nothing more than I deserve. I ought to have had nothing to do with him. He has got himself and me into a scrape, and now he throws me overboard, and lets me look out for myself, while he depends upon his cousin to see himself safely through. He’s got a big pile of money he can draw on, and can go off and enjoy himself, while I’ve got to stay here. For I shall not go home,” added Gus, with a most emphatic shake of his head. “Everybody in Foxboro’ knows by this time that I ran away, and I’ll not go back there and face them. There’s plenty of work to be had in this country, and right here I’ll stay until my father writes me a decent letter.”

Perhaps we shall see that Gus made a great mistake when he came to this determination. If he had made up his mind to return to his home as soon as he could get there, he would have saved himself a great deal of trouble that afterward came to him. He decided that he would accompany Ned as far as Brownsville, and that when he arrived there he would leave him and strike out for himself. He would not stay with a boy who did not want his company.

As the hours wore away, and the rancho was left farther and farther behind, and all fears of pursuit died away, Ned’s spirits and courage all came back to him, and he began to speak of the events of the night and the incidents that led to them as a “lark” that was just a little ahead of anything he had ever heard of. He seemed to forget all about Gus, who took no part in the conversation. Now and then George turned about in his saddle, and addressed some remark to him, but Gus replied only in monosyllables, and George, finding that he did not feel in the humor for talking, left him to the companionship of his own thoughts.

It was an hour after daylight when the boys came within sight of the woods which lined the banks of the Rio Grande. By this time Ned and Gus were completely tired out, and even George began to show signs of weariness. They were all glad of a chance to rest, and believed they would be the better for a few hours’ refreshing sleep. They staked out their horses in the edge of the timber, spread their blankets and ponchos on the ground, and throwing themselves down upon them, went to sleep almost immediately.

There was no one in sight when they went into camp, for George took particular pains to satisfy himself of this fact; but for all that there were two persons near enough at hand to observe all their movements. They had been on the trail of the fugitives for more than half an hour, following behind them at a respectful distance, and making use of every inequality in the ground to conceal them from the view of the boys, should any of them chance to look behind. When the travellers staked out their horses one of them was lying on the summit of the nearest ridge, looking at them over the top of the grass. When he had seen all he cared to see he returned to his companion, who sat on his horse at the foot of the swell awaiting the result of his observations, and the two rode along under cover of the ridge until they reached the woods, about half a mile above the place where the boys had made their camp. Keeping their horses in a rapid walk they moved along just outside the timber, and were soon discovered by Ranger, who lifted his head and gave them a good looking over. But he raised no alarm thinking, no doubt, if he were able to think at all, that as it was daylight his master ought to be able to take care of himself.

When they had approached a little nearer the two men put their horses into a gallop, and dashed into camp. One of them threw his bridle to his companion, and swinging himself out of his saddle hurried up to George and placed his hand on his shoulder just as the boy, aroused out of a sound sleep by the clatter of the horses’ hoofs, raised himself on his elbow to see what was the matter. He saw a bearded face bending over him, and felt a strong grasp on his collar. His two companions were sitting up on their blankets looking on with mouths and eyes wide open. Ned probably did not consider this incident a part of the “lark” he had been talking about, for he was trembling like a leaf.

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” demanded George, as soon as he could speak.

“We’re somebody who won’t harm you so long as you do just as you’re told!” replied the man. “We came after you—that’s what’s we are doin’ here!”

“Well, now that you have found me, what do you want with me?” asked George.

“We want you to get on your hoss an’ take a ride with us. Thar’s somebody over on the other side of the river who wants to see you powerful bad!”

George arose slowly to his feet and looked first at the man who held him by the collar, and then at the man who sat in his saddle. He knew who they were before he asked them, and he knew, too, who it was on the other side of the river who wanted to see him. He was caught at last, and there was no chance for escape. There was but one course open to him, and that was to submit and trust to luck.

“Answer another question while you are about it,” said George. “Are you Fletcher’s men?”

“What do you know about Fletcher?” demanded the ruffian, in surprise.

“I know all about him, and I know what he wants of me, too.”

“Who told you?” asked his captor, still more astonished.

“That’s my business!” answered George, who knew better than to mention Springer’s name.

