THE NEXT morning, after a hearty breakfast, during which he listened once more to Zeke’s plans and instructions, Guy mounted his horse, and led by the old clay-bank, set out for Mr. Wilson’s rancho.

The journey did not seem nearly so long and tiresome now as it did the day before, for he had something beside his bodily aches and pains to think of. He had seen a live hunter, had made a friend of him, and by that time to-morrow, if nothing happened to prevent, he would be on the way to his hunting-grounds. Dreaming of the glorious life he was so soon to commence made the way seem short to him.

About four o’clock in the afternoon he drew up with his little train in front of Mr. Wilson’s house, and found that gentleman waiting for him.

“Wal, you done it, didn’t you?” exclaimed the ranchman, as Guy swung himself from the saddle, “an’ didn’t get lost, nor throwed, nuther. Whose rifle have you got thar?”

“Zeke’s—or rather yours,” said Guy. “Zeke doesn’t want it, for he can’t stay long enough to earn it. He’s going back to his hunting-grounds, and wants you to send a man down to relieve him.”

“Oh, he does, does he?” exclaimed Mr. Wilson. “Whar’s your huntin’ kit?”

“I left it with Zeke. He wants to try the rifle.”

“Wal, if you hain’t the most confidin’ boy I ever see in all my born days, I don’t want a cent,” said the ranchman. “I told you that you’d find him a mighty palaverin’ sort of a feller, an’ I thought that would put you on your guard. You’ll never see them things of your’n agin. Zeke’s gettin’ ready to run away. I can see that plain enough; but if he takes any of my property with him, ef it’s even so much as a bar of lead, I’ll have all the constables in the valley arter him in the shake of a buck’s tail. He’s ’arned a hoss since he’s been here, and that’s all he can take with him. I’ll ride down myself, to-morrow, an’ see what he means by such actin’.”

Mr. Wilson’s words made Guy rather uneasy. He did not want to doubt the hunter—Zeke had been so very cordial and so profuse in his promises of friendship and assistance that the boy had implicit faith in him—but still he begun to think that he had been rather hasty in trusting him. If Zeke run away with his hunting-kit, he would be just thirty-five dollars out of pocket. But he need not have been under any apprehensions. The hunter certainly intended to possess himself of all Guy’s property, but he wanted at the same time to get his hands on the twenty-five dollars the boy carried in his monk-bag.

Mr. Wilson begun fishing up from the capacious depths of the pack-saddle the things Zeke had stowed away there, and Guy thought he looked a little disappointed when he found that his property had all been returned to him. The hunter, knowing the disposition of the man with whom he had to deal, had sent back everything.

The hours between four o’clock and dark passed away very slowly. Knowing that he had many a mile of hard riding yet to do before he could go to sleep, Guy refreshed himself with a hearty supper, and then lay down on a bench under the porch. He grew very restless and impatient as the appointed time drew near, and although he longed for its arrival, he almost dreaded to have it come, for if Zeke broke his word, there was another bright hope dashed to the ground.

It begun to grow dark at last, and Guy stepped down from the porch, and walked slowly toward the “spouting well,” as Zeke had called it, looking back every few steps to make sure that he was not followed.

He was not obliged to wait even a moment at the water-tank, for his new friend, faithful to his promise, was there with two horses. Guy was greatly relieved.

“Halloo, pard!” said he. “I’m glad you have come, for I begun to feel a little shaky. Mr. Wilson told me that I’d never see my things again.”

“You got that money with you?” asked Zeke.

“Of course I have.”

“Whar is it?”

“In my monk-bag around my neck. Have you got my rifle and other things?”

“Sartin. We couldn’t well travel cl’ar to Kansas without ’em, I reckon. So Wilson tried to make you believe I was a-goin’ back on you, did he? What else did he say?”

“He says he is going to ride down to see you to-morrow, and find out what you mean by such actions.”

“All right. That will give us a hull day the start of him if he tries to foller us. Here’s your hoss.”

Guy was aching in every bone and muscle after his long ride (eighty miles in two days was quite an achievement for a boy who had never ridden on horseback before), and it was only after considerable trouble and some assistance from the hunter that he succeeded in climbing into his saddle. It was hard work, too, to keep up with Zeke, who at once put his horse into a gallop and went ahead, as if he were in a great hurry. He never drew rein, even long enough to speak to Guy, until midnight, and then the only reason he stopped was because the moon went down and it was too dark to travel.

He and Guy stretched themselves out under a tree beside the road without lighting a fire, and slept soundly until morning. At the first peep of day they ate a little of the dried beef with which Zeke had filled Guy’s game-bag, and then resumed their rapid ride, halting only for a few minutes at noon to rest their horses and eat a hasty luncheon.

Guy was fast giving out, in spite of the excitement which had thus far kept him up, and when, just as the sun was sinking, they entered a little glade surrounded by a wilderness of trees and rocks, he doggedly threw himself from his horse and declared that he could not ride a step farther.

“How far are we from Mr. Wilson’s?” he asked.

“A matter of sixty or seventy miles, mebbe,” replied Zeke.

“Well, that added to eighty makes a hundred and forty or fifty miles that I have ridden on horseback during the last three days,” groaned Guy. “An iron boy couldn’t stand more. I don’t see the need of so much haste anyhow.”

“Thar was need of it,” said Zeke, “but I reckon we’re out of danger now.”

Guy not being aware that they had been in any danger, could not imagine what Zeke meant; but he was too tired to ask any questions.

“I reckon we’d best stop here two or three days an’ take a good rest and hunt,” continued Zeke. “I’ll give you some lessons in shootin’ and throwin’ the lasso. It won’t take me long to learn you to be jest as good a hunter as I am; an’ if thar’s any a-goin’ that can beat me, I never seed ’em. Now lay down an’ I’ll go out an’ shoot something fur supper.”

“I don’t want any supper,” said Guy. “All I want is rest and sleep. If the second mate of the Santa Maria had been pounding me with a rope’s end for an hour, I couldn’t be any nearer used up than I am now.”

Zeke became very officious all at once. He raked together a pile of leaves under the shelter of a huge rock, placed Guy’s saddle at one end of it for a pillow, and when the boy had stretched his weary limbs upon the couch thus hastily made up for him, the hunter threw his poncho and blanket over his shoulders, and tucked them snugly about him. Before the operation was completed Guy was sound asleep.

He slept in blissful ignorance of what was passing near him. Once he thought that the blankets were pulled cautiously off his shoulders and a hand thrust into his pocket; but so firmly were his senses locked in slumber that he was not fairly aroused by these movements. He knew nothing for twelve long hours, and then he was awakened by the neighing of a horse.

He started up feeling very much refreshed, but almost dropped back upon his bed again when he saw that his monk-bag had been turned inside out and was resting on his breast.

His pockets, too, had been pulled out, and some of the articles they had contained were missing, while others were scattered about over the ground. His rifle, game-bag and blankets had disappeared, and even Zeke and his horse were nowhere to be seen.

There were no signs that the hunter had kindled a fire during the night. He must have robbed Guy and made off as soon as the latter was fairly asleep. All he had left him was the clothes he had on his back, the horse he had ridden, and the saddle and bridle.

Guy realized his situation the instant his eyes were fairly opened. Utterly discouraged at last, he threw himself back upon the ground, wishing from the bottom of his heart that he was dead.

“I’ve been robbed! I’ve been robbed!” he kept saying to himself. “And here I am in these mountains without a bite to eat or a friend to help me! What shall I do! what shall I do!”

Guy lay for fully an hour in a sort of stupor, from which he was aroused at last by the pangs of hunger. There was no need that he should stay there and starve, he told himself, while Zeke had been considerate enough to leave him a horse. Perhaps the animal could carry him to some human habitation. The experiment was at least worth a trial.