“Now, what in the world does this mean?” whined Ned, who just then recovered his power of speech. “Who are these men, George, and what are they going to do with us?”

“We aint agoin’ to do nothing with you an’ the other feller thar,” said the man, pointing at Gus, “so you don’t need to get so white an’ act so powerful skeered. This yere is the chap we’ve been lookin’ fur. Now you two can lay thar an’ sleep jest as long as you please, an’ then you can strike out fur Brownsville, and nobody won’t say a word to you.”

“But what are you going to do with George? Are you going to take him away and leave us alone?”

“That’s about the way it looks now.”

“How are we going to find our way without a guide? We don’t know the road!”

“You don’t need to know it, ‘cause you can’t miss it. It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”

Ned exhibited the greatest astonishment and terror, while Gus sat staring blankly before him, as if he could hardly realize what was going on. The former, George noticed, did not ask what the men intended to do with him, after they had taken him across the river. All he wanted to know, was how he and Gus were going to find their way to Brownsville without a guide.

“O now, I don’t know what to do,” cried Ned, sinking back on his blanket and covering his face with his hands.

“Be a man in the first place,” said George, who was surprised at his cousin’s want of courage. “You have nothing to cry over. Your way is perfectly plain, but if you miss it, can’t you stop at some of the ranchos along the road and ask the people to set you right? But there’s one thing I want to speak to you about. I say! You don’t care if I change clothes with him, do you?” he added, addressing the man who held him by the collar.

“What do you want to do it for?” asked that worthy.

“Because it may help him.”

“I don’t reckon it’ll do any harm, will it, Sam?” inquired the man, appealing to his companion.

Sam looked down at the horn of his saddle, and after considering the matter, said he didn’t think it would.

“All right. Let go my collar,” said George. “Why do you hang on to me in that fashion?”

“I was told to look out for you,” answered the ruffian, “an’ I’m jest goin’ to do it!”

He let go his prisoner’s collar, but he kept close beside him when the latter walked over to the place where his cousin was lying on his blanket. “You had better give me those silver buttons and all the rest of your finery,” said George, “for they are much too conspicuous for you to wear. Those ranchemen are not going to give up that horse, and they may follow you clear to Brownsville. I believe I could take you through all right; but as I can’t go with you, you will be left to depend upon yourself, and you can’t take too many precautions.”

The hint that there was still a possibility of pursuit and capture by the ranchemen, brought Ned to his feet in great haste. The thought that perhaps his cousin might get himself into trouble by wearing those same silver buttons never entered his head, nor would he have paid any attention to it if it had. He cared for nobody but himself, and he was quite willing to part with his nobby suit, and put on his cousin’s coarse clothing, if by so doing, he could secure his own safety. The exchange was soon effected, the cattle-thief standing so close to George’s elbow all the while that flight would have been impossible, even if the boy had thought of such a thing, and although Ned cut a sorry figure in his new rig, his cousin’s appearance was vastly improved. The nobby suit, which was rather large for Ned, fitted him as though it had been made on purpose for him, and Gus, while he looked at him, wondered why he had never before noticed that George was a very handsome young fellow.

“Now, boys,” said the latter, as he placed the sombrero on his head, “as soon as you have had rest enough, catch up and start again. Don’t waste an hour, but be careful and not tire your horses out by reckless riding. When you reach Brownsville, go to the best hotel, and wait for Uncle John. Ned has all the money you need,” added George, who had taken pains to see that there was an exchange of purses as well as an exchange of clothing.

“But what is going to become of you?” asked Ned, as if the question had just occurred to him.

“I am sure I don’t know,” replied George; and it was right on the end of his tongue to add: “Probably your father will tell you if you will ask him the next time you see him,” but he did not utter the words. It was more than likely that Springer’s story was all false, and that Uncle John knew nothing whatever about this matter. At any rate he would not accuse him until he had received positive proof of his guilt.

“What makes you let them carry you off in this way, anyhow?” demanded Ned.

“What else can I do? I can’t whip two grown men with my bare hands, can I?”

“I always heard that the Ackermans was a plucky lot,” said the man who was keeping guard over George, “but I didn’t allow to find a kid like you so cool an’ careless-like. Have you done talkin’ enough now, do you reckon?”