The horse proved to be very uneasy, and Guy, being unaccustomed to such business, was nearly half an hour in putting the saddle and bridle on him. But at last he got everything fixed to his satisfaction, and climbing upon the animal’s back, he started—he knew not whither.

After trying in vain to find a road or trail leading from the glade, he plunged blindly into the woods, and during the next two days lived in a state of agony, both of body and mind, that I cannot describe. He rode while daylight lasted without a mouthful to eat, and slept at night on the hard ground.

Sometimes he would allow his horse to have his own way, believing that the animal’s instinct would lead him out of the wilderness, and then again he would resume control of him, and try to find his own way out.

How often during those two days did Guy tell himself that if he lived to get out of that scrape he would lose not an hour in starting for the States; and if he once reached them he would never again be tempted to leave them.

He had seen enough of the woods, and of the ocean, too. Other boys might think as they pleased, and story-tellers might write as they pleased about the joys, the ease and romance of a hunter’s and a sailor’s life, but as for him, give him a quiet home on shore and among civilized people.

At last, when Guy was so weak with fasting that he could scarcely keep his seat in the saddle, and so disheartened that he was more than once on the point of throwing himself under the nearest tree and resigning himself to his fate, his deliverance came, and so suddenly that it almost took his breath away. His horse, which during the last few hours had been allowed to go where he pleased, plunged through an almost impassable thicket of bushes, carrying his rider into a broad, well-beaten road that led down the mountains.

The animal seemed as delighted at this evidence of civilization as Guy did. No sooner was he fairly in the road than he broke into a gallop, and in less than five minutes brought his rider to a little tumble-down shanty, where half a dozen miners were lounging on the porch. They all started up and looked at Guy in amazement, seemingly unable to make up their minds whether he was a live boy or a ghost.

“Halloo!” exclaimed one of the men, “who on earth are you, and where did you come from?”

“I have been lost in the mountains for the last two days, and am almost starved to death,” answered Guy, in a faint voice.

“Well, I should say you were, if one can judge by your looks. Come in. Such as we’ve got you’re welcome to.”

The man approached to assist Guy to dismount, and it was well he did so, for he was just in time to receive him in his arms. The boy was utterly overcome with weakness, and when he tried to swing himself from his saddle his head reeled, and he would have fallen to the ground if the man had not supported him.

“He’s pretty near gone up,” said one of the miners, “but I guess a bit of something will bring him around all right.”

The speaker secured Guy’s horse, another assisted him into the house and seated him on a bench, a third brought from a cupboard an abundant supply of bread and meat, which he placed before him, and the others stood around, waiting with no little curiosity and impatience to hear his story.

The miners had seen any number of hungry men since they had been in the mountains, but that was the first time they had ever seen food disappear so rapidly before a boy of Guy’s size. The latter was perfectly ravenous. He stopped at last, not because he had eaten enough, but because his host interfered and took away the eatables.

“Thar, now,” said the man, “you’ve stowed away about enough of that grub for this time, and you had better let up or you’ll bust.”

“I am busted already,” said Guy, wiping his lips; “busted and disgusted.”

“Broke?” asked the man.

“Flat as a pancake,” said Guy. “I am very grateful for your kindness, sir, and am sorry I cannot in some way repay it. I am able to go on now, and would be glad if you would show me the nearest road to the States.”

“Going to leave Californy?”

“Just as fast as horse-flesh can carry me.”

“But how did you come to get lost?”

Guy’s story was a short one, and was soon told. Some of the miners seemed to believe it, while others looked a little incredulous. But Guy did not care for that. He had the best of evidence that every word he uttered was the truth.

While he was telling his story a horseman drew up before the shanty, and dismounting, proceeded to give Guy’s steed a good looking over, closely examining a brand on the animal’s flank, and referring occasionally to a note-book which he drew from his pocket. The miners watched every move he made, now and then exchanging winks with one another, and looking toward Guy in a way the latter could not understand.