“Yes, I have given all the advice I can think of, and I will be ready to go with you as soon as I can saddle my horse.”

“You needn’t mind takin’ that lasso off,” said the man, as George was about to untie the lariat with which his horse was fastened to the picket-pin. “‘Cause why, we’ll leave it jist as it is, you know, an’ I’ll hang on to this yere eend of it.”

The boy was surprised at the precautions his captor thought it necessary to take in order to prevent any attempt at escape, and told himself that the man was going to a good deal of trouble for nothing. If there had been the least chance for flight or successful resistance George would promptly have taken advantage of it, as he did a few days afterward, but he was not foolhardy enough to run a race with a bullet from the ruffian’s revolver. While he was putting the saddle and bridle on his horse he repeated all the instructions he had given Ned, and when he could no longer find an excuse for delaying his departure, he shook hands with his companions, bade them good-by and rode away between the two cattle-thieves, one of whom held fast to the lasso which was around the neck of George’s horse. Ned and Gus stood in the edge of the timber watching him as long as he remained in sight, and when he disappeared behind the nearest swell, they sat down on their blankets and looked at each other.

“O, Gus, I don’t know what I should do if you were not here with me!” exclaimed Ned, who was the first to speak.

“Don’t you, indeed!” replied his companion. “Have you forgotten how squarely you went back on me no longer ago than last night? You just as good as told me that you had seen enough of me. You could get along without me well enough while you had your cousin to lean on, but now that he is gone, I am a bully boy again. No, sir; you can’t throw me away and pick me up again when you please, now I tell you!”

“O, don’t talk that way!” whined Ned, who knew that he was powerless, and that everything depended upon Gus. “I didn’t mean it. I was frightened out of my senses, and didn’t know what I was saying.”

“No, you were not frightened. You had got all over it and were laughing about the ‘lark’ you had had. You said it, whether you meant it or not, and I shall take you at your word.”

“You are not going to leave me?” Ned almost gasped.

“Yes, I am. When we reach Brownsville, if we ever do, you will see the last of me.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t made up my mind yet. I know what I am going to do now: I am going to sleep.”

Ned could not understand how Gus could take the matter so coolly. He was slumbering heavily in less than five minutes after he arranged his blankets, while Ned, whose excitement would not permit him to sleep, tossed uneasily about, thinking over the incidents of the last few hours, and trembling when he looked forward to the long journey before him and its possible ending.

“I am not out of danger yet,” he kept saying to himself, “for if I were, George would not have traded clothes with me. He has been pretty good to me, I must say. It isn’t every fellow who would stand by a cousin as he has stood by me, and I almost wish I had treated him a little better. Perhaps I shall never see him again. Well, if I don’t——”

Clasping his hands under his head Ned lay back on his blanket and proceeded to follow out the train of thought that had so suddenly suggested itself to him. The prospect of stepping into possession of a property worth forty thousand dollars a year was a pleasing one; and while he was wondering what he should do with so much money, and how he could spend it to the best advantage, his weariness overcame him, and he sank into a dreamless sleep. When he awoke the sun had climbed around to the other side of the woods, and the shadows of the trees were thrown far out on the plain, showing that the day was drawing to a close. Gus was already stirring. He had rolled up his blankets, and was just putting the saddle on his horse when Ned opened his eyes.

“Where are you going?” demanded the latter, in some alarm.

“I am going to start out and see if I can find a house,” replied Gus. “I have a little money in my pocket, and while it lasts I am not going to sleep out of doors or go hungry, either!”

“You needn’t spend a cent of it,” said Ned, hastily jumping to his feet and folding his blankets. “I’ve got enough for both of us. You were not going away without me, were you?”

Gus, who was whistling softly to himself, made no reply to this question, although his companion was sure he had heard it. His silence was enough to excite Ned’s suspicions, and to thoroughly frighten him, also. Did Gus intend to desert him? If so, what would he (Ned) do when he was left to himself?

“I’ve made him mad and I don’t know how to get him good-natured again,” was Ned’s mental reflection. “If I can only keep him with me until father comes to Brownsville, he can clear out and welcome. I must keep a close watch over him or he’ll come up minus some fine morning.”

While these thoughts were passing through Ned’s mind, he caught up his saddle and bridle and hurried out to put them on his horse.